Card One: The Fool
Mistress Ace
August 2003
rosewood@inreach.com

Disclaimers: I do not own the characters, nor profit in any way from my love of Smallville. This is just my way of amusing myself and hopefully the rest of you.

Spoilers: All Episodes up to Exodus.

Ratings Note: NC-17

Summary: Cliche fic. I wrote this story is response to a challenge from rhiannonhero who wanted a futurefic where Clark and Lex pretended to be gay. There were extra points for it being a College age Clark and this was the result.

Notes: This story began as a lark and turned into something serious. The original title was Oh, You So Owe me for This, Clark which fit for the first small section. But as it progressed, I realized that didn't fit and so the title was change to *Card One: The Fool* and here is why:

The Fool represents the beginning of all creativity and the desire to accomplish impossibly beautiful goals. Here are all the joys and possibilities of adventure. Each of us faces many choices in life. A fresh choice is before you - choose wisely.

Description: A youth looks out into the distance instead of at his feet, where the mountain crag falls away before him. He stands poised as if ready to take the next step, which will be down into the realm of matter. Seemingly in an expectant mood, he holds a white rose in his hand - a symbol of spiritual desires. Over his shoulder he carries the Wand of Will, from which hangs a wallet containing the four Elements: Fire, Water, Air, and Earth, which he will use on his journey. At his feet a small dog prances to show that though the youth's ideals are lofty, the life of the senses will also accompany him on his journey.

This story is one of Lex's journey, his turning from a predetermined path that will lead him to destruction. He is taking a leap of faith, one that can either be a disaster or give him something he desperately needs - a person who loves him. I think he made the right choice.

Acknowledgements: Thanks to sparktastic, alee, naruka, randi and rhiannonhero for beta. Any lingering mistakes, etc, are mine.

Dedication: To rhiannonhero for waking my muses from their long sleep and being such a wonderful friend. To sugarrush and rileysgirl for audiencing and being my cheerleaders. To nuptse for the screen door. And to everyone in the LJ community who encouraged me to finish this. Here's to a different future than the one we will be forced to see.

Feedback: If it strikes a chord, let me know. Feedback keeps writers writing. It also keeps other artists doing those things that beautify our world, such as fleurblue who made a beautiful cover that can be seen here: http://www.livejournal.com/users/fleurbleue/11694.html#cutid1

How he'd let Clark talk him into this in the first place, Lex would never know. Yes, Clark was his friend. Strike that, Clark was his only friend and he'd do anything for him. But this, this went beyond the pale.

Why couldn't Clark just tell the girl in his Poli-Sci class that he was an emotional cripple incapable of anything but worshiping the opposite sex from afar, preferably from three states away? Or inform the other girl in his Journalism 205 class that he suffered from some rare disease that made him terminally clumsy around women, so clumsy that the only way he was ever going to get laid was if he tripped and landed on some unsuspecting female bystander who happened to be naked, willing and had her legs open for him to simply fall in?

No, instead he had to tell those girls that he was gay. Not only was he gay but currently involved with Metropolis' answer to Bruce Wayne. A man so rich and sophisticated that neither of them would even have the faintest chance of catching Clark's attention beyond that of a platonic friendship consisting of study dates and group pizza outings.

Lame. So very lame. And this man wanted to become a journalist? There were holes in Clark's little plan that Lex could drive a Hum-Vee through. The first and foremost being, neither he nor Clark was gay.

Well. If he were being honest with himself, there was the second semester of his junior year at Excelsior but it never went any further than furtive petting and a kiss or two in the steam tunnels when they weren't struggling under the crushing class load laid on both of them by Headmaster Reynolds. They even discussed the possibility of more but since neither one was willing to be the receiver, the whole thing fizzled out before the end of the term.

As for Clark -- he was the very picture of heterosexuality. He still talked about Lana with a reverence usually reserved for religious icons and heads of state. Chloe, now Chloe, Clark talked about in earthier terms. Especially if Lex got him drunk and then brought up the subject. Both he and Clark had developed a fine appreciation for Ms. Sullivan's more prominent assets and under the influence of a bottle of tequila, four limes and a hundred-year-old crystal salt shaker Clark somehow managed to break in between the hours of 1 and 3 AM the night after he finished his last sophomore final, Clark finally admitted to peeking at them during Chloe's flirtation with low-cut sweaters.

Lex kept silent, as he'd done a great deal more than peep at them the summer prior when Chloe came home on a break from her maiden internship at the Gotham Herald and literally stormed his castle. She said she was tired of panting little boys and lecherous old men who kept pawing her in the copy rooms and if she was going to lose it, she was going to lose it with someone she trusted. Clark apparently was not up to the task, Chloe had informed him, as she set down the Coke he'd offered and climbed into his lap, so that left it up to Lex to 'do the deed'.

He protested for all of about thirty seconds - she was his second-in-command's daughter after all - but in the end, he gave Chloe the ride of her life. She stayed the night, through the following weekend and finally left early Monday morning with very sore thighs and a smile that, according to the Smallville grapevine, didn't fade for three weeks straight.

Lex wouldn't know.

He'd caught the next flight to Hong Kong right after she left his house and spent the majority of that summer handling the overseas arm of LexCorp and dodging Clark's first solicitous and then increasingly frantic e-mails and calls and blatant attempts at emotional blackmail for him to come the heck home. His guilt over seducing one of Clark's fantasy women eventually faded enough for Lex to return home and to the open arms of his best friend. Who proceeded to beat him at pool five games in a row, smirking and leaning over the table and otherwise presenting Lex with every possible view of his ass while he chirped on and on about how giddy Chloe had been during her visit home.

Lex didn't know what was worse; Clark being so insanely happy that Chloe was glowing or the perfectly framed view of his best friend's ass presented so delectably for his enjoyment. It really was a good thing that he was straight. Otherwise, Clark would have ended up face down in amongst the antique ivories and Lex would have racked up yet another popped cherry from the Class of 2005.

Thankfully, Lana chose an art student from Paris to further her education, so that delicate lovely was safe from his marauding nature. Just to be doubly certain that no other fair denizen from his adopted home fell into his nefarious clutches, Lex packed his bags the same day Clark did and together they trooped back to Metropolis at the start of Clark's sophomore year.

Lex really did need to move his base of operations to a larger venue and Clark was ecstatic that he would have almost unfettered access to Lex. Or as Lex suspected, unfettered access to Lex's cars, his computer, and his penthouse which Clark admitted preferring to his dorm room.

Understandable given that Clark's roommate this term had all the charm, grace and personal hygiene habits of a diseased yak. The gentleman in question, when not engaged in belching contests, spent the majority of his time perusing the wares of the Alpha Kappa Alpha sorority. In self-defense, Clark had taken to spending every free moment at Lex's ever since Greg latched onto the idea that he and Clark should team up for a foursome. Apparently there were a couple of repeat offenders from AKA who thought Clark was awfully cute and the idea of spending quality time between the sheets with his hairy-backed roommate and the anorexia patrol was more than enough to send Clark Kent screaming for the hills.

Or at least to the thirty-sixth floor of the Park Suites and the Den of Iniquity.

To his 'gay' lover.

Clark apparently hadn't given any thought to what 'outing' them in Metropolis society would do to Lex. Granted, after the landmark Supreme Court decision of June 2003, their having conjugal relations, imaginary as they were, wouldn't result in Lex spending time behind bars, but that did not mean LexCorp was immune to rumor or innuendo.

While he adored Clark and would normally give him the shirt off his back, Lex was not willing to sacrifice his company, nor his company's profitability, for the sake of helping his friend prevent himself from getting laid by one of the young ladies currently panting over his broad chest, perfectly formed abs and the ass Lex had bounced a quarter off of three days ago. Yes, it had been a bet between him and Georgia, his executive assistant, and he'd lost. The quarter didn't bounce back into his hand. Instead it ended up almost twenty feet away and George Washington's face wasn't the same after suffering that particular impact.

When he tried to dissuade Clark from this unwise course of action yesterday, Lex had been the recipient of the dreaded 'puppy-dog' eyes, immediately followed up by the industrial-sized pout Lex swore Clark had stolen from Martha Kent. Those tactics combined with a soft wheedling tone and a hand on Lex's shoulder which stopped just short of a caress and if Clark ever did that again, Lex was going to take said hand and shove it down his pants and....

Lex didn't follow up that line of thought. No, he most certainly did not. He did agree to Clark's request but that was just because he was such a good friend. And, later that day, he did not actually break his own personal best masturbatory record of five hours and twenty-six minutes with only two breaks for coffee, snacks and more lube.

He was three minutes shy of that record, mainly because his father called just as he was about to reach his seventh climax, and even the thought of Clark tied up, covered with whipped cream, honey and crushed walnuts, and begging for it wasn't enough to maintain a hard-on while talking to the bane of his existence.

After he'd hung up on his father for the fourth and final time, Lex was no longer in the mood. So instead of conjuring up another vision of Clark a la mode, he escaped to his study and spent the rest of the evening and early morning hours on his laptop pretending to be Genghis Khan. There was a whole lot of conquering that went on, but not much rape or pillage so by the time Clark showed up for their first 'official' date, Lex was tired, sexually frustrated and more than willing to settle the whole gay issue once and for all.

He wasn't gay. Clark wasn't gay and their pretending to be so was ludicrous. Clark should simply bow to the inevitable and finally shed his virgin status with some lucky lady and let any latent tendencies lurking in Lex's psyche lie in relative peace.

That resolve on Lex's part lasted until they joined Clark's little circle of friends at the 'Underground Railroad' for an evening of pizza, badly quoted philosophy and even worse karaoke. Within five minutes of their arrival, Kim had rubbed up against Clark not less than four times, Mandy had sat in his lap and messed with the forty-five dollar haircut Lex had paid for two days prior because he wanted to see Clark's eyes occasionally, and Winona groped poor Clark's ass when he'd gone for another pitcher of beer.

The ass grope was the final straw. He was Lex Luthor, for God's sake. Nobody pawed his date and came away with anything less than a bloody stump.

When Clark made it back to the table with the beer, Lex took it from him and pulled out a chair for Clark. He waited for Clark to take a seat, then leaned over while their companions watched in stunned amazement and without further ado, proceeded to map his way to Clark's stomach by way of his mouth. He'd always wanted to conquer his own country and if the dazed look of Clark's face when he finished was any indication, Lex's name was now tattooed on his magnificent ass.

Take that, Winona.

To Clark's credit, he neither blushed, fainted nor threw up. Lex was going to have to reward him for that little bit of play-acting whenever they escaped the bevy of open-mouthed beauties who were now staring at them like they'd come from another planet. Silence reigned for a few moments before someone a few tables over started to clap.

The unexpected applause continued, along with scattered wolf whistles that did manage to draw a blush from Clark. A blush that deepened when Lex, with great dignity, settled down first on the arm of Clark's chair and then with a lifted brow that was countered by a small head tilt from Clark, slid into his date's lap. Where he remained until the pizza arrived.

The girls took the hint and backed off. Winona even apologized after the singing started. She'd had a crush on Clark for almost two months but he'd always brushed her off. Until tonight, she hadn't been able to understand why but the kiss they'd shared set her straight. Satisfied, Lex accepted her apology although he stayed close to Clark for the rest of the evening, feeding him from his plate and laughing in encouragement when Clark got dragged up to sing.

He even agreed to sing himself, surprising Clark, their companions and the rest of the room with a soulful rendition of 'Wherever You Will Go'. Not his favorite song by The Calling but 'Unstoppable' might have been a bit too much for a first date. As it was, when he made it back to the table, Clark was the one who initiated their next kiss. One that left Lex just this side of trembling.

Not gay.

He was not gay.

He was not going to drag Clark home and molest him in the elevator.

He was not going to lay Clark out on his kitchen counter and play connect-the-dots with chocolate syrup and M&Ms.

He was not going to shove Clark up against the wall of his shower and give the first blow-job of his life.

He was not.

Instead, he drove Clark back to his dorm and they started to part ways just outside Clark's door. He'd intended on the usual shoulder brush or quiet smirk of farewell but Greg stumbled out of the room in nothing but a pair of rumpled BVDs and Lex bristled at the open leer shot in Clark's direction.

He slipped his arms around Clark's waist, stepped into his personal space and tilted his chin up just enough. And for the third time that night, he and Clark kissed. Long and slow and Lex wasn't the only one exploring because after a few seconds, Clark brushed his tongue over Lex's. They traded back and forth, Clark inside his mouth and then Lex inside Clark's, until finally Lex had to break away and take a breath.

Neither of them noticed Greg had ambled away, nor that the dorm room door was left open. Instead, Clark's hands drifted down from Lex's waist to cup his ass and pull him in. Lex gasped into their next kiss, one that Clark initiated, as he felt a hard ridge pressing against his stomach.

Clark, poster-child for award-winning heterosexual longing, had a hard-on. Not only did he have one but he was rocking it slowly into Lex. Push, push, push, just the right pressure to start a corresponding deep-down ache. Lex kissed him harder, pulling back and away with an audible pop as he heard a giggle in the doorway beyond them.

