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fic post:mariposa
Title:Mariposa
Fandom: SV
Pairing: Clark/Lex
Rating:2
Summary: Canon? What? Who? I can’t hear you….
Previous Parts are here, prank calling Anderson Cooper. Where’s your restraining order *now*, Mr.Cooper? Ah? Ah?
The wheels were in motion—Lucas had been more than willing to help. He’d kept the details to himself, but in no more than a week, he’d presented Lex a list with a flourish. “These are the people you can trust—with his life. There’ll be no danger to him--” he jerked his chin towards Clark’s closed door. “Or to you.” He sat on the edge of Lex’s desk, and watched Lex skim the list, grim-faced, mouth in a tight taut line. “This is the best way, Lex. Sweep it clean, start from scratch.”
Lex nodded. He turned away, walked until the wall of windows stopped him. He narrowed his eyes against the glare of the sun, leaned his cheek against the warm glass. He looked out over the city.
After a bit, he asked, “Are you going to be there when Clark’s examined?”
“Do you think I need to be? I can give you complete assurance we’re good on this point, but I’ll be there if you want me to be.”
“I think—I need you to be there. And Clark, too.” He turned back to Lucas. He was gathering up the papers scattered on the desktop. He looked up at Lex’s response, snorted and rolled his eyes.
“Sure he does. Fine, I’ll be there.”
Lex reached out to squeeze Lucas’ shoulder and he knocked his hand away. “Jesus, don’t be such a fucking bitch. I’ll make sure your little girlfriend’s okay.”
“I don’t understand your attitude towards Clark. You were sleeping with him—you dislike him that much?”
Lucas opened his mouth, and huffed. “He’s okay. Are we through here, because LuthorCorp doesn’t completely run itself, organized or not.”
Lex watched the door close on Lucas, glanced back at Clark’s door. It was shut, so that meant he didn’t want to be bothered. Lex looked at his watch. It was late--Lucas could exist on no sleep but Lex needed at least a few hours, sleeplessness had a tendency to make him caustic, careless .He wanted to be on point when he visited the facility in the morning. He was about to order executions, it was only right to look the dead in the eye. No death was ever clean and painless—he should never come to feel it was.
*****
In his room behind the locked door, Clark lay curled around his pillow, covers up to his nose. He listened to Lex and his brother talking.
He pictured Lex’s face, the slight upward tilt of one side of his mouth that was supposed to be a smile, the way his eyes were warmer when he really smiled. The way his cheeks got kind of round when he laughed. Clark smiled to himself a little. He bet Lex hated when that happened.
The murmur of voices shifted, and he could hear Lucas clearly. Clark uncurled a bit. He didn’t like thinking too hard about Lucas. The way he looked, lazy in a feline kind of way. The way his smile was kind of lazy too, sexy, but like Lex’s, not really real…Lucas didn’t have a real smile—or if he did, Clark never saw it, and he was glad of that.
Even coming, he was never fully…there. Clark had a feeling that it was only loving Lex that kept him real. Clark shifted under the blankets; the warmth he’d been floating in was a little less now. What he heard from Lucas made him uneasy, always did. It was too much like Bobbie and Van, only Lex was neither of them so Lucas suffered. Clark shuddered, quickly turned to his side again and let the blankets cover him completely.
Everything Lucas felt was in his voice. He wondered that Lex couldn’t hear it too. Was he willfully blocking it out? Clark didn’t think that was likely, he must really be unaware of what went on in Lucas’ head. Clark could barely understand that—it was so obvious. Just like it was obvious that Lex was a walking wound. Lex was so damn relentless, nearly masochistic, when it came to the truth. Expecting it, needing it. After seeing that tape, Clark could understand the drive in Lex to need to know what was reality, what was truth. From everyone, including himself.
He had his own odd moral code, Clark thought. He could imagine Lex and his dad in the same room, talking about what was right and honorable. ‘Geez, Dad’…he thought of his dad with a pang. ‘Dad’s head would probably explode five minutes into the conversation.’ He probably would never understand Lex, what he’d done or why. It wasn’t pretty but he didn’t hide from it. And now, what he was about to do…Clark sighed.
