Clark squinted his eyes at the morning light even as he tried to open them. Lex really needed to invest in curtains that actually blocked out sunlight. Finally cracking an eye open, Clark realized that the curtains weren't even drawn. Well. That would explain that.

He turned his head away from the window, rolling it and opening both eyes until he came face-to-face with the back of Lex's head; he was curled on his side facing away. They had fallen asleep with Lex resting face-down against Clark while Clark lay on his back, but it looked like Lex was one of those people who needed space to sleep and he had readjusted himself. Clark smiled to himself, hoping that he'd have more experiences to share Lex's bed after a full night in the future.

Clark turned his eyes toward the ceiling once more, still marveling over the high ceilings in Lex's rooms. Must be a bitch to heat. But Lex could afford it.

Clark had finally gotten the chance to spend the night at Lex's, after months of late evenings and afternoon dates. His parents had had to go to some weekend-long function in Edge City and had decided to spend the night there, leaving him to manage the farm in their absence. And he'd done so, completing all of his chores before driving over to Lex's for the night.

He knew his parents suspected something was up between he and Lex. At least, his dad seemed even more on edge around the Luthor lately. Clark wasn't ready to admit to them that his renewed interest in Lex was sexual, and not related to drugs or money or whatever else his parents may have thought. Compared to what he and Lex could be doing, he felt that eventually admitting to them that he just liked Lex's cock up his ass and being in Lex's were the least of many evils in which the rich older boy could help him indulge.

Lex hadn't shifted since Clark had woken. Clark propped himself up on his side so that he could hover over him and admire his lover. Lex clutched at the sheets with the hand that was free, the other one pressed underneath him. Even while Lex slept Clark could sense the tension around his eyes. What could be haunting him even in slumber? Whatever it was, Lex didn't deserve it.

He began to trail his fingers lightly over Lex's exposed shoulder, slipping them along his back. Lex flinched as if he were ticklish as Clark's fingertips slid between Lex's shoulder blades. Hmm. Clark was going to have to remember that. Determined to wake Lex up pleasantly (after glancing at the clock to make sure that Lex wouldn't kill him when he was awake), Clark shifted closer and applied his tongue to the area behind Lex's ear that he knew drove him crazy.

Lex started to wriggle awake at the attention, once his hands tightened and relaxed. He didn't like people touching him while he slept, hell, didn't like people sleeping in the same room, but Clark was the exception to just about every rule that Lex had made for himself over the years. The last time he had left himself open, he'd wound up hurt, but something about Clark spoke to him, let him know that Clark wasn't going to leave him. Wasn't going to break his heart.

Lex felt Clark's large hand slide along his back, and his warm, wet tongue slide along his head. He would never admit out loud that he liked the way that felt. Being licked there. He released his grip on the sheets, and slowly drew his hand to his own cock; he was already getting hard.

Even while occupied, Clark saw Lex's hand move, knew what Lex was doing. Determined to help, he slid his hand around Lex's hip, rolling Lex a little more onto his back than his side while pressing himself against Lex's back. His hand covered Lex's and picked up the motion that Lex had started, the rhythm Lex had set.

Lex groaned, knowing that few things in life were better than his young lover pressed against him, their hands working in tandem toward a mutual, pleasurable goal. Especially his pleasure. Lex could feel Clark's tongue languidly stroking behind his ear, and Clark's hand slipped up over his hip once more before it moved down to cup his balls. His own hand continued to work his shaft as Clark's continued to work lower between his legs, and Clark began to rock his own hips into Lex, his own erection poking into him, and Lex rocked harder into his own hand, thinking that nothing should ever feel this good without being illegal. Clark was petting him all over, hand sliding up to Lex's chest, then back down between his legs and all too quickly Lex exploded over his hand, thrusting against the sheets with a groan.

Clark moved back to allow Lex to fall fully onto his back, and kissed him lightly. "Morning."

Lex opened his eyes for the first time that morning, looking up into Clark's hazel eyes that changed color depending on the lighting and his mood. "Hey." Lex let himself smile, still amazed that someone could find him that irresistible in the morning. "You're going to make me fall asleep again before I even wake up."

Clark smiled. "Then I'll just have to wake you up again. Damn."

"Damn is right. That was just torture." Lex raised himself up a bit to glance down and make sure that whatever was still poking him was Clark's hard-on and not, well, anything else. It was Smallville, after all. He reached his hand downwards while asking Clark, "Come here."

Clark straddled Lex's stomach, raising himself up on his knees so Lex could still breathe. Lex ran the fingers of one hand down Clark's abs, liking the way his touch made the muscles twitch. He gripped Clark's cock tightly, as always impressed at its thickness. He began to jack it slowly, using Clark's pre as lube, knowing that it wouldn't take long. Clark thrust into the grip, eyes falling nearly shut, his hands resting on Lex's chest.

Lex moved his hand faster, his other moving off the bed to grip Clark's side. "Come on, Clark. Come on me." Clark began to breathe and move faster, eventually spilling over onto Lex's hand and chest with a yell.

Clark settled down against Lex, reversing the positions in which they had fallen asleep. Lex ran his hand through Clark's hair, and along his back, still not quite able to believe that the boy was his. Granted, Lex usually got what he wanted, but Clark wasn't something he could win or buy or steal, and certainly not something he could just dump should he get tired. He had to earn him, and apparently he had. He just had to get over his fears of commitment, of relationships, and he was somewhat successful. This, Clark nearly asleep on him, a coating of Clark's semen between them, was worth it.

Clark stirred, raising his head to look into Lex's eyes.

"Lex, what are you thinking about? For a guy who just came, you're awfully tense."

Should he reveal his truths to Clark? He'd never been as open with anyone in six years. And maybe it would lead to Clark revealing his own secrets, since he probably didn't have much of a past. At least not like Lex's. He knew he was Clark's first, even if Lana had been Clark's first love. But he knew Clark kept things from him.

Clark continued, worried about his lover. "And you're so tense when I'm near you when you sleep." Not that he was going to tell him that he knew Lex slept more easily when he was alone. That would open a can of worms that he didn't feel like cleaning up right now.

Lex decided to share with Clark, feeling that maybe working through his issues with him would help him rest more easily. He had wanted to tell him, knew that he should. Clark deserved to know why he was so uptight sometimes. "When I was your age, maybe a year younger, I met someone. It was wonderful. And it didn't end well. And ever since, I've, well, been scared. Of getting too close. I don't want to be hurt again. The last time that happened, I went on a bender that lasted for years and resulted in me getting exiled here." He felt Clark tense. "Though that has worked out far better than I ever could have imagined."

Clark relaxed again. And he loved when Lex told stories, loved it when Lex opened up. So he encouraged him to do it whenever possible. "Tell me. Maybe it will make you feel better." And help you get rid of whatever's haunting you.

Lex smirked. "Perhaps. Or it may just open healed wounds." But he couldn't look into those eyes and deny them anything. They were pleading with him now, begging to learn more of his past, the one that Lex kept so guarded (and that his father had paid good money to keep private). "Okay, Clark. You can stop giving me the puppy dog eyes. I'll tell."

Clark smiled, clearly pleased with himself. He settled more comfortably against Lex, rubbing his hand on Lex's stomach. "Thanks."

And Lex began to talk, hoping that this would help him finally heal.

When I was a sophomore at Excelsior, I was placed into a new group therapy program for students who had lost a parent. It was the school's way of trying to make sure that the future leaders in attendance weren't going to go postal one day due to grief or poor adjustment. It would reflect badly on the school, while the free therapy would reflect well.

Being me, of course I was skeptical. I had fought my way to accept my mother's death, and Julian's, at least, I did the best I could, and the last thing I needed was strangers dredging up old, painful memories. So, I walked in scowling and sat down hard, doing what I could to make my displeasure known.

Most of the other students seemed just as annoyed that this session was taking up their valuable time, and were acting boisterous and crude. I have no idea what it is that they did in their free time that they wanted to get back to, since I was never invited to join, not that I had any interest.

The one exception to the feral attitude was a boy across from me in the circle, who just looked around warily at the others when he wasn't staring at the floor or into his lap. He must have been new because I didn't recognize him. He just sat there, dark hair in his eyes, long fingers twined together in his lap. He only glanced up when someone bumped into him as they passed, to this day I don't know if that shove was intentional or not. He jerked his head up to glare at the boy who pushed him, but then his eyes returned to his hands.

The session then started, and everyone had to state their first name and why they were there. Part of the healing process, acknowledgment of the loss. When it was my turn, I just looked around defiantly and stated, "Lex Luthor. My mother died from chronic illness, and my baby brother died from SIDS." Everyone already knew me due to my baldness and the fact I'd been there for years, so I wasn't worried about keeping my identity hidden.

Other members of the group included Jake Hannet, who lost his father to a possibly drunken sailing accident about two years back, and Eric Brockner, whose mother drank herself to death. They seemed fairly well-adjusted, if stupid, which just made the whole exercise even more ridiculous.

Finally the circle got around to the dark-haired boy who had yet to lift his eyes above his lap since the session started. When he spoke, it was to the ground. "I'm Bruce. My parents were shot and killed by a mugger in front of me when I was little."

I'm sure he heard my squeak of surprise, since he finally lifted his eyes to mine. If you ever think mine look haunted, you should have seen his. I'm not terribly empathetic, but the pain in his eyes hurt even me. But it was Bruce Wayne! Heir to the Wayne fortune, old money that I wished I could claim for myself. The news of his parents' death was national, but pictures of the boy had been closely guarded.

He raised an eyebrow at me, and I recollected myself. At that time I hadn't yet honed my stoic Luthor persona. I promised myself that I would talk to him after the session; the boy intrigued me and I wasn't shy then, either.

However, when the session finally ended, after both Bruce and myself had had things thrown at us when the therapists weren't looking and one kid, Tyler, who had just lost his mother to leukemia, burst into tears, Bruce somehow managed to slip out before I could catch up with him.