"Hey, you two. Come spread a little of that hotness in here." There were two girls standing just inside Clark's door. A blonde and a brunette and the brunette was petting the blonde's hip. "C'mon Clark, time to share that sugar daddy of yours."

Now if there were a guarantee Greg wouldn't come stumbling into the middle of this, Lex would have been game. The girls were pretty and after responding so strongly to Clark's kisses, he was in need of reasserting his own heterosexual proclivities. But one look at Clark confirmed how uncomfortable his friend was with this entire scenario.

Clark's blush could've powered half of downtown Metropolis and as usual with an attractive member of the opposite sex, the boy had been struck dumb. Not only that but he was hanging his head like a beaten puppy, leaving it up to Lex to deal with this problem.

Which he did with a certain level of dignity and just enough force to make his point. "Ladies, let me clarify the situation for you. I don't share." The quietly polite declaration silenced any further giggles and the grateful look from Clark was worth the loss of what could have been a spectacular evening.

But this was only a temporary fix. Lex needed to do something of a more permanent nature to spare his friend further maulings of his small-town morality. "Clark, you've got enough at my place to survive for a few days. Let's go."

If anything, Clark looked even more grateful. Grateful enough that when Lex untangled himself from their interrupted embrace, Clark trooped silently but dutifully after him.

That silence continued all the way back to Lex's penthouse, building up between them until finally Lex had to break it when they walked in the door. "Clark... I went overboard tonight, didn't I?'

Clark shrugged and then after a moment or two, gave Lex a little smile. Not his usual ear-to-ear grin but it was an improvement. "I'm just a little confused, I guess."

"Confused? How so?" Lex hung his coat up along with Clark's jacket. Matilda wasn't a live-in and it was late enough that she was home with her family by now. Besides, at age twenty-seven, he was perfectly capable of handling whatever needs he and Clark could devise. Given the expression on Clark's face, Lex was certain that would consist of a cup of coffee or two for Clark and a whole bottle of single-malt for himself, most of which would be consumed after Clark had gone to bed.

"Uh, well. Lex, I need you to tell me the truth." Lex stopped in their progress towards his study, his steps faltering for a moment. There was a protective hand on his arm that kept him from falling, Clark's instantly contrite expression one Lex never wanted to see again.

Here was one of the major sticking points in their relationship. No matter how they danced around the subject, or how many times Lex chose to turn a blind eye, there were things about Clark that set off not only signal flares for Lex's inner scientist but were usually accompanied by seventy piece bands and full fireworks displays. And now, after so many years of badly executed lies, Clark was asking him for the truth?

This was a totally different situation but still... Lex drew in a deep breath and counted to ten, waiting for the moment of Luthor-fueled outrage to pass. When it did, he continued to lead Clark toward his study. Tonight, he would grant Clark a reprieve from their past. He would tell Clark whatever truths he requested and perhaps Clark would finally trust him enough to relinquish some truths of his own.

"I promise, Clark. Let me get us a drink and we'll talk, okay?" Yes, he'd made the right choice. Clark's smile of heartfelt relief was worth whatever honesty tonight was going to cost him. In confirmation of his new resolve, Lex patted Clark on the shoulder, waited until he'd taken a seat on the couch and then poured both of them a drink. Rum and Coke for Clark and a Lagavulin for himself.

Aware that this discussion was one of those life-changing events, Lex started to sit in a chair beside the couch but Clark's frown brought him in closer. Instead he sat next to his friend and quietly contemplated the dark sherry color of his drink. Waiting was the best option, which he did until Clark broached the subject at hand. "Lex, how do you feel about me?"

All right, that was an expected opening gambit given the fact that less than half an hour ago he'd been ready to bend Clark over whatever convenient horizontal surface they could find. The correct response to that question was the difficult portion of this first salvo. He should have been more cautious in his appreciation of their counterfeit intimacy. The permutations for how quickly this conversation could turn ugly were beyond calculation.

Contrary to his training and his nature, he chose to take the safest route.

"Clark, you're my best friend." Lex lifted his glass to his mouth and savored the initial mouthful, before discovering that his drinking was not a good idea at the moment. The scotch burned on the way down as it should but rather than leave him with a pleasant afterglow, it ignited a bonfire in his stomach. He continued to hold the glass because it gave him something to do but Lex didn't bring it to his lips again.

There were the Martha Kent pursed lips right on cue, followed by Jonathan's head shake and a quietly voiced reminder. "Lex. The truth."

It was Clark's turn to drink, which he did in small sips. Alcohol was something Lex was trying to get him used to with only a small measure of success. Despite exposure to some of the finest single malts and the smoothest brandies, Clark remained adamantly in the sweet drink or beer camp. Until tonight, Lex thought he had years ahead of him to steer Clark into more mature imbibing habits.

"The truth?" He was stalling and he knew it but Lex was certain neither of them was ready for the truth. However, he'd promised. One more negotiating tactic and then he'd spill the beans. "The truth is... Clark, I'm not gay. Let's be perfectly clear about this. I am not gay, all right?"

"Neither am I, Lex. I like girls, I really do. It's just... If I'm going to do that, I want it to be with someone that I love and I trust. None of them seem to get that." Clark's drink thunked on the coffee table right before he got up to pace. "There's... there's a lot to it. I could hurt somebody."

Well, the vehement denial worked and now they were in familiar territory. Lex could field this stuff with one hand tied behind his back. "Clark, every guy feels that way his first time. It only natura-"

"No, Lex. You don't get it. I could hurt somebody. When I kiss a girl, it feels like she's going to break if I hold onto her like I want to." Pity. It was a very nice forty-five dollar haircut but right now Clark's hair stood up on end from the way he was tugging at it. Perhaps there was something more here than the standard 'she's so little' argument.

"Clark..." Lex rose, ready to step into Clark's path because he was moving a little too fast. If Clark tripped he could hurt himself and Lex wasn't going to let Clark hurt himself.

"Lex. You don't get it. I could break some girl. I'm..." Clark looked down at himself, the blush quick and hot as he did come to a stop in front of Lex. He took Lex's hand and the air seemed to leave the room because Lex had to open his mouth to drag enough in to stay conscious when Clark laid that hand between his legs.

God, no wonder Clark was nervous about sex. Carefully, Lex followed the rigid line down from the center seam of his dockers to the middle of Clark's thigh. There really wasn't any polite thing he could say, everything that came to mind was much too crude and Clark was edgy enough Lex wasn't going to subject him to locker room humor.

"Oh..." Not quite what he'd intended to say but it wasn't every day that your best friend put your hand on his dick. Lex tried very hard but even he couldn't keep the husky tone out of his voice. "I think I get it. Clark, that's... amazing."

Clark's reaction was the bitterest sound he'd ever heard Clark make. Hard and harsh and why in God's name was his hand still there? Why was it slowly stroking up and down along the daunting length of his friend's cock? "Amazing? Amazing is when you ace a mid-term that you didn't study for, Lex. Amazing is when you save somebody's life. Amazing is not when the only girl you've ever really wanted backs away from you in terror when you finally get past second base."

Lex moved in closer, his hand apparently having decided to strike out on its own. He was going to have a talk with that mutinous appendage later. But for right now, it might have stumbled on a possible solution to Clark's dilemma. If he could convince Clark that he was indeed normal, then perhaps they could return to their former level of friendship and not stray into uncharted territory. "Clark, it's okay."

Slowly as not to alarm his distraught companion, he popped the button on Clark's slacks. When Clark didn't shy away, Lex pulled the zipper down, the grate of metal on metal loud in the suddenly charged air between them. "It's okay. I'm not going to back away. Just let me see it."

"You promise?" His friend couldn't have sounded any more pathetic if Lex had run over an entire litter of kittens. Followed by a child or two. All of Clark's bravado faded as Lex slid his hand in past cotton boxers and wrapped it around an incredibly thick column.

"I promise." Lex breathed against Clark's cheek, neither of them looking down until separation from the surrounding cloth was negotiated. Even then, Lex chose to watch Clark's face instead and enjoy the shudder that wracked his body when air and Lex's hand became the only thing in contact with the article of discussion. They'd stumbled into his fantasy material here and he'd have to keep his wits about him in order not to terrify Clark.

Slowly, carefully and for the first time without an audience, Lex kissed Clark. In that moment, he discovered that their mouths fit together as if they'd been sculpted from the same flesh. God, Clark's mouth was soft and lush, opening with the slightest hint of pressure and allowing Lex into the warm welcome beyond. Their breaths mingled, heat prickled under Lex's skin as he moved in even closer.

Unwilling to neglect his other charge, Lex turned his wrist and swallowed the resultant moan, taking it in and making it part of himself. Clark's nervous tremble gave way to a whole body shudder when Lex's hand skimmed upward and came to rest just below the head. The angle was awkward, his own dick the only one he'd ever held before but Lex managed to swipe his thumb over where the slit should be.

Clark whimpered, shuddered and like the true virgin he was, came. Liquid warmth pulsed over Lex's hand and in turn, he moaned into their shared kiss. Heat became flame, driving him to stroke and squeeze until every last drop of seminal devotion became his own. He held on when Clark tried to pull away, stemming whatever protest or apology was about to burst forth with a whispered, "God, Clark. That was incredible."

Stunned silence greeted his comment, finally followed by an embarrassed chuckle and a quiet murmur, "You should try it from my side. I think all the blood's rushed from my brain."

"Yeah? I bet I know right where it is." Lex's hand continued to stroke and if anything, Clark only got harder. Great recuperation time which spoke well for their being able to continue. And as long as Clark was comfortable with it, Lex definitely wanted to continue. "Do you need to sit down?"

Humor was apparently the way to go because Clark relaxed and laughed again. "No, you jerk."

Resisting the responding pun that came to mind was one of the hardest things he'd ever done, but somehow Lex managed. "Mmm-hmm, that's me. You ready for round two?"

While he waited for Clark to answer, Lex brought his hand to his mouth and licked it. He'd tasted his own on many an occasion so why not do the same for Clark? After all, if this thing between them was going to progress beyond the hand-job stage, he was going to have to be able to stomach the taste.

To his delight, Clark wasn't bitter. Musky and sweet, a little like cantaloupe or casaba, definitely something he could get used to.

"Uhh, that depends. What's round two?" Dazed was a good look on Clark. Also something else Lex could get used to.

Even though he was still vehemently not gay, his palate approved of the next level. And if he phrased it right, so would Clark. "Round two is where I..." Lex turned his head until his mouth was right against Clark's ear as he slid his free arm around Clark's waist and murmured, "suck you off."

Seduction was one of the very best skills he'd cultivated over the years.

And yes, that was a definite knee buckle. The husky voice apparently worked not only on women but men too. Or at least, it worked on Clark because he was halfway to the floor before Lex was able to guide him to the couch. Between the two of them, they managed to get him down without a.) either of them falling over, b.) breaking anything or c.) tripping over Clark's pants which were down around his ankles.

The boxers went the way of the pants and Lex took a moment to untie Clark's sneakers, toss them in opposite directions from one another and strip away the remaining offending garments. Since that left him kneeling already, Lex merely insinuated himself between Clark's splayed legs, tilted his head to bring his mouth flush up against Clark's and spent the next few minutes happily engaged in something that alternated between a kiss and a hostile takeover.

By the end, Clark, Inc. was firmly under the control of LexCorp's CEO to the point where the single employee of said raided company was ready for anything Lex was willing to propose. Be it merger or acquisition, there was no protest forthcoming from the rank and file as Lex unbuttoned, poked, prodded and otherwise stripped his new purchase of all its assets.

The sight of Clark Kent sprawled naked across his couch was cause for celebration and Lex toasted the occasion with another fiery swallow of Lagavulin. Clark reached for Lex's own clothes but in true corporate raider form, Lex would brook no opposition to his demands. He was Lex Luthor, he took what he wanted and what he wanted right now was another kiss.

Which he got, followed by a hand sliding down the back of his pants. Clark's skin was an addictive thing and Lex's body wanted as much of it as it could possibly get. Despite his desire to remain the one in power, Lex conceded the point long enough for his shirt to join Clark's in precarious repose atop an Art Deco lamp in the far corner.

Finally, Lex was able to take stock of the situation, pulling back to see what had sent Ms. Lang quivering in fear and found no fault in her original assessment. Clark, as advertised by the size of his feet and hands, was simply enormous. If he failed in his pursuance of a degree in journalism, Lex was quite certain his best friend had a bright future ahead of him in the field of adult entertainment. Especially given that fact he was still in the original packaging.

Clark's worried expression again forestalled the initial reaction of whistling, along with any of the myriad sophomoric comments that sprang to mind. Rather than speak, Lex pushed him all the way back against the couch and with his hand resting on the most perfect six-pack he'd ever seen, Lex opened his mouth and owned up to one of the names he'd been taunted with during his brief stint at a public junior high.

