DISCLAIMER - Not mine, I couldn't afford the motor and household insurance bills. I promise I'll scrub them down and give them back to DC comics, the WB and anyone else who does own a slice of them when I'm done with them. Story, such as it is, copyright Karen Colohan 2002.

Author's notes - Originally published in the zine Silk and Flannel.

	We all have a dream
	of a place we belong
	The fire is burning
	and the radio's on
	Somebody smiles
	and it means "I love you"
	but sometimes we don't notice
	when the dream has come true
			Pet Shop Boys - "Here"

It's quiet. Both of us are sitting here doing nothing in particular. We don't need to be doing anything; right now just being here is enough. I suppose you'd call it a companionable silence. We seem to drift into those a lot. For the moment there are no words that need to be said and it really doesn't matter. We can just enjoy resting here... together.

It won't last, though, it never does. It's not in Clark's nature to be still for long. I suppose it's something instilled into him by his father - the need to be moving, to be doing something useful. Not that I really mind, Clark's energy and enthusiasm have their advantages. For now, he's sitting on the floor with his back against the couch, just staying close to me. Soon enough, though, I know he'll turn and look up at me, trying to catch my eye.

He's been staring into the fire for the past ten minutes, tracking shapes only he can see there. He's tried to show me, but all I can see are the leaping flames. Clark says my education must have been severely lacking if I never learned to make out the fantastical creatures he claims to see there. It's probably true, day-dreaming and indulging in fantasy were hardly considered suitable pastimes for the Luthor heir.

I don't say things like that to Clark, though. He already dislikes my father enough and seems to consider his failure to encourage me in pursuits like searching for mystical beasts in the shape of flames or clouds worthy of a major black mark against his name. I can think of other, worse, reasons to censure my father for the way he brought me up, but I'd as soon not disillusion Clark by telling him about those.

That aside, as far as my father was concerned, all play had to serve a useful purpose. It was designed to teach me things that would be valuable once I grew up and took my rightful place in the business - hence the toy soldiers with their accompanying lessons in strategy. And that was far from the only example. Frivolous games of make believe had no value and so were not to be indulged in.

All the same, I like to see Clark's enjoyment in exercising his imagination purely for fun. It reminds me that not everyone had such a cold, joyless upbringing as I did. Was it any wonder I rebelled as thoroughly as I did as soon as I had the freedom to. Somehow I can't see Clark ever needing to wallow in the kind of excesses that I did. He's content with life's simpler pleasures.

Clark. He's such a warm, bright presence in my life now. I'm not sure what I did to deserve him, but whatever it was, I'm glad that I did it. Clark is my best friend, and so much more besides. I never imagined I was capable of feeling this way about someone. I'm sure my father never had feelings like this for my mother... well, perhaps he did for a while, but Julian's death put an end to them, of that I'm certain. What Clark and I share, though, is all about love, not duty. Love... it's one of those words that Luthors aren't supposed to hold with, but I do, every day that Clark is with me.

Right on cue the bowed head lifts and Clark turns his face up towards me. The firelight casts odd shadows across his features and, for a moment, he looks fey, not quite human at all. I can appreciate the irony in that, given that I know all his secrets now.

And it still takes my breath away when I think about just how much trust he's placed in me. We both know what the truth could mean for him, if it were misused. I hope neither of us ever has reason to regret the fact that he shared it with me.

Alien... and yet I don't believe I've ever known anyone more inherently human than Clark.

All at once he smiles and the strangeness leaves him. My gaze is caught by his eyes; they're all I can see - wide and dark in the low light of the room. Or maybe there's another reason why his pupils are so dilated. Given the position in which he's sitting I can't tell, but I want to know.

The way Clark's looking at me is certainly awakening my own hunger and I slide forward on the couch, no longer needing the quiet or the stillness. I lean down until I'm close enough to touch him. He moves with me, tilting his face up further as my hand reaches for him. He's anticipating my touch, wanting it. I brush my fingertips softly over his cheekbones, trace the strong shape of his jaw.

