fic post: East of the Sun part 26
4/23/08 10:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyTitle: East of the Sun
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Lex/quite a few people, eventually clex of course
Rating:R, maybe a hard R?
Word Count:2287
Summary: Lex learns about trust and love from an unlikely source.
Notes/Warnings: my version of the swing era. Sure, it's weird—it's me!
Many, many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
danceswithgary expert hand holder, brilliant beta and super patient person.
He was standing deep in the grasslands that lie between Metropolis and the countryside, an area he'd carefully scouted beforehand to be certain it was out of sight of any roads or train tracks. In a shallow depression, a slight dip in the grassy fields, he'd driven a series of tall sticks into the ground--targets. "All right," he told himself. "The object of this exercise is not to blow up the sticks. Just…set them afire, like matches. Okay? First try…." he muttered. Stared at the first stick. Stared and stared until he began to feel silly. "Okay, eyeballs, any time now…ooh."
He'd forgotten a crucial ingredient of fire sight. He blushed a little and thought of Chloe. Pretty smile, bright eyes, wonderful figure…nice. Nice balcony…chest. Tits. He closed his eyes and imagined touching them, squeezing them…kissing his girlfriend, rubbing her, licking her neck…working his way downwards until he was between his legs--"Ow!" His eyes felt like someone threw a huge handful of burning sand into them. He thought again about Chloe and the gritty feeling lessened, and so did the tightness below his belt. Clark sighed, dropped his hands and tilted his head back heavenward.
"Okay, for Pete's sake. I give." He tilted his head at one of the stakes, and whispered, "Alex", imagined pressing lips to the edge of his smooth jaw, maybe, moving higher, kissing his ear. Clark dropped his hands down to the tightness growing in his pants. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about the fact that he was standing in an open field. He imagined that the fingers sliding into his waistband were Alex's….Oh, God. He opened his eyes and, with a thunderous crack, the stake burst into flame, pieces of it blowing high into the sky, burning bits of wood tumbled over and over in the air before dropping to the ground like flaming hail….Oh. man. He had his work cut out for him.
Hours and piles of charred kindling later, Clark was finally satisfied that he had a handle on his new ability. He didn't need to actually…get stiff, or think about getting stiff. He concentrated on his eyes, bringing up just the sensation of heat in them—and the top of a stake popped and neatly burned. He grinned and his eyes felt cooler, the heat disappeared.
He was ready, now, for the final test. He stared across the empty field; eyes locked on some place in his mind, some place where Alex was interested in him—cared about him. Was touching him, the hand opening his fly was Alex's, the hand around his cock teasing and stroking him was Alex's. Clark bit his lip, stared at the horizon, his eyes were warm, but it was just part of it, the urgency wasn't there, it was lower, much lower. He was shuddering now, beyond the point of stopping…he tightened all over, a desperate moan, a blurted name, and he was coming hard, semen spurted and dripped from his cock, dropped to the grass….
He trembled all over, but never closed his eyes once...and set nothing on fire. He felt—triumphant. And embarrassed--he quickly did up his pants, wiped his hand on the inside of his shirt and scuffed dirt over the thick fluid gleaming in the grass. He took a deep, shaky breath and, suddenly, felt a little sad. He couldn't hide from himself anymore. It was no use pretending that not being human was all that defined him.
He debated talking to Chloe. She seemed to know a lot about a lot of things. The problem was she also—almost, kind of---his girlfriend. They'd been courting, in a round-about way. Kissing. Holding hands. She might be mad about this. Talking to her about it sure was asking a lot of her. And, Clark mused, it just might be dangerous. Hell, she *was* going to be mad, no might about it. Maybe…maybe he shouldn't say anything.
@@@@@@
Despite his late night, Alex was finding it hard to fall sleep. He was exasperated, exhausted and miserable. He tossed and turned, and finally gave up on the notion of sleep all together.
