Warning: Self-injury, so if you're squeamish with that kind of stuff, turn back now so you don't feel the urge to send me hate mail. If you want to anyway, that's totally up to you. Also, this story is a wee bit darker than any of my previous ones.

Lex hummed tunelessly but contentedly as he drew the razorblade diagonally across his arm, as always marveling at the small beads of red blood that pooled to the surface. He rarely felt human, so he half expected his blood to be something other than bright red each time he cut into his arm.

He liked the sting of the blade, the warmth as the blood dripped slowly down his wrist, sleeves of his button-down shirt rolled up to his elbow. The physical sensations were the only reassurance he had most of the time that he was indeed alive. The training from his father ensured that he didn't feel emotional pain or elation, and not much in between. The physical was the only thing keeping him in this world.

He pressed the blade down again, a little deeper this time. He knew by now how deep he could cut before it would scar badly. The marks from a few drunken exercises when he was younger still remained, staring at him, reminding him to be more careful. No one would ever take an obvious emotional wreck seriously, and he couldn't stand pity. Letting the scars be seen or creating more wouldn't be good for business. It was why he always made sure to wear long sleeves around everyone, even his closest friends.

Well, friend. And he knew that Clark was pretty open, but how could he possibly comprehend this? The boy was a beacon for his emotions; they showed through so easily. Clark could never understand Lex, who, when he actually did manage to feel something, physically was unable to let it show. According to Lionel, expressing weakness was even worse than feeling weakness, and emotions were the greatest weakness a person could have.

He put the blade down and took a sip of the brandy sitting on his desk. It was only enough to taste, maybe get a slight buzz. He knew that getting drunk would not be favorable in this situation, particularly if the alcohol chose to depress him this time, as it occasionally did. Then he might just slice right through his wrist, and that would be the end of him. Sometimes he wondered if he should just do that and get it over with.

The world could use one less sociopath, one less psycho. Before he did real harm to himself or others. He usually fought down those thoughts. Usually.

He tentatively licked at the wound he created, liking the way his warm tongue swept across the sensitive area, the way his saliva mixed with the blood, the way the metallic taste spread over his tongue. When he brought the blade back, it slid more easily into his skin.

He put the blade down again and sat back in his chair, flexing his arm, feeling the sting more completely. Maybe life would be easier if he could feel, like a normal person. He hadn't known for a very long time what it was like to actually feel emotion, to be human. Maybe as far back as when his mother had died. Had he cried even then? He couldn't remember. He certainly hadn't since.

He licked at the wound again. He knew what he was doing wasn't healthy, not physically and certainly not mentally. He was smart enough to know that. But if he didn't feel the pain, didn't feel the sting, didn't feel the warmth, then he would never feel anything. And then he might as well not be alive. He took another sip of brandy, and wished that it still burned when he drank it.

Lionel had deemed emotion something to control before it took over. And after his mother had died, Lex hadn't had anything to fight against. No reason to fight against his father's lessons. When she was gone, there was nothing for him, no reason to want to feel. He only felt pain for his mother's death. He could far better tolerate the physical pain than the mental pain. Anguish was not something he had ever done well. And now he didn't do it at all. He just closed himself in a room and slipped a razor out of the box, and pressed it into his arm, and he felt. Something, anything. To feel anything except the void when he knew he should be feeling more than nothing.

It was so much easier to just wipe the blood off and bandage the cut than deal with mental pieces that may or may not heal. His skin would regenerate, but his mind might not.

And perhaps his father was right. Maybe he was only a success now because he didn't allow himself to feel anything either way towards people, his employees, his business partners. The only thing he felt on a regular basis was anger, and he had become quite skilled at managing that. Though everyone knew of his temper, everyone still managed to get on the wrong side of it. And it certainly helped in the business world to not be capable of feeling anything for anyone you screw over in the name of business. It was just business, after all. Usually nothing personal.

