Title: „Nighttime
Rendesvouz“
Author: Bev
Beta: Twinsarein and
Coralahart. Thanks to both of you.

Prompt:No. 8 „Follow you home"
Rating: NC-17
Warning: none (I guess
shmoop doesn't need a warning, right?)
Summary: Someone follows
Lex home. But who? And why is Clark so tired in the morning?

He follows him home every
night. The moment the older man leaves his office, a dark shadow will
follow him. Running silently from one corner to the next, hiding back
in the darkness whenever Lex Luthor turns around as if sensing that
someone is watching him. Following him.

And he knows that there
is someone. The moment Lex Luthor steps into his apartement, locking
the door behind him, he can sense him. Can feel him. Feel his
follower's warm breath on his neck, and a shiver runs down his back.
He closes his eyes, knowing that's expected of him. And then he'll
give himself over to his mysterious lover.

Like all those nights
before. And tonight will be no different.

Strong hands turn him
around the moment he closes his eyes, warm lips press against his,
and a familiar voice whispers, "I missed you today."

Lex simply moans because
he doesn't know what to say. These nightly meetings are much more
than just scratching an itch for him. He can't say it. Can't say it
because he knows they'll stop immediately as soon as he says
something like that. The stranger – his midnight lover – had said
it the first time he'd ever come to him.

Lex had been scared out
of his mind that first time. Sometimes – when he's alone in
Smallville in the mansion – he thinks back to that first time. And
he has to smile at himself, at his reaction. His first reaction had
been to call security. His second … to fire every single one of
said security. Because how could it be that someone could get into
his inner sanctum without them noticing? Then the stranger had
spoken. Had started to whisper sweet, filthy things into his ear that
had made his knees week and his cock hard. Had told him to close his
eyes, and mere seconds later Lex had found himself naked and hard on
his bed. Up until today Lex has no clue how he had managed to pull
that stunt. Later – much later – when Lex had been laying deeply
satisfied and almost boneless on his bed, the stranger had bowed down
to him, had whispered a „Thank you. I needed that," in his
ear. And after a second he had continued, „Can I come back? When
the need arises?" Lex had simply nodded, not able to even try to
form a coherent sentence.

And that's all this is.
When the stranger feels a need, he'll come to Lex. They have fun
together, and then he dissapears again. Sometimes he's gone for just
one night. Sometimes for a week. Lex can never tell when he'll see
him again.

Lex stopped wondering
some time ago about all the things his miracle lover can do. He knows
that he can strip him down in less than two heartbeats, can make him
come embarassingly fast, but can make him hard again almost as fast.
So he simply enjoys the nights he won't have to spend alone.

His lover visited him for
almost two months before Lex got a little clue about who he might be.
The first day, no, night, the Dark Angel appeared in the Metropolis
night sky performing miracles, he got a pretty good idea who his
nightly visitor might be. It also helped Lex to understand the nights
when he did't come.

Lex lays his head back on
his pillow, his hands resting on his lover's broad shoulders,
enjoying the strength he can feel. Warm lips ghost over his skin,
raising goosebumps in their wake. He smiles, moves his hands from the
shoulders to his lover's hair. Thick, silken strands he loves to bury
his hands in, though he doesn't even know their color. He pulls him
up, kisses him, slides his tongue into the tempting mouth he‘s
never seen in the light of day.

He wants … no, needs to
kiss him, touch him. Needs to feel him move deep inside him. Without
saying a word he turns around, offering himself shamelessly, and he
can hear a deep, almost desperate groan and he smiles. It's nice to
get some confirmation that he can affect his lover as much as his
lover affects him. But he's surprised when he doesn't feel the
gentle, lubed-up finger he expects, but only a soft kiss that's
pressed to the small of his back.

"Turn around,"
his lover murmures. "Turn around so I can see you."

Lex swallowes but he does
what he's asked. "Not fair," he mumbles, "I … I want
to see you too … just once. Please?"

A soft breath ghosts over
his collarbone, making him shiver. "No, Lex." The voice
sounds almost regretfully. "You know we can't do that. And
anyway … you know me already, don't you? I'm the one flying over
Metropolis, watching out for you and all of those close to you."