He sucked on the head at first, a little bit at a loss of how to work around the foreskin until Clark reached in between them and peeled it down. Once that was out of the way, Lex concentrated on the sensitive glans, forcefully pushing any stray reference to Latin terms or the anatomy texts he'd studied before deciding against pre-med at Princeton. Instead, he steadfastly watched Clark's awestruck expression and felt a warmth in the pit of his stomach no amount of Scotch would ever be able to duplicate.

Clark touched him, petted him actually, with slow deliberate strokes beside his ears, then more boldly over the top of his skull. To his surprise, Lex determined that he liked it, not just the tentative pets but also the weight and feel of Clark's cock in his mouth. Emboldened by the quiet moans, Lex grew ambitious, opening his mouth further and managing to get not only the head in but a good four or five inches of the shaft.

Making a note to research deep-throating techniques at a later date, Lex rode the first gentle thrusts that Clark made before wrapping one hand around the base. Hoping that he didn't resemble a pit viper trying to swallow an over-sized meal, Lex drew a bit more into his mouth, then slid back and tongued the underside right above where the foreskin now rested. That little improvisation netted him a groan and two seconds later an entire mouthful of come.

Which tasted really, really good. Clark, when he managed to stop shaking, was apologizing all over the place for doing that but Lex was only listening with one ear. He rolled the fluid around and around in his mouth, familiarizing himself with the body, the flavor and, for one highly embarrassing moment for Clark given the resultant squirm as Lex sniffed at his dick, the bouquet, before he swallowed the entire mass with great relish.

Yes, he could easily get used to this. The entire process was anything but unpleasant. The sounds Clark had made while in his mouth only served to increase Lex's own desire. At that very moment, Lex's cock clamored for a chance to come out and play. He was inclined to indulge those insistent requests and after he'd kissed Clark into stunned silence, unconsciously sharing the dregs of the first orgasm Clark had ever had inside someone else's body, Lex reached for the fastenings of his own clothes.

Only to find himself moved bodily from the floor to the couch in a move that Lex doubted anyone would ever be able to duplicate. His pants, boxers and shoes, not necessarily in that order, were unceremoniously removed and before he could mount a protest, or even offer any suggestions, his cock was surrounded by a warm, wet and very eager mouth. Immediately and almost against his will, Lex doubled over, covering Clark, hiding him and what he was doing from non-existent prying eyes.

Unlike his own tentative attempts, Clark was able to take him all the way in. It seemed that Clark was unfamiliar with the concept of a gag reflex and while that should have set off any number of warning bells, Lex opted to finally sit back and enjoy.

Any lack of skill present in his partner was made up entirely by sheer enthusiasm. That, and the fact that the person noisily sucking him into utter oblivion was his best friend and the only person beyond his mother, Pamela and an ex-wife or two that he'd ever loved, more than made up for the occasional sharp scrape of teeth and the drooling. A little drooling was to be expected and God, when Clark pushed all the way down until his face was buried in Lex's lap and then swallowed, Lex lost all contact with reality.

The continued swallowing that encased him in a velvet vise shot Clark straight to the top of Lex's blow-job roster. He was right up there with Desiree, who was still the current title holder. In his delirium, Lex briefly considered a road-trip to Arkham so he could run an unbiased comparison test but the possibility of once again waking two weeks later from a walking nightmare was enough of a deterrent.

Then, the need for a comparison was washed away when Clark cupped his balls, then pushed two fingers into his perineum and performed an expert prostate massage, registered and named by his logical brain despite the fact that it was as close to shutting down from sheer overload of sensation as he was. Hookers with fifteen years of experience on his virginal companion had proven unable to duplicate this maneuver and as Lex shot a surprised load of semen into Clark's mouth, he might even have proposed.

There was a distinct possibility that he was babbling.

The grin on Clark's face when Lex finally returned to Earth confirmed that supposition. And whatever he'd said was going to provide Clark with blackmail material for years to come.

When he was able to form complex phrases again, Lex stretched his arms over his head and melted into the cushions. "I hope you realize this is an unusual occurrence." Silently, he complimented himself on his dry, sardonic tone. The delivery had been a bit shaky but given the fact that his lower body still hadn't reported in, Lex felt he could be excused for that point.

He knew Clark far too well. Even in this odd situation, his friend's reactions were consistent. Right on cue came the 'oh, right' eyeroll and if anything Clark's grin broadened. If he smiled any wider, his head was going to crack right open.

In order to forestall such a gruesome occurrence, Lex continued, "I normally never put out on a first date."

Yes, there was the snort of surprise, followed by a laugh deeper than he'd heard since the start of the semester. Clark leaned in for a kiss that didn't quite stifle his on-going mirth. "You really are a jerk."

"I know," His fingers attempted to bring some order to Clark's rebellious curls, an action that softened into idle petting as Lex murmured. "But I'm your jerk."

With more grace than Lex would ever have given him credit, Clark slithered up onto the couch and pulled him into a soporific embrace. What they were doing, if either of them had been of the fairer sex, would be described as cuddling. As such, since they were undeniably male, Lex refused to give this comfortable closeness such a faint title. He'd come up with something more appropriate... later.

Clark kissed his temple and murmured just before they drifted off into an easy doze. "Yes, Lex. You are mine."

Beyond a twenty-minute nap to recharge their batteries, they didn't sleep together that night. Partially because Lex wasn't ready to deal with any potentially friendship-wrecking morning-after scenarios but mainly because he never slept with anyone. After two homicidally inclined spouses, the thought of sharing his bed with another person for any period of time beyond that necessary to get in, get it on, get off and get out was a guarantee of a sleepless night.

Clark didn't question the decision, even though he'd given Lex's bedroom door one hopeful look before shuffling off to the guestroom that all but had his name on the door.

The penthouse had five bedroom suites. Lex's was the largest, taking up more square footage than three of the rooms in Clark's dorm. Clark's was the second largest and came complete with two walk-in closets, a separate sitting room and a full bathroom of its own.

To his dying day, Lex would deny he'd decorated that suite to Clark's tastes. But the homey mixture of earth tones with the red, blue and yellow quilt on the bed could easier have fit into Martha's house. His argument when his interior designer raised a protest over the quilt was that he wanted a least one reminder of his years in Smallville. When she continued to protest, he merely called one of her rivals, which settled the matter quite precipitously.

Within a few weeks of Lex moving in, Clark had appropriated some closet space. Mainly jackets and his better clothes because he only wore them when he went out with Lex. One weekend when he hadn't had time to grab anything other than his backpack before leaving campus, several packages of boxers, socks and a few shirts appeared on the dresser the following morning. The shirts weren't flannel but Lex was only willing to go so far. Brushed cotton and raw silk were enough of a compromise in his opinion.

Thankfully, the next morning came without even a hint of awkwardness. Lex did some work in his study while Clark studied and played on the PS2. They had lunch together, Lex took a few minutes to point out some of the errors in Clark's philosophy homework and they engaged in a head-to-head match of Grand Theft Auto, which resulted in the loser giving the winner some serious head.

Upon later reflection, Lex suspected Clark had lost on purpose.

After their first 'date', they fell into a variation of their previous routine. In the past, he and Clark usually saw each other between three and four times a week, either for coffee or for Clark to ask questions about his Bio-Chem class or for him to unwind over a movie and dinner with Clark after fighting with the corporate world and more specifically, his father.

That didn't change much.

They still saw each other about four times a week. Clark would drop over or Lex would call and they'd meet at a restaurant or something. They'd laugh and tease each other and at the end of the evening Lex would drop Clark off at the dorm without so much as a kiss goodnight. But every two or three times they got together, or whenever the horde of women who'd woken up and smelled the Clark got to be too insistent, Lex would pull out all the stops.

He'd show up in an immaculate suit, driving whatever automotive orgasm he'd bought recently and in full view of Clark's slathering roommate, toss Clark the keys. The grin was always worth relinquishing transit control for a few moments. To further confirm his ownership of one Clark Kent, Lex would make a point of touching Clark before they'd leave on their outings. He'd kiss him, or run a finger along the open collar of his shirt or trace an outline around his dick. All while Greg and whoever he was entertaining at the moment watched.

They'd go to a restaurant near campus where Lex would hold Clark's hand and kiss him in clear public view. They never sat in the back or tried to hide from any interested onlookers; that would defeat the purpose of the whole exercise. As expected, a certain amount of notoriety beyond that strictly necessary to keep Clark in his pristine condition, at least where the opposite sex was concerned, developed.

Having grown up with the paparazzi, Lex took it in stride. And implemented his contingency plans.

The first time a photograph of them appeared in the society pages of the Daily Planet, both Jonathan Kent and Lionel Luthor called LexCorp, each with their own agenda. In response, each father received the proper treatment. With Jonathan, Lex gave an abbreviated version of why this was going on, steering clear of the fact that he and Clark were having sex on a fairly regular basis as he was still leery of the shotgun displayed so prominently over the Kent family mantle. With his own father, however, Lex simply laughed and reminded him that they were business rivals, not partners.

His father swore this scandal would ruin Lex.

That afternoon, LexCorp's stock gained fifteen points.

And stayed there until the pictures of him engaged in a major lip-lock with Clark at their favorite Italian place appeared in The Inquisitor.

The result? His stock rose forty points the next day.

Apparently being gay... was good for business.

Not that he was gay but with those financial results, he was willing to continue the faade.

Well, for that and for Clark's blue-ribbon winning blow-jobs, which was how every one of their date evenings culminated. To be fair, he'd reciprocate in kind, both of them trading off until Lex was certain not even a thimbleful of unexpended seminal fluid remained viable in either of their testes. Occasionally, when they were feeling adventurous, they'd get naked and grind together until they were covered in sweat, semen and in Clark's case, ear-to-ear smiles.

Then there were the impromptu bouts of phone-sex in the middle of his day. Those were quite the pick-me-up. Hearing Clark murmur, "Guess what I'm not wearing" did more for his mental acuity than any number of imaginative forms of liquid caffeine.

The money he'd saved on Starbucks alone was staggering.

Yes, the subject tonight was blow-jobs, was it not? Fellatio, a man's sport in its finest form. Something he was becoming quite the connoisseur of in the few months since their karaoke date.

Lex never asked why Clark was so good with his mouth. While he'd come to suspect there might have been some questionable things that occurred in Clark's life back home in the Heartland during Lex's own lost summer of Helen and deserted islands; there was also such a thing as natural talent. Clark was good at so many things, why not this?

At the moment, he truly wasn't inclined to question anything.

For Clark was on his knees with eyes closed and mouth open and Lex was standing above him and rocking slowly back and forth, painting Clark's lips and tongue with broad strokes. Occasionally, his hand would drift down to filter through hair that needed to be cut again or to follow the curve of Clark's cheek until his fingers slipped in alongside his dick. Where they received equal care, surrounded by soft lips and quiet moans that reverberated all the way up Lex's spine.

Clark kept getting better and better, growing by leaps and bounds. The total lack of a gag reflex combined with his readiness to do this when and wherever Lex dictated had gone a long way to depose his first wife from her lofty perch. Desiree was nothing but a faint memory now, made even fainter by the brush of fingertips up under his balls. A light caress that trailed fire across his skin, urging him to spread his legs in a silent entreaty for more.

Earlier that evening, any pretense at after-dinner conversation faded the minute they'd left Jardine's. The meal had been excellent; however, the heated kisses against the hood of his Lamborghini proved more in tune with his palate. When those kisses were followed by a whispered, "I'm hungry, Lex" despite the fact that Clark had eaten not only his dinner but half of Lex's, there was nothing to do but satisfy that request.

His pants lay in a crumpled heap across the room along with all of Clark's clothes and this lazy suck was their second round. The first one had been up against the front door without bothering to go inside. Clark came in a matter of minutes, rocking hard and fast on Lex's leg and it was only by sheer force of will that Lex hadn't joined him. He was the elder of the two after all; he was expected to have more stamina, right?

Another brush, this time with wet fingertips and Lex hesitated before answering the unspoken question. They hadn't progressed beyond mouths, hands and full-body grinds, which until now, Clark had appeared to be content with. Understandable, those were activities that two straight guys could enjoy - not with each other - but with a female companion. As long as hands didn't stray further back, the illusion that Clark would eventually find some little woman to settle down with once this insane phase of their friendship ran its course, still thrived.

If they did what those fingers promised, maybe the picket fence and the 2.5 grandchildren for Jonathan and Martha Kent wouldn't disappear altogether but whoever the lucky lady in that prospective domestic scenario ended up being, she would have to contend with some unforeseen kinks. Given Clark's size, that could prove disastrous, not to mention painful as Clark's feminine interests tended to be quite petite. And Lex didn't want his best friend's future connubial bliss ruined by Clark sneaking out to seek that pleasure elsewhere.

However, if they limited it to fingers, perhaps there would be no need for Clark to step outside his nuptial bed for gratification. Some women found digital anal penetration to be pleasurable and a great enhancement to concurrent genital sex. After considerable debate, Lex nodded his head and waited for the invasion. It was probably going to be crude and clumsy and painful but for Clark, he would endure.