Physical pain and anger were the only the things he could feel, the only things that separated him from a robot. An alien. A rock. How he had ever gotten mixed up with an innocent, sweet, emotionally guileless farm boy, he didn't know. And Clark tried so hard to make him feel like less of a freak, to make him fit into the town. And there wasn't a damn thing that Lex could do for him. Just as he couldn't feel much, he could demonstrate less (unless it was the false compassion he occasionally used for business), unless it was a material gift. Those he could work with, when he was allowed to do so. He couldn't very well show Clark the sliced bit of his arm and explain that that was how he worked out his feelings for him. And did he have feelings for Clark? Purely visceral ones, yes, in addition to that general comraderie thing he hadn't experienced in years.

Lex groaned in frustration and reached for his glass again. If only there was a way to take away the bad emotions but keep the good. Was it really such a bad thing to be happy? To feel love? Lex barely felt pleasure, certain nothing more than that due to the chemicals released into his bloodstream, when with a sexual partner; love was certainly nothing he had ever felt nor hoped to understand. And he had tried, at points in his life, to feel something. It was why his teen years were such a self-destructive horror. Sex left him hollow, drugs made everything even worse. At least a blade was cold against his skin and felt so nice as it penetrated. And once the act was done, it was done. No emotional or physical baggage, unless the blade scarred.

He sighed as he swallowed another sip of the brandy. The blood on his arm was starting to clot, so he took the blade to it again. He wasn't sure why he was doing this now, he wasn't particularly angry, depressed, hollow, or anything else. Maybe it was because Clark had saved his life so selflessly again. Damn mutants all had a thing for him, and today was no exception.

Showing gratitude to Clark would be another weakness. Luthors were never grateful for anything, since they could almost always get what they wanted by themselves easily enough. Lionel had apparently never had his life saved on a weekly basis by the same person. Otherwise, perhaps he would have been able to teach Lex something useful in that area.

And there were other things he wanted to show Clark as well. Like his cock. But Clark wasn't that kind of person, not an easy lay, not one that Lex wanted to have. Hell, as far as he knew, Clark was very heterosexual, if his pursuit of Lana was any indication. Clark deserved someone who could appreciate him for more than his body, give him more than an orgasm. If not a relationship, then at least a brief emotional connection.

But Clark had so much that Lex wanted... among other things, he wanted to make the boy squirm in pleasure, take his innocence. Lex hadn't met many people more attractive than, or even as attractive as, Clark, and he wanted him. But he couldn't have him, didn't deserve him. It wouldn't end well.

He was so lost in his own depressing, morbid thoughts about what he (didn't) feel and his intentions (such as they were) towards Clark that he didn't notice when the door opened, nor when Clark opened his mouth to speak, nor when the teenager let a hiss of air escape as he saw what Lex was doing. He didn't notice Clark until he had crossed the room and wrenched the razorblade out of Lex's hand.

"What are you doing?" Clark growled, dropping the blade into the garbage can next to the desk.

Lex glowered at him, annoyed at the interruption. "What does it look like?" he snarled.

"It looks suspiciously like you're slicing your arm to bits!"

"Astute observation. Now hand me another blade."

"No!" Not only did he not give Lex another blade, he grabbed the gauze pad on the desk in an attempt to apply pressure to the existing wounds.

Lex smacked his hand away. "Leave it. I'm not done."

It was Clark's turn to glower at Lex. He took in the brandy on the desk, then moved the glass out of Lex's reach. "Are you drunk?"

"My tolerance is a bit higher than three shots, so no. And no, I wasn't planning on intoxicating myself tonight. That's why I was cutting."

Relief flooded Clark's face as he realized that Lex didn't seem to be trying to kill himself. He sat on the edge of Lex's desk, warily watching the blood slowly drip down Lex's wrist, in case it didn't stop. He could have Lex to the emergency room in seconds.

"What, um. What are you doing?" Curiosity seemed to be winning in the battle against Clark's anger.

"Clark. You. You feel a lot of emotions, right?" One eyebrow arched in question over one of Lex's pale blue eyes.

"Um, yeah, Lex, I guess so." Clark wasn't sure where this was going.