Lex was already carrying that guilt, and that was sort of a good thing, he thought—it meant he was human and not another Lucas, stone cold killer with a heart of…brass, bronze? Something shiny not made of gold, he smiled. Lex was doing what he had to, to protect people he didn’t know--didn’t ask to protect—but he stepped up and shouldered the responsibility, and he didn’t hide from himself. In a way, that was like his dad…and his mom, too.
Clark didn’t know what he would do in Lex’s place…he was pretty sure—he *knew*--he couldn’t bring himself to kill anyone, no matter how much it might seem they deserved it. He wasn’t human; he didn’t have the right to make that call. But the thought that Lex could, and did…was…well, not okay with him, but not the end of everything. Clark was startled. It really was…bearable. Hunh….
He pushed up on his elbows, kicking the covers out of place. The red jacket he’d bought on his first solo shopping trip was rolled in a ball under his head. He slipped it on, and sank to his knees by the side of the bed, reached under it and pulled out the backpack he’d also bought that day. He held it on his lap, opened it.
Clothes, money carefully hoarded and tucked into a seam in the bag, the brand new sneakers he’d bought his first day out, a map, all tucked into the pack, all brand new. He was ready to go—where ever. When ever. He’d been ready to run again since the first day. It would feel wonderful *not* to feel that way. He closed his eyes, and thought. Tomorrow was either the beginning—of waiting to die, or starting to live again. Tomorrow was coming and he wasn’t ready…he zipped the pack shut and shoved it back under the bed.
He heard the front door shut. He heard nothing for long moment, and then he heard Lex’s door shut. He stood, the red jacket in his hand. He took the key to his door out of the pocket, rolled the jacket up and pushed it under his pillow.
******
He opened the bedroom door, quietly as he could. He snuck across the room, holding his breath. When he stood at Lex’s bedside, he silently, slowly released the air he’d held. Watched him. It felt…good to watch him. It felt right, like he was supposed to be standing over Lex, looking out for him. Spread out on the bed was a completely different person than the one he knew in the daytime. Sort of softer, rounded…his cheeks, his chin. His mouth was soft, the scar on his lip was less defined, smoother, lips fuller than they looked when he was awake. Lex always held them so tight. Clark drew his gaze downward, to Lex’s hands, fisted in the sheet across his chest. That tension that was gone from his face was still there, knuckles paler against pale skin.
Lex made a small sleep soaked sound and his eyes shifted under closed lids. His ginger lashes rose and fell, his tongue peeked out and hid. Clark thought, 'I could love this person. I could be in love with him….’ He made a decision, and carefully slipped into bed. At the movement on the mattress, Lex grunted, and rolled away, onto his side. He drew his knees up and clasped his arms in front of him—poised to protect himself even in sleep. Clark felt sad—he knew what it felt like to run even in sleep.
Clark slipped under the sheets, kept himself away from Lex. He closed his eyes and inhaled the smell of him—soap, a faint scent of vanilla, and…he scooted closer, not close enough to touch…he leaned his head the inch or two closer that let him smell Lex, the real smell of Lex, a little dark, a little sweet. A smell that made him think of turned over fields waiting to be planted. Tears burned suddenly under his closed eyelids, and without wanting to, his mouth was pressed against Lex’s back. Home. He smelled a little bit like home. Like sun and fields, and grass. He eased closer, fighting to keep tears back. He needed to touch him so bad; it was like a knife under his heart, like being pulled to bits. Even closed lids couldn’t keep the tears in—they dripped down his cheek and he felt ashamed, but he couldn’t move back. He wanted to leave, but he couldn’t stand the thought of not being close to--to home.
Lex grumbled and shifted away, and then, moved back. Shoved back, with a snort and a moan, he pushed right up against Clark and sighed. “Warm…” His breath evened out again, and Clark was stunned, frozen. Lex was plastered against him, his hips against his, legs locked over Clark’s knees…Clark opened his eyes and trapped tears flooded Lex’s skin. “Stop it,” he muttered, “Stop licking me.”
Clark gasped. Lex could read minds? That was one of the gifts he spoke of? Because Clark was just working up the nerve to touch his tongue to the skin his mouth was pressed against…he hummed low in his throat and his dick was getting interested in what was going on. A nudge, just a nudge against Lex’s backside, a signal from his groin to his brain that Lex was hot and firm and pressing back, and probably tight like a glove…
“Lucas—what the fuck--”
Like magic, the words broke the spell, and Clark jerked away, Lex whirled around. “Oh god Clark--” He looked around wildly “—this *is* my room, isn’t it?”