His eyes close as soon as I start to caress him. Clark's a very tactile person, far more so than me, though he's teaching me to enjoy his touch, to crave it if it's withheld. But this isn't about me; it's about Clark and the fact that right now I need to make him feel good.

I turn my hand over, brushing the backs of my fingers across his cheek. The light, repetitive stroking is something he enjoys and soon he's making a low sound, deep in his throat, that's almost a purr. I drag my thumb carefully over his lips and as I repeat the caress his tongue darts out to taste me. Again, and this time he sucks my thumb into his mouth, nipping at the fleshy pad with sharp teeth.

By the time he lets it go the skin is wet and I paint the dampness across the softness of his full lips as I reclaim my thumb, along with the rest of my hand. His mouth glistens wetly in the light from the fire and I just have to taste it. I know how sweet it will be.

Clark must have read the intent in my eyes because he turns and tugs me off of my precarious perch on the edge of the couch. His arms go round me and he eases me down so that I'm sitting close beside him on the thick rug in front of the fire. He has a broad smile on his face, as if he's pleased with himself, and I can't help smiling back.

I slip one arm around his waist, casually possessive as I turn him to face me. My free hand goes up to stroke his face again, brushing strands of soft, dark hair out of his eyes.

"Lex..." he whispers, breaking the comfortable silence between us for the first time.

I curve my palm around his cheek, carefully tilting his head until I can press my lips to his.

The kiss starts out slow and gentle, but it doesn't stay that way for long. I use the tip of my tongue to trace the outline of his mouth, licking at his lips until he parts them for me. He moans as I press for entrance and I steal the sound as he makes it. I slide my tongue slickly over his, coaxing him until he pushes back and we taste one another with increasing urgency.

Clark is trying to pull me into his lap, instead I move my hands to his shoulders, pushing him over and onto his back. I follow him down, stretching out on top of him, knowing he won't mind my weight. I think he actually likes to be reminded that I'm almost his equal in size, if not in strength. There's nothing fragile about me, and I don't break easily. Clark can be himself with me, without needing to hold back.

I move against him, pressing the hard length of my cock into the curve of his hip. Pleasure sparks along my nerves and we're trading hard, hungry kisses now. His big, broad hands are stroking my back, leaving trails of warmth that I can feel through the soft wool of my sweater. On the downstroke he curves his hands around my ass, fingers digging in hard as he pulls me down more firmly on top of him. He shifts under me and then his cock is pressing into mine, glorious friction even through the layers of cloth separating us.

I'm breathing hard, my head thrown back as Clark thrusts against me. He reaches up and his mouth fastens on the soft skin of my exposed throat. His tongue is warm and wet and then I feel the careful scrape of teeth as he puts his mark on me. Clark takes an inordinate amount of pleasure in laying a visible claim to me so I don't stop him, even though it means I'll have to wear high collars for the next few days.

Clark and I may be comfortable with one another, but we can't afford to flaunt our relationship in front of the great and good of Smallville, no matter how much we might want to. Still, there's something very primal about Clark's actions and I like the feeling of belonging the small bruise gives me.

While Clark's distracted I slip my hands under his shirt, wanting to feel bare skin against my fingertips. I enjoy the flex and stretch of his muscles as I glide my hands over his stomach and up to his chest. The shirt's rucked up under his armpits by the time I'm done and I'm free to play with his nipples, pinching and twisting them until Clark tears his mouth away from my throat to drag in a deep lungful of air. I take the opportunity to lean down and replace my fingers with my mouth. I lap at the pebbled skin, tasting the salt-sweetness of it.

"Please, Lex..." he murmurs, one hand coming to rest on the back of my head, urging me on.