Lex inhaled heavily, preparing to tell his friend something that only a handful of other people knew. "Well, I don't. I can't. I've been conditioned by my father to not feel anything. At all."

Clark's brows knotted together. "What do you mean?"

"I haven't cried since before my mother died; I'm not sure when the last time was. I don't feel joy, or love, or sadness, or grief, or remorse, or anything. Except anger, because my father apparently felt that that was the only emotion worth using in the business world, useful for revenge. Anything else is a distraction from what's important." Lex paused, steeling himself to continue. "When I feel the blade in my arm, at least I'm feeling something. Anything. Even if it's physical, not emotional. And it feels good to simply feel." Lex hadn't planned to divulge that much information, but once he started it was hard to stop.

Clark arched his eyebrows. This was so very beyond anything he could handle. Lex needed a therapist, not a freaked-out teenager. "Nothing?" he asked softly.

"No."

"But what about-"

"All an act. If you don't smile or frown once in a while, people get upset. And suspicious. It's bad enough being exiled here as the city-boy outcast. Being the city-boy outcast sociopath wouldn't be any better at all."

It was Clark's turn to sigh. He just... he knew that Lex always seemed so calculating, so cold, but he hadn't suspected this. To come back to the mansion to make sure his friend was okay after the assault only to find him making friends with a razor and a glass of hard alcohol. It just... tore at him to see Lex this way. And he was sure that Lex could see it on his face.

But thinking about it, it did make some sort of sense. Lex rarely smiled more than that half-smirk thing he did, never frowned more than a little, never laughed, never cried, never seemed to do much more than stand with his hands in his pockets and simply watch. And wait. And Clark knew how much of a bastard Lionel was, so it didn't surprise him in the least that he had raised his son to be unfeeling. But he could have left something. Lex must feel so detached...

"So you've never loved anyone? Not even the people you've slept with?" Clark wasn't sure if he could understand that, either. He had a nice, healthy marriage to watch every day and no cable at home.

Lex snorted in response. "Sex is about power, Clark. About what you can learn and gain from the other person. Business, that's all. And as I've proven to other people, sex is a weakness just as emotion is. The possibility of seduction is always present, and you can't let your dick or clit control your brain. I tried to see if I could make it mean more, and it never did. It's why I've tried to be good here and not use anyone that way. The town is too small for that kind of baggage."

Clark felt his heart stop, if only for a second. So maybe that was why Lex never made a move on him. He knew that Lex had a thing for him, it was obvious in the way he looked at him sometimes, or would stop by just to say hi and wind up staying half the night. Unless Lex didn't realize what he was feeling, because he had never felt that way before, which of course Clark hadn't known until about two minutes prior.

Clark liked the attention Lex gave him. He liked Lex. He was suave and handsome and nice to him, which he wasn't used to since he had somehow been forever labeled a geek. But maybe everything he knew about him was a lie, a farce. He braved himself to ask his next question, not entirely sure what he was asking. "What if..." Clark swallowed and tried again, voice soft. "What if you had sex with me?"

Lex's eyebrows shot up as his eyes widened. "What if I had sex with you?" What? Maybe he was drunk after all, because Clark didn't talk that way. Lex had been trained to hide his surprise better, but he didn't think he could be more shocked if Clark said he wanted a sex-change operation so he could pursue the President.

"Well, you like me, right? I can tell." Lex didn't nod, but he didn't shake his head either. His eyes had become cold once more. "So you'd feel nothing if you had sex with me? It would just be a game, to see what you could get from me?" Clark couldn't believe that, didn't want to believe that. He wanted Lex, wanted to make Lex happy, wanted to be with him. This wasn't quite the way he had envisioned telling him, though. He hadn't really planned on telling him at all. The night was apparently just full of surprises.

Lex's throat was dry, and he wished that Clark hadn't moved his glass. "Why would you think I like you, would like to have sex with you?" The words felt so out of place on his lips. With anyone else he would have jumped them by now, taking away their control of the situation.