Lex held his breath and waited some more. Much like the beaches of Normandy waited on that fateful day. Patient and silent with pending destruction hovering omnipresent in the expectant air...

Ah, God.

Christ, Christ, sweet Christ, that was good.

How the hell had Clark found his prostate so quickly?

Not what he'd expected at all. Clark was anything but clumsy and this was anything but painful. With a hand insinuated between Clark's chin and his own groin, Lex squeezed tightly and willed the stars behind his closed eyes to fade along with the imminent edge of his personal event horizon. It shouldn't have felt like this, like everything he was and everything he would ever be rushed out as Clark's fingers slid the rest of the way in.

Two seconds, three... maybe four and then climax so sudden that it hurt, so powerful it buckled his knees and impaled him further onto those fingers which started the cycle all over again. By the time the shudders stopped, Lex vaguely remembered offering Clark marriage, the keys to his new Lotus, half his shares in LexCorp and his entire Warrior Angel collection, not necessarily in that order, and the bit about Warrior Angel was a serious miscalculation on his part.

Suffice it to say, Clark's fingers in his ass came under the heading of *'yes, let's do that again very, very soon... how does now work for you? Are you good with now?'*

Lex groaned as Clark persisted in his digital explorations even though his semen was already making fast friends with the other contents of Clark's stomach. Those fingers twisted and turned and if his cock could have whimpered, it would have. Instead, it chose to reharden immediately, painful and full and Clark's delighted hum almost set him off again.

Jesus, this was good.

Far too good for it to be a passing phase.

Maybe it was time to wholly reconsider his sexual orientation here.

While he was still not gay, there was a possibility he might be bisexual.

He'd have to explore that later.

After he figured out how deep throating worked because Clark was just too good at it and Lex wanted to reciprocate. Every time he tried though, he'd get about half of Clark in his mouth before panic set in and he'd have to pull back.

Being the one with the gag reflex was getting old.

Really old.

Clark had been gone for three days. Granted it was Spring Beak and though the unending list of chores Clark reeled off while he packed to go back to the farm quite honestly staggered Lex, he still missed Clark.

He missed the smiles. He missed the teasing comments about his obsession with the color purple. He missed waking up in the morning and knowing that one room over was someone who thought he was more than his last name. He missed slipping into that room and either watching Clark sleep, or climbing into bed with him for a few warm kisses and a power nap.

Without Clark there, his home was lonely.

But more than that, his mouth was lonely. The scent, the taste, the heat and weight on his lower lip, the slow slide past teeth and palate in their favorite position when Clark turned fully onto his side and pushed, the huge curve of Clark's hand around the base of his skull cradling and protecting and holding him in place, even the choked gasp when Clark went too deep...

He missed being full.

He missed it so much he found himself looking for substitutes. Ty Nant bottles were too small, the clink of glass against his teeth proved painfully jarring and not conducive to a sustained fantasy of Clark coming home early, cornering him in his office and pulling open clothes while begging Lex to 'please, suck me off before I explode'. Pool cues were too long and worked better for manual stimulation than oral. Lastly, Clark had taken his hairbrush with him so even that pathetic option was out.

Right now, the bananas nestled in among the apples in front of him were starting to look less like food and more like comfort. Slowly, Lex picked one of them up and studied it with a critical eye. It was Monday afternoon and the penthouse was empty. Matilda was out shopping, his security team was unnecessary in his own home and he'd finished up the final contract negotiations for the new plant.

He'd be alone for hours.

There was no one to see as he peeled said banana, turned it just so, slid it into his mouth and held it there. With eyes closed, Lex tried to savor the sensation, conjuring up sculpted abs and a firm ass that all he had to do was reach out and touch. Even with his vivid imagination, it didn't work. The flavor was good but the texture was completely off, the curve wrong and the size... the size was laughable. There had to be a better substitute than this.

Chewing absently on the rejected fruit, Lex pondered any other possibility. While he'd laid in a decent supply of lube, leather and the prerequisite porn in anticipation of his return to a solitary life-style, his stash in the bottom right-hand drawer of the armoire lacked a certain panache. He'd never seen the need for such paraphernalia before, nor had he understood when the lovely ladies in Curious Cats spent so much time sucking on one but that was then and this was now.

There was nothing currently in his possession that would suffice so that left one alternative. He'd do some shopping and while he was at it, make a call or two. There were still certain things in the fellatio arena that he, not for lack of trying, hadn't got the hang of.

Fortunately, Lex knew the very best teacher.

"Thanks for coming on such short notice." He held the door open for her and manufactured a smile as Kori brushed a hand along his arm in greeting before stepping inside. Normally her touch was an invitation, in fact it was one now, but upon cursory inspection Lex found he wasn't... interested.

Which was more than strange. Kori was the best of the best. Petite and lithe, barely two inches above five feet and more flexible than a Circque de Soleil performer. She was available for a price few could afford.

Lex could afford her.

In the past, he'd afforded her many times.

To his chagrin as she stepped in close for a kiss, he discovered a curious fact.

He truly did not want her.

Not only that, he hadn't wanted anyone since his first date with Clark. Anyone other than Clark, apparently. How had that come about?

Unabashed by his lack of response to her kiss, Kori murmured, "Lex, I'll always make time for you." Her hand drifted down from his neck to his waist, resting there while she studied him closely. "So, it's true."

"What's true?" Lex moved out from underneath her hand and led her into the living room, then through to his study. If she was surprised to end up in there, Kori didn't show it. Instead, she waited for him to take a seat on the couch before setting her bag down and curling up next to him.

Close enough to touch even though she didn't. Her cool, jade-tinged gaze washed over him followed by the quiet pronouncement, "You're off the market."

"Where did you hear that?"

"Lex, I never reveal my sources." She trailed a red-tipped nail down the inside of his arm from elbow to wrist. Instead of the familiar shudder and dilation of his eyes, there came only a tight twist of his mouth and that arm was moved out of reach. "Oh, darling, he owns you, doesn't he?"

"I have no idea--" The litany of protest was cut off by her mouth over his. Delicate and fragrant, catching him open and taking advantage of the situation by filling him with her tongue, thereby confirming that this was not what he wanted. He wanted broad - not slender - shoulders under his hands. He wanted a long, heavy body draped over his own, pressing him breathless into the couch, not the petite frame currently winding arms and legs around him like an over-zealous housecat. He wanted a hot, hard pulse of life lined up against his dick, rubbing and pushing until both of them were frantic for release....

He wanted Clark.

"You have every idea, Lex." Kori whispered in his ear as she reached between them to caress his unresponsive and apparently dead-to-the-world cock. It lay against the palm of her hand, not even bothering with a single twitch of interest.

Lex felt a moment or two of sheer heterosexual panic. This was Kori. They had a long, involved, sweat-and-semen soaked history. She was the woman who sucked him off five times in a row during a particularly rancorous phone call with his father right before he'd been banished to Smallville. She was the woman who helped him get over both Desiree and Helen. Prior to his current liaison with Clark, she could get him hard just by looking at him.

More importantly, she was the only one of his lovers he knew would never sleep with his father, though God knew, Lionel had tried. He'd offered her four times her going rate, he'd dangled tickets to Europe and to Malaysia where her mother still lived, he'd sent her keys to houses and cars - offered her anything she could possibly desire. Kori steadfastly refused.

Lex knew she didn't do it out of love because Kori didn't believe in love.

She did it because Lex asked her not to.

She did it because she liked Lex and Lex genuinely liked her.

She did it because she and Lex were friends.

Which was probably why she was now talking in such a friendly tone even after his dick insulted her charms by not rising to the occasion. Her voice rose and fell, her hands stroked gentle patterns at the nape of his neck and reminded him that he should be listening to rather than silently berating said non-functional portion of his anatomy. "-ex, I've seen some pictures of the two of you. Your taste hasn't changed, has it? He's very pretty."

"Yes, he is. More than that --" She needed to lose the habit of interrupting him with kisses. His mouth was lonely, after all, lonely enough to take comfort from the contact. It now appreciated the invasion of her tongue even though it was far too small. Lex hoped Kori didn't notice how eagerly he sucked on it, or how his hands drifted down the length of her back to cup her ass but didn't reach for her breasts.

"More than that," she breathed against his cheek, unbuttoning his shirt slowly. "He's your friend and you love him."

"Yes," Lex muttered into her throat, uncertain what he was agreeing to. Clark had been gone too long, his body was starting to react to the light scratch of nails over his nipples. Clark usually did that a little harder, dragging heavy fingertips across his skin before capturing and tugging. A surge of absolute heat washed over him and Lex groaned, lifting his hips and grinding up into Kori.

Now his dick decided to respond. At the thought of Clark leaning over to mouth his chest, his recalcitrant penis finally decided to take note. The hand inside his pants had nothing to do with it. Nor did the lips pressed against his chin. Nor the way Kori smelled, the way she tasted, the way her breasts gave way as he pulled her in even tighter.

God, he was so fucked.

After a few more minutes of heavy fondling, Kori let go. She climbed out of his lap and as Lex watched in dazed confusion, Kori settled back down on the other side of the couch. "So, how can I help you?" He blinked, long and slow, trying to determine if she'd spoken in English or lapsed into her original tongue. "Lex, I'm glad you haven't forgotten how good we are together but we're not having sex. It's not what you need right now."

"It's not?" Lex swallowed hard and promptly locked his libido in the same closet with his now questionable sexuality. When he looked over at Kori again, she shook her head and he laughed in agreement. "It's not. I seem to have this problem, Kori, and you're the only person I know who can help me. Are you up for the job?"

"That depends on the problem. Tell me what's got you tied up in knots. And please, don't spare the details..." As Lex laughed again, she reached for her drink and winked. "Tell me all about your beautiful boy. If you have pictures, I'd love to see them. I don't think the Inquisitor did either of you any justice."

He told her everything.

From their first meeting to their last kiss and as Kori requested, he spared no detail. It took over four hours and spanned over dinner, drinks and a foot massage during which she swore he still had the best hands in Metropolis. When he finished talking, Kori nodded sagely and asked one simple question.

"How big?" A logical inquiry, given that he'd already explained what he wanted her to teach. When Lex held his hands out to sketch an air measurement, Kori whistled low and soft. "Lex, please tell me you haven't let him..." At his raised eyebrow, she glanced down at his ass and then back up. Lex felt the blush before she put her cool hand on his cheek. "When you're ready for that step, you better call me. I've got some things that will make it easier."

He was at a loss for words. Partly because Kori was looking at him with such sympathy but mainly due to the fact that the lizard portion of his brain just went there. It went to the place he'd avoided for weeks. Hard, hot and thick, massive pressure splitting him open, tendons straining, muscles pushed to their absolute limit, sweat pouring off the body above and behind him, his face buried in a pillow while Clark pinned him to the bed like a butterfly, his own arms and legs moving without coordination, desperate whimpers filled the room while Clark filled him. Pain gave way to mind-numbing pleasure when Clark whispered his name, holding him down as he chanted nonsensical words of lust, love and devotion.

No wonder he hadn't thought that through before. If he had, Clark probably wouldn't be home on the farm right now. He'd be here, he'd be in Lex's bed... he'd be in Lex.

Lex shifted uncomfortably on the couch, squirming against a cushion seam and damned if Kori didn't catch him doing it. "I see. We'll cover that later tonight. For right now, let's try this, shall we?"

Kori picked up the bag that still sat at the end of the couch. While Lex watched, she dumped the contents onto the creamy leather and proceeded to go through each item with a critical eye. Kori provided a running commentary as well, laying the rejects to the side. "Too small. Too small. How did that get in here? Too big. Is he curved? Left or right? Hmm... how about this one?"

It was... large. Just this side of enormous, actually. Well proportioned though with a sculpted head and there was even a thick ridge under the crown of a retracted foreskin. When he reached for it, Lex was surprised to find it warm, pliable to the touch. The color was just about right, rose pink at the base and darkening to a plum blush at the very tip. His hand encircled and stroked, every nerve sent back happy signals and his mouth literally watered.

Perfect.

Just the thing to help cure his problem.

Learning the proper technique, even with as patient an instructor as Kori, proved more difficult than Lex anticipated. By the end of their first session, his lips were sore and chapped, his upper palate bruised from the uncountable bumps and bangs when he tried to go too fast, the back of his throat felt like raw meat and he'd developed a healthy aversion to the taste of latex.

On the upside, his mouth no longer felt lonely.

It was too worn out to feel much of anything.

On the downside, he was hot, hard and sexually frustrated. Even more than before, he wanted to take his fastest car, drive down to Smallville, snatch Clark out from under the noses of his loving parents and plaster him against the wall of the barn for a quick, fully-clothed fuck. Just the two of them with the night sky wheeling overhead and Clark making those noises that made his knees go weak as they ground against each other, dense flannel crushed under his fingers, rough denim catching against leather because leather was the only thing one should wear when seducing your best friend...

