roxy | fic post:Mariposa

Title:Mariposa
Fandom: SV
Pairing: Clark/Jake…suuuuurre….
Rating: 4
Summary: Alternate Universe. like my life

Previous Parts are here, repeating their favorite line—“I didn’t ask for the anal probe.”

So, I figured, as long as I’m on a roll, why wait?

Caroline Says

Clark spent some time thinking about what he and Jake had done and how much he liked it and wondered why he and Whit had never done anything like that. He’d loved sex with Whit—he loved Whit, no one could take his place but…this had been like having firecrackers and champagne inside you. He touched himself, carefully, hissed a little, as much in pleasure as in pain. He was sore, but a good sore and he felt a little empty, and if Jake walked in the door in the next second and asked if he wanted to do it again—he would do it in the blink of an eye. It felt good, it felt—Clark sighed.

He wished it had been Whitney. But it was okay to that it had been Jake. Maybe a little more than okay.

******
December, and Clark still hadn’t called. The pain of missing his parents grew more and more, it grew to the point that it became impossible to imagine that they might want him back. Because if it was hurting them as much as it was hurting him, they must hate him by now, for the pain he was causing them. The never–ending ache surprised him--he’d expected that it would fade as time went by. And time was passing so quickly…he hardly recognized the person in his mirror anymore. He was surprised every time by the thin sad boy he saw. He was all eyes--and hair. His hair was so long, it fell over his shoulders. He wondered what Whit would think. He’d probably react the same way as Jake---eat something, scrawny person. He snapped his hair into a rubber band, and wondered idly if he was too thin--

Jake. He really liked going out with him. It gave him something to look forward to, a person who wanted to touch him, and be touched back. Clark sighed. It was like his skin had been thirsty for it. Jake touched him a lot, little back rubs and hugs, when they sat close, his fingers skimmed here and there, almost always in contact and Clark felt like a parched flower…he sucked it up, he reveled in it. Like rain after a long long drought, Jake brought him some comfort.

*****

“Sweet, I heard your boss talking to you about calling home—again. When are you going to do it? You should. They must be nearly crazy worrying about you.”

Clark grunted, eyes locked on the television. His arms were around a bowl of popcorn, and there was a stack of movies Jake had picked for him on the coffee table.

Jake came around the couch, dropped two bottles of coke on the table and flung himself down, pulled a blanket over them, and snuggled into Clark’s side. “You don’t want to hear it but it’s true. I’m not going to argue with you though; I think we’ve all learned how stubborn you can be. Pass the popcorn.”

Clark passed over the huge bowl of greasy popcorn, wiped his hands and sighed. “I will. Before Christmas I’ll call, okay?”

“Good. I knew you’d give into me. You always do. This is nice, isn’t it, kind of cozy? I haven’t had a chance to just relax in forever. Work has been insane lately.”

Clark knew Jake was a dancer, but where he didn’t know. He knew it involved little clothing, and lots of make-up, and that some of those weekends he spent with Clark he was losing a lot of money—he never said, but it was obvious to Clark. He never asked if Jake did more than dance—it wasn’t his business.

They watched two movies, and as the third was rolling, Clark drifted in and out of sleep, in and out of dreams—Jake changed from Whit to Lex Luthor to his Boy, and back again…when Jake nudged him awake, Lex Luthor was just reaching out to touch him….

“Little one, come keep me company while I get ready for work. A friend called and asked me to be his date at some charity thing tonight.” He laughed. “He says all of Metropolis’ best and brightest and *richest* will be there. Who knows, I may find a husband…I need a backup in case you drop me.” He winked at Clark and grinned.

Clark followed him into his bedroom and flopped on the huge bed, watched Jake get dressed. It was so fascinating to watch him go from a willowy young man, to a graceful woman. Maybe this was what Whit had felt, watching him. Clark sighed. He still had the little tube of purple lipstick in his bag, hadn’t felt like using it since—it wasn’t the same anymore.

Jake settled a long blonde wig on his head, arranged the curls until they framed his face. He added earrings, turned and smiled at him. “Jasmine, at your service. You know Clark, one day, just for fun you should let me do your face—just to see.”

Clark grimaced, decided not to mention anything to Jake.

“No really, you’d look beautiful.” His eyes sparkled, and he looked so tickled, Clark laughed. “In fact, let’s see. Come over here and sit.”

Clark shook his head but of course Jake was able to coax him off the bed, and convince him to sit at the make up table. He looked in astonishment at the huge array of powders and creams and tints—so many different colors…spidery little false eyelashes were scattered here and there and sequins and glittering rhinestones…Jake explained that he needed different accessories for different occasions, but Clark was so pretty, all he needed was a little color. He smoothed base on and powdered and brushed Clark, took a small brush and demanded Clark close his eyes. He brushed color on his lids, lined his eyes, another brush stroked color over his lips. “Don’t open your eyes yet,” he ordered, and Clark smiled and obediently sat. Jake moved away and then Clark felt a brush sweep through his hair.

“You’re so lucky; your hair is long enough that you wouldn’t need to bother with wigs.” Jake was behind him, leaning against him as he brushed, and Clark felt the heat of his crotch pressed into his back. He swallowed, and leaned back slightly…his heart sped up, and hope filled him—maybe there was time for sex before Jake left…he hoped that he’d want to fuck him again…he breathed a little sigh of disappointment when Jake moved away. “Okay, now you can look,” he said.

Clark opened his eyes and froze. That wasn’t the person he usually saw in the mirror, it wasn’t the person he became for Whitney. This person was…beautiful.

Jake studied his face, so long, that Clark felt a little nervous. He reached out and touched his fingertips to Clark’s cheek, and looked a little sad. “You are so beautiful. How can you look so—be so innocent? After everything, how is it possible?”

Clark laughed. “The last thing I am is innocent, you know that.”

“Ah, you think you know, do you?” Jake shook his head, “You’re like—a caterpillar.”

“I’m fat and green and leggy?”

“Fool.” Jake tapped Clark. “No, like this cocoon opened and a beautiful butterfly came out—you’re--” he snapped his fingers, “you’re—what’s that word—mariposa—Spanish for butterfly.” He turned Clark to face the mirror fully. “Say hello, Mariposa.”

Clark laughed, felt uneasy and a little silly. “Mariposa. Pretty. But not me, is it?”

Jake ran off and came back with a camera. “Pose for me, smile!” He took pictures as he spoke. “Why can’t it be you? Who says we only have to have one face, hmm?”

He made Clark pose in a variety of outfits, and after a bit Clark relaxed, and even enjoyed it a little, laughing and following Jake’s lead. It was a fun evening, and he was sorry when the limo came to take Jake away.

“Stay here and I’ll see you when I get back, okay. Help yourself to anything.” He kissed Clark’s cheek and swirled out of the door.

Clark laughed to himself, headed for the bathroom to wash everything off, but he found it hard to keep his eyes from the mirror.

The to be continuing.

fic post:Mariposa

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