I close my mouth over the first of the taut nubs of flesh, sucking hard and then biting down far more firmly than I'd be able to stand in his place. Clark loves it when I do this for him, though, and he bucks under me, almost throwing me off as he moans with pleasure. I switch my attention to the other nipple and Clark writhes and cries out all over again.

He's repeating my name softly over and over again and his hands are suddenly at my waist, tugging at the hem of my sweater. I push myself upright, on my knees and straddling his hips. With a single movement I pull the sweater up and off, tossing it behind me onto the couch.

Clark's hands slide up the front of my thighs and then higher, stroking the smooth skin of my stomach. He's so hot, the brush of his fingers burning me, but that's not where I want his touch at all. Sitting like this my cock is pressed painfully against the front of my pants and that's where I want to feel Clark's hands. I need him to touch me until the ache is transformed into the sweetest pleasure I know.

Our eyes meet for a second and then Clark's gaze flicks down to my crotch, taking note of the bulge there. He trails his fingers back over my stomach in a slow tease. He circles my navel for a moment before going lower, drawing a single fingertip down the hard swell of my cock, making me gasp.

"Clark, you know what I want," I breathe, looking down into the dark pools of his eyes. Like the sun in eclipse the colour is almost blotted out, just the barest sliver remaining visible around the wide blackness of his pupils. I feel as if I'm drowning, lost and helpless in his hands.

With a quick smile Clark presses the flat of his palm against my groin, sparking off a wave of sensation that leaves me flushed and panting. "Is this what you want, Lex?" he asks, all innocence.

I'm well aware that Clark knows exactly what he's doing to me, but I can still be seduced by this pretence of the shy smiles and blushes that drew me to him in the first place, back when there was only harmless flirting between us. So I nod wordlessly, pushing forward into his capable touch.

Careful fingers unfasten my pants then, sliding the zipper down so that I sigh with relief as the pressure on my cock eases. Clark pushes the expensive fabric out of the way, slipping a hand inside to cup me through the damp silk of my boxers. His touch feels so good as I thrust my hips forward to meet his hand, but I know it will feel even better when we touch skin to skin.

Clark seems to have other plans for me, though, as he suddenly grabs hold of me, tugging me closer. "Come here," he begs breathlessly.

I scoot forward on my knees, following his direction. In seconds he has me braced over him, this time straddling his chest. Clark's fingers are busy with the front of my boxers again and he carefully works my cock free of the slippery material. He doesn't try to undress me any more than that. His hand is warm on my bare flesh as he starts to stroke me gently and I can't help but moan at the touch. It feels wonderful, but it's not even close to being enough.

"Clark!" I protest. "Let me..."

"Shh," he cautions, "soon, I promise. Just let me touch you."

I close my eyes, biting my lip in frustration. I've never been able to refuse him anything, and he knows it. All the same, I don't think I can watch him torture me with his gentleness. He knows I like it harder, rougher... this touch drives me insane without even coming close to bringing me release. But it seems to matter to Clark that he can be tender with me too, that it's not all about hard, fast hunger between us.

I never guessed just how much of a romantic Clark would be, though I suppose I should have done. I was his first and as far as he was concerned it had to be special. Clark was raised to want hearts and flowers and who am I to disappoint him. Secretly, I suppose I do like this side of him, no one's ever treated me as if I were something precious before. That doesn't mean he won't drive me half out of my mind with his too soft caresses, though.

One big hand is carefully kneading my balls through the silk of my boxers and it feels so good, the way his touch makes me ache. His other hand is still on my cock, the thumb grazing the head, and I feel the slickness of pre-come as he spreads it over me. It's cool on my heated skin and I groan with the desperate need for more.

Then his hands shift again, pulling me down closer to him and for a moment I'm losing my balance, but he catches and steadies me. And then he's holding me in place and his lips are parting and he reaches up to swallow my cock. For a second I think I'm going to scream at the sensation of heat and warmth surrounding me, but I bite my lip hard and even that feels good as Clark works his mouth around me. I fall forward until my hands are braced on the floor above his head and then I can't stop myself from thrusting into the wonder that is Clark Kent's mouth.