There was a rule somewhere about that. Lex was sure he'd read it in GQ, or Maxim. Yes, leather and seduction were more Maxim's speed.

So, leather and its supple creak as they pushed and pushed against each other. He'd pin Clark's hands above his head, bury his face in Clark's shoulder and bite. Right above the collarbone, right on the spot that always made Clark quiver and sometimes forget the English language.

He had no clue what Clark said during those moments.

Lex only knew what those liquid syllables did for him.

Hearing Clark lose control enough to speak in tongues, proved more than once sufficient incentive to lead Lex into almost mindless orgasm.

An orgasm he could use right about now because Kori was steadfastly sticking to her rule about no sex between them. She did grant him a stroke or two of her hand down his chest, as well as a quick fondle for old time's sake but when he rolled away from the last lesson of the night and reached for her, Kori stepped back.

She gathered up her toys, leaving behind the one he'd been practicing on, and tumbled them into her bag. When he lifted up the admittedly damp item to add to her collection, Kori merely shook her head and laughed. "Keep it. It's yours."

Lex coughed, winced at the rough sound and tried to swallow. A glass appeared in his hand. Kori moved in under his arm as he took a sip, the cool water a balm to abraded tissues. "Not my most stellar performance, I take it."

The amused chuckle did nothing to soothe his potentially damaged ego, nor did it help deflate the severely under-appreciated portion of his anatomy that lay thumping its displeasure alongside his thigh. "Lex, you're doing fine. Don't try to stuff it all in your mouth at once, that's what makes you choke. You just need to relax and let it happen." Kori patted his cheek in sympathy, "To be perfectly honest, given your boyfriend's equipment, even I'd have trouble."

He nodded as he ran his thumb along his swollen lower lip. What she'd just said made sense. In fact, everything she'd said since first asking him about Clark made sense. He was a little too eager, too concerned about impressing Clark when it was abundantly clear that whenever they were together, Clark was simply happy to be with him... no matter what they were doing.

"Can you clear your evenings this week, Lex?" Kori's quiet question snapped him out of his musing long enough for Lex to mentally review his calendar. He'd scheduled a massive amount of work due to Clark being out of town but he could move a few things around to accommodate whatever Kori had in mind. She smiled broadly as he nodded, then kissed his cheek. "Good. I'll be back tomorrow. I've got some ideas but I didn't bring the right equipment."

"You seemed fairly well-stocked," His throat was feeling better. The casual drawl followed by a practiced smirk marked a return of Lexian normal. The soft laugh and equally soft kiss to his bruised mouth confirmed Kori's appreciation of his sense of humor's resurgence.

"Lex, in this case, you have no idea." With her bag slung over one shoulder, Kori rose and together, they walked to his front door. Once they reached it, she stepped in close, her hand on his hip rubbing small circles guaranteed to drive him insane in his current condition. "Do us both a favor, Lex."

"What would that be?" His murmur into the soft cloud of her hair was almost lost as he took in her scent. Clark had been gone so long and he was so hard and Kori was comfort. Kori was familiar. In a different world, he would have married Kori and Clark would've stood beside him at the altar, beaming that big smile...

Right before Lex dragged him off into the sacristy for an extending groping session, reciprocal blow-jobs and the probable loss of the last virgin territory he could still claim and God... Clark needed to come home soon.

"Take care of this tonight." She trailed her fingers along the inside of his thigh, stopping less than a breath away from his previously disinterested cock. Which was, at the moment, very interested although Lex was quite certain his tumescent state had more to do with having spent several hours sucking on an artificial cock rather than any actual interest in renewing his former acquaintance with Kori's admittedly exquisite charms.

"I plan on it." Lex countered in return, opening his door for her and indulging in one final, not quite chaste kiss. "Tomorrow then?"

Rather than answer, Kori smiled and walked away.

It took less than five minutes to come the first time and the delay was caused more by his running back to his room and stripping completely naked than from any lack of desire. The second time took longer because Lex decided to see if he could come from just sucking on the toy Kori left with him.

The reclassification of his orientation as bisexual was whole-heartedly confirmed when forty minutes from the last shudder of his first orgasm, Lex was bucking his hips up into empty air and shooting more semen up onto his chest as he avidly suckled on his prize. Nothing but oral stimulation and any doubt he had about being a switch-hitter went down in an unending wave of pure pride as he managed to slide yet another inch into his mouth without choking.

Look, Clark, no hands.

Moments later, the elation over his minor accomplishment shifted to a quiet brood as he slumped against his headboard, idly sucking while he pondered his situation. If he was honest with himself, his changed status was a discovery he could have done without.

The problem was inherent with the situation. While he was clearly bisexual, Clark, although he seemed to be honestly enjoying Lex's attention and even eager for it, was still firmly heterosexual. He constantly commented about pretty girls on the street, pointing them out to Lex as they drove by and Lana, while not the topic she'd once been, still cropped up in conversation along with Chloe and a few other girls who'd caught Clark's notice, however briefly. Clark even brought flowers for Georgia on her birthday, offering them with a shy smile and shrug that put Lex's own extravagant arrangements to shame.

Lex was quite certain that if he phrased it correctly, Georgia would happily lock herself in the supply closet with Clark long enough to turn Clark back onto the path that led to a home and family and those precious grandchildren for Martha and Jonathan Kent. It wouldn't take much, just a mere whisper that Clark was still cherry and his worldly secretary would likely knock the door down in her haste.

There was also the inescapable fact that Clark was in college and college was for experimentation. What was going on between him and Clark was nothing more than that. Clark was experimenting and when the novelty of all this ran its course, Clark was going to take Kim or Mandy or Winona up on one of their many offers, lose the tattered remains of his virginity between their shapely thighs and they'd go back to their old relationship.

Back to the safe world of Clark and Lex - the best of friends.

Instead of Clark and Lex - lovers

On that distressing note, Lex eased his artificial companion out of his mouth and reached for a glass of water. No matter how he looked at this, he was going to lose.

He hated losing.

True to her word, Kori arrived the following night with a few more fascinating items. The first was a small spray bottle, which she didn't bother to explain. Instead she retrieved Lex's now favorite chew toy from the center of his desk. It was fortunate he'd given Matilda the day off because he'd been reluctant to part with it even for a minute.

Being able to stroke it while he discussed a business deal with dear old Dad, listening to his father try to screw him over, was a guilty pleasure Lex swore he'd take to his grave.

Kori held the toy up and when Lex opened his mouth to receive it, she sprayed the back of his throat. Fighting the urge to gag, Lex managed not to cough or sputter as a bit of the sickly sweet substance landed on his tongue, leaving it numb. In answer to his silently raised eyebrow, Kori answered as she slid the dildo in deeper than he'd ever managed before. "Darling, welcome to the tricks of the trade. Contact anesthetic. Lidocaine, to be exact. Now, breathe when I pull back and then hold it."

He did as instructed, holding his breath when Kori pushed in. To his surprise, the warm shaft slid easily past his soft palate and down into his throat. Heavy balls rested against his chin for a moment as she murmured in his ear, "Swallow."

Lex felt a moment of panic, as suffocation became a very real possibility given how deep they'd gone but Kori held him still while murmuring quiet encouragement and when the panic receded, he swallowed. His throat tightened, his tongue worked along the ridge underneath and he swore he heard her sigh in approval. After a few more gentle invasions, concurrent with her calm instructions about how to breathe and relax, Kori removed the toy and let him rest his head against her shoulder. "Very good, Lex. Even I can't take it that deep."

He coughed, took a sip of water and nodded in rueful agreement. "Be thankful you've never met Clark. He's bigger."

That comment earned him a laugh as well as a soft kiss that tingled despite how numb his tongue felt. "Oh, I plan on meeting him, Lex. Anyone who can make you this happy and desperate to please at the same time is someone I plan on calling a friend." Anything he planned to say in response was swallowed by another kiss and Lex turned into the stroke along his cheek as she asked, "Are you ready for the next stage?"

Lex relaxed, accepting each and every touch she was willing to give. This was why Kori was such a good teacher, she believed in the positive reward system. While she wasn't Clark, he was willing to take whatever affection he could get. "I'm ready for anything. What have you got in mind?"

Famous last words.

The next stage involved flannel. And denim. And boots.

Had it not been such a cliche, Lex's jaw would have hit the floor when Kori sauntered out of his bathroom wearing something he'd sworn he'd seen on a feed-store calendar hung up in the Kent barn. In a spot tucked way in the back that Martha surely knew about but didn't comment on because despite what anyone else might think about her, Lex knew Martha was a very smart woman.

Kori looked like a farm boy's wet dream. Her dark hair, usually kept short and straight, had been teased into waifish curls with a fringe of bangs that drifted over her eyes. The flannel shirt was over-sized, hiding her breasts even though there was a hint of them when she turned to the side. The jeans emphasized her lean hips, highlighting the elegant line of her thigh and doing absolutely nothing to hide the...

Lex blinked. Once, twice and barely resisted the urge to rub his eyes in disbelief.

His gaze shot up to her face because if he looked down again, he was going to ruin a perfectly good pair of Armani trousers. Kori smiled, reached behind her and dimmed the lights. Lex moaned, watching the changes in her face and realizing that not only did he have a type in both men and women, that type was exactly the same. In the softened light, Kori's eyes deepened, her cheekbones soared and her mouth took on a ripened tone that begged for his kiss.

In this light, she looked like Clark.

His eyes, traitors that they were, drifted down from her face to the incredibly life-like cock framed by the open zipper of her jeans. If he hadn't already spent many blissful hours in her bed, Lex would have sworn that he was looking at the real thing. He had absolute no explanation as to how it came to be there and for once, questions weren't part of his repertoire.

Worrying about impending drool on his chin was the extent of his mental capacity at the moment.

Kori stepped in close and rubbed her borrowed cock against his own, hooking her hand around the base of his skull like Clark always did and pulling him down for a hot, hard kiss. His earlier sound of appreciation returned only to give way to a startled gasp and his hands tried desperately to get his pants open before he embarrassed himself. The warm wet, followed by stuttering pleasure allowed only two thoughts as he dropped to his knees in front of his flannel-clad goddess.

1. How would he ever explain this to Clark?
2. Giorgio was going to kill him.

Again, Kori proved to be an excellent and patient teacher. She coached him through depth and rhythm, through every possible angle and every position Lex could come up with as well as a few he'd never thought of before. To his bemusement, Kori's miracle sex change turned out to be one of the most inventive strap-ons Lex had ever seen. After they finished for the night, he spent some serious time studying the engineering and placement of the straps.

Whoever designed it should be working for LexCorp.

He'd track them down in the morning with an offer.

Potential head-hunting aside, the improvement on his technique with Kori's ingenious incentive was nothing short of amazing

The addition of a body to hang on to, the rounded curve of hip and ass, the rough brush of tight curls alongside his own smooth cheek and the beguiling scent that filled his nose all added to the experience and drove him the greater heights... or in this case, depths. Even after the numbing effects of the Lidocaine wore off, Lex was still able to take her deeper and hold the position longer while tightening his throat with precise control.

Kori was effusive in her praise, her hands guiding him lightly and whenever he hit a stride she approved of, she would simply stroke the exposed nape of his neck and let him improvise. Her occasional soft moan when he pressed in hard was the only indication that she gained any enjoyment from this. And while he was tempted to slide his fingers up under the base and return some of the pleasure she was affording him, the thought of Clark's possible disappointment was sufficient deterrent to keep him from doing so.

He and Clark didn't have an exclusive arrangement by any means but Lex, despite the rumors that continued to circulate about his illicit love life, prided himself of being loyal.

No matter what the temptation...

By the time Kori slid reluctantly out of his mouth at the end of their evening's idyll, Lex determined he had more than one favored position. Side by side in his bed was delightful, giving each partner a measure of control but on his knees with Kori in his desk chair bespoke of the loss of that control. The very thought of Clark in a superior role would fuel his fantasies for many nights to come.

It was very late when they finished. So late Lex offered her the use of a bedroom suite, steering her down the hall away from his and Clark's, before sharing a final kiss or two in the open doorway. The invitation was there, Kori's rule having apparently been abandoned somewhere in between lessons but Lex stood firm in his own resolve.

He was doing this for Clark.

His own pleasure and Kori's was secondary to that goal.

Clark would be home in five more days.

He could wait that long.

Kori was a bitch from hell.

There was no other explanation for what she'd put him through that day.

Oh, it started nicely enough. They shared a very cordial breakfast and pored over the financial pages together. Kori had a knack for the stock market and Lex was always grateful for her advice. If his father had taught him anything, it was to respect the expertise of others and use it to his own advantage.

Which was why Kori was in his living space in the first place.

It was also why he let her talk him into this... torture device. He could have said no. He should have said no. If he'd said no, he wouldn't have sat through three hours of an emergency board meeting trying not to squirm. As well as hiding an erection that rivaled the radio tower atop the globe of the Daily Planet.