I saw him once in the cafeteria before the next session, but by the time I reached his table he was gone. He really knew how to avoid people. By the time of the second session I was even more intrigued than I had been before. Pretending to read before the session began, I watched him over my book. I knew I wasn't fooling him when he mirrored the action to me. I briefly caught his eyes and tried to smile, but was interrupted by the start of the session.

This time no one cried and paper was thrown only at me. Afterwards I was able to catch up with Bruce before he vanished, though it wasn't easy.

I asked him, "So, what class year are you?"

He clutched his books tighter in his hands as he answered, "Freshman. I had to transfer from my other school." That was all I heard on that subject.

I was surprised he was so young, since he didn't have that gangly, all-arms-and-legs look that most freshmen had. He was thin, sure, but he didn't show it easily because he had fairly broad shoulders, and looked like maybe he worked out. I thought he looked a little older. His voice was even deeper than I thought it would be.

I told him as much, and he gave me a wan smile and said that people often thought he was a little older. He liked that he didn't look as frail as people thought he was, or thought he should be.

We talked for a minute longer, and I was able to look past the pain in his eyes to the sheer intelligence that lay behind it. Clearly the withdrawn spaciness was an act, and he was far more aware of his surroundings than he let on. This was made especially clear when he informed me that my shoe was untied, and I couldn't for the life of me remember if he had ever looked down at my feet.

The problem with going to a place like Excelsior and that stupid therapy group was that they had robbed us of any type of getting-to-know-you small talk. We both knew who the other was, what their parents did, and that his money was old and mine was new.

We shuffled our feet in the hall for a moment longer, then Bruce excused himself, blaming his departure on excessive amounts of homework. I decided to make his class schedule our next topic of conversation. Then, of course, I was brought out of my thoughts by Jake and his friends throwing a book at me, and telling me to stop mooning over my new boyfriend.

After flipping them off, I made my way back to my dorm room, where I thankfully didn't have a roommate. I sat down on my bed and flipped open my physics book, though I had no intention of actually reading it. I should have been taking chemistry, but I was able to test out of it. I probably could have skipped a grade or two if I bothered caring about my work, but Dad seemed happy with my grades and I didn't feel like putting in any extra effort.

As I flipped through the pages, I thought about Bruce and Jake's comments. Clearly I had to learn to be as stealthy as Bruce when I was checking things out. Obviously my furtive glances weren't as furtive as I thought.

It's not that I found Bruce attractive at that stage, just that I was intrigued by him. He fascinated me. Both parents slaughtered in front of him, watched after by his butler-slash-guardian, quiet and yet he spoke volumes with those eyes. Every time I caught a glimpse of him, I was drawn in.

And I did manage to glimpse him quite frequently once I began to look, though it seemed like the second he knew I spotted him he would melt away into the background. I don't really know why I wanted to talk to him so badly at that point, just that I did.

The next weekend I managed to catch up with him in the cafeteria; he had been reading and therefore didn't see me coming up behind him. My eyes asked him if it were alright if I sat down, and his said yes. So, I finally learned that he was taking chemistry since he tested out of biology, and he was in the same level of math as I was. Other than that he was taking classes similar to those that I had taken the year before.

He was obviously smart, smarter than I was if he had skipped math. Just knowing that intrigued me even more. He seemed to hint that he could have skipped grades if he had wanted to. We later agreed that getting good grades doesn't make you smart, and getting okay grades allows you time for personal research and projects. But I eventually learned that his grades were pretty much perfect, anyway.

His hair looked like he didn't brush it often, and even though it was just the two of us, his table manners made him appear as if he were at some royal dinner. He was wearing a plain black t-shirt and black jeans, making me feel very bright in my black slacks and blue shirt.

Conversation shifted to hobbies, and I wasn't terribly surprised to learn that he was into engineering and computers. Half the guys at Excelsior were. But he spoke about it with a passion that the others seemed to lack, and his eyes, if they could be said to, sparkled.

He even gave a couple of gruff laughs when I attempted jokes. We discovered that we both liked the same comic books and The X-Files. We even both liked classical music, just different composers. We eventually separated and went back to our respective rooms to do homework. If I hadn't been infatuated before I sat down, I certainly was by the time I reached my room.

I lay down on my bed, hands locked together behind my head. I though about Bruce, and his small smile that seemed to be all he would grant, and his eyes that actually looked less haunted as we talked, and the way his hair hung in his eyes and the way his shirts seemed to cling to a chest that he wanted to hide. Even sitting down, he seemed to have this grace. And God, I just wanted to touch him. Hold him. Tell him that he'd be okay. Not that I was one to talk.

Late the next morning I was in the hall after a shower, keys and soap in my hands, towel around my waist, when he came around the corner.

"Lex. I was looking for you." His eyes roved over my nearly-nude body. I wasn't exactly a twig, but I wasn't as built as he appeared to be. Either way I felt a bit self-conscious.

"I figured as much." What the hell else would he be doing there? "Come on in and give me a minute to get dressed." I let both of us into my room, and gestured for him to take a seat somewhere. He chose to examine my bookshelf and trail his fingers along the edge of my desk. I ducked into my closet area and hastily got dressed.

"Hey, you have all of the Calvin and Hobbes books." Bruce, wearing one of his infrequent little smiles, turned as I left the closet.

"Yes, Watterson is a genius. At home I have Larson's Far Sides."

"Could I borrow them some time? Alfred isn't too keen on comics, of any sort." He managed to look sheepish. "I've had to hide everything I have."

"Yeah, sure. Any time you want." I smiled a little back at him. After all his trauma, how could anyone deny him anything? Especially after looking into those eyes?

It looked like he tried to broaden his smile, then glanced down at the floor. Unless he was actually checking out my bare feet. "So. Um. Are you doing anything today?"

I couldn't hide my surprise. I'd never seen him talk to anyone he didn't have to, and here he was inviting himself to hang out with me. "Uh, no, nothing really. I have a lab to finish up for physics, but since it's just counting how many times different pendulums swing in a minute then graphing the results, I could use a little company. But before that, you want to watch a movie or something?"

"Sure. What do you have?"

I tossed the videos that I had onto the bed. I never watched them, so I had to rescue them from their cell in the bottom drawer of my desk. Not surprisingly we settled on a science fiction movie, which we proceeded to trash due to its inaccuracies and implausibility for its timeframe.

We watched while lying across my bed, me on my stomach, Bruce with his back against the wall, since the TV was across from the bed and the bed was against the wall. It was just fun, watching the movie with him, hanging out. There was no pressure, since I wasn't home and my dad hadn't arranged for us to spend time together. It was just two guys watching a bad movie together. I'd never really had a friend before; I couldn't be bothered to make the effort.

After the movie he did indeed keep me company while I did my physics lab. The lab itself was boring as fuck, but talking to Bruce would have made anything entertaining. He had this dry sense of humor that I just loved, and his shoulders filled out his shirt in a beautiful way. His eyes had this light in them that normally wasn't there. He was just gorgeous in a way that I'd never seen in anyone before, even though he was clearly damaged. He got very tense sometimes, and he was so grave so frequently. He avoided talking about anything too personal about himself, other than his hobbies, and he never talked about his lifestyle unless it was utterly relevant to the conversation. It was like he was free opening up about the things that made him more human, and yet kept hidden those aspects of himself that made him too different. Not to mention those eyes, which said more than any of his words could.

He left that afternoon to write a history paper, wearing the broadest smile I'd seen from him yet. Which was still narrower than a normal smile from anyone else.

At the next therapy session, when Jake threw something at me, Bruce threw paper at Jake. When Jake tripped me in the hall, Bruce bumped into him in the cafeteria, making him drop his tray. When I told him that Jake made faces at me while I was giving a presentation, Bruce slipped a vial of formaldehyde from the chem lab into Jake's bag, which broke when he slammed it down, making his books reek like the stuff.

When we weren't fighting Jake and his goons, or in class, or doing work, we hung out, building stuff with his electronic sets, or playing with my chemistry set, or just watching movies or discussing books we've read. It was all very innocent, anything that two guys could do together.

But I knew I wanted him; by that time I'd seen him topless when he changed shirts in front of me, and I just wanted to run my hands all over him. And I had seen his eyes running over me when he thought I wasn't looking. And it wasn't just physical; I felt close to him in ways I'd never felt close to anyone. I was able to open up about stuff that no one else had ever known about me. It was freeing, in a way, and I was grateful that we had become friends. He seemed equally at ease with me, and I hoped that he was.

But I knew that if I wanted more from him, I'd have to make a move. He seemed willing to get close, emotionally and physically, but never close enough to touch in any respect. I knew he had trouble with people, because he never talked about anyone other than Alfred, and a few mentions of his parents. Not that I ever talked about anyone, since I didn't have any other friends. But I could tell he was far worse than I was, and that he was afraid of getting too close. I could understand that, since I didn't particularly care to get close to anyone else, either.

Eventually, I just couldn't take it. It was a week or two before Thanksgiving when I knew that I had to do something. I'd been having wet dreams about him for weeks, and spending time with him made me hard. And then he started pulling away. He came over less frequently, started to tell me that he was too busy to hang out. And maybe he was; classes were getting into full swing, he had joined the chess club, and he started lessons in some martial art that I couldn't pronounce.

But I didn't want to believe that that was it. So I invited him over for a marathon of this robotics show he liked, hoping that I'd be brave enough to say something. Or do something.

He came over, bag of M&Ms in hand. We sat down on my bed, both of us resting our backs against the wall. The marathon passed without incident. He seemed a little withdrawn, and he sat farther away than he usually did. However, I could still see him checking me out from the corner of my eye, and his hand rubbed at his knee, a habit I had come to realize meant he was nervous.

After the marathon, he got up to leave. But before he could slide off the bed, I caught his hand.

"Stay."

"Why? I should go."

"But I want you to stay." He somehow managed to shuffle his feet even though he was still sitting.

"I, um. I should really go."

"Why?"

"Because, um." He raised his eyes to mine, uncertainty radiating out of them. But he seemed to see something in mine that made him steel himself for whatever he was going to say. "Because I. Um. Have these feelings. For you. And I think that." His free hand ran through his hair, clutching the back of his head. "I doubt that you return them. And I don't want to make you uncomfortable if I do something I shouldn't."