He stared at the moon-pale face glaring back at him from the mirror—the lilac shadows under his eyes did little to improve the sight. He ran a tub as he brushed his teeth, humming into the foam. By the time he rinsed, spit, and stripped, the tub was full.
Sliding into the hot water, letting it lap against his chest, and easing down until he was nose deep in the steaming, milky water…it was almost heaven. He hissed at a sudden sharp sting of pain—there were teeth marks under the curve of his jaw that really hurt. He was damn grateful it hadn't gone farther than that, though why it had to be so damn visible…. Thank God, Wade had received a message to go to Edge before things really heated up. Alex sighed in relief and sank lower in the tub. It had been odd in a way, the visit. Mahaney brought him a card from Jules…Alex smiled. Jules had been very pleased to hear from him, more than ready to communicate with him behind Lionel's back. It was a kindness he hadn’t expected, Wade making a special trip just to bring him the card. He closed his eyes and snorted. Kindness…no doubt he'd soon find out what was behind that particular kindness.
He got out and dried, and worked on putting a decent polish on his shoes, fretted over the thinning soles. It might be time to see about releasing some of the inheritance money he put away. His salary took care of the basics, but a man just had t o have a decent pair of shoes. While he was at it, he'd take some out to buy Clark shoes, too. He'd need his custom-made of course, same as Alex's. How he'd get the big palooka to go along with it, he didn't know. But it would make him feel more—alive, if Clark would let him do just that tiny bit for him, just that much.
After making sure he looked clean and collected, he grabbed his hat and coat and made his way out into the morning sun. It was not an improvement, he decided, and was about to go back to his rooms and medicate himself into sleep when he caught sight of Clark outside of the small bakery he frequented. He was surprised to see Clark there—he'd never seen him outside of the hotel or the club before. The sun loved him, made his eyes gleam like emeralds. He was captured again by those incredible, beautiful eyes….
He watched the boy talking to the owner. Clark seemed to enjoy talking to people—he seemed to like people, to care what they thought, how they felt. That was odd. Most people as beautiful as Clark learned at an early age they needn't bother to think about anyone else, do anything; the world would be handed to them on a silver platter simply because they were beautiful. Clark always appeared surprised that people liked him. He seemed sweet and kind and honest. Worthwhile.
Clark turned to him and, for a moment, that brilliant smile faltered...and Alex remembered. Right. I'm the scary pansy. He started to walk away, but turned back. Fuck that. He was Alexander J….J. Roth, damn it. He didn’t run from anyone. He straightened and walked toward Clark with as big a smile as he could mange. "Clark." The kid looked at him, and then—blushed, dropped his lashes. Alex bit the inside of his cheek and prayed for strength.
"Oh, Alex, oh. How are you?"
Queer. "Fine. You? "
"I'm…I'm okay. Hungry." He laughed, and then it kind of spiraled out of control and he clamped his mouth closed on an embarrassed giggle. "I was just going to um. Get some breakfast. You know."
"Isn't that a coincidence? I was just going to breakfast myself."
Clark nodded, "They serve breakfast here. I was going to—" He blushed so hard that his ears glowed red, his face was flushed like…Alex bit the tip of his tongue and wondered if he was going to have to chew up the entire inside of his mouth.
"Yes?" Alex asked.
"Nothing. I'll just—grab some rolls and—"
Alex shook his head. "Nope. Nothing doing. I know just the place for breakfast—you're going to love it." He shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets, actually a little grateful for the cold keeping him in check.
.
Clark smiled, a wide, white gleam, and Alex thought maybe he should take his coat off…hat off…. "Do they have pie there?" Clark asked.
"Pie?" Alex laughed. "Sure, why not?"
@@@@@@
The place was a little café run by an ex-royal, or so she claimed to be, some kind of royalty from Hungary, and Alex was fine with that. She could be whatever she wanted to be. Her pastry chef was excellent, and they knew how to make a decent cup of coffee.