Not only had she sent him to work in this condition, with a smile on her face no less, the bitch had the nerve not to be here when he got home. Instead there was a note tacked to his dresser mirror with a set of instructions. Instructions he'd crumpled with a snarl of utter frustration and determined yank at the tie that ended up bearing the brunt of his rage.

The tattered scraps of shredded apparel left rather interesting patterns on his floor and bedspread as he lay there, thinking of ways to kill Kori and where exactly he'd hide the body. Yes, he was following her dictates but it was a ploy meant to lull her into a false sense of security whenever she decided to dance back into his reach. He'd make her suffer for this.

Lex rubbed against the bedspread, trying to subdue the frantic signals coming from both his cock and his ass with thoughts of vengeance that included his tying Kori to the headboard and teasing her for hours. Touching everything but the parts that would bring her release and finally sliding the damned plug still making intimate friends with his prostate into her ass.

And then leave her there while he booted up his laptop and returned to his pending game of Civilization.

Being Genghis Khan again for a few more hours was infinitely preferable to lying here in a state of perpetual heat with no relief in sight. Kori, may she rot in hell, had been very specific in her instructions:

1. Get naked
2. Leave it in
3. Don't touch your cock
4. When in doubt, refer back to parts 2 and 3
5. Wait - it'll be worth it

He was going to murder her in her sleep. He was going to hunt down her entire family and string them up by their toes. He was going to declaw her cat when she wasn't looking. Damn it, he was going to reach down, wrap his hand around his dick and beat off until his wrists broke...

Both of them.

In turn.

God, he hated Kori.

Bitch.

Lex opened his eyes an hour later, his hips still rubbing the same pattern into the light satin, a wet stain spreading further and further as he continued to wait. His plans of hunting Kori's family down expanded from the original nuclear portion to half of her home country and her cat... would never be safe around him again.

He never heard the door open. In his own defense, Lex had just hit upon a very imaginative plan that involved Kori being forced to watch reruns of Gilligan's Island while he fellated Clark into multiple orgasms somewhere within hearing range but not in her line of sight. Kori was a voyeur, she'd told him that one night and it was about time that little bit of blackmail material paid off.

The dip of the bed on either side of him was the only warning Lex had that he was no longer alone. Too many years in Smallville, combined with an education in self-defense resulted in a very negative reaction. He reared up immediately, intent on shaking off the body currently straddling his thighs and only stopped when he heard a murmured, "Relax, Lex. It's me."

Lex glared at her over his shoulder and not even the sight of the flannel shirt she'd worn to such perfection last night was enough to assuage his annoyance with her. "Kori. If you value your life... Don't ever do that again." He started to roll over, then sank down into the bed, writhing as she jiggled her infernal instrument.

His prostate was singing Hosannas in her name, his cock was ready to bear children for her and he... he was prepared to gleefully deport her back to Malaysia if she didn't allow him some relief. Another wriggle and the stars behind his eyes knocked the deportation idea right out of his head. Lex rutted against the bed, certain that he could come without any help from her and he didn't care what punishment she had in mind if he did.

Until she slid the body-warm plastic out of him and replaced it with something bigger. With something that had him clawing at the coverlet and then the sheets and mattress below. If he had time to reflect on it later, Lex knew his yelp of surprise would prove more than embarrassing. Especially when that yelp became a yodel and he was begging, "Kori. Kori, please. I can't... please. God, please let me..."

Even without her permission, his hand snaked into the crushed space between his stomach and the now ruined silk. Only to be met with Kori's as she lifted his hips with a calm push upward. Lex scrambled to his knees, any fear of penetration long gone as he rocked back onto what had to be his practice piece. It was thick enough and the curve felt right and why the hell hadn't he suggested this to Clark before Clark took off for the wilds of Smallville?

Oh yes.

He'd forgotten.

He was the bisexual one. If he'd suggested Clark fuck him up the ass before returning to the loving bosom of his normal family, his front door probably would have ended up hanging off its hinges as Clark sped both out of sight and out of his life.

Thank God Clark wasn't here right now.

And thank whichever deity that had sent Kori because her hand was around his cock and he was four heartbeats away from coming. Three... two... oh. Oh...

The stars behind his eyes multiplied into universes and Lex was quite content to float among them while his body continued to thrash out an extended orgasm. One that left him weak-limbed, his forehead pressed against the headboard and his breath coming in labored pants. He moaned in feeble protest when Kori's hand and then the dildo went away, leaving him empty.

He didn't want to be empty.

He wanted...

Not what happened next. Or maybe he did because when it started, he pushed back into it eagerly. He was already stretched and if Kori wanted to take him through another round, he could manage it. He probably wouldn't come. Lex was fairly sure that no seminal fluid still existed in his body.

The angle was different but the sense of gentle invasion the same and it didn't register what was really going on until he felt the scratch of shirt buttons on his back. Followed immediately by the cool scrape of an opened zipper against his left haunch, then the faint press of breasts into his shoulders as Kori draped herself over him.

He meant to raise a protest. He honestly did but Kori eased back out of him and Lex found that the power of speech deserted him. The only thing he could do was shake his head, a gesture ignored in favor of another push in. Kori's hands settled on his hips, guiding him into a hypnotic rhythm that stole away any possible higher brain function.

It hurt a little. Not much and when he moaned in protest, Kori changed the angle to something more comfortable. Lex arched his entire spine, pulling away, then rocking back which earned him a murmur of encouragement, a kiss between his shoulder blades and an increase in the pressure against his prostate. His cock throbbed in sympathy, much too soon for another climax. Slowly, Lex reached down to soothe and stroke and impale himself further.

They found an easy rhythm, a push and pull guaranteed to drive Lex around the bend. His lower lip ached from chewing on it, from holding in the cliched cries of, 'Deeper. Harder. Faster.' Instead what escaped was a whispered repeat of his lover's name. Soft and low and Kori held onto him as he called for Clark under his breath.

Kori wasn't a bitch.

Kori was an angel sent from heaven.

Kori was helping him get ready just like he'd asked her to.

Lex turned to look at her, smiling as she leaned in for a kiss over his shoulder. A kiss that led to another and another until she was settled back onto her heels and Lex was riding each thrust in slow abandon. Coming apart at the seams, each of them unaware of anything else in the world but each other.

Pleasure washed through every inch of his body, another climax within reach and Lex rose into it. Gasping for air, his eyes tightly closed as Clark's name escaped from his lips once more. Kori's hand wrapped around his own, each pulse growing stronger and stronger. Lex lost himself to sensation, letting it roll over him, control him, own him.

This was what he'd been missing all his life.

This was what he could have.

This was what he could share with Clark.

There was no warning. No footfalls, no creak of the door opening. One moment, Lex was hovering on the edge of coming and the next....

"Hey, Lex. I know I'm back early but I got everything done so qui... Oh...."

Oh fuck.

He was so screwed.

Clark was home.

Clark was home early.

Not only was Clark home early but he was right there, in the doorway to his bedroom, watching them.

There was no possible way to spin this.

The ensuing mad scramble Clark's return generated would have been comical if it had happened to someone else. Kori was off his back in a shot even as Lex scrabbled for purchase on the headboard, wincing in pain at her sudden withdrawal. Lex managed one look over his shoulder with a wealth of apologies and 'you, won't believe this's ready to fall glibly off his tongue and every excuse died in an instant.

Right along with the rest of his future happiness.

For Clark still stood there, a discarded jacket crumpled in one hand, his mouth open in shock as eager joy gave way to devastation. Disappointment, pain and betrayal followed quickly on its heels, leaving behind a barren wasteland where once all of Lex's hopes lived before Clark closed the door with a quiet click.

Leaving Lex and Kori alone.

Lex could feel the weight of Kori's gaze between his shoulders but the only thing he could do was stare at that closed door.

Quick footfalls down the hall echoed through the silence, marked only by Lex's labored breathing and a final, barely audible click heralded the end of the most enduring relationship Lex had ever had.

The friendship of legend was over.

His normal response to a disaster of this proportion would have been to run. Case in point, his summer spent in Hong Kong. The difference was, every time he'd done it in the past, Clark pursued him, tracking him down by phone or by the Internet or once by getting around Georgia, a feat which even his father at his most persuasive had failed to accomplish. Clark's dogged persistence never failed to eventually coax Lex back home from whatever bolt-hole he'd hied off to and pulled closed behind him.

This time the shoe was on the other foot. And frankly, Lex hated it. His respect for Clark as a future journalist grew by leaps and bounds because anyone who could dodge a determined Luthor for any extended period of time would not only be able to protect themselves but also protect their sources should the need arise.

One week went by, then two without a word from Clark. Lex called daily, sometimes hourly, leaving messages on the cell he'd given Clark as a high school graduation present as well as on the answering machine at the dorm. Once or twice, someone actually picked up the phone but when he spoke, there was no answer and the connection would quietly go dead.

Lex considered hiring a private detective to hunt Clark down. At least he did until he recalled the last time he'd hired somebody to look into Clark. The taint of first blood on his hands and the memory of both Clark and Jonathan Kent at the mercy, or lack thereof, of Roger Nixon, were sufficient deterrents against implementing that scheme.

He had to stick to conventional methods. But those avenues were quickly drying up.

His e-mails were blocked. His solicitous calls to Kent Farms were met with polite greetings from Martha and an increasing cold shoulder from Jonathan. One night, drunk and discouraged beyond rational thought, Lex broke down and called in his wild card. Chloe was chipper and immediately concerned with his well being but when he asked about Clark, she stonewalled him. She was nice about it, making excuses about being late for a class and promising they'd talk when she was back in town.

But she didn't answer a single one of his questions.

Finally, in a fit of quiet desperation, he made the drive to Smallville. Row upon unending row of corn led him inexorably back to the beginning. With bittersweet nostalgia in full sway, he stopped on the bridge, got out of his car and stared down at the murky water that should have been his grave. His gloved fingertips rasped back and forth over a join in the railing, the memory of that first shocky breath after dying almost as faded as rest of the world around him.

Clark was just as lost to him now as he'd been the first time their eyes met in that fleeting second right before the impact which to this day Clark denied.

He drove by the mansion; unable to bring himself to drive through the gates that opened wide in silent invitation. There were too many ghosts within its paneled walls for him to find comfort there. Instead, he took the turn at the top of the hill and parked his car in the shade of an old pecan tree under which he'd spent many hours during his tenure here, doing exactly what he did during those halcyon days. He sat and watched the familiar yellow house on Hickory Lane, hoping for a glimpse of the family he loved more than his own.

When dusk sent long shadows over the covered porch and empty yard, Lex resigned himself to his solitary fate. He drove slowly into town, intent on a momentary stop at the Talon for enough caffeine to wash away some of his malaise and take him back safely to Metropolis.

Instead, he found the comfort he sought in the most unlikely of places and encouragement from the most unlikely person.

Lana Lang greeted him at the counter with a truly excellent cappuccino, took one look at his face and led him into the back office. Once there, she guided him into a seat on the couch and gently rubbed his back and shoulders while he sat in silence, staring blindly into his cup. He didn't volunteer an explanation and she didn't ask any questions.

When he finally got up to leave, she hugged him and said quietly, "Give him time, Lex. He always comes back to you."

He nodded, his entire opinion of her changing as she patted his hand and led him to his car. Somehow in the past few years, Lana Lang had grown up. How had he missed that? The same way he'd missed so many things. He'd been so infatuated with Clark that the rest of the world had slipped past his notice.

No.

That was wrong.

He'd hadn't been so infatuated with Clark that the rest of the world slipped past his notice. What he felt for Clark wasn't infatuation, or fascination, or curiosity, or lust - even though he wanted him so badly his whole body ached. What he felt for Clark was none of those things and it was all of those things.

What he felt for Clark was complex and simple all at the same time.

He loved Clark.

He loved Clark and he'd lost Clark.

And he didn't know how to get him back.

True to his adversarial nature, melancholy transformed into determination when two weeks became four.

In an unprecedented move, Lex sent Gabe Sullivan to negotiate the final details of the newest plant purchase while he chose to stalk the MetU campus. Unfortunately, all his lurking netted was the realization Clark was either skipping his classes or Lex's theories about his speed were correct because he never managed to catch Clark outside of any of the lecture halls. Not even when he staked them out by leaning against a tree outside the doors, or sitting on the hood of Clark's favorite of his cars, or perching on a park bench right outside one of the windows where he could actually see Clark scribbling away at his notes.

Finally, Lex bit the bullet and trudged up the steps toward Clark's dorm room. The last person in the world he wanted to see was the Neanderthal that shared Clark's living quarters but with a sufficient bribe, he had a chance of securing a position at the end of Clark's bed where he would wait until Clark came in from the cold. Perhaps they'd both be gone and he could appeal to the R.A. for entrance into the room or at least an undisturbed space in the hall or the stairwell where he could wait.

His luck, bad as it was, continued to hold.