My eyes widened. "Are you insane? I've wanted you almost since I've met you. But I didn't want to rush you, and then you got all weird and distant."

He dropped his eyes again. "I didn't know. I figured I was projecting my feelings for you onto you, and was therefore misreading everything."

I smirked. "Everything?"

He smirked back. "The way you stare at me. I thought you were freaked out by me. The way you catch me looking at you. I figured you were uncomfortable. I don't know. Maybe I should stop reading psychology books and start paying more attention to the people around me."

I pulled him back next to me. "You're usually so good at watching things, interpreting people."

"Yes. It's just myself that I never know about. And then I just got confused and started over-analyzing myself and you."

"Don't do that. Just let things happen..." I looked into his wide eyes for a moment before I pulled him closer and leaned forwards, bringing our lips together. He pulled back and was still for a moment, but then he leaned down and started to kiss back. I sat up, pulling him closer. He was a little taller than I was, but he still fit comfortably in my lap once he settled there.

For being skittish around other people, he relaxed further against me as he got more comfortable. I'd never kissed anyone before, since no one ever wanted to be around me, and feeling his lips against mine, his tentative tongue in my mouth... it was just amazing. His body felt cool, but his mouth was so warm, and his hands rubbed against my back, hitting muscles that I hadn't realized were tense.

I was sitting Indian-style on the bed, and he straddled my waist, his legs wrapped around to my back. He started rubbing his crotch against mine, apparently as eager as I was. I had one hand in his hair, the other underneath his shirt, resting on his stomach. He was lean and yet developing abdominals like you wouldn't believe. We sat there for a while, just exploring and feeling.

I was hard, achingly so, and it was all I could do to not flip him over and rub myself against him. I can't say it had been too long, since I'd never, but a sense of urgency just hit me. I brought my hand up to his chest, rubbing over one of his nipples. He groaned into my mouth, so I did it again. I felt him growing harder and I kept pinching him, twisting his nipples, assuming it felt as good for him as when I did it to myself. He started thrusting down into me, and I started thrusting up to meet him, the fabric of my pants torture.

He kissed along my jaw line, eventually sinking his teeth into my shoulder as he came. His body contracted against mine, and my own climax ripped itself out of me as he panted against my neck. I fell back, banging my head against the wall. He snickered at me, a sound I relished because it was so rare, collapsing on top of me once I repositioned myself, propping himself up on his elbow.

"Mmm. Wow."

I grinned at him, pleased that the usually precise boy didn't want to form sentences. "Yeah." I slid my hand up under his shirt to rest my hand on his lower back. "That was. Great. Better even than my dreams."

"Dreams? You dreamt about me?"

"Oh God, yes. Doing more than we just did."

He smiled. "Me, too." He dropped his eyes. "But uh... can we stay? Here? For now."

"Yes. Of course. I'm sure as hell not going to drive you away by forcing you to do more than you're ready for. I'm more than content to stay exactly where we are. In fact, I'd really like that." I just wanted to wrap myself around him, and didn't care about anything more.

He shifted his weight and grimaced. "Eww. So this is why people usually take their pants off when they have sex."

"Come on. Let's get cleaned up and you can borrow some pants, and I'll wash your stuff with mine when I do my laundry tomorrow. Don't want anything to stain."

"Okay. I like these pants."

"I do, too. You look really good in them."

Bruce blushed, a rare but beautiful sight. "Thanks."

We stopped talking, and he dropped his head to rest it next to mine. I had almost fallen asleep when he sat up, claiming that he had to go.

I frowned. "Do you want to stay over? It might be nice..."

"I shouldn't. I have trouble sleeping without a little aid."

I raised my eyebrows. "Hard alcohol?"

"No!" He grunted. "Sleeping pills. Just some light stuff. I'm trying to wean myself off of them. After my parents were killed, pills were the only way that Alfred could get me to sleep and not dream. I used to have these night terrors, which would make me wake up screaming. On the pills I could sleep a little easier and not dream. But I don't want to be dependant on them any longer, so I've been getting a light prescription. But I still need them." His cheeks were flushed, probably due to embarrassment.

"Maybe tomorrow?" I was hopeful, though he'd probably say no.

He raised his eyes. "Maybe."

"We don't have to do anything. That you don't want to. I just think it'd be nice to fall asleep together." I had no idea where that idea came from, but once I said it I realized I wanted it to happen.

"Yeah." He started to shuck his jeans. "You have something I can change into?"

I got up and went to my closet, found a pair of jeans that were a little loose on me, and threw them at him. "Try those. If they don't fit, I have a pair of running pants that should."

He pulled them on as I stashed his boxers and pants in with my own laundry, careful not to watch him. They were short and tight over his thighs, so I tossed him my running pants. They fit better and were nearly the same shade as the jeans he had been wearing. I didn't want him leaving my room in obviously different pants. It would have been strange, and people would have jumped to conclusions. The right ones, sure, but it still wouldn't be fair.

Before he left, he pulled me close, into a hug, then drew back and kissed me lightly. I groaned against his mouth, trying to wrap my arms around him before he pulled back. He slipped out of my room with a semblance of a smile, his eyes sparkling once more.

The next day I washed his clothes as promised, the whole day hoping that he'd come over. Even if we didn't touch each other, it'd be nice to see him after the previous night. After dinner, I went back to my room and turned on the TV, flipping through channels before I could even register what was on them. The hand without the death-grip on the remote fidgeted with one of my belt loops.

I had just settled on something on the History Channel when I heard a tentative knock on the door. I was up and across the room almost before I even realized I heard the knock. I opened the door to find Bruce there, dressed in a long-sleeve dark blue shirt and dark khakis. He had his backpack with him.

I motioned him inside. Once the door was closed, I grabbed his hand and pulled him in to kiss him. "You look great. Too bad we didn't arrange to go out somewhere." I was only wearing my extra set of running pants and a gray t-shirt.

"I'd rather stay in, if it's all the same to you." He slipped his hand down my hip. "Unless you really want to go out somewhere."

I swallowed, the electricity in his simple touch shorting out my brain for a moment. "No. Staying in would be great." I led him to my bed, and he kicked off his shoes and sat down. "I was just watching. Nothing." I turned off the TV, and pulled out a bottle of vodka and some orange juice. "You want anything?"

Bruce looked me over. "Just the juice is fine. I don't know how alcohol will mix with my meds."

I thought for a minute, wondering if he was actually concerned or just didn't want to drink but was afraid to say so. "That's fine. I usually just do one, anyway." I poured him some juice and gave him the glass.

"Thanks." He took a sip as he eyed me over the rim. I only put in a half-shot of the vodka in my own, not even enough to taste with the juice.

"So, what's in the bag?" I glanced down at the backpack he dropped in front of the bed.

"Change of clothes for tomorrow. You know. In case I stay over."

I smiled as warmly as I could at him, even though I was nervous; it was a big step and it had happened quickly. "I sincerely hope you do."

He smiled his little half-smile back, and I was more than happy to receive it. I clambered onto the bed to sit next to him. "So. What do you want to do?"

He dug around in his backpack, and my heart skipped a beat. Was he getting what I thought... No. He pulled out a pack of playing cards. "I thought we could play some cards. Poker or something."

"There's only two of us."

He actually rolled his eyes at me. "Strip poker."

"Oh. Sure." I smiled at him again. He never ceased to surprise me. I rarely saw him in anything other than long-sleeved shirts and long pants, and now he wanted to play strip poker. We took the game slowly, to make it last.

I was an absolutely terrible poker player, so I was quickly down to my pants and boxers, having lost my watch, socks, and shirt before he had lost anything. But then I got him with four of a kind to his full house, and rather than take off his watch or belt or shirt, he took off his pants.

I raised an eyebrow at him. He looked at me and shrugged. "Lex, you suck at this. If it were up to you I'd never get my pants off tonight." His gorgeous eyes looked at me appreciatively.

Well then. I knew where his mind was at that point.

We played a few more rounds, which left me naked and him still in his boxers and socks. I was always the bald freak, used to people being revolted by my body, my father included, so I wasn't particularly shy, just resigned, but I still felt weird being nude in front of Bruce. I sat with my knees tucked up, while he shifted to lay back on his hands with his legs spread. He turned his head to me, his hair falling adorably into his eyes.

I just couldn't take it any more, something about him eroding any willpower I had, and I brushed the cards off the bed and moved over to him. I placed my hand on his stomach, then leaned down to kiss him while running it over and up his side. He pulled me down to him, tugging on my hip. I crawled over him, straddling his hips. He sat up to get a better angle, rubbing himself against me.

I groaned into him, my arousal clearly obvious. We just sat there, me in his lap, making out, for what felt like hours. We both wanted more, but right then just feeling each other, kissing each other, exploring, was enough. Eventually, his hand slipped low on my stomach, his fingers skimming lightly over my cock. I bit his lip, and he touched me again.

"Mmm. Please. Touch me. Please."

He listened to my pleading, wrapping his hand with its long fingers around me, squeezing lightly. "Oh God. Yeah. Like that." He started moving his hand, gradually moving faster.

"Mmm." I pulled away, looking into those gorgeous eyes. "Strip down. Let me do you, too." I got off of him and allowed him to pull his boxers off. Because they was going to bother me if I didn't, I pulled his socks off for him.

I finally got a good look at him. He really was gorgeous, his shoulders were nicely rounded, but not too broad, his abs were tight, a trail of dark hair leading down between his legs, his legs well-developed. What he saw in a skinny guy like me I don't know; I felt more naked right then than I had all evening. He watched my eyes rove over his body, and if it were possible I think he got harder. I groaned in approval of him as he glanced over me and smiled.

I climbed back on top of him, and he returned his hand to my cock. It started leaking again as his hand slid along it. I latched my mouth back on to his, my tongue reaching for anything it could.