Clark started for a minute. Maybe he had been reading into Lex all wrong. Maybe Lex treated all of his friends that way. Not that Clark had ever seen one of Lex's other friends. Nor did Lex ever talk about any of his other friends. Did Lex have other friends?

"Well, I just... you look at me all funny sometimes. And you touch me a lot, and let me touch you, and I've never seen you do that with anyone else..." Clark trailed off hopelessly, wishing he had never said anything. He put his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, a gesture Lex knew meant that Clark was unsure of himself.

Something hurt in Lex's chest, but he had no idea what it was. To compensate, he reached for another razorblade from the box on the desk. He longed for the familiar sting in his arm, not the pressure that was making him feel like he couldn't breathe. And oh god, the metal was so cold, and the pain so exquisite...

And this time Clark just watched the blade penetrate Lex's arm, fascinated that it could do it so easily, while nothing could penetrate his own skin. And he watched Lex's eyes slip shut, gave him a minute in his private reverie. And then he slowly extracted the blade from Lex's hand, settling himself on his knees between Lex's legs to do so. He carefully pried, "You never answered my question."

Lex opened and narrowed his eyes. "Clark, I'm not going to have sex with you. Not to try to prove something to you that you couldn't see anyway." He just... couldn't use Clark like that. "You don't have anything I want in that way. I use sex to get what I want. I thought I explained that." But oh, Clark did have something he wanted... the reason that the boy was so damned evasive when asked simple questions. Whatever he was hiding, Lex wanted it.

But he didn't want to get it that way. He was still trying to be a better person, before it was too late.

Clark swallowed, trying to remind his throat that it was useless when it was dry. "Okay, Lex. But." Clark faltered, then continued, his voice rough. "If you don't take me up on my offer now, then it's gone. If you can't take what I'm offering you when you're most vulnerable, in most need of comfort, then you're never going to be able to enjoy it and it won't ever mean anything. So this is it."

Lex sat forward in his chair, bringing him closer to Clark and also more upright, resulting in a power-shift. "When did you get a backbone? When did you start giving ultimatums to your friends? When did you start propositioning guys?" Lex was in a rare state of confusion. He itched for his razorblade. It cleared his head.

Clark swallowed again. "I want to help you, Lex. Maybe I can make you feel. Maybe no one else you've been with has been worthy of you. Maybe no one else has felt about you the way I do. Which isn't to say that I love you. Just to say that I genuinely care for you, that I want you to be happy. That I'd be willing to do just about anything for you. There's so much more to you than what other people see. And I don't know if you know that." Clark's voice got softer again as his eyes pleaded with Lex's.

"Go, Clark. Leave. I'm a lost cause. Maybe if I had run you over ten years ago, it wouldn't have been too late." He reached over Clark's shoulder for his razors. Which obviously wasn't the best move to make since Clark was still practically in his lap, but he wasn't thinking clearly. Damn alcohol was inhibiting his judgment.

Clark wasn't sure what Lex was leaning into him for, but he didn't really care. It just meant that Lex was close enough to...

Clark slipped his hand over the back of Lex's neck and pulled him close to him, pressing their lips together. Lex started to struggle, and Clark let up for a few seconds, enough to whisper against Lex's mouth, "Please. Let me try..."

And Lex was just too drained at the moment to protest any longer. It had been a long, physically painful, mentally exhausting day. And there was a gorgeous boy practically in his lap that wanted to have sex with him. Or, at least do something sexual with him; he wasn't sure what Clark had in mind.

It appeared that his id was going to win tonight.

He sighed while bringing his lips back to Clark's. He pulled back long enough to whisper, "Don't say I didn't warn you..."

At the moment, any sort of consent was good enough for Clark. He didn't want to be known as some creepy guy who raped his friends. Not sure if he should be trying to push Lex back into his chair or pull him to the floor, he was grateful when Lex made the decision and slid down to join him.

Lex started to bite along Clark's jaw, demonstrating his possessiveness. "I'm going to assume that everything we do tonight is your first time. And if you don't get up now, don't plan on leaving for a while."