A soft kiss is pressed to
his shoulder, and then teeth nibble gently on the skin.

"Who are you?"
Lex moans, arching his back, trying to get closer to the heat of his
lover's body.

"I'm who people call
the Dark Angel." Words murmured against his skin.

"Why are you here?
Here with me?" Dammit, he knows that he shouldn't ask these
questions, so why does he do it anyway? The answer to that is simple:
because he's stupid like that. Because once … just once he wants to
open his eyes and look. Look and see. See the man that makes him feel
like he's the single most important man in the whole wide world.

"Because … because
I know you. I trust you." Lex wants to snort, but a hot mouth
closes over his dick, sucking him hard, and speaking is suddenly very
complicated. So is thinking, and Lex decides to leave it. To just
feel, enjoy, take what's being offered so freely.

He moans when he feels –
finally – a slick finger enter him. "God, yes … please,"
he pants, shamelessly begging. He's never begged before. He's not
above begging now. Not with his Dark Angel loving him so gently yet
so passionatly.

One finger becomes two,
three, then finally four. Lex thrusts back onto them, enjoying the
burn, the stretch. He mumbles, "Come on … do it … fuck me
already."

Somehow he feels
frustrated today. The day had been hard and stressful, important
negotiations had gone wrong, his father had managed to get on his
nerves immensly (no real surprise) and finally Clark had skipped his
dinner invitation, proclaiming he had something 'important to do.
Something family … you know how it is, Lex.'

No. No, he doesn't know.
He doesn't *want* to know. Probably he's out with Oliver fucking
Queen. After being enemies over Lois they somehow managed to become
first buddies and then BFFs in a very short time. And Lex hates
Oliver with all his being for that. Because before him, he, Lex, had
inherited that title. And now, everything Lex ever hears is Oli this
and Oli that. He hates it. So no, he doesn't know. Doesn't *want* to
know. All he knows now, is that he's close to opening his eyes, a
breath away from reaching out and switching on the light. He needs to
get fucked. Right now if you please! He opens his mouth to bark out
an order, but all he can do is gasp when his lover fills him up so
fast it should hurt. It should, but it doesn't.

With a deep groan, his
head falls back onto the pillow, and he arches up, closer … deeper
… and God, yeah, just like that.

He tries to push away the
thought of Clark standing him up like that. But he can't help but
think that his excuse had sounded pretty flimsy. Like he simply
didn't want to waste his time with someone like a Luthor.

He closes his eyes even
tighter, wants – no, *needs* – to feel something like pain. He
wants for this stranger to take him hard. Fuck him so hard and deep
that he'll be able to feel it for the next three days. He's wound up.
Not able to let himself fall.

*He* can feel it, too.

The stranger slows his
thrusts, the fucking turns gentle … turns to love-making.

Lex can feel a tear slide
down his cheek, and he swallows convulsively. He bites his teeth
together, lifts his hips, urges the stranger to take him harder.
Because this? This gentle, easy-going loving is not what he needs
right now. He wants this man to fill him up. Make him come. Or come
himself and then get the hell out of here, so Lex can lie in the
darkness and lick his wounds.

The man slows down even
more, cups Lex's face in his hand and kisses him oh-so-softly. "What
is it, Lex?" he whispers. "What's making you so sad
today?"

He will *not* cry. He's
not some lovesick girl, sobbing over her unfaithful boyfriend. Clark
isn't even his boyfriend. Clark is sweet, loving, caring …
everything Lex could wish for.

And so straight it hurts.
And not his. Never his. Never has been, never will be.

"Just fuck me,
okay?" he grits out between his clenched teeth. "You're not
some fucking lover. You're not my boyfriend. You have an itch …
scratch it and then go to hell."

One deep moan is the only
warning he gets before the stranger starts to fuck him in earnest.
And when he'd thought that he'd ever been *really* fucked before …
? Well, think again, Lex. This … this is like some force of nature.
Like a hurricane sweeping him off of his feet. Like thunder and
lightning and rain and storm, and when Lex comes it's almost painful
and he has tears streaming down his face.