Clark beamed at the swags of fresh-cut pine, the old world style decorations. In one corner, a little tree sat on a table, topped by a gleaming tin star. "It smells nice in here," Clark said, and it did. Old wood, cinnamon, oranges, and pine…the smells of Christmas for Alex. His mother and Jules and he used to shop for gifts, for oranges and peppermints, traditional Christmas treats and, after they'd get cocoa, his mother would get coffee, and the driver would collect their packages…in the days when everything was simpler….
The owner bustled up with menus for them. "Alexander, darling. Today we have an excellent strudel. Apple. It's very good." She stopped and smiled at Clark. "Would you like coffee, young man, or cocoa?"
Clark glanced at Alex quickly and ordered coffee, and Alex had the feeling Clark only did it because it seemed the grown-up thing to do. He stopped the owner, and said, "Please, two coffees--and lots of whipped cream on one.
She nodded, "A regular and…." She looked at Clark thoughtfully, tapped one of her chins. "Extra sugar, cream, and whipped cream on top. Shaved chocolate." She twinkled at him and swept off.
"We didn’t order anything to eat," he said, and Alex smiled.
"Don't worry. She'll bring just the right thing for you."
Clark looked doubtful and opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of it and was silent. Alex waited to see if Clark would speak and, when the younger man just kept staring at the table top, he spoke instead. "Looks like you've got something on your mind, Clark. Does it have anything to do with Chloe?"
Clark darted a quick look at Alex and, after a moment, nodded reluctantly. "Yes. I like her, but I've…never had a girlfriend before. I don’t know what to do—who to ask. You seem….like you wouldn't mind talking to me. I hope I didn't presume."
"Oh, no. I don't mind. She's a good friend of mine. A virgin, Lord have mercy. So Clark, are you telling me you've never had a steady?" he teased. Clark clouded up.
"Yes…no. Sort of," he stuttered, and he looked terribly…sad didn't seem quite the right word. Alex didn’t push Clark. Whatever had happened had obviously been far from pleasant, and that was something he was all too familiar with on his own account. He felt sympathetic toward the kid. He only hoped it hadn't been anything near as lousy as his experience.
"Okay, you want to know what to say, how to act—where to go on a date? I can do that. I've dated a girl or two, before I decided it was a waste of time for me and the frail—girl—" Alex caught Clark's look of surprise. It hurt that he looked uncomfortable, but Alex figured he couldn't blame Clark. It was his own fault for bringing the subject up.... "Say, if it bothers you that I'm queer—I mean ho—"
Clark snapped, "I know what queer means." He glared at Alex for a long moment before dropping his eyes. "I'm sorry. I don’t care," he apologized. He looked up at Alex again and said, "I really don’t care. It's just…people think I'm stupid or something. They see me and think because I'm tall and strong and quiet, I must be some kind of brainless palooka. I'm not experienced, Mr. Roth, but that doesn't make me naïve. Okay?"
"I'm really very sorry, Clark. You're right. Maybe I did underestimate your intelligence--*slightly*--but I promise you, I never will again. Please, I'd like to be your friend—can we dispense with Mr. Roth? Can I just be Alex again?" Alex smiled, and his heart hurt like mad when Clark smiled at him. It felt just like being hit with a sledgehammer every damn time. He'd never been jealous of a woman before in his life, but just this once, he was green-eyed crazy because of Chloe.
Their pastry came at the right moment, saving him from making a complete ass of himself.
"Here you go, Mr. Alex. Enjoy. Your young man will enjoy the strudel, I think."
"Ah, thank you…he's not my…he's a friend."
The smile she gave him was condescending in the extreme. "Yes, I know. You like it, honey?" she asked Clark.
Clark nodded, cheeks bright-red, but when he looked at Alex, his eyes were sparkling with laughter. "I do," he declared. "Thanks for bringing me," he told Alex and then winked.
Was it possible to fall in love over and over and over?
part 27
More coming soon!