I let my own hands roam over his chest, tweaked a nipple here, fingered a rib there. He moaned underneath me. One of my hands finally glided down to his cock, and my fingers closed around it. I didn't quite know what to do, but I just knew I had to touch him. He jerked up into it, giving something that vaguely resembled a squeak. That only made me stroke harder. He pulled his head away from me so he could breathe.

"Oh God, Lex, oh yeah. Almost. Oh God..." He kept up his mantra even as he fondled me harder. We rocked against each other, each desperate for release and yet not wanting to give in quite yet.

But finally, I squeezed at just the right time and place and he exploded over my hand, his head slamming back into the wall as he relaxed, his own hand tightening around me.

"Oh yeah, yeah, yeah, ah!" I jerked into his hand, spilling my own semen all over him. It was my turn to collapse on top of him. He repositioned himself, then repositioned me half on top of and half next to him, the incredibly shy boy that sometimes possessed his body nowhere in sight. Hell, he must have dropped him off somewhere before he came over.

"My God, Lex. That was amazing. Wow."

I smiled as best as I could, and lazily replied, "Yeah. That was just. Yeah." I traced his ribs with one hand as he traced my spine with one of his, and we lay there petting, listening to each other breath. "I don't want to move."

"You don't have to. Unless you want to shower."

"Mmm. Hang on." I reached over into my nightstand, and fished around until I came back with some tissues. I handed them to him. "Good?"

"Good." He cleaned us up as best as he could and tossed the used tissues in the direction of my garbage can, and I reach over once more to turn off my lamp. I frowned when I realized my overhead lamp was on, and I hopped up to turn it off, hopefully not ruining the moment.

When I lay back down, Bruce pulled me in to kiss me once more. "Night, Lex."

"Yeah. Good night, Bruce."

I drifted off fairly quickly, but was woken up at some point by the sound of Bruce rummaging through his bag. "Whassit?"

"Just grabbing a pill. Go back to sleep."

"Cmere with me." He dry-swallowed something, then crawled back to me, resting his head near mine and intertwining our legs. I noticed to some dismay that he had put his boxers back on. But I was too tired, and too content, to worry, and I fell asleep again quickly. I could only hope that Bruce did, too.

Waking up with him that next morning was just wonderful. We were both the same shade of pale, and it was hard to tell where I ended and he began. Except for his argyle boxers. I just loved the way his skin felt against mine.

For another few weeks we were content with that, making out, hand jobs, mutual masturbation, that sort of thing. I wanted more, but I didn't want to scare him off. Even though he seemed to want what I wanted, he still seemed stand-offish, and wanted me to initiate things. It's like he would bring himself places or invite me over, while I had to do the rest. Sometimes I felt like he was two different people, one who wanted attention, and one who would happily remain in the shadows. It seemed like he switched between them easily and with no warning.

Winter break came around, signaling three weeks of being home by myself, with my father threatening me with various things or omissions. Bruce invited me to spend a couple of days with him, and my father consented when my grades arrived in the mail.

If I had ever thought that our home was majestic, it just didn't hold a candle to Wayne Manor. The lawn was huge, and even in the winter snow it looked gorgeous and lush. The fountain out front was beautifully sculpted, and I could only imagine what it would look like when the water was flowing.

Surprisingly, Bruce met me at the door. "Hey. Come on in." He glanced around before kissing me hello. "Sorry, but Alfred doesn't know about us. And, well, I'd like to keep it a secret for now."

I sure couldn't feel hurt, because I don't think I'd even mentioned Bruce to my father other than to say I was visiting someone over break. It was just more than I was willing to share with the man, even though he could probably figure it out. "Sure. Whatever. I'm going to assume there will be separate sleeping arrangements?"

He smirked. "You're in the room across from mine, and Alfred goes to bed before I do. Obviously. So you can come over once he's asleep." Bruce did seem to have a goal to redefine `night owl,' so it was certainly not surprising that he was up long past Alfred.

"Ooh, sneaky." We went up to his hallway, where we deposited my bag in the guest room before heading into his. Surprisingly, it was fairly plain. There was a painting of the winter constellations on the ceiling, and a row of book cases along one wall. There was a computer on the other wall, and an armoire on the wall next to the door. The top parts of the large windows were green and blue stained glass. It was very nice, and orderly, but nothing that you'd usually see in a fifteen-year-old's room. Other than the computer. But I never claimed that Bruce Wayne was normal.

"I know it's somewhat plain, but I don't spend a lot of time here. I have other rooms in this suite." He then proceeded to show them to me, and overall it was indeed amazing. A room full of electronics and robotics stuff. A small library with a mini-fridge in the corner. Surprisingly, a room full of model train sets, with three trains running. Throughout the house, he showed me the full library downstairs, the gym he used when he was home, and the car he was going to drive when he turned sixteen.

Overall, I was impressed. Even I didn't have my car picked out until I actually turned sixteen. After the grand tour, we meandered through the lower floor. "Dinner will be ready soon. We can eat in the movie room, if you want."

I didn't really care where we ate, but watching a movie on the giant screen he had in the big comfy recliners really sounded good. He actually had a projector set up in the back, so it was like being in a real theater, but more comfortable.

So we ate dinner that first night while watching The Terminator. A fun movie, if nothing else. After the movie, Alfred popped in to clear our plates and ask if Bruce needed anything else for the evening. Bruce told him no, and that he was dismissed for the night.

The second Alfred shut the door on us, Bruce launched himself out of his chair and into mine. He kissed me meticulously as he climbed into my lap. "Sorry. I just wanted to make sure he wasn't going to walk in on us. I should have guessed he wouldn't have interrupted the movie."

"You're worth the waiting." I latched my hand in the hair on the back of his head and pulled him back down as he squirmed to get more comfortable. He was so lively when he was with me, or maybe that was just compared to the way he normally sat still at the edge of everything. Even in group he only spoke when asked a question or he was forced to.

He ground down into me, and I groaned up into him. He tugged at my lip before he pulled away. "I want to do more, Lex."

"Like what?" I raised my eyebrow in question.

He slid his hands beneath my waistband and groped my ass. "I want to suck you off. Right now."

I gulped. "Go for it. Please. I've wanted you to say that for so long."

"Sorry. I just... want it to be special. It'll be so nice for the first time, in here, no neighbors..."

I could only agree with him. I left my room to go to the bathroom early one morning, and had to rip down a sign from my door that declared Bruce and I were faggots. He didn't need to see that. At least there, we could do whatever we wanted and not have to hold back. I loved what we did at school, but trying to be quiet took a little of the fun away. I was looking forward to screaming.

We started off slowly, like we usually did. His hands slid up underneath my shirt, his thumbs pressing into me. I tugged his sweater up over his head, only to find a t-shirt underneath. I glared at it before pulling that up over his head as well. He took advantage of the situation and took off my shirt as well.

"God, Lex, you feel so good. You're so warm." He pressed back against me, his tongue happily meeting mine.

It was strange because I was usually cold, so he must usually be really cold. Maybe that's why he had been wearing a sweater.

"Mmph. Come here." I repositioned us so that I could lick at his chest, eventually pulling on one of his nipples. He bucked into me, exhaling heavily. His hands went up to grip my shoulders as he ground down on me. His head lolled back as my tongue worked the sensitive area.

"Oh God. That's so good."

I came up for air. "Take your pants off." As he climbed down, he told me to do the same. Finally naked before me, all I could do was stare. No matter how often I saw him nude, I just couldn't help but drink him in anew each time. He started to get back on top of me, but I told him to just stand there. When I leaned forward I was at the perfect height to lick his cock, stroke it with my tongue as only my hand had done before.

He was hard, and already leaking a bit. I gripped him with my hand, jerked him a couple of times before leaning in and taking off his pre-cum with my tongue. Oh God. I'd only ever tasted my own before, of course, and his was just something else altogether. I lapped at it, and Bruce started to babble loudly above me.

His hands began to clench my shoulders once more. Not quite sure what to do at that point, I took the head into my mouth as I guided him with my hand on his hip. He spread his legs for better balance, and I slipped one hand in between them to cup his balls. He locked his knees so he wouldn't fall over.

I looked up at him, and his eyes were tightly closed, his expression one of either pain or pleasure. By the whimpers he was making, I figured it was the latter. I took him in as far as I could, the head of his cock butting against the back of my throat. I started stroking him along with his movements, and his hands tightened enough to bruise as he climaxed, cried out, and then collapsed on to me.

I took as much of his cum as I could, choked a little, and wiped the rest off of my chin once he settled. I rubbed his back until he calmed down. "Lex. My God. I can't even..."

I kissed his temple. "You don't have to." He moved his head so he could kiss me properly. It was a little bit sloppier than normal, but that was perfectly fine with me. After a few minutes, his hand found its way to my own erection, which had been leaking ever since Bruce had stopped forming real words.

He looked adoringly into my eyes as he slithered down to his knees. He didn't even bother with his hands as he took one look at my erection then sucked it into his mouth. I yelped; there was no other word for it. He continued to watch me as his mouth took in all that it could, and his hand came up to hold the rest.

I brought one hand down to his head to play with his hair, and with the other I played with my own nipple. He groaned around me, watching me play with myself, his eyes finally dropping to my cock. His loose hand latched on to my free nipple and twisted it hard. I started to thrash underneath him, my body begging for the release that my mouth didn't seem able to ask for. All I could do was whimper and moan, and occasionally utter, "yeah."

He looked up at me again, and he started to suck, and I just couldn't take it any more. My body tightened and then I came, pleasure radiating through me as I turned to liquid. A scream wrenched its way out of my chest as my hand clamped down on Bruce's head. "Oh. Yes!" He rubbed my sides until all I could do was lie there in a puddle in his chair.

I gazed down on him with heavy eyes, my smile broader than it had ever been since my mother died. He read the invitation in my eyes and climbed up once more to join me. I pulled him into kiss him, tasting myself on him. "Wow," I said, and he settled his weight on me once more.

"Mmph. That's my line." He found one of my hands and locked our fingers together.

I have no idea how long we sat there, curled up into that huge chair, but eventually Bruce stirred. "We're going to have to move to my bed, or I'm going to have a sore neck tomorrow."