Trembling, shaking,
panting, he collapses on his bed, unable to think, to talk, to do
anything except lay there and let the stranger take care of him. A
warm, wet washcloth cleans him up, strong arms cuddle him close, and
Lex sobs his heart out. This was a bad choice today. He'd been on a
knife's edge from the moment he'd left his office. The wise choice
would have been to send the Dark Angel away. But he's pathetic. He
needed this little comfort then … needs whatever he can get now.

He falls asleep with the
stranger's arm still around him, worn out like never before. When he
wakes up the next morning he feels refreshed. Good.

And the stranger is gone.

~*~

He knows that it had been
a stupid idea. Knows it because, hell … superhearing is a very bad
thing when your best friend decides to yell at you about your
stupidity the moment you told her about your little … excursion …
the night before.

"You, Clark,"
Chloe had said to him, "are the king of all idiots. How could
you do that?"

To be honest … he isn't
quite so sure himself. He's just *very* sure that the moment he'd
kissed Lex for the first time there was no going back. Not a chance
in hell that he'd be willing to give Lex up. No way, ma'm. Nu-uh.

Now though … now he
doesn't know what to do. Because last night something happened that
he hadn't expected.

Lex had talked in his
sleep.

Normally, Clark leaves
before Lex has even stopped shivering from his orgasm. He'd decided
the first night that this was just an itch that needed to be
scratched, and Lex was available and willing. And familiar. Clark
knew Lex, so he was a safe choice.

Last night though –
last night he'd held tightly to the other man. Because Lex had cried.
Clark had felt the first tear the older man had tried to hide. Then
the next, and when he'd finally fucked Lex the way he'd demanded it
from him, Lex's walls had collapsed, leaving him open, broken and
vulnerable. He'd held Lex against him, soothing, caressing,
comforting. Knowing with every fibre of his being that this was a big
*big* mistake! That he should just up and leave like he always did.

Lex had fallen asleep in
his arms, shivering, exhausted. Clark had slowly tried to remove his
arms, but Lex had suddenly gripped them tighter, had held him in
place. "Don't go," he'd mumbled, seemingly completely
unaware that the man he grabbed so tightly was the same man Lex had
less than an hour before almost cursed. "Stay, Clark."

For a moment Clark simply
froze, but then the panic set in. But Lex didn't move any further.
His breathing evened out, and with astonishment, Clark realized that
Lex had spoken in his sleep.

He lay there, stunned.
Could this mean that …? No. Clark shook his head. Shook the stupid,
childish thought out of his head. He waited until he could be sure
that Lex was really fast asleep before he tried once more to untangle
himself. This time it worked, and Clark had flown home.

But he hadn't been able
to sleep and it shows. Normally he can go days without sleep, but
he's twitchy. Nervous. Unable to concentrate. Lois teases him
mercilessly about some new girlfriend that kept him awake all night,
and he simply smiles. A smile that he knows drives Lois crazy.
Because it says everything and nothing.

At his lunchbreak, Chloe
eyes him wearily. She knows him better than anyone. She can guess why
he's so … not quite himself.

"Did he find out?
Last night, I mean? Lex?"

He almost spills his
coffee across the table, barely manages to swallow. "What?"
he croaks finally, when he has himself under control again.

She smiles. Her's is a
smile that drives him as crazy as his own can do with Lois. She knows
it. And its blinding in its intensity.

"Oh come on, Clark,"
she says, "I know where you were last night. And I think I have
a pretty good idea of what you did. Or should I say … WHO you did?"

She laughs out loud when
she sees the blush he can feel forming on his face. "Sometimes
you're just too easy, Clark."

"No, he didn't. How
could he?" he said, answering her question from before.

Yes, how could he? How
can he? He can't. Clark makes sure of that. When he enters the
apartment, he always makes sure it's pitch-dark. He never ever lets
Lex switch on some kind of light. He, of course, can see him clearly.
You've gotta love that advanced vision he has.

"It's just … ever
since last night … you can hardly form a coherent sentence, Clark.
I know the signs. Moony eyes, heartbroken look … love-life
trouble."