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Lex/quite a few people, eventually clex of course
Rating:R, maybe a hard R?
Word Count:2287
Summary: Lex learns about trust and love from an unlikely source.
Notes/Warnings: my version of the swing era. Sure, it's weird—it's me!
Many, many thanks to
danceswithgary expert hand holder, brilliant beta and super patient person. He was standing deep in the grasslands that lie between Metropolis and the countryside, an area he'd carefully scouted beforehand to be certain it was out of sight of any roads or train tracks. In a shallow depression, a slight dip in the grassy fields, he'd driven a series of tall sticks into the ground--targets. "All right," he told himself. "The object of this exercise is not to blow up the sticks. Just…set them afire, like matches. Okay? First try…." he muttered. Stared at the first stick. Stared and stared until he began to feel silly. "Okay, eyeballs, any time now…ooh."
He'd forgotten a crucial ingredient of fire sight. He blushed a little and thought of Chloe. Pretty smile, bright eyes, wonderful figure…nice. Nice balcony…chest. Tits. He closed his eyes and imagined touching them, squeezing them…kissing his girlfriend, rubbing her, licking her neck…working his way downwards until he was between his legs--"Ow!" His eyes felt like someone threw a huge handful of burning sand into them. He thought again about Chloe and the gritty feeling lessened, and so did the tightness below his belt. Clark sighed, dropped his hands and tilted his head back heavenward.
"Okay, for Pete's sake. I give." He tilted his head at one of the stakes, and whispered, "Alex", imagined pressing lips to the edge of his smooth jaw, maybe, moving higher, kissing his ear. Clark dropped his hands down to the tightness growing in his pants. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about the fact that he was standing in an open field. He imagined that the fingers sliding into his waistband were Alex's….Oh, God. He opened his eyes and, with a thunderous crack, the stake burst into flame, pieces of it blowing high into the sky, burning bits of wood tumbled over and over in the air before dropping to the ground like flaming hail….Oh. man. He had his work cut out for him.
Hours and piles of charred kindling later, Clark was finally satisfied that he had a handle on his new ability. He didn't need to actually…get stiff, or think about getting stiff. He concentrated on his eyes, bringing up just the sensation of heat in them—and the top of a stake popped and neatly burned. He grinned and his eyes felt cooler, the heat disappeared.
He was ready, now, for the final test. He stared across the empty field; eyes locked on some place in his mind, some place where Alex was interested in him—cared about him. Was touching him, the hand opening his fly was Alex's, the hand around his cock teasing and stroking him was Alex's. Clark bit his lip, stared at the horizon, his eyes were warm, but it was just part of it, the urgency wasn't there, it was lower, much lower. He was shuddering now, beyond the point of stopping…he tightened all over, a desperate moan, a blurted name, and he was coming hard, semen spurted and dripped from his cock, dropped to the grass….
He trembled all over, but never closed his eyes once...and set nothing on fire. He felt—triumphant. And embarrassed--he quickly did up his pants, wiped his hand on the inside of his shirt and scuffed dirt over the thick fluid gleaming in the grass. He took a deep, shaky breath and, suddenly, felt a little sad. He couldn't hide from himself anymore. It was no use pretending that not being human was all that defined him.
He debated talking to Chloe. She seemed to know a lot about a lot of things. The problem was she also—almost, kind of---his girlfriend. They'd been courting, in a round-about way. Kissing. Holding hands. She might be mad about this. Talking to her about it sure was asking a lot of her. And, Clark mused, it just might be dangerous. Hell, she *was* going to be mad, no might about it. Maybe…maybe he shouldn't say anything.
@@@@@@
Despite his late night, Alex was finding it hard to fall sleep. He was exasperated, exhausted and miserable. He tossed and turned, and finally gave up on the notion of sleep all together.