Clark, who had been enjoying the feel of Lex's teeth and lips on his jaw and throat, huskily replied, "I want you, Lex. Have for a while. And I need to show you what you can have."

To shut the farm boy up, Lex returned his mouth to Clark's, forcing his tongue inside. Meanwhile, his well-trained hands were sliding underneath Clark's shirt, tracing his muscles. Clark managed to wriggle out of his shirt without jostling Lex too much. Clark groaned as Lex twisted one nipple with his fingertips.

Lex maneuvered himself so he was lying on top of Clark, both of them half underneath his desk. Clark rubbed his hands along Lex's back, fingers sliding over the silk shirt then up underneath, fascinated by the texture of skin so different from his own. Lex took Clark's lower lip in his teeth and tugged hard. Surprisingly, the moan he elicited was one of pleasure, not pain.

His fingers still working their way around Clark's torso, Lex was rewarded when Clark thrust up into him. He could feel that Clark was ready for whatever Lex might do. Well, physically, if not mentally. Tired of ravishing Clark's mouth, Lex shifted his attention to Clark's waist, fingering the buttons of Clark's fly.

Clark thrust again and opened his eyes, the pupils dilated, his face flushed. "Please, Lex..." Used to having his partners in the palm of his hand, Lex took his time, teasing Clark with slow strokes over the fabric of his pants. But then he remembered that he was trying to do something here, trying to prove something, but he wasn't sure if he was trying to prove it to himself or to Clark. Maybe both or neither.

Not knowing what Clark expected, Lex just did what he was good at, what he knew. He unbuttoned Clark's jeans, then slipped his hands inside his boxers, squeezing lightly at what he found.

Clark moaned again, begging Lex to do it harder. Faster. More. Lex complied, pleased that even for a virgin, his skill was too quickly making Clark needy, making him make sounds he never had before, say things he never had before.

"Lex, god, please, I want you..." Clark thrust upwards again, and Lex shifted upwards to kiss Clark once again. He reveled in the hot touch of Clark's hands on his back and skull.

"What exactly do you want, Clark?" Perhaps Lex's smirk would have unnerved Clark if it were any other time, but as it was, Clark wasn't focusing his eyes enough to register the desk above them, let alone interpret Lex-expressions.

"Just you... even if you stopped now, it would be okay. I want you. Your body is nice, but there's more to you than that." Clark struggled to stay coherent.

Confused, Lex's hand, which had been happily stroking Clark's shaft in an almost-but-not-quite predictable rhythm, stopped its motion.

"I thought you wanted sex. An orgasm. That's kind of the point of all this, Clark." And Lex also thought that if the boy could form full sentences and speak, maybe he needed to practice his sex some more. Smallville was making him soft.

"It's enough to have you touching me. I like you, Lex. You. You're more than you think you are, more than someone who's good at sex." Clark focused his eyes on Lex's. He had been trying to be a man, and hold off, and prove something (what, again? to Lex) but Lex's touch was in fact driving him crazy. He flushed more so than he already was. "But, um... you've gone kind of far..."

Lex's hand resumed his motion at those words, and not knowing what the hell Clark was talking about. Maybe he was insane. He sidled back down Clark's body, bringing his mouth where his hand had been. He licked along Clark's cock, tonguing the slit periodically. Any rhythm Clark was going for was broken, and deciding to be nice, Lex took the head in his mouth and sucked, sliding down over it as he reached up and twisted a nipple one last time.

Clark shouted a nonsense syllable and came, cum pulsing down Lex's throat. He gripped Lex's shoulders tightly, the last thought on his mind being bruises. Lex pulled off and Clark shifted his grip to yank Lex up to him so he could kiss him, then just relax and enjoy being close.

Lex arched his eyebrows. That was new. By now his partners were usually on their way to getting him off, or he them if he came first, which he rarely did because he wanted to keep up his reputation for stamina and being a good lay. Most people were too freaked out by his baldness or family history to really get close. Or if they liked to be close to him, it was to get something from him, like money or business secrets. Sometimes pillow talk could turn deadly.

"Mmmm. Good." Clark turned to look at Lex, his eyelids heavy.