"I don't have ..."
a love-life he wants to say, but he'd have to lie to say that so he
breaks off, and starts to stir his coffee.

"Don't you think
it's time to end this?" She makes a vague gesture with her hand.
"Whatever 'this' is."

The stiring continues,
Clark watches the spoon with a certain kind of fascination going
round and round in his mug.

"Clark!"

The mug tumbles over the
edge of the table and onto the floor, spilling its liquid all over
the tiles, taking the spoon with it. Damn, that shout startled him.
He raises his head, glaring at Chloe while he tries to get rid of the
mess he made. "What?"

She glares right back,
and Clark has to admit she's better in this whole glaring thing than
he is, and he bows his head, patting the floor dry. A waitress comes
with a mop, helping him, and he murmurs a quiet Thank's.

"„Clark," the
voice is thankfully quiet again, "you can't go on like that. Why
don't you tell Lex the truth? He … god, you said yourself he wants
you. Dreams about you."

Clark's gaze wanders
outside, grazes the skyscrapers surrounding them, the people hurrying
along, and his answer is very quiet, "Yeah, sure. But still …
there's a difference between being a friend and being a lover. I'm
not sure he sees me that way, Chlo."

"He invited you to
dinner." Chloe reminds him softly, and winces when a harsh laugh
accompanies her statement.

"That means nothing.
And besides ... I blew him off. Blew him off so I could … could
..."

"Blow him?"
Chloe throws in with an angelic expression on her face. Clark blushes
again. Darn. He's too old for this whole blushing thing.

"Something like
that," he mumbles.

Suddenly, the swirls on
the table are incredibly fascinating, and he follows them with the
tip of one finger.

"„Try it, Clark,"
Chloe says quietly. "Try it. Talk to him. What do you have to
lose?"

Everything. Lex. Their
occasional nights together. It's not only the mindblowing sex. It's
the connection – as cliche as that sounds – he'd felt from that
first kiss in the darkness.

He abandons the swirls on
the table, and sits up straight, looking Chloe in the eyes. "You're
right."

She seems surprised. "I
am?"

He nods. "You are. I
have to tell him. If he kicks me out, I know that at least I tried."

She pats his hand.
"That's my boy."

~*~

Lex arches his spine,
trying to get deeper into the welcoming heat surrounding his cock.
His hands are tangled in silken hair. Hair he still doesn't know the
color of. Tonight he pictures it to be black. Black like Clark's.
He'd often wondered how Clark's hair would feel under his hands.
Well, he'll never know, will he?

The suction gets harder,
more forceful, as if his secret lover can feel that his mind is
wandering off. Would Clark suck him like this? Hard and powerful and
demanding. Or would he be more gentle? A little tentative, maybe?
Surely his innocent farmboy wouldn't be as experienced like this man,
right? Lex sighs, getting momentarily destracted from his rather dark
thoughts by a lick across his balls. Damn, that tongue really can do
wonders. Especially when it does something like that. Like now.
Wandering deeper. Behind his balls. Flickering over his hole. Trying
to push in. Lex opens his thighs wider. Offering his body to this
stranger like he's done so many times before. And the stranger takes
full advantage. Licking and sucking and trying to squirm his tongue
into Lex's body.

But suddenly there's this
picture in his head. Clark lying in front of him, naked, panting,
sweating, while Lex does all the things to him that this stranger
currently does to him. He'd teach Clark the wonders of love. Would
show him how perfect it could be, and in the end he'd sink into the
willing body of his lover, fucking Clark until he screams his name.
Or doesn't remember his own. Whichever comes first.

The strangers seems to
sense his absentmindedness, and moves up, pushing his own hard cock
gently against Lex's hole which is wet with spit.

And Lex can't do it. He
rolls away. Away from those strong hands that could break and beat
him into submission so easily, and that are always so gentle.

Gentle like Clark.

Clark.

"Lex?"

A murmur against his
skin. Warm breath that makes him shiver. And that makes him yearn for
Clark, for someone real and warm and breathing and loving and *real*
so much harder.

"I can't do this
anymore," he mumbles.

"Tonight?"

"Any night. Not at
all. You … this … this isn't what I want."