He stared at the moon-pale face glaring back at him from the mirror—the lilac shadows under his eyes did little to improve the sight. He ran a tub as he brushed his teeth, humming into the foam. By the time he rinsed, spit, and stripped, the tub was full.
Sliding into the hot water, letting it lap against his chest, and easing down until he was nose deep in the steaming, milky water…it was almost heaven. He hissed at a sudden sharp sting of pain—there were teeth marks under the curve of his jaw that really hurt. He was damn grateful it hadn't gone farther than that, though why it had to be so damn visible…. Thank God, Wade had received a message to go to Edge before things really heated up. Alex sighed in relief and sank lower in the tub. It had been odd in a way, the visit. Mahaney brought him a card from Jules…Alex smiled. Jules had been very pleased to hear from him, more than ready to communicate with him behind Lionel's back. It was a kindness he hadn’t expected, Wade making a special trip just to bring him the card. He closed his eyes and snorted. Kindness…no doubt he'd soon find out what was behind that particular kindness.
He got out and dried, and worked on putting a decent polish on his shoes, fretted over the thinning soles. It might be time to see about releasing some of the inheritance money he put away. His salary took care of the basics, but a man just had t o have a decent pair of shoes. While he was at it, he'd take some out to buy Clark shoes, too. He'd need his custom-made of course, same as Alex's. How he'd get the big palooka to go along with it, he didn't know. But it would make him feel more—alive, if Clark would let him do just that tiny bit for him, just that much.
After making sure he looked clean and collected, he grabbed his hat and coat and made his way out into the morning sun. It was not an improvement, he decided, and was about to go back to his rooms and medicate himself into sleep when he caught sight of Clark outside of the small bakery he frequented. He was surprised to see Clark there—he'd never seen him outside of the hotel or the club before. The sun loved him, made his eyes gleam like emeralds. He was captured again by those incredible, beautiful eyes….
He watched the boy talking to the owner. Clark seemed to enjoy talking to people—he seemed to like people, to care what they thought, how they felt. That was odd. Most people as beautiful as Clark learned at an early age they needn't bother to think about anyone else, do anything; the world would be handed to them on a silver platter simply because they were beautiful. Clark always appeared surprised that people liked him. He seemed sweet and kind and honest. Worthwhile.
Clark turned to him and, for a moment, that brilliant smile faltered...and Alex remembered. Right. I'm the scary pansy. He started to walk away, but turned back. Fuck that. He was Alexander J….J. Roth, damn it. He didn’t run from anyone. He straightened and walked toward Clark with as big a smile as he could mange. "Clark." The kid looked at him, and then—blushed, dropped his lashes. Alex bit the inside of his cheek and prayed for strength.
"Oh, Alex, oh. How are you?"
Queer. "Fine. You? "
"I'm…I'm okay. Hungry." He laughed, and then it kind of spiraled out of control and he clamped his mouth closed on an embarrassed giggle. "I was just going to um. Get some breakfast. You know."
"Isn't that a coincidence? I was just going to breakfast myself."
Clark nodded, "They serve breakfast here. I was going to—" He blushed so hard that his ears glowed red, his face was flushed like…Alex bit the tip of his tongue and wondered if he was going to have to chew up the entire inside of his mouth.
"Yes?" Alex asked.
"Nothing. I'll just—grab some rolls and—"
Alex shook his head. "Nope. Nothing doing. I know just the place for breakfast—you're going to love it." He shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets, actually a little grateful for the cold keeping him in check.
.
Clark smiled, a wide, white gleam, and Alex thought maybe he should take his coat off…hat off…. "Do they have pie there?" Clark asked.
"Pie?" Alex laughed. "Sure, why not?"
@@@@@@
The place was a little café run by an ex-royal, or so she claimed to be, some kind of royalty from Hungary, and Alex was fine with that. She could be whatever she wanted to be. Her pastry chef was excellent, and they knew how to make a decent cup of coffee.