Clark nodded back, eyes wide, for a moment, frightened back into last year, to way before Whitney, everything…guilt flooded in on the heels of fright.
“Clark what in the world is happening? Why aren’t you asleep, you know that tomorrow…oh.” He turned to face Clark and smiled. “Oh...”
Clark inhaled, moved forward a bit and Lex said, “Oh!” And flushed red.
Clark was fascinated by the sight of Lex, red-faced and stammering. He reached out and touched Lex’s silk covered groin and Lex shivered, and almost closed his eyes, tilted his hips up—and scooted back.
“Oh Clark, no. Not yet.”
“Not yet? Oh no, not this time. I’m not stopping,” he growled, “It’s right this time.” He reached out and Lex yelped when Clark’s hands closed over his wrists, Clark felt the bones shift and grind together. He dropped them quickly, and cried out, “I’m sorry!”
Lex hissed, flexed his wrists. “I had no idea you were that strong, that was a little--surprising,” he said, and Clark got a flash of memory—intense with scent, color, sound—he was inside the memory, reliving time—his mom crying and wiping his hands hard, frantically. His fingers so small and bright red. He was crying…
“Clark…Clark, what’s wrong?” Lex sat up and leaned over Clark, patting him.
“I’m going crazy,” he said, staring into Lex’s eyes. He felt terrible—for Lex. “I think, on top of everything else, I’m going crazy. I’m sorry about that.”
“Going crazy, hunh?” Lex bit his lip. He held his arms out for Clark to slide in. “Tell you what; I’ll slow down, so that you can catch up with me.”
Clark snuffled against him gratefully. He threw an arm around Lex’s waist, and slid the tips of his fingers under the waistband of the silk boxers.
“Ah-ah. No sex—just sleep.”
Clark nodded his head, exhaustion suddenly making even that an extreme effort, “Okay, sleep,” he echoed. And that was all he wanted, to wrap around Lex and sleep for a million years.
Before he drifted off, he felt Lex’s hand trace swooping curves over his back, and heard him whisper, “The sex comes later.”
He fell into sleep in the middle of a laugh....
TBC
Fandom: SV
Pairing: Clark/Lex
Rating:2
Summary: Canon? What? Who? I can’t hear you….
Previous Parts are here, prank calling Anderson Cooper. Where’s your restraining order *now*, Mr.Cooper? Ah? Ah?
The wheels were in motion—Lucas had been more than willing to help. He’d kept the details to himself, but in no more than a week, he’d presented Lex a list with a flourish. “These are the people you can trust—with his life. There’ll be no danger to him--” he jerked his chin towards Clark’s closed door. “Or to you.” He sat on the edge of Lex’s desk, and watched Lex skim the list, grim-faced, mouth in a tight taut line. “This is the best way, Lex. Sweep it clean, start from scratch.”
Lex nodded. He turned away, walked until the wall of windows stopped him. He narrowed his eyes against the glare of the sun, leaned his cheek against the warm glass. He looked out over the city.
After a bit, he asked, “Are you going to be there when Clark’s examined?”
“Do you think I need to be? I can give you complete assurance we’re good on this point, but I’ll be there if you want me to be.”
“I think—I need you to be there. And Clark, too.” He turned back to Lucas. He was gathering up the papers scattered on the desktop. He looked up at Lex’s response, snorted and rolled his eyes.
“Sure he does. Fine, I’ll be there.”
Lex reached out to squeeze Lucas’ shoulder and he knocked his hand away. “Jesus, don’t be such a fucking bitch. I’ll make sure your little girlfriend’s okay.”
“I don’t understand your attitude towards Clark. You were sleeping with him—you dislike him that much?”
Lucas opened his mouth, and huffed. “He’s okay. Are we through here, because LuthorCorp doesn’t completely run itself, organized or not.”
Lex watched the door close on Lucas, glanced back at Clark’s door. It was shut, so that meant he didn’t want to be bothered. Lex looked at his watch. It was late--Lucas could exist on no sleep but Lex needed at least a few hours, sleeplessness had a tendency to make him caustic, careless .He wanted to be on point when he visited the facility in the morning. He was about to order executions, it was only right to look the dead in the eye. No death was ever clean and painless—he should never come to feel it was.