His throat relaxes around the head of my cock, letting me slide in deep. Between the thrusting of my hips and the way his lips and teeth and tongue are sucking and scraping and tasting me I haven't a prayer of making this last. It's not quite a scream, I don't have the breath left for that, but his name is on my lips as the sensations finally overwhelm my control.

I'm still afraid of choking him as my reflexive thrusts force my cock deep into the back of his throat, it doesn't matter how many times he reassures me that can't happen, that I won't hurt him. I can't stop myself, though, as instinct overrides reason and then I freeze as my climax hits me full force and I'm shaking and cursing as I spill into his mouth, feeling the exquisite sensitivity of my skin as he swallows it all and sucks hard, wanting every last drop he can wring from me.

When Clark finally releases me he carefully eases me off of him and lays me down on the floor at his side. I'm panting and still shivering with the aftershocks as his hands drift over me, soothing and reassuring as he puts my clothing to rights. He bends and places a soft kiss on my forehead before withdrawing, propped up on one elbow, just watching me and smiling.

"God, Clark..." I murmur when my voice will obey me again.

"You're beautiful, Lex," he whispers in reply and I can feel my heart clench in my chest.

Reaching out blindly until I find his free hand, I enclose it in my own. Then I bring it up to my lips, brushing a kiss across his knuckles. When Clark says things like that to me he simply takes my breath away.

"I'm nothing compared to you, Clark," I tell him honestly, and I don't give a damn how cliched it sounds. As far as I'm concerned it's the plain and simple truth.

Clark directs one of his endearingly embarrassed smiles at me, his face flushing. He still hasn't learned how to take a compliment without blushing. Truthfully, I hope he never does. I love to see the high colour staining his cheeks like that.

Now that I'm recovering my scattered wits it occurs to me that Clark still hasn't come. A quick glance down at his crotch confirms that. Well, that just won't do after what he did for me... I roll onto my side and push him over onto his back again. Clark just lies there quietly, watching and waiting.

Sitting up I run my hands slowly down his body, feeling him arch up into the touch. My fingers make short work of the button and zipper of his jeans and I sidle back so that I can tug them over his hips and down the long, muscular legs. My mouth waters as I think of what it feels like to have those legs wrapped around me when I'm buried deep inside the tight clasp of Clark's body. Not this time, though, I want to share something else with him today.

A couple more impatient gestures and Clark's boxers follow his jeans across the floor. Now he's naked from the waist down, his cock thick and tempting as it lies across his stomach, pre-come leaking from the tip. I scoop up a little of the clear fluid with my finger and bring it to my mouth. I see Clark shudder as I meticulously suck my fingertip clean, tasting him on my own skin.

I carefully push his legs apart, settling myself in the space between his thighs. Leaning close I breathe in the scent of him, sweat and sex overlaying the faint traces of soap. I nuzzle into the soft, dark curls that surround the base of his cock, enjoying the way they brush against my skin as I slowly begin to lick his balls.

Clark writhes under me, but this is payback for the way he teased me earlier. He's trying to urge me to do for him what he just did for me, I know. I'm not inclined to make it that easy for him, though. All the same, I lean up a little, just enough to lick a slow trail from the root to the tip of Clark's cock. He whimpers as I swirl my tongue over the head, lapping away more of the slick, clear fluid. I don't take him in my mouth as he clearly expects me to, instead I reverse course and track my tongue wetly over his swollen shaft, back to his balls and then lower still.

"Lex!" Clark moans as he figures out what I have in mind, wantonly spreading his thighs further apart to give me access.

I can hardly believe how far Clark's come, from the shyly virginal farmboy I first seduced to the willing partner in any of the games I care to play that he is now. And this is something that Clark has really learned to love, nearly as much as I enjoy doing it to him. He won't ask for it, at least not in words, he gets too flustered and tongue-tied, but he'll show me by his actions what he wants, and he's begging for it now.