I smirked at him. "Wouldn't want that, now would we."

"Nope." He dropped off of me and grabbed his pants, pulling them on but putting his boxers in his pocket. I did the same, and we grabbed our shirts. He then led me back through the mansion, the light in the halls flowing over him, emphasizing the definition of his muscles. He might not have thought much of himself, but that was because he could never see himself as others could.

When we got to his room, he pushed me back on the bed and braced himself above me and kissed me hard. I rolled us over and stripped us out of our pants. I took his mouth with mine, addicted to the way he tasted. I felt him grow hard beneath me, which only made me grow harder. He reached down, but I pushed his hand away.

"Let me." He brought his hands to my back and spread his legs a bit, settling me in between them better. I propped myself up on an elbow and reach between us, gripping both of our cocks in my hand. He started to move beneath me, thrusting himself into my hand as I rubbed against him. Before too long we were both shooting into the space between us, him screaming my name as I just kept up my mantra of vowel sounds.

I dropped onto him, elbowing him, but he didn't seem to mind, and he rubbed at the back of my neck. I was too out of it to mumble more than a good night before I started to succumb to sleep, but he was coherent enough to say, "I never want this to end; it feels so great," and tightened his grip on me.

I pulled him closer, and licked the patch of skin closest to me. He sighed, and I knew the message was understood.

The rest of my visit at Bruce's was wonderful. We were free to do whatever we wanted as long as Alfred didn't have to clean up after us. His job seemed hard enough without us making it worse for him. We played with Bruce's machinery and electronics, he showed me some fascinating books in his personal library, we watched movies on his big screen, and we gave each other orgasms whenever we could. I was horribly upset that I had to leave, but we would be back at school the next week, so it wasn't too long we'd have to be apart.

Back at school, life just seemed good. Classes were easy, Jake had lessened his torments, and Bruce and I spent as much time with each other as we could. It helped that neither of us had any other friends. Bruce had too many issues related to trust to bother, and I had grown so used to people finding me repulsive for one reason or another that I hadn't bothered seeking companionship, other than Bruce's, in years.

Bruce spent Friday nights in my room, and I spent Saturdays in his. Those nights were great; I had never felt so content before. It just felt right somehow. I had a feeling he felt the same way when I realized he never bothered to bring his sleeping pills over any more. He found a way to sleep around me. That said almost more than anything he could put into words.

We knew people knew about us, even though we didn't even touch each other outside of our rooms, since people stared, and some snickered anyway, and anyone who knew me knew that I never had a nice word for anyone. Once I even came back to my room to find a box outside the door. I went in and opened it, to find packets of lube and a box of condoms. There was a note that said "Be safe," but didn't leave a name. I already had a stash, but free was free.

We couldn't have been the only couple on campus, since every boy here was deep in the throes of puberty and coming into his sexual awareness, and the only way to do anything about it was to hook up with another boy. I became concerned for what that meant about me and Bruce, but I hoped that whatever was going on between us was more than that.

I started to pull back from him a little, freaking myself out over what was probably nothing. But, really, what didn't I have to worry about? I had laid myself open to Bruce, trusted him like I had only ever trusted my mother. I had come in to his life as probably the only person willing to look past who he was, knew he was more than the tortured soul he projected to everyone else. He had told me that I was the first person to express sexual interest in him, which I just couldn't understand.

So, by the time he came over for our weekly game of chess, I had worked myself into a nervous frenzy. Well, as much as I could possibly work myself into a frenzy without my father involved. He knocked on my door, and I pulled it open much more harshly than I intended to.

He had been smiling his usual half-smile, but he started to frown when he looked into my eyes. "Lex, what's wrong?"

I tugged him inside by his elbow, locking the door behind him. "Nothing. I've just been thinking."

His eyes widened, and he stood there waiting for me to speak.

"Where is this going?"

"Where is what going?"

"This. Us." I gestured between us. "Why are you with me?"

He continued to frown, and paused before he spoke. "I like you, Lex. You're funny, and hot, and smart, and you taste good, and I like that you make me feel human and not like a broken porcelain doll. And you understand me better than anyone else ever has, and you've provided me with someone to talk to about anything I want. I don't have to hide myself around you. And you've been through similar experiences as I have, so you actually have a chance at understanding me."

I released the breath that I had been holding, and I sat down hard on my desk chair. Nothing he had said had sounded anything like `you're my sex toy because you were the first to make a move.'

"Lex?" He came over to me, fear tingeing the permanently-emotional canvass of his eyes. He tossed an oblong box on the bed; I hadn't even realized he'd been holding one. His hand found one of mine. "What's wrong? What did I do?"

Oh, and there was that guilt that he carried around. I don't know how he thought he could have helped his parents, and other than that I don't know what he could possibly feel guilty about, but underneath everything else he felt this horribly misplaced guilt.

"Nothing. I was just scaring myself." I started to rub the hand that held mine with my thumb.

"With what?"

I gave a small smile. "Just that you're only with me because we're at an all-guys school. And I was convenient."

He swallowed loudly. "Is that what you think? Is that why you're with me?"

I looked up at him, shocked that he could even think that. But I guess that that's how he felt, too. "No! Like I said, I was just thinking about the random sex that happens around all the straight guys around here, and then I thought about us, and I just got confused." I tried to smile again. "And I like you, too. Because you're smart, and sexy, and funny, and a million other things. And everything you just told me about understanding you works both ways." I wasn't about to mention that he still intrigued me, since that's not really something that a person wants to hear.

He cocked an eyebrow, and a hip, at me. "Sexy, huh?"

"Well, yeah. You should know that by now." I pulled him to me by the belt loop that was closest due to his thrusted hip. "I obviously can't keep my hands off of you." I pulled him down to kiss him, tugging at his lower lip with my teeth while rubbing my hand over his crotch. I stood and we walked the short steps to my bed.

"What's in the box?" I had forgotten that he had it.

He blushed, so rare on his features. "It's for you. Open it."

It was my turn to cock an eyebrow as I took the lid off. Inside were a single white rose and a notice of a reservation at an upscale restaurant in town for the week after. My other eyebrow launched itself upwards.

Bruce's eyes dropped down to the floor. "It's Valentine's Day. I thought I'd do something to acknowledge it." He glanced up in time to see my mouth turn up at the ends as my eyebrows returned to their resting place. "I know it's silly, and that neither of us is a girl, it's just that you always find it so hard that I like you, that people can like you, that I wanted to just. Let you know that I do like you." He gripped my chin with one hand, looking into my eyes, for what, I don't know. "Maybe even more than that." He leaned over and kissed me again, chastely but still passionately.

"Sorry, Bruce. I don't know why I torture myself sometimes. Thank you." I pulled him down next to me on the bed.

He managed to look a little sheepish, but also a little sad. "I do. It's the same reason I torture myself. Everyone who loved us without being paid to has left us. We think it's our fault, so we try to find reasons within ourselves for why people can't seem to be near us or stay around. Even when they died, and it wasn't our fault. We then project those feelings onto those who are close to us, and the feelings just keep snowballing until we push those people away, too, fulfilling the self-fulfilling prophecy of those who like us leaving us. It's not just you."

I pulled him to me, wrapping my arms around him, wanting to feel any warmth he could give me. I kissed his temple when I pulled back. "Sounds like someone has been paying attention in group," I teased.

He half-smiled. "Nah. I just like psychology. I use the time in group to plan my weekends so I can spend as much time as possible with you."

I gave him a shove. "You're such a sap."

He shoved back. "Yeah, well, I'm your sap." I laughed, even as I squeezed his shoulder.

"Oh, wait! I got something for you, too. For Valentine's Day. I know it's a stupid commercial holiday, but we hadn't agreed not to do anything, and I wanted to be prepared in case you did something for me, and if you didn't I was going to keep it for your birthday in a few weeks..." I hopped off the bed and rummaged around in my desk, trying to get my hands on his gift.

"Ah. Here." I pulled out the envelope and gave it to him, curiosity flowing over his features. His eyes lit up as he saw the gift certificate to the comic book store in Gotham where he got all of his comics and memorabilia.

"I know Alfred doesn't approve of this particular hobby, and I know you can afford anything you want, and it's not really romantic or anything, but..."

He silenced me by kissing me again. "Shut up. It's really sweet of you. Thanks." I leaned into him again, taking his mouth again, tugging at the hem of his sweater.

"Off." He raised his arms over his head as I stripped him out of his sweater and undershirt. My eyes dropped involuntarily to his chest, fascinated by the dusting of dark hairs, the way each muscle seemed to be more defined each time I saw him shirtless, the way I could see his breath catch as he watched me look at him.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "You show me yours and I'll show you mine." I rolled my eyes and groaned at his attempt at humor. Sometimes he had these zingers, and sometimes he sounded like a bad porno movie. A really creepy porno at times. I shrugged out of my t-shirt, placed one hand behind me on the bed, arched my back, and placed the back of my other hand against my forehead.

I sighed dramatically and looked at the wall. "Take whatever you need. Just be gentle." I grinned and brought my eyes back to Bruce's as he pounced, tongue exploring my chest as my eyes had his. I arched again as he licked over my nipples, and worried a spot of skin below my ribs with his teeth.

I pushed back against him, claiming his mouth before I bit into him, bringing his nipples to a point as he squirmed under me. I wanted to feel him beneath me, pleasure him as best as I could, reinsure myself that he was mine because he wanted to be, not because he had to be.

I pushed him fully onto his back and caught his hands, catching them above his head and pinning them against the bed with my own. I climbed fully on top of him, and pressed my groin into his. He hissed at me as I started to rock against him.

Even with all the times we'd fooled around since we'd first gotten together, I had never acted that possessively, and he knew it. He struggled away from my mouth. "Lex, you okay? You're acting... odd."

I glared a little at him. "I'm fine." My expression softened as I saw the uncertainty in his eyes; combined with the normal pain, it was just too much for me. I released his hands and slid down to lie next to him. "I just wanted to assure myself that you're here, that you're mine. I just feel sometimes like you're gonna realize that you can do better than me, and you're gonna leave. And right now, I don't think I could handle that."