*****
In his room behind the locked door, Clark lay curled around his pillow, covers up to his nose. He listened to Lex and his brother talking.
He pictured Lex’s face, the slight upward tilt of one side of his mouth that was supposed to be a smile, the way his eyes were warmer when he really smiled. The way his cheeks got kind of round when he laughed. Clark smiled to himself a little. He bet Lex hated when that happened.
The murmur of voices shifted, and he could hear Lucas clearly. Clark uncurled a bit. He didn’t like thinking too hard about Lucas. The way he looked, lazy in a feline kind of way. The way his smile was kind of lazy too, sexy, but like Lex’s, not really real…Lucas didn’t have a real smile—or if he did, Clark never saw it, and he was glad of that.
Even coming, he was never fully…there. Clark had a feeling that it was only loving Lex that kept him real. Clark shifted under the blankets; the warmth he’d been floating in was a little less now. What he heard from Lucas made him uneasy, always did. It was too much like Bobbie and Van, only Lex was neither of them so Lucas suffered. Clark shuddered, quickly turned to his side again and let the blankets cover him completely.
Everything Lucas felt was in his voice. He wondered that Lex couldn’t hear it too. Was he willfully blocking it out? Clark didn’t think that was likely, he must really be unaware of what went on in Lucas’ head. Clark could barely understand that—it was so obvious. Just like it was obvious that Lex was a walking wound. Lex was so damn relentless, nearly masochistic, when it came to the truth. Expecting it, needing it. After seeing that tape, Clark could understand the drive in Lex to need to know what was reality, what was truth. From everyone, including himself.
He had his own odd moral code, Clark thought. He could imagine Lex and his dad in the same room, talking about what was right and honorable. ‘Geez, Dad’…he thought of his dad with a pang. ‘Dad’s head would probably explode five minutes into the conversation.’ He probably would never understand Lex, what he’d done or why. It wasn’t pretty but he didn’t hide from it. And now, what he was about to do…Clark sighed.
Lex was already carrying that guilt, and that was sort of a good thing, he thought—it meant he was human and not another Lucas, stone cold killer with a heart of…brass, bronze? Something shiny not made of gold, he smiled. Lex was doing what he had to, to protect people he didn’t know--didn’t ask to protect—but he stepped up and shouldered the responsibility, and he didn’t hide from himself. In a way, that was like his dad…and his mom, too.
Clark didn’t know what he would do in Lex’s place…he was pretty sure—he *knew*--he couldn’t bring himself to kill anyone, no matter how much it might seem they deserved it. He wasn’t human; he didn’t have the right to make that call. But the thought that Lex could, and did…was…well, not okay with him, but not the end of everything. Clark was startled. It really was…bearable. Hunh….
He pushed up on his elbows, kicking the covers out of place. The red jacket he’d bought on his first solo shopping trip was rolled in a ball under his head. He slipped it on, and sank to his knees by the side of the bed, reached under it and pulled out the backpack he’d also bought that day. He held it on his lap, opened it.
Clothes, money carefully hoarded and tucked into a seam in the bag, the brand new sneakers he’d bought his first day out, a map, all tucked into the pack, all brand new. He was ready to go—where ever. When ever. He’d been ready to run again since the first day. It would feel wonderful *not* to feel that way. He closed his eyes, and thought. Tomorrow was either the beginning—of waiting to die, or starting to live again. Tomorrow was coming and he wasn’t ready…he zipped the pack shut and shoved it back under the bed.
He heard the front door shut. He heard nothing for long moment, and then he heard Lex’s door shut. He stood, the red jacket in his hand. He took the key to his door out of the pocket, rolled the jacket up and pushed it under his pillow.
******
He opened the bedroom door, quietly as he could. He snuck across the room, holding his breath. When he stood at Lex’s bedside, he silently, slowly released the air he’d held. Watched him. It felt…good to watch him. It felt right, like he was supposed to be standing over Lex, looking out for him. Spread out on the bed was a completely different person than the one he knew in the daytime. Sort of softer, rounded…his cheeks, his chin. His mouth was soft, the scar on his lip was less defined, smoother, lips fuller than they looked when he was awake. Lex always held them so tight. Clark drew his gaze downward, to Lex’s hands, fisted in the sheet across his chest. That tension that was gone from his face was still there, knuckles paler against pale skin.