The warmth behind him
disappears, and Lex closes his eyes and swallows. So this is it. He's
no longer useful to this guy, and just like that he'll go. Leave him.

"What is it that you
want?" The voice is barely above a whisper, and Lex looks down
at his hands. He can't see them, but he knows they're folded in his
lap.

"I want something
real," he says, finding it easy to talk into the darkness. No
one will ever know about this little … confession anyway, right? "I
want someone I can wake up with in the morning. Someone I can come
home to in the evening. Not someone who comes and goes whenever
there's an itch to scratch."

He knows that it sounds
pathetic, and if anyone should ever ask him about this statement he'd
deny it. Maybe destroy that person who said it. And his firm. And his
family, of course.

"Someone like …
Clark?"

The question is
unexpected, and he can feel himself tense up. "How do you … ?"

"You talked about
him. Last time. In your sleep. Called me Clark. Is he the one you
want?"

Is he? Yes. A thousand
times yes. He wants to scream it. Wants to shout it. Wants to yell it
from the rooftops until Clark can hear him. But his answer is close
to a whisper. As quiet as the stranger's voice. "Yes."

A sigh isn't exactly the
reaction he'd anticipated. But it's the one he gets. A slow, almost
mournful sigh. Then the whispered words, "I should have told you
right from the beginning."

Yeah, damn right, Lex
wants to shout. Damn right you should have told me why you're here
and why you fuck me so well that I want to cry like a baby every time
and why you can't be Clark, god damn it.

"Close your eyes."
A soft demand. Or more a plea. He does. And then the light on his
bedside table is switched on. He's blinking a few times though his
eyes are still closed. "Lex, look at me."

The voice, a little
louder this time. No breathy whisper, no soft moan, no rumbling purr.
Louder. And incredibly … achingly familiar. Lex obeys. Opens his
eyes, blinks a few time because, though the light is soft and dim,
it's still bright after the darkness. He blinks, turns around, blinks
again. And he's not quite sure he hasn't lost his mind. Has finally
managed to snap that last thread that kept him tied to reality.
Because there before him, gloriously naked, a shy smile on his face
and a hard erection in his lap … is Clark.
Then Clark opens his
mouth to say something, and Lex is not sure what to expect but most
certainly not the words, "Chloe was right."

O-kay. So *now* he is
pissed. Chloe knew about these little midnight interludes all along?
That hurts. He turns away, swings his legs over the edge of the bed,
and gets up, reaching for his bathrobe. He can't have this
conversation while he's naked. He feels strangely vulnerable.

"Who else knows
about it?" he asks, his voice neutral. He's proud of himself.
Proud that his hurt feelings, the betrayal he feels, isn't noticeable
in his voice.

"Nobody. Just Chloe.
And she only knows because … well, I *had* to talk to someone about
this, you understand?"

No, he doesn't. His
understanding ended the moment Clark switched on that damned light.
There's only thing he needs to know before he plans to kick Clark
out.

"Why?"

Clark bows his head and
has the decency to look ashamed. But he doesn't answer. As if he
doesn't know what to say. He's gazing down at the sheets as if they'd
hold all the answers and if he only looks long enough they might be
revealed to him. Lex snorts. "Yeah, I thought so. I was good
enough for the mighty alien to fuck me. But the mere mortal doesn't
deserve an answer."

Now Clark raises his
head. "Lex, no. That's not what ..."

Lex stops Clark with one
gesture. "Don't! Don't say anything, Kent. Just … get dressed
and then get the hell out of here."

This isn't exactly what's
running through his mind. His pride might totally agree with him. But
his heart is begging the pride to stop. His mind is especially mean:
showing him pictures from their previous love-makings, this time in
bright light, color and with Dolby Surround Sound, starring Clark
Kent.

Naked.

Hard.

Like he is now.

That he hasn't lost his
erection is telling Lex clearly that … what? That his horniness is
bigger than he thought?

After a few moments in
which Clark doesn't move a muscle, Lex sits down with a tired sigh.
"Why did you do that, Clark?" he asks, his voice a bit
quieter now.

This time it is Clark
that snorts. "Why? Do you really have to ask?"