Bruce groaned. "Didn't we just discuss this? I'm with you. I'm not going anywhere. Unless you push me away. So don't." I just trailed my fingers along his ribs, at least where muscle hadn't covered them yet.

"I know. I don't know what's wrong with me." We both grew silent, just lying there in each other's arms. After a while, I knew Bruce was thinking. He hadn't moved and I couldn't exactly hear gears turning, but when I propped myself up to look into his eyes, I could see something moving behind them.

"Bruce?" He didn't say anything, so I reached down to kiss him, trying to bring him back to me. He turned his head, smiling his little smile at me.

"I think I know what might make you feel better. And it's something I've wanted, but I hadn't wanted to say anything."

I smiled at him. That was Bruce. He always wanted but he never took. Alfred had really drilled some manners into this kid. I sidled back down so I could reach his neck with my teeth, licking at the skin when I wasn't nibbling on it. "God, that feels good..." He stroked the back of my neck with the fingers of one hand.

"Mmm. So, what do we want?" It seemed easier to ask it that way, since we both usually wanted the same things.

Bruce was panting by now underneath my mouth and fingers, which had found their way to his nipples. "Mmm. I want you to... take me. Claim me. Have sex with me."

I raised myself up again, looking into his eyes. My voice dropped, and I made it as sexy as I could. "You want me to fuck you?"

I thrust my hips into his side, causing him to arch. "Yes!" I shushed him as I quickly searched for my stereo remote. I hopped up to get it and turned on whatever cd I had left in it, and also to grab the box of lube and condoms that had so recently been dropped at my door.

I smiled satisfactorily as Bach filled the room and I raised the condoms and lube so Bruce could see them. He smiled as wolfishly as he ever had. I threw my prizes on the bed and shucked out of my pants and shoes. He started to do the same, but I stopped him, smiling warmly. "Let me."

I yanked off his shoes and pants as he lay there on the bed, eyes half-closed. When we were both finally naked and I started stroking his thighs, he started to babble. "Wanted you, wanted to belong to you. Everyone leaves me... want to know someone needs me, wants me. Want to be yours..." I finally shushed him by probing his mouth with me tongue, and I slid my hand around his erection, and when I brought my tongue to other areas of his body all he could do was whimper.

I worried a bruise into his neck, where he could hide it if he chose to, then worked my way along his collarbone, then down once more to his nipples. One of his hands stroked along my back, and the other rubbed along his own knee, which he had bent to reach better.

I pulled back. "You're really nervous, aren't you." He just nodded at me, then glanced away.

"I like to think I have reason to be." I turned his head back to mine.

"Don't be. I'm going to try to make this as good for both of us as I can." I had done some research, read some guidelines on the Internet, watched some porn. I had some idea of what to do. I slid back down his body, one hand closing over his erection. His breathing hitched once more.

"I think if maybe you cum first, you'll be more relaxed." Before he could say anything, I took him into my mouth as deeply as I could. It still wasn't all the way, but I had gotten better since that first time. One of my hands continued to trail along his side, while the other slid around behind his balls. A couple of heavy strokes with my fingers and a well-timed swirl of my tongue around the head of his cock, and he was cumming into my mouth as he panted heavily.

He lay back, sated, one hand languidly stroking the back of my neck. "So good," he murmured. I wanted to catch him as soon after orgasm as I could, so I quickly opened a packet of lube and slathered its contents onto my fingers. I rubbed around his opening, slicking it as best as I could. I tried to steel myself for this; I didn't want to hurt him.

I looked into his eyes, which had come back to me, and he gave a small nod. I pressed one finger inside him, but stopped when he hissed, taking his lip between his teeth. To take his mind off of it, I kissed him, encouraged him to plunder my mouth with his tongue, to take part of me while I took part of him.

I slid the finger in deeper, and tried for a second. He arched into it, but didn't seem too uncomfortable. I scissored them slowly, trying to open him up. He was tight, and he chewed on his lip whenever I pulled away from him.

I stroked his hair with my free hand, trying to sooth him. I slid in a third finger, working all three of them in and out, trying to loosen him up enough. And then... he stopped wriggling, and started moving back against me, working with the rhythm I was trying to set. The sounds he was making finally sounded like he was having a good time, and not like I was torturing him.

I worked a little bit longer, going as deep as I could, as he rubbed his hands over whatever parts of my body he could reach. When I figured that he was as open as I was going to be able to get him, I pulled my fingers out and tugged on a condom, glad that I had practiced putting one on so I didn't make a fool of myself when I finally had Bruce under me.

I opened another packet of the lube, making sure to get as much of me as I could. I settled myself in between his legs after kissing him once more. I hesitated, unsure of what to do with his legs. He solved the problem by pulling up his own knees and spreading his legs. "Lex, come on, I can't hang here all day." His voice was deep and breathy at the same time, and I groaned, and not being able to wait, I finally pushed inside him with my cock.

It took time, working my way into him, but I was able to work my way fully inside of him. He had long since stopped making any sounds other than little moans of delight interspersed with sucked-in breaths of pain. I leaned down, capturing his mouth, and then, I slowly rocked into him, gradually picking up speed.

I braced myself above him so that I could look into his eyes. He reached between us so that he could jack himself. I knew I couldn't last, so I just moved as well as I could, marveling at how it felt to be inside of him. Nothing like it. I'd never felt so connected to someone, never had anyone who was mine in such a complete way.

And he just looked up at me, grimacing, but that haunted look in his eyes, that haunted look was the least prevalent I'd ever seen it before, and before I knew it I was pulsing into him, screaming into his shoulder once I couldn't hold myself up any more. He stroked himself a few more times and shot in between us, his body twitching underneath mine as he breathed out something that vaguely resembled my name.

After a while he pushed at me and grunted. "You're wiry, but not that much of a light-weight." I smirked at him, and slowly rose up and pulled out, and he exhaled heavily. I stripped off the condom and threw it away, then returned to my place by his side.

"That was so good, Bruce. Thank you."

"Thank you." He shifted so he could get closer to me. "I hope we can both say that we've found someone to belong to."

I just grunted into his shoulder and tugged him closer, not able to get enough of the feel of his skin against mine. He was quiet for a few more minutes, just rubbing me. I groped around where I remembered the stereo remote might possibly be, found it, and turned down the cd so that it was at a soothing volume. My lamp was still on, but I didn't care.

Bruce's breathing started to even out, but he was able to mumble, "I may even love you."

I wasn't so tired that I couldn't whisper back to him, "I may love you, too." We just clung to each other, the scent of sex in the air, and I drifted off into an incredibly deep sleep.

I woke the next morning to an empty room. Bruce did that occasionally, so I thought nothing of it. I found a note he left that said that he didn't have anything to wear and wanted to get back to his room early. Weird kid.

The next couple of weeks went by in a blur. We reverted back to hand jobs and fellatio, but there was an intensity there that hadn't been there before. And I really did think that I might love him. He had become such a large part of my life.

His birthday came around, and we went out to dinner again and a movie. It was such an odd, typical date. I got him another gift certificate to the comics store he liked, and a rare figurine I had found online that I thought he might want.

It happened to be Saturday, the night I usually spent in his room, so I was happily camped out on his bed, reading one of his comic books, stripped down to my boxers. He was doing something on his computer, something he told me he couldn't tell me about because then I'd be an accomplice.

"Hey, Bruce. There anything else you want to do for your birthday?" I looked over at him, trying to will him to look back at me.

"I think I'm good, Lex. Good movie, good food, good presents, and my boyfriend splayed out on my bed in his underwear. I really don't think I could ask for anything more. Unless you had something specific in mind?" He turned around, cocking an eyebrow into his hair.

"I dunno. I could just lay here like this, in my underwear. Or you could come over here and strip me and bury yourself balls-deep in my ass." I tried to look flirty. I don't think it would have mattered.

With the speed that always surprised me, he vaulted out of his desk chair and on top of me, almost kneeing me in the crotch. He propped himself above me. "You mean that?"

"I want to belong to you. I'm yours. I need this, and I need you." I hope my eyes let him know how serious I was, and that I wasn't just making a concession because he had finally turned sixteen.

He licked along my neck. "I want you. I need to claim you. Give yourself to me." His eyes, along with the normal haunting, displayed a hunger I didn't think I'd ever seen before. I spread my legs as far as they would go.

"Take me. Please." Without another word he stripped out of what he was wearing, and yanked off my boxers. I loved the sight of him over me, the lamplight catching in his abs and over his chest, hair hanging down, his erection jutting forward. He was gorgeous, and I could never understand why no one else could see that.

I reached up to kiss him, wanting to taste him. He met me halfway and pushed me onto my back, knocking his comic book to the floor. "Oh, yeah, Lex. I'm gonna do my best to make this good for you, like you did for me..."

I didn't say anything, and only arched my back and then thrust my hips against him, bringing his attention to my erection. Rather than touching it, he took one of my nipples in his teeth, then the other. I started to clutch at his hair, and dug the nails of my free hand into his back. He tugged hard, and I cried out.

He immediately jumped up to play whatever music came up on his computer, some composer that I couldn't recognize under the circumstances. While up, he snagged a condom and a bottle of lube out of his nightstand. I eyed it, wondering where he got it. He saw me and shrugged. "I look older than I am, and you keep saying I'm attractive. Being rich doesn't hurt. I can get my hands on anything."

I smirked at him. "Then why don't you show me that particular skill?" He returned the expression and climbed back onto the bed, barely pausing to get his balance before he uncapped the lube and applied some to his fingers. When he touched me, oh God, it was so much better than by his bare hand. He started to slide up and down, and I was grateful that he had turned up his music so that I could be as loud as I wanted.

I started leaking, and he bent down to tongue it off, and he penetrated the slit, and I howled as I came all over him. He pulled away and scrubbed a hand over his chin, wiping it away. But he also made sure to taste some of it, causing me to groan. "God, Bruce. I want you in me so bad. Want to feel you through me..."