Clark was not home but Greg was. When Lex peered over one sloped shoulder, he noted Clark's bed was neatly made, his books stacked on his desk and his half of the room completely tidy. Clark, despite his many admirable and attractive qualities, was an unrepentant slob. A clean room was a sign Clark probably hadn't been there for weeks.

Alarmed that Clark was sleeping on the street in order to avoid him, Lex bristled immediately at the surly, "Why are you here?" He'd never been Greg's favorite person and that prejudice, like his luck, was still holding true.

"I'm looking for Clark." Even though it was obvious to him Clark had flown this coop as well, Lex persisted. Sometimes the most important clues to solving a problem came from the most unlikely sources. "Have you seen him?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I have." Greg crossed his arms and leaned against the partially open door. Animosity oozed from every pore, so thick that Lex could smell it. Upon further reflection, the stench might have been due to Greg's infamously poor hygiene, or the mounds of unwashed clothing littering his side of the small room. No matter, the fact remained that no help would come from this quarter. "What's it to you?"

"I hadn't heard from him in a while and I wanted to make sure he was all right." He refused to mirror the belligerent pose or the tone, choosing polite inquiry to mask the fact he sincerely wanted to shove his fist down the moron's throat. If Greg had kept his distance, if he hadn't alarmed Clark with his sexual overtures, none of this would have happened.

Of course, Lex would still be living in denial. But a lifetime of denial with Clark still at his side was infinitely preferable to this yawning chasm of desolation known as enlightenment.

"He's dealing. It seems this rich boyfriend of his cheated on him. You wouldn't know anything about that, now would you?" The indolent stance shifted and Lex followed the subtle change with a practiced eye. Greg had moved from the heels of his feet to the balls and there was a corresponding drop of his right shoulder as the arms across his chest unfolded. Forewarned was forearmed. If those huge hands curved into fists, he'd already plotted his first three counter-measures.

Despite the imminent possibility of a brawl, Lex wasn't going to defend his actions, at least not to Greg. The only person he owed an explanation to was Clark. But to get to Clark, he had to tolerate this buffoon. Perhaps if he stalled long enough, Clark might actually show up. He had a Bio-chem lab in an hour and the third textbook down in the stack on Clark's desk was one he'd need.

Lex tucked his hands in his pockets, shifted his weight to where he was leading with his right foot and met Greg glare-for-glare. His mouth thinned into a polite smile. "I just want to talk to him."

"Yeah? Well, I want a lot of things, too. Doesn't mean I'm gonna get them." The right hand tightened, fingers curving to form the fist Lex had anticipated. "You wanna talk to your boyfriend? I want my friend back. You know, the tall goofy kid who's so head-over-heels in love it's great to be around him because he makes you feel good. You remember him, don't you? Name's Clark Kent. He used to live here until you decided to break him."

Now the left hand followed suit as Greg stepped into Lex's personal space and the sudden spew of vitriol kept coming. "I want a room-mate who isn't a fuckin' zombie, who doesn't spend hours staring at the wall because his freak of a boyfriend decided it'd be fun to screw somebody else while he was home visitin' his folks." A hot wash of breath on Lex's cheek signaled that Greg was too close.

Lex stood his ground, his continued calm apparently a goad as Greg snarled, "You cold-hearted son-of-a-bitch. If you know what's good for you, you'll leave Clark the hell alone. He's better off without you."

His mother always taught him to stay out of fights. Physical confrontation was the last resort of an educated mind and brawling was not the action of a gentleman. His mother never attended an all-male boarding school. That proving ground, combined with the training he'd received at the hands of one of their chauffeurs, an ex-Navy Seal, did Lex more good over the years than his mother's genteel lessons.

Therefore, when the first punch came, Lex was ready for it. He nailed Greg twice in the chest, solid meaty thumps that echoed in rapid succession in the empty hallway. Pain cut across the ensuing surge of adrenaline as his right fist connected with teeth rather than the nose he was aiming at. More pain followed when Greg finally landed a punch of his very own.

It was a very lucky punch.

It was also one of the very few Greg would land today.

For a moment or two, Lex's ears rang while his vision blurred. He shook his head to clear it and licked his split lower lip before stepping back into the fray with a quick series of blows. The incendiary taste of his own blood provided the match to the flame as its coppery tang set ablaze the final veneer of a refined upbringing. The responding fury, fueled by a solid month of frustration, worry and emptiness, erupted in a moment of incandescent rage.

It burned, clean and hot, destroying everything in its path but the need to beat this cretin to death.

The next wild swing skated past him as Lex spun out of way. Lex's return volley of hard blows earned Greg a bloody nose and a rapidly blackening eye. Flagging coordination left his opponent open to further devastating offensive action, an opportunity Lex made much use of. As Lex methodically took Greg apart with his fists, a verbal assault accompanied the physical punishment. "How dare you tell me to leave Clark alone. He's been my friend for seven years. I'd do anything for him. I've done everything for him."

Once immediate fury waned and gave way to cold precision, Lex set the pace of the fight. Each blow meted out bruising retribution. Jab. Jab. Uppercut. Step back, dodge under a wild punch to land three solid hits into the ribs. Greg was bleeding, looking a little dazed as Lex circled him.

"That includes dating him. Because..." A hard slam into the wall, his elbow jammed up under Greg's ear. Enough pressure exerted on the carotid in this position would cause unconsciousness in under a minute and death within three. Lex leaned in close, snarling in the bastard's ear. "This wouldn't have happened if you'd kept your hands to yourself. We were fine until you came along."

A sudden kick threw Lex off balance and he stumbled back, slamming against the opposite wall. It was only a momentary reprieve but it proved long enough for Greg to catch his breath and come out swinging. Their fight hadn't gone unnoticed as all around them doors started opening. Out of the corner of his eye, Lex spotted someone racing down the hall towards the R.A.'s room. Despite the satisfaction to be gained in pummeling this rabid animal into the faded carpet, he needed to wrap this up before the dubious threat of campus security put a stop to it for them.

"Yeah, right. You two were just fine, " Greg sneered, catching Lex in the ribs with another one of his lucky punches. "Clark mooned all over you and you ate it up with a spoon. Tell me, Lex. Were you balling that other guy the whole time? Or was that a recent development?"

It was strange what managed to filter through in the middle of a fight. The majority of what Greg blathered was nonsense but two words managed to register as important. Other guy. Lex stepped back, dodged another wild swing and watched as that fist connected with the wall instead of his body. While Greg cursed and cradled his probably broken hand against his chest, Lex shook his head in disbelief.

Oh, Jesus.

Clark thought Kori was another guy.

The need to continue this battle faded as the implications of Kori's mistaken gender sunk in. Clark thought he'd cheated on him with another guy. Clark really thought he was gay. Clark obviously missed the memo about Lex not being into any male member of the species other than Clark.

He had so much to explain to Clark. And even if he never got the chance to, he could at least do this much.

He could secure Clark a little peace.

Lex gripped the back of Greg's neck and held on, Greg's gaze wavered with pain before coming back into sharp focus. "What happened is none of your business. Clark is none of your business. After today, he's not going to be your roommate. I'm going to tell the RA and the Dean of Students what you've put him through. By the time I'm done, you'll be lucky to find a one-room rat-hole in the Suicide Slums to live in."

Any pending rejoinder rattled in Greg's throat as Lex shook him. "If you touch him again, I'll cut your hands off."

"Yeah, right. Sure you will, Lex." The response might have been more impressive if Greg had been able to stand up unaided. As it was, he only remained upright due to the wall behind him.

"Greg, you have no idea what I'm capable of." They might as well have been alone despite the opened doors and the pounding of footsteps coming up the stairs to Lex's left. He stepped in close, his voice pitched too low for anyone else to hear. "This is your last warning."

For the first time, Greg actually looked scared. He blinked, swallowed hard and stepped back out of Lex's immediate reach. One shaky hand passed through his hair while he stared at Lex in what appeared to be sudden comprehension. "Okay. Jesus, you actually bought that, didn't you?"

"Bought what?" Lex shot back, wiping his own hands on his bloodstained shirt. He straightened his jacket, grimacing at the torn lapel before fixing his opponent with a level stare. While he was merely disheveled, Greg looked like he'd been dragged behind a car for a few miles, a sight which proved to be both welcome and satisfying to Lex's inner savage.

Instead of answering, Greg started to laugh. Shaky at first, with his arms wrapped around his battered ribs but the sound grew louder by the minute. Lex flicked his cuffs down into place as he watched Greg lean back against the wall in an effort to stay upright. Hysteria was a common reaction to a severe beating, usually brought on by head trauma. He should check for unevenly dilated pupils and perhaps call for an ambulance.

Or just let the bastard fall over.

"You moron." Somewhere between fits of laughter, Greg managed to squeeze those words out. In recompense for that wheezed insult, Lex considered returning to Plan A, namely beating him into unconsciousness. Instead, he waited for a continuance which came on the heels of more pained mirth. "Mandy never thought you'd fall for it but you did. I don't want Clark. I never wanted Clark."

Pure bullshit.

He'd seen the way Greg looked at Clark, how he leered and went out of his way to touch Clark.

Before Lex could call him on that lie, Greg pushed off from the wall and stumbled back through his open doorway with his hand still cradled to his chest. He flopped down on the far bed, still laughing. "He's a great guy but fuck, man, I'm straight. Clark's queerer than a three-dollar bill and besides, all he's ever wanted is you. You're just too dumb to see it."

Lies, all lies.

Clark wasn't.

He couldn't be.

There'd been no indication prior to his blurting out this whole absurd plan and convincing Lex to play along with the... puppy-dog eyes and the blushes and the eager kisses and the... oh fuck.

But he'd seen... and Greg... and the girls... Jesus. This couldn't be true.

Lex's shoulder hit the door, shock having replaced adrenaline as he replayed the events of the last few months. It all made sense. Every bit of it except for... "You never wanted Clark? How could anybody not want Clark? He's... he's..." The ability to form words was one of the first things a child learned but somehow his mouth had suddenly lost the skill.

"Yours. He's never been anything but yours." An unexpected voice from just beyond the threshold interrupted their tableau and Lex's head snapped around instantly. Apparently, the person who'd been summoned by the earlier runner to stop the fight wasn't the R.A.

It was Clark.

Much like he had over a month ago, he stood in the open doorway, his jacket crumpled in his hand and quiet yearning reflected on his expressive face as he looked at Lex. In all the years he'd known him, Lex could never remember Clark looking tired.

Until now.

Clark looked exhausted, like he was about to fall over.

Moreover, he looked... fragile.

Lex straightened, willing the heart that had just leapt into his throat to go back to its former place in his chest. He watched Clark raise a hand to touch his face and stop, the desired caress arrested in mid-air as the yearning disappeared, only to be replaced with pain. The decision to move forward and capture that hand in his own was the simplest choice he'd ever made. Lex closed the distance between them, eased an arm around Clark's waist and held him even though Clark didn't return the embrace.

Holding Clark was easy.

Apologizing was going to be easy.

The rest of it was going to be hard.

He had to start somewhere and what Clark has just said, even if he didn't mean it, was the chance Lex desperately needed. "Clark, I... there's no excuse and I don't expect you to forgive me but will you at least hear me out?"

Clark stepped back, moving out of the one-sided embrace. He studied Lex, his eyes going distant for a moment, then shifted over to where Greg sat hunched over on the bed. A crease of worry formed between his brows as that peculiar gaze swept over Greg in turn. "Lex... Look, now's not the time for this."

"Clark..."

"No." Clark eased away from Lex and crossed the room to kneel in front of his room-mate. "Greg, buddy. I've gotta take you to Student Health, okay? Your hand's probably broken and the nose doesn't look good."

Greg nodded and tried to stand, his legs giving out before he was halfway up. His struggle ceased when Clark's arm went around his waist, steadying and lifting in that strong, quiet way Clark always had about him. When Lex came forward with a silent offer of help, Clark shook his head. "Go home, Lex."

Speechless, Lex stood there as any hope he'd gained by Clark's earlier admission evaporated in light of that command. He should obey, he should honor Clark's wishes in this but his feet refused to move. They were rooted to the spot as he watched Clark and Greg shuffle past him.

There was a pause in the doorway, Clark looking back over one shoulder at him as he repeated. "Go home, Lex. I'll... I'll come over later."

Tears were an absurd reaction and yet there they were, welling unbidden. Lex swallowed them down, his throat working when he blurted out the childish response, "You promise?"

Clark hesitated for the longest time. Long enough for more tears to rise and be swallowed back before he nodded. "I promise. Now, go home."

His head hurt.

The drugs Toby left for him were still on his desk, the bottle of pills unopened. The same was true of his Lagavulin, the cork still firmly in place and the only sound in the room besides that of his pacing feet was the occasional shink of melting ice sliding in his otherwise empty glass. Lex had no plans to indulge in either of them tonight.

He needed to be sharp.

He needed to be alert.

He needed to be ready for any contingency when Clark arrived.

Clark was coming. He'd promised. Clark had done many things in the years they'd known each other but he'd never broken a promise.