Lex just tilts his head
slightly, remaining silent. Clark gets up and starts to pace the
room. His beautiful cock bouncing a little with every step. Still
hard. Lex wonders briefly if penis-envy is something you can get even
when you're in your mid-thirties.

"I am an alien, Lex.
Not only from another state or another country but from another
planet." Left to right and back. From the bed to the window and
back to the bed. "All my life I tried to fit in. Tried to do
what other people expected me to do." What is this? A
life-confession? This is *so* not what Lex wants – or needs – to
hear right now. He asked a simple question. Is it too much to get a
simple answer? Apparently yes, because Clark continues, "I am
strong, I am fast, I can see through things." That had to come
in handy in a lot of cases, Lex thinks. "I can light a candle
with one look..I can lift a truck without breaking a sweat, and ..."

"This is all very
fascinating, Clark," Lex interrupts him. Penis-envy is one thing
… he doesn't need any more things he can envy about Clark. "But
it still doesn't explain this." He makes a motion with his hand,
encircling the bed, the room and the both of them.

Clark sits down next to
Lex. A bit too close for the liking of his pride – which is still
wounded and wishes that Clark would sit farther away – but not
close enough for his heart, which tries to persuade the rest of the
body that climbing into Clark's lap now and slowly impaling himself
on that gorgeous cock is a really, really great idea! He compromises,
and skids away just a little.

The laughter he gets is
bitter. And harsh. "See? Now that you know what I am, you can't
stand to sit too close to me."

Clark leans back on the
bed, lies down on his back, his hands behind his neck. "Guess
how happy I was when I discovered that I'm not only an alien but a
*gay* alien at that. Somewhere, someone really must have laughed his
ass off back then."

He rolls to one side,
props himself up on one elbow, and gazes at Lex. "All my life my
parents told me to be careful. To not let anyone in on the secret. To
be hidden in plain sight, so to speak. But it can be cold … being
all alone. Having no one to talk to."

You have Chloe, Lex wants
to say, but he doesn't. He lets his eyes roam over Clark. Enjoying
for a few moments the sight of the incredibly beautiful man in his
bed. The mood has suddenly changed, and Lex lies down next to Clark,
mirroring his pose. “What changed?"

Another little sound,
half snort, half laughter. “You. Me. Chloe. She almost banged my
head in the first time I told her what I did."

Pick a number and get in
line, girl, Lex thought.

“I don't … up until
today, I'm still not quite sure how I found the courage to walk up to
you that night. And up until now, I still don't know why you didn't
call security the moment I touched you."

Well, yeah, join the
club. But Lex remains silent. Waiting. Waiting for the only answer
that‘s important to him right now: why!

“It's just … ever
since the moment I put on that costume, I could watch you without
being noticed. I hid in the shadows, watching you." And this
should sound way more creepy than it actually does. “More than once
I caught someone following you. Brought someone behind bars before he
could actually hurt you. And one day I thought following you home was
the best way to make sure you'd stay out of trouble."

“And fucking me was the
best way to know where I am at night, right?"

Clark looks down again.
“It sounded better in my head. I wanted to protect you. Wanted to
keep you safe."

“So you thought 'Why
not fuck him? Scratch that itch that comes every once in a while.
Benefits for both, right?'"

Clark honest-to-god
blushes, and Lex smirks.

“I only said that to
protect you."

“You know, you say that
an awful lot. About protecting me I mean," Lex says casually.
“Did it ever ocur to you that I'm very well able to protect
myself?"

'That maybe I didn't want
a protector, but a lover?' he adds in his head.

The blush deepens. “I
know. Chloe says it's just an easy way out for me. And that I only
want to hide my true feelings behind the 'I want to protect you'."

“Smart girl."
Okay. Seems as if we finally get to the core. “And what are your
true feelings, Clark?"

Good. Casual. Quiet.
Almost bored. Excellent.

Silence. The kind of
silence that can almost be described as epic. The answer – when it
finally comes – is so quiet, and so simple that Lex is almost
tempted to ask, “Come again?" But he doesn't. For a moment he
simply stares. And listens to those three words running around in his
head, buzzing through his veins, making him feel giddy. Not sure he
heard them correctly. Those barely audible, softly murmured words, “I
love you."