He groaned in response, stroking himself to full hardness. He then covered his fingers in lube, and started to work one inside of me. And it burned! I hadn't done much down there to prepare at all, but I wished I had. I pulled him down to me, wanting to taste him again, and he readily replied, giving me his tongue and everything else I could ask for.

He worked that first finger slowly, but before I knew it he had slipped in a second. His mouth found its way to my chest again, and he sucked on a nipple, and I couldn't stop moving even though it still hurt, and then one of his fingers found my prostate, and I couldn't do anything to stop my loud whine, or my body's movement along with his fingers. And he moved back up to mark my neck while slipping in a third finger, working them around, opening me up for him.

I started to moan uncontrollably, finally just began begging him to enter me, even as I clawed at his back as he moved his fingers faster within me. And then he stopped, and withdrew them, and I whimpered. "Shh, Lex, just give me a second..." I watched the darkly-colored latex sheath him, and locked my eyes to his as he lined up and pushed inside.

We groaned together at the sensation, and he slowly pushed and pushed, giving me time to adjust around him. His eyes shut, and his expression was what I'd always called ecstasy, that one where it could either mean pain or bliss, and I'm sure I wore something similar. I moved with him as best I could, hands as close to holding him as they could get from my position.

And then, he was fully inside me, and he exhaled heavily. "Oh God. You feel so good." He then shifted forwards, rocking his hips into me, and I cried out as he hit my prostate. He dropped himself on top of me and did it again. I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close, not wanting him to stop but not sure if I could handle him any more.

He bit into my neck, keeping his head there as he picked up speed and pounded into me. I spread my legs wider, drawing him deeper, and I reached down to take my cock in my hand. It had gotten fully hard again after he was deep inside me. There was still lube on it, and after only a handful of tugs I came hard, spurting semen all over the both of us. The spasms of my body were enough to push him over as well, and we screamed together, him into my neck, and he collapsed on top of me.

I couldn't stop chanting what sounded like, "Oh, God," and it took him a while to catch his breath. I realized that he was trembling, and I rubbed my hand along his neck, through his hair, trying to get him to tell me what was wrong. He finally lifted his eyes so that I could see them. The haunting was still there, but it was overshadowed by something else.

"I think, Lex, that maybe I do love you." But he didn't look particularly happy. But then again I was still doped out due to my own endorphins, so I thought I had been reading his enigmatic eyes wrong.

"I think, Bruce, that maybe I love you, too." He started to get up, but I held him back. "Don't leave yet. Unless the stickiness is bothering you." He chose to remain in my arms, and I had thought he fell asleep. But then he did get up, pulling out of me, leaving me empty, and all I wanted was for him to take me again.

I grabbed his hand, and he locked our fingers, even as he used his other hand to take off the condom, but let go to grab a washcloth from his closet, which he moistened with water from the pitcher he kept on his desk. He cleaned both of us up, put his computer on standby, and turned off his lamp, and crawled back next to me.

"I'm yours, Bruce." I spoke into his cheek. "Happy birthday."

"And I'm yours, Lex." He rubbed a hand over my chest. I fell asleep under his caresses.

After a few more weeks of school, and sex, it was Spring Break. Dad had scheduled all sorts of things for me to do with him or for him, so he could show me off, or teach me, or whatever his little sadistic projects were theoretically designed to do. So, I didn't get to escape to Bruce's, which if Dad's snide little comments had any weight, was exactly the purpose of his projects. Clearly, news of Bruce and me had gotten back to him. Damn connected bastard.

I had just wanted to spend a couple of days with Bruce, but since I couldn't, I wound up jerking off to memories of being inside him, or him inside me, whenever I had a few minutes. I just had this feeling of a permanent rush, knowing that I belonged to someone who might actually love me, and that I had someone who belonged to me, whom I might actually love.

I began to count the hours until I would see Bruce again, and if nothing else had told me that I had it bad for this kid, than that certainly did. Sure, I called him twice, and he called me once, and hearing his voice was great, but it wasn't quite the same as being able to see him, and it certainly didn't compare to being able to feel him, run my fingers over his body, feel his weight on top of me.

In the weeks between his birthday and break, we had tried different positions, and I think my favorite was him on his knees, me draped over him, taking him until he just collapsed with his climax. The way the muscles of his back flexed as I pumped into him just made me even hotter.

But even without the sex, I think it would have been a great relationship. We had so much in common, and understood each other so well. Sometimes we just spent hours together without talking, perfectly content to just be together, doing homework, lying together, watching TV, listening to music. We just needed each other. And it worked for both of us.

Finally I got back to school, and Bruce and I were finally able to hook up again. For the next week we had sex of some sort every time we could be alone, and he spent the night in my room four times. One morning I again found a box with condoms and lube in it, but this time the note said "Congratulations!" It was written in the same marker color that Kevin Norse, a boy down the hall, used for his door, so at least I knew who was being so generous. Or snide. But I wasn't going to complain about free prophylactics and lube, though perhaps Bruce and I should have tried to be more quiet.

And then, oh God, one of the worst nights of my life. Bruce came over rather late, citing a long chemistry lab keeping him in his room. I should have known something was wrong, since he usually asked me to keep him company while he wrote up his labs since I could help him with any questions he had.

He opened the door, knowing that he was welcome to walk in without knocking. "Hey."

I turned from my computer, watching him fidget. It wasn't anything that anyone else would have noticed, except for maybe Alfred, but he rubbed at his leg, and his eyes looked over my shoulder. "Hey. What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He walked the short steps to where I was sitting, and pulled at my hand. "Take me?" I loved the way he never asked me to fuck him. He always wanted to be claimed, or taken. It was so endearing.

I tried to smile at him. "You don't have to worry about that. I'll always be happy meet that request." I tugged him into me, and kissed him hard. He kissed back, even harder. He had managed to grow an inch or so since we'd met, and it was easier for him to kiss down than for me to kiss up.

We broke apart, and stripped ourselves; he raptly watched my every move. He grabbed the lube and a condom from where he knew I kept them in my nightstand, and pushed me back onto my bed. "Let me be on top?" I didn't know why his eyes pleaded with me.

He straddled me, rubbing himself on me, and I arched, trying to meet him. He bit bruises into my neck and along my collar bone, his way of marking me and claiming me while I took him. He reached between us, gripping both of our cocks, moving me with him. I spread my legs, making room for him, and I raked my hands along his back.

He broke away from me and hissed, then reached back down and bit my nipple, causing me to hiss up at him. I reached around, trying to get where I could penetrate him and prep him for entry. Reading my mind, he slid higher on my torso and coated my fingers in the gel, settling where I could reach him.

Since we'd done this multiple times by now, he was a little easier to breach, and before too long he was raising himself up, putting a condom on me, and impaling himself on my cock. I held him by his hips, and he slowly moved against me, working me deep. "Bruce, God, you're so good. Ride me. Faster!"

The fingers of one of his hands fell loosely around his own cock, and the other played with his own nipple. He looked down on me, an indefinable emotion in his eyes. He stopped for a moment, and grabbed me under my arms, pulling me up into a sitting position. He repositioned himself so that we could both sit up straight, and he still had the freedom to move.

His cock was trapped between us, rubbing over my stomach, sliding through its own pre-cum. He brought his mouth to mine, bit my lip, forced his tongue inside. The new position forced me deeper inside his body, and he shifted so that I rubbed against his prostate every time his rocked into me. "Oh God, Lex, I'm not gonna last must longer..." He bit into my throat again, and I seized his hair until I know it hurt.

My other hand reached up to his chest, pinching a nipple, and he started to whimper and move against me faster. His movements became erratic and then he just screamed. "Oh God, LEX!" He came hard against me, on me, and he fell back, drawing me on top of him. I braced myself on top of him, and pounded into him, my body tightening, sounds being drawn from my throat, until I couldn't help but scream, "BRUCE!" and drop on top of him as I came.

We lay there, panting together, enjoying the smell of sex and the feel of sweat, until Bruce turned his head into mine. I couldn't help myself, and I couldn't deny my feelings any longer, so I held him close as I whispered into him, "I love you."

And he raised his head, making me look at him, and he had tears at the corners of his eyes that I knew he wouldn't let fall. "I love you, too. Which is why we can't see each other any more."

I knew I heard him right, but I had to double-check anyway. "What?"

He laid his head back down and looked away. "I can't do it. Any longer. I thought I wanted to belong to someone, to have someone belong to me. But I can't. It's too much. I'm destined to be alone. And I can't have you."

I jerked away from him, shoving his shoulder. "What are you talking about?"

He didn't look at me. "You heard me. I can't do this any more."

"You can't be afraid of me. Of us. We have something good going here. We've put too much into it to give up now!"

This time he whipped his head back my direction, his eyes boring into me. "You don't think I know that? It was great. But we've gone too far. And I can't handle it any more. How I feel. And you can't either."

I dropped off the bed and shrugged into my boxers. "Don't you tell me what I can or can't handle. I'm the one who made that first step, I've been the one to get us past anywhere you couldn't. If you weren't ready for what we've become, what we've done, don't make it my fault. You control you, and I control me."

He sat up, looking angry and sad. "I know that. Which is why I'm doing this. I belong to no one. I can't. I have to be my own person. It's the way it has to be. I really... I really can't explain it any better than that."

I stooped down, picking up his pants to throw them at him. "Then get the fuck out of here if you can't explain yourself better. I gave every part of myself to you. I thought you respected me better than this."

"And I gave everything to you, Lex! This went both ways! I may be the bad guy here, but do not take away any good that I did for you."

"What was all of this to you, Bruce? Why did we bother? You could have chosen to fuck anybody here. Why me?"

He glared at me as he pulled on his pants. "Because I like you. We've gone over this. I liked having someone to talk to who saw beyond my last name and my family history. I liked that I had someone who could actually understand me. I think you needed the same thing."

I had needed it, but I wasn't going to give him that much. "I just don't understand. Are you saying you want to give up on this entirely? Or just not have sex? Or just cut back how many times we see each other?"