Lex made a small sleep soaked sound and his eyes shifted under closed lids. His ginger lashes rose and fell, his tongue peeked out and hid. Clark thought, 'I could love this person. I could be in love with him….’ He made a decision, and carefully slipped into bed. At the movement on the mattress, Lex grunted, and rolled away, onto his side. He drew his knees up and clasped his arms in front of him—poised to protect himself even in sleep. Clark felt sad—he knew what it felt like to run even in sleep.
Clark slipped under the sheets, kept himself away from Lex. He closed his eyes and inhaled the smell of him—soap, a faint scent of vanilla, and…he scooted closer, not close enough to touch…he leaned his head the inch or two closer that let him smell Lex, the real smell of Lex, a little dark, a little sweet. A smell that made him think of turned over fields waiting to be planted. Tears burned suddenly under his closed eyelids, and without wanting to, his mouth was pressed against Lex’s back. Home. He smelled a little bit like home. Like sun and fields, and grass. He eased closer, fighting to keep tears back. He needed to touch him so bad; it was like a knife under his heart, like being pulled to bits. Even closed lids couldn’t keep the tears in—they dripped down his cheek and he felt ashamed, but he couldn’t move back. He wanted to leave, but he couldn’t stand the thought of not being close to--to home.
Lex grumbled and shifted away, and then, moved back. Shoved back, with a snort and a moan, he pushed right up against Clark and sighed. “Warm…” His breath evened out again, and Clark was stunned, frozen. Lex was plastered against him, his hips against his, legs locked over Clark’s knees…Clark opened his eyes and trapped tears flooded Lex’s skin. “Stop it,” he muttered, “Stop licking me.”
Clark gasped. Lex could read minds? That was one of the gifts he spoke of? Because Clark was just working up the nerve to touch his tongue to the skin his mouth was pressed against…he hummed low in his throat and his dick was getting interested in what was going on. A nudge, just a nudge against Lex’s backside, a signal from his groin to his brain that Lex was hot and firm and pressing back, and probably tight like a glove…
“Lucas—what the fuck--”
Like magic, the words broke the spell, and Clark jerked away, Lex whirled around. “Oh god Clark--” He looked around wildly “—this *is* my room, isn’t it?”
Clark nodded back, eyes wide, for a moment, frightened back into last year, to way before Whitney, everything…guilt flooded in on the heels of fright.
“Clark what in the world is happening? Why aren’t you asleep, you know that tomorrow…oh.” He turned to face Clark and smiled. “Oh...”
Clark inhaled, moved forward a bit and Lex said, “Oh!” And flushed red.
Clark was fascinated by the sight of Lex, red-faced and stammering. He reached out and touched Lex’s silk covered groin and Lex shivered, and almost closed his eyes, tilted his hips up—and scooted back.
“Oh Clark, no. Not yet.”
“Not yet? Oh no, not this time. I’m not stopping,” he growled, “It’s right this time.” He reached out and Lex yelped when Clark’s hands closed over his wrists, Clark felt the bones shift and grind together. He dropped them quickly, and cried out, “I’m sorry!”
Lex hissed, flexed his wrists. “I had no idea you were that strong, that was a little--surprising,” he said, and Clark got a flash of memory—intense with scent, color, sound—he was inside the memory, reliving time—his mom crying and wiping his hands hard, frantically. His fingers so small and bright red. He was crying…
“Clark…Clark, what’s wrong?” Lex sat up and leaned over Clark, patting him.
“I’m going crazy,” he said, staring into Lex’s eyes. He felt terrible—for Lex. “I think, on top of everything else, I’m going crazy. I’m sorry about that.”
“Going crazy, hunh?” Lex bit his lip. He held his arms out for Clark to slide in. “Tell you what; I’ll slow down, so that you can catch up with me.”
Clark snuffled against him gratefully. He threw an arm around Lex’s waist, and slid the tips of his fingers under the waistband of the silk boxers.
“Ah-ah. No sex—just sleep.”
Clark nodded his head, exhaustion suddenly making even that an extreme effort, “Okay, sleep,” he echoed. And that was all he wanted, to wrap around Lex and sleep for a million years.
Before he drifted off, he felt Lex’s hand trace swooping curves over his back, and heard him whisper, “The sex comes later.”
He fell into sleep in the middle of a laugh....
TBC
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