Lex felt a small smile tug at his lips. He had forgotten what it was like to get a virgin off for the first time. And he couldn't remember the last time one of those virgins had been a close friend. He didn't think ever. "Glad you enjoyed it." Lex pushed his own erection into Clark's side, hoping he'd take the hint.

Clark's eyes widened, the reality of the situation coming forward in his mind. Okay. He could do this. He reached to slowly kiss Lex again and flipped him onto his back. And he slowly began his exploration of Lex's body with his tongue. He meant what he said, he wanted Lex. And he was going to take him slowly.

He carefully worried the skin of Lex's throat between his teeth, creating a small bruise that he hoped Lex wouldn't mind. As Lex's shirt was only half-buttoned, he licked along Lex's collarbone, noticing that it apparently had been broken at one point in time. Could a moment be more intimate than feeling long-healed broken bones through skin?

His hand caressed Lex's chest slowly as he took his time unbuttoning the rest of the shirt, causing Lex to hiss when the hairs were stroked. He took each nipple between his teeth in turn, bringing each to a point with his tongue. Lex started to squirm in an undignified manner.

"Clark, do something already!" He tried to guide Clark's hand to the areas of his body that were screaming out for attention.

"No."

Lex tried to glare, but Clark's weight and touch felt too good to make the effort effective. "What do you mean, `no'?"

"I don't want this to be fast. I want... I want to know you. To feel you. Every inch of you. This experience can be more than just `an orgasm.'" Sensing that Lex was going to snark at him, he clarified, "for you. You can hold out way longer than I can." He skooched back up Lex's body to intertwine their tongues once more. "But I definitely appreciated everything."

Lex wondered where Clark had gotten his hands on the sappy romance novels. At least, until Clark came back to him. Then he was grateful for wherever Clark had gotten his information.

Clark once more slipped down Lex's body, this time tracing the muscles of Lex's abdomen with his tongue. Lex squirmed again under the warm, wet, tickly sensation, especially when Clark explored the area right beneath Lex's ribcage. Clark also ran the fingers of one hand lightly over Lex's crotch, knowing he was being a tease but having too much fun to care.

Lex wanted Clark to MOVE, but... he also kind of liked the attention. Was this what sex was supposed to be like? A slow tease, attention, enjoying the presence of your lover? Lover? Is that what Clark was? Lex had always been good at sex, efficient, talented fingers and whatever else doing what was needed and not much more, unless his partner had something special about them. As far as his partners went, Lex tried to get them to hurry up if they were taking too long to get him off. He didn't like to be teased, didn't like foreplay. It delayed the gaining of knowledge. Though Clark's agile tongue seemed to be learning a lot...

Thankfully, just as he thought he would have to force Clark between his legs, the boy finally got down to unzipping his pants and slipping his hand inside. Lex promptly stopped thinking as Clark's warm, large hand gripped his cock tightly.

Clark maneuvered farther down Lex, slipping off his pants and boxers. He took a few moments to just stare, eyes drinking in Lex, whose eyes were half-shut, as Lex's cock awaited his touch. But he didn't grant it then. Instead, he started to slowly rub the inside of Lex's thighs with his thumbs, and the billionaire groaned. So close, and yet...

Clark slowly began to lick again, along the very bottom of Lex's abdomen, over to his thigh, and back again.

"Clark, please..." If Lex could think using more than two words at a time, he would have been horrified to realize he was begging. Lex Luthor never begged. But then again, he had never had a beautifully inexperienced farmboy teasing the hell out of him as he sucked on his balls. He gripped Clark's hair tightly.

Wanting to taste the precum glistening at Lex's slit, Clark finally made contact with Lex's cock. Lex bucked into him, forcing his way past Clark's lips. Clark withdrew and returned to his slow, oral examination of Lex's skin, worshipping Lex's shaft with his tongue.

"Clark, god..." Lex groaned. "I need to be in you... want to feel you..." He was so hard, and he thought he would die.