~*~

He‘s an idiot!

Chloe had been right
about that. Oh, she‘ll have a field day when Clark admits it to
her. He doesn't dare to look at Lex. Doesn't dare to lift his eyes
because – wow! He actually said it. Said those three words he never
thought he'd ever say to Lex Luthor. Not because he didn't feel like
that, but because he never thought he would ever get close enough to
Lex to being able to tell him.

And right now he wants
nothing more than to take those ominous three words back. Wants to
pick them out of the air and shove them back into his mouth. Because
Lex is still silent. Just looking at him with an unreadable
expression on his face.

“Say something,"
he finally begs when he can't stand the silence any longer. “Say
that I'm an idiot. Lower than scum. Tell me to leave. Grab my things
and throw them out of the window. Call the press and tell them that
the Dark Angel is Clark Kent, wanna-be reporter from the Daily
Planet. Just *do* something."

“Did anybody ever tell
you that you talk to much?" The voice is soft, the question
gentle. And not by any means what Clark has expected.

“Ahm … yes.
Constantly."

He thinks about Chloe and
the way she teases him about his non-stop babbling. He thinks about
Lois and her famous eye-roll which causes him to shut up immediately.
But Lex had never done that. He‘d always listened to him.

But when he opens his
mouth to say something according to his latest revelation, Lex leans
in and kisses him.

It's amazing. Kissing Lex
with the light on. He can see so much more clearly now. Can see the
way he frowns a little as if this kiss needs his whole attention. Can
see that the hand that‘s not touching his face is gripping the
sheets tightly, as if afraid to touch him with both hands. He closes
his eyes, can't stand the intense gaze Lex has even while he's
kissing. A not so gentle bite to his lower lip causes him to gasp and
his eyes fly open again.“„Look at me," Lex growls, and a
mighty shiver runs over Clark's body.

Oh wow. Hearing this
noise, looking into those eyes … he's *so* lost. He‘ll never
recover from his crush. From this love. From this … whatever it is
that Lex will form this into.

He can't tear his eyes
away from Lex. Advanced vision is one thing … being able to see his
pupils go impossible wide, to see little drops of sweat form at his
temples quite another. After a few kisses, Clark pushes Lex gently
back. As awesome as this is … he has to know.

“Does that mean you
forgive me?" He hates it that his voice sounds so insecure. Lex
smiles. No, smirks. Not good.

“For now. But not
quite. We have to talk about this stalking obsession of yours, Kent.
And then there‘s the sexual assault. The breaking in. Attempted
burglary. The … Clark?"

Clark can feel himself
grow pale. Oh god damn … Lex is going to sue him. He‘ll go to
prison and become some burly hulk's bitch. And then they‘ll find
out … everybody will find out … and then he might have to kill
them all … and … a hand on his face brings his running thoughts
to a screeching halt.

“I was just kidding,
Clark," Lex says with an amused expression. “Well, not about
the talking. But about the rest, okay? So calm down, and put your
head between your knees … that's it … deep breaths … hell, I
never thought aliens could hyperventilate."

“Neither did I,"
Clark gasps, while he slowly calmed down again. Hyperventilation is
even more funny when technically you don't even *have* to breath.
Clark still can't laugh about it. He looks up at Lex through lashes
that are damp with held back tears. “Just kidding?" he asks,
and he can hear that his voice sounds so damn young. Lex smiles, and
nods. “Just kidding."

Clark releases a long
breath. “I‘m so sorry," he mumbles, slowly sitting up again.
He‘s a little surprised when Lex pulls him closer, but he's not one
to look a gifthorse in the mouth so he rests his head on Lex's
shoulder.

“So … you can fly."
The statement catches Clark unprepared and he‘s not quite sure why
Lex is stating this now.

“Yes," he answers.

“So make me."

Raising his head, Clark
gazes at Lex. “Huh?"

A smile plays around
Lex's lips. “I said … make me. Make me fly, Clark."

“Are you sure?"