The pain in his head would fade. It had dulled in the last hour or so to a steady throb, which meant the snapped cartilage had healed, leaving the soft tissue damage to slowly work itself out. Toby confirmed what Lex suspected; one of Greg's lucky punches had broken his nose and several knuckles on his left hand were cracked as well.

Lex shook that hand, rubbing in between his fingers to keep the blood flow going. As long as it continued to circulate, his accelerated metabolism would repair the damage within hours, instead of weeks. There were some advantages to being a Smallville mutant.

Not many, but some.

During the hours he'd spent since Clark sent him home, Lex worked through Greg's revelations. Clark actually being gay shouldn't have come as such a surprise to him once he got past the shock of it. What straight man would've come up with the idea of dating his best male friend as a way to keep a bunch of adoring girls out of his bed? For that matter, what straight man would agree to go along with such a stupid idea?

A straight man wouldn't.

A bisexual man might.

After all, he had, hadn't he?

Over the last month, when not obsessing over Clark, Lex had a lot of time to think. One of the things he explored and came to terms with was his own sexuality. He still found women attractive. Not attractive enough to entice him into their beds but he certainly appreciated the feminine form. His attraction to men was less; a well-built man wasn't likely to turn his head unless the man was dark-haired, slim-hipped and moved with a coltish grace. In short, if a guy looked like Clark, he'd look twice.

All right, so the obsession even over-ran his tendency for self-reflection. His own sexuality wasn't the point here. He needed to focus and stay on the subject at hand.

The real question behind Greg's exposition remained; whose idea was the Luthor-Kent dating scheme in the first place? Did Clark come up with it on his own or did he have help? If Clark came up with it on his own, was it in self-defense because of Greg's decision to drive them closer together by pretending to covet the contents of Clark's pants? Or did Clark do it because he was tired of waiting for something to happen between the two of them?

How far back did Clark's fascination with him go?

Lex suspected it went all the way to the beginning. The second time they met, he talked to Clark about destiny and swore undying friendship, blissfully unaware of how young Clark actually was. With Clark's height and build, Lex simply assumed he was close to his own age of twenty-one. Instead, Clark had been fifteen. At fifteen, if somebody had spoken to him like that, Lex would've been bent over a bed or any easily available horizontal surface in a matter of minutes.

Minutes? It probably wouldn't have taken that long. And he would've provided the lube... and let the guy ride bareback.

Jesus.

Okay.

Excelsior Prep and his semester's worth of flirtation with Bruce hadn't been a fluke after all. Despite the continued throbbing behind his eyes, Lex cracked a smile. Now that bit of self-awareness was the fodder for an interesting conversation the next time he visited Gotham.

His amusement didn't last long though, the smile fading slowly as Lex looked out over the city. Rain streaked down the window, fragmenting his reflection as he waited for Clark to come back to him. While he waited for Clark to come home.

The first indication Lex had of Clark's arrival was not the usual one. Clark had a key and all the codes to the outer door. Normally Lex looked up from a report or from watching CNN and Clark would simply be there, appearing as if out of thin air.

Not this time.

This time a call on his cell phone heralded Clark's appearance in his corner of the world. Upon checking the display, Lex frowned, then flipped it open. "Yes, Ray?"

"Mr. Luthor. Mr. Kent's here to see you." His frown deepened. Why was Clark's dad downstairs? Jonathan Kent was the last person he'd expected a visit from. There was no reason for him to be here... unless Clark called him and spilled the beans.

Now there was a possibility Lex hadn't seriously entertained until that moment and frankly, it was a daunting prospect. Even prior to his and Clark's change in status, facing the elder Mr. Kent was an event fraught with disaster. Given the fact that he'd spent many blissful hours thoroughly debauching the Kent's pride and joy, the probable scope of the pending disaster approached cataclysmic in scale.

In the tradition of many condemned men before him, Lex squared his shoulders, eschewing the final cigarette in favor of a touch of fingertips to the picture of Clark on his desk. His affairs were in order, his will up-to-date complete with two witness signatures and back-up copies in his safe. If Clark's father had come to kill him for molesting his son, that same son was going to be a very rich man the following morning.

And there was nothing Jonathan Kent could do about it.

Nor could Clark return the gift.

He hesitated for a moment, hypothesizing his assumption of identity might be incorrect, before asking, "Which Mr. Kent, Ray?"

"Clark, sir."

Lex breathed a sigh of relief at his incipient homicide having been averted. "Send him up, Ray."

Following immediately on the heels of that relief were both anxiety and annoyance. As he made his way to the front door, Lex chose to concentrate on the annoyance, the anxiety was beyond his control. This situation was unacceptable. Why had Clark been delayed for even a moment? There were standing orders with all of his security people about this very thing. Clark Kent had free and unrestricted physical access to everything pertaining to Lex Luthor, which included every single one of his residences.

He'd have a talk with Ray first thing in the morning because a call of that nature was never going to happen again.

Lex paced back and forth in front of his door, impatient for the sound of the elevator while he mulled over what had just occurred. It honestly didn't make sense. Clark had never been stopped by his doorman before. In fact, Clark and Ray had become fast friends within a week of Lex's arrival in the building. During a few moments of desultory conversation one rainy night while he and Clark waited for a limo to take them to some unmemorable event, Clark found out everything there was to know about Ray Goodman.

Including his daughter's birthday because the following week, Lex spotted a huge stuffed pony behind Ray's desk as he and Clark were leaving for the theater. Ray winked at Clark on the way out and when Lex asked about it, Clark just shrugged and said Cindy was going through a horse phase.

It took another week for Lex to find out who Cindy was.

The next year, Clark's stuffed animal contribution came with an envelope with six months worth of riding lessons. Paid in advance. According to Ray, he and Clark still ranked at the top in his daughter's nightly prayers.

He hoped Cindy was still praying for him.

Tonight, he was going to need all the help he could get.

The annoyance evaporated the instant Lex opened the door and spotted Clark. It was replaced with concern because Clark no longer looked tired. Tired was too mild a term.

Clark looked beaten.

Lex watched, silent and remorseful as Clark swayed for a moment in the open doorway. He reached out to take Clark's arm, just to steady him and felt the rents in his already tattered heart widen as Clark flinched away. This was what his thoughtlessness had wrought. The one living person he loved could no longer bear his touch.

He stepped back, opening the door wider to allow Clark to pass without either of them touching. Once inside, Clark flinched again when Lex closed the door. It took every ounce of strength to not wrap his arms around Clark and simply hold on until this was all over.

By unspoken accord, they walked through the echoing and empty rooms until Lex pushed open the door to his study. The distance between them remained even after Clark eased himself down into one of the chairs instead of his customary seat on the couch. Rather than dull whatever edge he still had with alcohol, Lex chose two bottles of chilled water, twisting off the caps and handing one to Clark as he took a seat in the other chair.

Or at least, he tried to hand Clark the bottle, only to have it ignored. Clark wasn't looking at him; his entire focus appeared to be the red-petaled rose woven into the very center of the Aubusson carpet. Lex waited for Clark to look up and take the bottle but when that didn't occur, he set it down on the table in front of them.

It appeared that the conversation between them wouldn't happen unless he started it. This stubborn silence wasn't like Clark. Normally when they had a problem, Clark was the one who tried to solve it. Clark excelled at confrontations, especially where it concerned something Lex had done wrong.

Lex took a sip to soothe a suddenly dry throat before launching into the explanation he'd had a month to rehearse. Thirty-one showers, sixty-two sessions in front of the mirror in his closet, eighty-six rambling conversations in his rear-view interspersed with curses and terse comments directed at other drivers, untold hours spent staring at his reflection in every possible surface while he explained, cajoled, drew classical allegories, sketched out diagrams with his hands, tried every possible facial expression and on more than one occasion, flat-out begged for forgiveness. One chance, he needed just one chance and he'd win Clark back again.

Every one of those hours was wasted because now that moment was at hand, he couldn't think of a single word.

But he had to try. So he cleared his throat and that tentative noise caught Clark's attention. The gaze shifted from the carpet to Lex's face and whatever Lex meant to say dissolved as Clark's subdued tone filtered through the half-remembered phrases. "Lex, I just need to know one thing. Do you love him?"

Lex blinked, his brain desperately trying to connect the dots so completely scattered by the sound of that treasured voice. Him? What was Clark babbling about...

Oh.

Right.

Him.

"Clark, Kori's not..." The unexpected thud of Clark's chair falling over as he stood up silenced the rest of the explanation. Lex leapt up himself, panic quickening his movements to the point where he beat Clark to the door, blocking it with his own body.

Clark couldn't leave; he had to stay so they could work this out.

He couldn't lose Clark again.

His hand on Clark's arm provided the last deterrent to Clark's possible exodus. The expected flinch came but this time, Lex held on, watching as Clark tried to pull himself together. When Clark finally looked at him instead of at the hand on his arm, Lex swallowed a curse. In the few minutes since Clark's arrival the appearance of utter exhaustion had deepened. There were dark circles under Clark's eyes, bruised and shining as if he'd been the one in the fight with Greg.

They shouldn't talk about this now. He should simply offer Clark a place to sleep and they could discuss this in the morning.

But somehow a bit of the Kent stubbornness resurfaced as Clark ran a hand through his messy hair and glared at him. Unaccustomed venom seeped into Clark's voice, imbuing every word with barely leashed violence. "I didn't need a name, Lex. I didn't want a name 'cause now I know who to hate."

"Clark," There really wasn't much he could say other than correct the error about Kori's sex. At this point, Lex was certain that it wouldn't help much. The only thing he could offer was far too simple, too trite a phrase for what he really felt but it was all he had. "I'm sorry."

For a moment, there was a flicker of gratitude for the apology before Clark pressed again for what he sought. "I know. Me too. Just do me a favor and answer the question. Do you love him?"

Lex paused, he needed to be completely honest at this juncture or any possibility of rebuilding a friendship with Clark would be gone. He thought he knew the answer to the question but he had to be certain instead of blurting out the first response. There might have been a time when he loved Kori. Of the women who'd shared his bed over the years, she was the only one he trusted.

Did trust equate to love?

Lex looked at Clark, whose bravado had faded in the face of the delayed response. Clark stood in the doorway with hands tucked in his pockets, eyes downcast and broad shoulders slumped. Every ounce of the misery Lex felt in the last month was echoed in that resigned stance as Clark waited for the blow that would shatter him. In that moment of contemplation, Lex discovered a profound truth about himself and possibly the entire human experience.

Trust did not equate to love but it could lead to it.

He'd betrayed Clark's trust. Now he had to earn it again. The only way he could earn it was by telling the absolute truth which he knew now without hesitation. "No, Clark. I don't."

It took a moment or two for Clark to absorb those words and the sincerity behind them. When it sank in, his gaze slowly lifted from the floor to Lex's face, his brow furrowing as he asked, "Then why?"

This was it.

This was the chance he needed.

This was the chance he'd prayed for.

"Clark, come sit down. We've got a lot to talk about."

Clark actually accepted the water this time, taking a sip from the bottle before rolling it back and forth between his hands. He watched Lex settle back down into the opposite chair, waiting quietly for the conversation to continue. Lex reached for his own bottle, his arm brushing across Clark's knee and this time Clark didn't flinch.

Lex's hand trembled as he brought the bottle to his lips, hiding the small prayer of thanks to whatever deity had decided to this was 'Be Kind to Lex Luthor Day'. Clark not flinching at his touch had to be a godsend.

Yes, Clark was still hurt. Clark was also still angry. But at least he was willing to listen. The problem was where to start. The first 'I'm sorry' got them this far and therefore bore repeating. "Clark, I am truly sorry. I never meant it to go that far."

"I know you're sorry, Lex. Your first fifty messages made that pretty clear." Another sip of the water and Lex felt his own mouth go dry at the sight of Clark's throat working. This was not the time to think about swallowing, or heat, or how much he wanted to lick the little bead of water off Clark's lower lip. Lex needed to get a grip because his eyes glazing over in the middle of explaining why this whole fiasco had happened wouldn't help his case. "Tell me something I don't know."

As an opening gambit, the shock value of a bald pronouncement of the truth was usually enough to put an opponent off balance and therefore give him a solid advantage. It had worked for him many times during tense contract negotiations so why not now? Lex took a swallow of his own water, then calmly stated, "Kori's not a man."

Fortunately, he timed that pronouncement so Clark didn't spew water all over both of them or shatter the bottle in a tightly clenched fist. The water wouldn't have been a problem since the temperature in the room had taken an inexplicable turn upward but dealing with first aid and a bleeding Clark was not on the agenda tonight.

Lex studied Clark's face, judging the impact and almost smiled when the actual initial reaction wasn't flat-out irritation. There was the eye-roll that customarily preceded a mocking comment from Clark, the standard ice-breaker between them in their past arguments.

Said comment came right on cue.

Thank you, Clark, for remaining predictable.

"Oh, please. Lex, I saw you. He