Deciding that he had teased long enough, Clark swallowed down as much of Lex as he could, using his hand where his mouth couldn't reach. Losing control, Lex started to thrust into Clark's mouth, not caring that the boy gagged. He wanted release and he wanted it now.

All Clark could do was sit and let Lex take his mouth, swallowing when he had to. Thinking of something he had read online, he began to hum, mouth vibrating lightly around Lex. Shouting unintelligibly, Lex thrust deeply once more and climaxed harder than he had thought possible.

Clark did his best to swallow. Lex seemed to pass out above him. Then, Clark reversed his slow journey over Lex's body, touching, feeling, licking, tasting. By the time he returned to Lex's mouth, Lex had returned to consciousness and had at some point threaded the fingers of one hand through Clark's hair again.

"Hey." Clark's bright eyes probed Lex's, but he wasn't really sure what he was expecting, or hoping, to see. Lex just looked at him with his eyes half-lidded once more.

"I um, hope that that was... okay." Clark's smile was infectious, and Lex returned it in spite of himself.

"Better than okay, Clark. I've never had my body worshipped before. It was quite an experience." Lex groaned as Clark tweaked a nipple. "Careful, there. Still a little sensitive."

Clark soothed it by kissing lightly. "Um, so. Do you feel any better?"

Lex looked away, remembering the reason Clark had initiated this mind-blowing sexual experience. "I don't know, Clark. Part of me feels wonderful, but always does after sex. Another part of me feels like you used me, and wants to take its revenge. And another part of me hurts." Lex paused, trying to form the words. "I don't think I've felt that part before."

Concerned, Clark tried to discretely X-ray Lex, in case he had broken something somehow. But then Lex continued, and Clark gratefully relaxed.

"I feel... something... I don't know if I'm supposed to like it or not. Something new. It hurts, but also feels kind of good. Like my razors."

Clark balked at those words.

Lex felt Clark tense above him, and brought his eyes back to Clark's. "Like my razors, it hurts, but in a good way. It means I can feel. That I'm alive. That maybe I'm more than my father's game board for his mind-fucks."

Clark wasn't sure of what he was supposed to respond with after that declaration. The only thing he knew to do was to hold Lex to him harder, try to reassure the older boy that he was alive, that he was human. That he could feel.

Lex sighed, then slowly began to speak again. "It hurts, Clark. It hurts that you like me. That you want me. It hurts that I can never be what you deserve. It hurts that involving yourself with me will only do you harm. It hurts that I don't know what I'm doing. That I don't know what I'm feeling. All of that hurts. And what I want right now almost more than anything is to grip a blade between my fingers and press it into my skin, draw it across, and bleed. Because I can understand the sting. And the blood. I like that pain. I can handle it."

Clark felt a tear drip out of his eye as his breath hitched. He hated what Lionel did to Lex, that those words issued forth so freely from his friend. Lex didn't deserve to feel that way. If that was even feeling. Lex was so much better than his father, and he needed to realize it. But he never would if he couldn't let himself feel.

Lex tugged Clark's head up by the hair with his hand, forcing Clark to look him in the eyes. He noted the tear running down the boy's cheek, and hated himself for putting it there. This boy had so much pain in his life already, and he didn't deserve more. Didn't need an emotionally-stunted freak to want to touch him, to hold him, to take comfort in him. But he couldn't help it. And for some reason, the boy seemed to want it.

"But what I want right now, most of all, is to lie here with you. Because even though it hurts, Clark, you did make me feel more than just the orgasm. That there's something to be said for enjoying what you're doing with someone. That maybe there are different things to gain from sex. That's something that no one else can claim. Even if I wasn't being used in the past, I was always using my partners." Lex paused. "But it hurts, Clark. I don't want it to hurt."

Another tear dripped out of Clark's eye as he looked at Lex, saw a glimmer of something in his eyes that he had never seen. Resting his head once more on Lex's chest, he whispered, "it gets easier, Lex."

And Lex heard him, and looked up at the underside of the desk under which they were still lying. He whispered back, not sure if he wanted Clark to hear. "I hope so."