Clark's hands pull me close and he tilts his hips up so that I can dip my tongue into the dark place between his cheeks. Carefully I lick at the small opening, just tasting him. It's not enough for him and Clark spreads himself open even wider for me. I dive in, my tongue stroking repeatedly over the tight ring of muscle, making it wet and urging it to relax and let me in.

A constant litany of moans escapes Clark as he begs me for more, now. I press the tip of my tongue more firmly against his hole and feel the muscle open for me. I push inside, fucking him with my tongue. I love the dark, intimate taste of him, the way his opening spasms around me as I slowly take apart the last vestiges of his control.

Reaching up I wrap my hand around the hard length of his cock, feeling him push into my grasp as I do so. I tighten my grip, feel the slide of his foreskin over the steel of his shaft. Clark drives up with his hips, jerking himself off with the clasp of my fist as the path to release. All the while I continue to fuck him with my tongue. He's loose enough for me to get right inside him now and it's just perfect. A darkly illicit pleasure that makes us both hot.

His movements are getting jerky now, losing co-ordination, so I know Clark must be close. Carefully I ease my tongue out of him, hearing his whimper of loss. I don't desert him, though, pushing first one spit- slick finger into his loosened opening and then a second. I twist and turn them inside him until I find what I'm looking for, the spot that makes him scream and buck up into my grip on his cock with renewed energy. I brush over his prostate again and again as I use my fingers to fuck him to the edge of orgasm.

Stretching up I close my mouth over the head of his cock. That's all it takes. Clark jerks convulsively and comes hard, filling my mouth with his salt-sweet release. I savour the new taste as I suck him dry, my hand still milking his cock for everything it can give me. I don't stop until his moans take on an edge of distress and I know his skin's become too sensitive for touch. Gently I let him slip out of my mouth, resting his spent cock on its bed of dark curls. Then I ease my fingers out of his body, wiping them on the soft wool of my pants without thought.

I slide up to lie beside Clark, pulling him into my arms. I've never been much of a cuddler, but Clark likes to snuggle after sex and, I have to admit, it does feel nice. It's good to just lie quiet and still as the intensity of our emotions fades a little. Somehow it seems to prove that there's much more to this - to us - than just sex. I know it anyway, but it doesn't hurt to reinforce the knowledge in such a pleasant way.

Clark sighs and buries his face against my neck contentedly. The warmth of his breath tickles my skin and I tighten my arm around him protectively. I know he doesn't need my protection, that he's usually the one saving me from myself, but it's instinctive. I like to hold him and Clark doesn't seem to mind me doing it. His breathing is slow and even and I realise that Clark has drifted off to sleep in my arms. I smile softly and kiss his smooth forehead.

I love this boy, I can admit that to myself now. And I don't give a damn what my father thinks about that. I could wish that he didn't have to know, but Clark and I were both well aware we'd never be able to keep it a secret from him, so we didn't try to. I know he considers this attachment, as he calls it, to be a weakness, but I see it as quite the opposite.

Clark gives me a reason to fight what my father would have me become. I'm not going to be just another Luthor, a slave to the name, I'm going to be better than that. With Clark at my side I feel as if I can do anything, be anyone. I smile again as I cuddle closer to the big, warm body. Could I get more outrageously sappy if I tried?

"I love you, Clark," I murmur sleepily. Apparently I can...

I'm startled when his arms tighten around me. I was sure he was asleep, that it was safe to say the words aloud.

Drowsy eyes, a swirl of colours, stare into mine. They're bright and alive with happiness. I'd have said it sooner if I'd known it would mean that much to him... maybe.

He ducks his head, kissing me soundly before settling back against my side. We're both on the edge of sleep, but I hear it, even over the crackling of the fire, as Clark whispers, "Love you too, Lex."

As we finally drift off to sleep, we're both smiling.

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