Lex nods, and Clark can
feel something like anticipation. He eyes Lex. He's naked, not hard
anymore – too much happened in the last twenty minutes – and
gorgeous. With a smile, Clark opens the window, steps out onto the
windowsill and reaches out to him.

“Then come."

~*~

He can't be serious.

Lex stares at Clark,
still naked, still aroused, standing on his windowsill, asking him to
come flying with him.

Naked.

And did he mention the
aroused part? Then he takes one step, then another, and finally he
takes Clark's hand and before he can form a coherent thought, Clark
pulls him up.

“Put your arms around
my neck and hold on tight," he murmurs against Lex's ear. He
does, and not a second too early. Clark lifts off. Easy as breathing.
And together they fly out through the window into the night.

It's amazing.
Breathtaking. Of course, Lex has seen the city from above. He has a
helicopter and a plane after all, and has seen Metropolis more than
he can count from this perspective. But seeing it like this … in
Clark's arms, feeling his bodyheat, clinging to him so tight that he
can sense his heartbeat … this is new.

The sky above Metropolis
is never quite dark. Too many buildings, skyscrapers, and cars
illuminate it. Then the city slowly vanishes as Clark gaines speed,
and Lex just holds tighter. Clark slows down and finally stops when
they're high enough so they can't be seen too easily, but not too
high for Lex to freeze.

It‘s amazing. Above
them are the stars, millions and millions of them. Beneath them are
the glittering lights of the city. So this is what the Dark Angel –
Clark – sees every night.

“I‘ve always dreamed
about making love to you under the stars," Clark murmurs into
his ear, gently nibbling on the lobe and pressing tender kisses on
Lex's neck. Without thinking, Lex turns his head a little to give
Clark better access. This is like a dream indeed, and before he finds
the time to think about it, he breathes softly, “Then do it,
Clark."

With a deep moan, Clark
grabs Lex's legs, puts them around his waist, and without hesitation
enters him in one swift motion. Joined as intimately as possible,
they remain still for a few heartbeats.

“God, Lex," Clark
whispers, “I love you."

A soft breath against his
temple, and then Clark begins to move. Fucks him high above the
earth, closer to the stars than Lex has ever been. They're floating,
gliding, moving against each other. And Lex has never before felt so
loved and protected. He comes with a sob, tears at the corners of his
eyes, and holding Clark so tight that his fingers ache.

Clark follows close
behind him, flooding him with warmth, surrounding him with love and
heat.

They land softly some
minutes later. Lex is still trying to recover from his
not-quite-from-this-earth orgasm. With infinite care and gentleness,
Clark lays him down on the bed, and cleans him up quickly. Not that
there‘s much to clean … their release is probably either
somewhere on a roof or on some poor guy‘s – or girl‘s –
shoulder. Probably mistaken as bird shit. Lex grins lightly at that
thought.

He expects to be held and
cuddled now, because in all his fantasies that's what Clark does.
Post-coital cuddling. But when there‘s nothing but his cool
bedsheets and not the amazing bodyheat of his alien, he opens his
eyes.

Clark is standing next to
the bed, looking incredibly young. Almost vulnerable and shy.

“Clark?"

The young man shifts a
little, looks down, and blushes. “I … ah … I should go, right?"

Lex has some difficulties
in trying to make sense of these words. Go? No. Come? Yes, please.
Right now. To bed, if you please …

“Don't be ridiculous,
Clark. Come to bed. Now." To cuddle me properly, he adds in his
mind.

Clark's smile is
blinding, and he's in bed next to Lex, wrapping his long limbs around
him before Lex can even finish the afterthought in his head.

They‘ll have to talk in
the morning. Talk about all that following home, that creeping into
Lex's bedroom at night, the fucking, the love-making. And they have
to talk about why Clark stood Lex up for dinner only to come to him
at night. That‘s a question he still needs an answer to.

But right now … right
now he‘s content. Satisfied. Even happy. He closes his eyes,
cuddles closer to Clark, and sighs softly.

He's already half asleep
when he hears Clark murmur, “So does this mean we're … dating
now?"

He smiles into his
pillow, and answers, “Why don't you follow me home tomorrow and
find out?"

The end