Clark beamed at the swags of fresh-cut pine, the old world style decorations. In one corner, a little tree sat on a table, topped by a gleaming tin star. "It smells nice in here," Clark said, and it did. Old wood, cinnamon, oranges, and pine…the smells of Christmas for Alex. His mother and Jules and he used to shop for gifts, for oranges and peppermints, traditional Christmas treats and, after they'd get cocoa, his mother would get coffee, and the driver would collect their packages…in the days when everything was simpler….
The owner bustled up with menus for them. "Alexander, darling. Today we have an excellent strudel. Apple. It's very good." She stopped and smiled at Clark. "Would you like coffee, young man, or cocoa?"
Clark glanced at Alex quickly and ordered coffee, and Alex had the feeling Clark only did it because it seemed the grown-up thing to do. He stopped the owner, and said, "Please, two coffees--and lots of whipped cream on one.
She nodded, "A regular and…." She looked at Clark thoughtfully, tapped one of her chins. "Extra sugar, cream, and whipped cream on top. Shaved chocolate." She twinkled at him and swept off.
"We didn’t order anything to eat," he said, and Alex smiled.
"Don't worry. She'll bring just the right thing for you."
Clark looked doubtful and opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of it and was silent. Alex waited to see if Clark would speak and, when the younger man just kept staring at the table top, he spoke instead. "Looks like you've got something on your mind, Clark. Does it have anything to do with Chloe?"
Clark darted a quick look at Alex and, after a moment, nodded reluctantly. "Yes. I like her, but I've…never had a girlfriend before. I don’t know what to do—who to ask. You seem….like you wouldn't mind talking to me. I hope I didn't presume."
"Oh, no. I don't mind. She's a good friend of mine. A virgin, Lord have mercy. So Clark, are you telling me you've never had a steady?" he teased. Clark clouded up.
"Yes…no. Sort of," he stuttered, and he looked terribly…sad didn't seem quite the right word. Alex didn’t push Clark. Whatever had happened had obviously been far from pleasant, and that was something he was all too familiar with on his own account. He felt sympathetic toward the kid. He only hoped it hadn't been anything near as lousy as his experience.
"Okay, you want to know what to say, how to act—where to go on a date? I can do that. I've dated a girl or two, before I decided it was a waste of time for me and the frail—girl—" Alex caught Clark's look of surprise. It hurt that he looked uncomfortable, but Alex figured he couldn't blame Clark. It was his own fault for bringing the subject up.... "Say, if it bothers you that I'm queer—I mean ho—"
Clark snapped, "I know what queer means." He glared at Alex for a long moment before dropping his eyes. "I'm sorry. I don’t care," he apologized. He looked up at Alex again and said, "I really don’t care. It's just…people think I'm stupid or something. They see me and think because I'm tall and strong and quiet, I must be some kind of brainless palooka. I'm not experienced, Mr. Roth, but that doesn't make me naïve. Okay?"
"I'm really very sorry, Clark. You're right. Maybe I did underestimate your intelligence--*slightly*--but I promise you, I never will again. Please, I'd like to be your friend—can we dispense with Mr. Roth? Can I just be Alex again?" Alex smiled, and his heart hurt like mad when Clark smiled at him. It felt just like being hit with a sledgehammer every damn time. He'd never been jealous of a woman before in his life, but just this once, he was green-eyed crazy because of Chloe.
Their pastry came at the right moment, saving him from making a complete ass of himself.
"Here you go, Mr. Alex. Enjoy. Your young man will enjoy the strudel, I think."
"Ah, thank you…he's not my…he's a friend."
The smile she gave him was condescending in the extreme. "Yes, I know. You like it, honey?" she asked Clark.
Clark nodded, cheeks bright-red, but when he looked at Alex, his eyes were sparkling with laughter. "I do," he declared. "Thanks for bringing me," he told Alex and then winked.
Was it possible to fall in love over and over and over?
part 27
More coming soon!
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4/24/08 02:57 pm (UTC)