Before answering, he crawled into his shirts. "I think everything. Because I'm not going to be able to pull back if we get in deep again. And I can't afford to let that happen." He hung his head. "I just can't. And I hope that you can understand that."

I swallowed, choking back the pain of his words. "So was I not good enough? Am I not worth it?"

He walked to the nearest wall and slammed his fist into it. "It's not you! Not everything is about you! This is entirely about me! Yeah, maybe if I hadn't have connected with you to extent that I did, yeah, maybe I'd be able to continue this. But if it were anyone else, then it wouldn't have meant what it did, and I wouldn't be having this problem!"

I just stood there, with a white-knuckled grip on the shirt in my hand. "I don't know what to say." His body, which had been strung tightly, relaxed as he turned around. "I suppose telling you that I love you again is only going to make this worse."

He crossed his arms; at least he had the ability to look uncomfortable. "If there were another way, Lex, I'd love to find it. But this is it. I can't let this, you, anyone, anything consume me. And if I don't stop now, you will. Consume me. I have enough going on within me to last me a lifetime, and I can't afford to succumb to anything else. Ever. I have other things to focus on, other problems that need to be addressed. There are different paths for me."

My turn to hang my head. "I think I can understand that. I wish I couldn't. I wish I could be angry and hate you. But I know that I have my own paths as well. And," I raised my eyes to his. "I was getting a little concerned there, as well. As I've said, I've never felt this way about someone. Never felt anything at all like this, loving, since my mother died. And I'm disturbed by it. I don't know if I like it. But I was willing to continue for you, and hope that I grew used to the need for someone in my life."

He gave me his small half-smile, walked over to me, and kissed me, tongue probing briefly. "But I'm not willing to continue. I can't."

And then he grabbed his shoes and walked out, closing the door behind him. And I couldn't make myself follow him, or call out to him. Because I knew he was right. No matter how open we were with each other, there had always been more going on in him, with him, than he was ever able to share with me. And there was always more than I was willing to share with him. I knew that. I knew that if I could barely handle what was happening between us, then he wouldn't be able to. I knew that there was no way that the relationship could have lasted because of who it was between. But I had hoped it would last longer than it had.

I just threw myself down on my bed, not moving other then to curl onto my side. I couldn't cry. So I just lay there until I fell asleep.

The next morning and for the next week, whenever I saw anyone on my hall, they either averted their eyes or gave me a knowing smirk. My hallmates had heard everything, from our orgasms through the fight, because we hadn't done anything to block out our sounds. When Jake made kissing noises at me followed by little whimpers, I punched him in the mouth, then kicked him in the stomach.

And after that, whenever anyone said shit to me, I did the same thing. I was no longer in the mood to be dumped on because I was different, and I wasn't going to take it any more. I rarely sought anybody out, but soon people learned to avoid me if they couldn't surpass the urge to say anything to me.

Around this time I also began to drink a lot more. I didn't drink much around Bruce, because he rarely joined me, but afterwards I didn't have to worry about making anyone uncomfortable. So I drank whatever I could get my hands on, which turned out to be a lot.

It also helped numb the pain. Sure, I understood what Bruce had been saying, but that didn't mean that it didn't hurt any more. I had gone out on a limb, and it came back to bite me in the ass. And it hurt. So I did what I could to make sure that it didn't. I started doing drugs once the alcohol wasn't enough, and I got into the club scene, where I could get all of the drugs and alcohol I wanted. The chemicals felt infinitely better than real life.

I also found all the men and women I could want. Throughout the rest of my stay at Excelsior, and even after, I did whatever I could to try to stave off the loss I felt since Bruce had left me. Which meant as much sex as I could handle, and even more that I couldn't. It felt great to not feel.

Well, that's not entirely accurate. If felt great to feel physical stimuli, like pleasure or euphoria, and to not feel emotional stimuli like loss or longing. As long as I didn't do anything that my father's money couldn't buy me out of, I was on top of the world.

Of course, I had a bad night here, a terrible week there. I spent a night vomitting colors and eventually blood, and three days bleeding from areas I'd rather not mention. I thankfully never got really sick, and somehow I managed not to kill myself, or piss someone off enough to have them kill me.

After that awful night when Bruce left, I saw him periodically at school, since it was unavoidable. But it was never for more than a second before he sensed I was near him or looking at him, and he vanished. Anything I had left in his room was returned to me in a box, except an old coin I had showed him once and left in the pocket of a pair of pants. But once or twice I had gotten close enough to see that the haunted look in his eyes was thicker than it had been since we'd started to become friends.

He graduated a year and a half early, having apparently worked really hard to get even the minimum credits he needed. And I haven't seen much of him since Excelsior, other than business functions. LuthorCorp and Wayne Enterprises always fight for new acquisitions. I'd like to see him again, in a social setting, maybe see what he's really been up to, and see if everything was worth it to him.

The good times, I feel, were worth all of the pain afterwards. The first time we kissed, and the first time we had sex, and all the moments in between where it was just us together, they were wonderful. I know I sound like a girl, but he was the first person that I did a lot of things with, the most important of which was the I learned that I could love, or at least think I could love.

Everyone needs that. Even people like me. Especially people like me. Even the tumultuous time afterwards, when I was in a different bed or club every night, was important. It helped shape who I am today, for better or worse, and I developed contacts and a reputation that I can still use whenever I need them.

I don't regret Bruce, and I'm grateful for everything he did for me and that we did together. But I do wish that we had been brave enough to end it better than we had.

Throughout Lex's story, Clark just lay there, more and more appalled by the disturbingly detailed tale. When Lex seemed finished, Clark wriggled uncomfortably. "So. That's Bruce. You've talked about him before. And you mumble about him in your sleep sometimes, when we fall asleep for a while after fooling around."

Lex flushed lightly. "Sorry. I wonder how long I've been doing that."

"I never noticed until about a month ago. Then you just started talking in your sleep. You never had before." Clark stared across the room.

"Hmm." Lex drew himself up, getting a good look at Clark's forlorn form. "What's wrong?"

Clark glowered. "What's wrong? How about you telling me that the only person you've ever thought you loved was exactly like me?! And that he hurt you in a way that made you become a deviant? And now you're too afraid to get close to me because of him?"

Lex glowered back. "I wasn't deviant compared to everyone else in that scene. And what do you mean you're exactly like Bruce? You don't remind me of him at all."

Clark rolled his eyes and sat up on his knees with his feet under him, bed sheet pulled across his lap. "Gee, Lex, let me count the ways." Clark ticked them off on his fingers, his voice rising as he spoke. "Biological parents dead. Dark hair. Haunted eyes that you just couldn't stop mentioning. Well-built, maybe more so than for his age. Likes science. Has secrets. Carries guilt around. Fifteen when you started seeing him. Thinks he might love you. Need I keep going?"

Lex started. Bruce and Clark were a lot a like. But he hadn't consciously noticed. "Clark, I didn't intentionally pursue you because I thought you reminded me of Bruce. I do know that I saw in you potential for me. I thought maybe I could open up to you, that you and I could be together. I saw something in you, and I still see it. I don't know what it is, only that I need it. And I need you. More than I needed Bruce."

Lex thought for a minute, mulling over Clark's words further, eventually going pale and clutching at the sheets again. "And did you say you might love me?"

Clark looked down at the sheet over his lap. "Yeah. You know, more than anything I felt for Lana, since that wasn't real. But, I like being with you, and I can see so much in you that you don't share with other people, that you leave for me. And I know that I can see us together, in the future. Maybe not together, as a couple, but at least friends. Destiny, remember?" Clark looked up, his eyes asking Lex for something.

Lex, for his part, sat there frozen in place. It was happening. Again. He had been drawn to a boy who was probably more screwed up than he was, which was really saying quite a lot. He had dove in, wanting more, wanting what he thought he was owed. And if the look on Clark's face was any indication, he had only wound up hurting himself again.

"Oh God, Clark. I didn't... That's not what this was. You asked me why I don't sleep easily. And Bruce is the answer. I'm afraid of getting close, of baring myself to anyone. When I'm with you, I'm always afraid that you aren't going to be there when I wake up, and that you're never going to talk to me again because we let each other get too close. Like Bruce. I don't consciously think about it; it's not as if Bruce haunts my every thought. Just that that's the only reason I can think of for why I'm ever tense around you."

"Do you really think I'd do that? That I could just leave you and never look back? I could never hurt you like that. You have shown yourself to me, maybe not everything, but enough." Clark moved on top of Lex, raising himself up on his hands above him. "And unlike Bruce, who clearly didn't understand how good he had it, I have no intention of going anywhere. I'm not afraid. And the only reason I'll leave any time in the near future is if you push me away. Or..." Clark cocked his head. "If you tell me that you still love Bruce."

"Clark, I didn't know if I loved Bruce even when I was with him. It was complicated. And in case you haven't noticed, I'm a bit fucked up. I don't know what love feels like. Not the kind of love that you want." Lex looked away, unable to look into Clark's eyes.

"Dammit, Lex. Let's just... I don't know. Take a step back. This Bruce thing is beyond me. I understand that he hurt you. And I think I understand how that made you feel, and why it led you to do the things you did." Lex turned his head back, eyes once more locked on Clark's. "But I'm here now. Not Bruce. And I'm not leaving. And if you can't let yourself open up any more than you have, that's okay. I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I just want to hold you, and you make you feel good. Maybe one day you can sleep around me without fear. Because I'm not afraid of giving myself to you completely."

Clark dropped down next to Lex, not wanting to see the fear that had cropped up in Lex's eyes. Lex rolled onto his side, so he could look at Clark. "Let's just take it from here, Clark. And... if you mean what you say, then I don't have any reason to doubt, or to be afraid. So maybe I'll be able to sleep. And maybe even love you some day. I hope that for right now that's enough. Because it's all I can give you."

"Then we'll take it from here. And see what happens." Clark put his arm around Lex, drawing him in tight. "And let's enjoy what we have. Right now."

Lex climbed on top on Clark, nipping along his collar bone. "That's the greatest idea I've heard in a long time."