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A Helping Hand

By: queenmorgan23
folder Smallville › General
Rating: Adult ++
Chapters: 11
Views: 4,333
Reviews: 3
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Currently Reading: 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Smallville, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
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11

Clark stepped outside, leaning his face back into the sun. He felt more relaxed now than he had in several years. He felt a hand on his back; felt the warmth soak into his skin through the thin cotton of his t-shirt.

Turning, he looked into sparkling brown eyes, and smiled. "Hey."

"Hey, yourself," Oliver murmured. "Going somewhere?"

Clark shook his head slowly, enjoying the feel of the breeze brushing strands of his hair across his face. "No. I just needed the sun for awhile. It always makes me feel better...more alive."

Oliver took his hand away and stepped around him to stand beside him. Clark felt the spot where Oliver's hand had left, and shivered.

"Surely, you're not cold?"

Chuckling, Clark smiled up into the sun's rays. "No." He turned his head slightly, to look into Oliver's curious face. "When you took your hand away...it felt...off, I guess. I don't really know how to describe it. I missed it."

Deep brown eyes sharpened, focused, and Clark shook again. Although, this time, the trembling was different. Distinct.

"Come on." Oliver motioned towards one of the gardens surrounding his home. Walked through it to a large gazebo, and stepped up into it. He looked around, smiling softly out at the skyline of Star City. "I love it here. It's home, you know?"

Nodding, Clark moved to stand next to him. "It's really beautiful, Ollie."

Oliver's head tilted down, his eyes directed to the floor. "I'd give it up. All of it. This place. This city. I'd give anything and everything up, Clark. I'd come to Metropolis, you know; if that's what you needed."

"Ollie-"

"The team can go anywhere. There's no set place we need to be. And, they've all met you...they'd understand." Oliver's face grew serious, thoughtful. "Anyone would, if they met you, Clark."

"Oliver." Clark's hand shifted, moved to grasp Oliver's, and gripped it softly within his fingers. He rubbed his fingers together gently over Oliver's callused hands. Smiled. "I would never want for you to leave your home. I know you love it here. I know it. Just like you know that Metropolis is my home."

He watched as Oliver swallowed hard, and looked away, his face tight in the dappled light shining through the plaits of wood.

"But we both know that I can be anywhere...really, really fast. And, you've got a jet, for crying out loud. It's not like we're not going to see each other."

"It's not the same." Oliver said with a wry grin.

Clark sighed, "No. It's not." Stepping around to stand in front of Oliver, her raised his hands, and placed them on Oliver's shoulders. Waited for him to look up. "Staying here with you...it's meant a lot. You haven't pushed. You just supported me. Helped me. You've made me stronger, just by being who you are, and by caring about me. I never felt threatened, or afraid of who you were, or what I could become with you."

Oliver looked happy for a moment, the corners of his mouth lifting into a pure smile, before something darkened his eyes, and he looked away. "But, you're still going back."

"Yes."

"To him. To Lex. No matter what he's done. What he's going to do. You're going to go to him." He turned back, looking into Clark's eyes, and Clark could see his reflection in Oliver's gaze.

"I have to. I've loved him for so long, Oliver. And, I know...I know Lex loves me. In his own messed up way, he loves me more than he loves anything or anyone. I have to go back; I owe him that-"

"You owe him NOTHING!" Oliver screamed, wrenching himself away, his chest tightening. "I'm sorry, Clark. I said I wouldn't...but, I can't just watch you walk away from me, and pretend like it's not killing me. It's not who I am, Clark. I fight. It's what I do. I see someone hurting, and I protect them. I can't just watch you drop into his world. Not you."

"Ollie, I owe him an explanation."

Clark's voice was so soft, Oliver wasn't sure he'd understood. "An explanation?"

Clark nodded slowly, "I need to tell him why I can't stay with him. I need to tell him that it's not about you. It's about trust, and strength, and respect. It's because I can't be with him just because he feels like he needs ME, to do the right thing. I'm willing to use what I am to protect this world. I WANT to do that. I feel like...it's why I was brought here. And, honestly, if I'd never met you...I might have stayed. I might have been willing to go the rest of Lex's life, working to help him do the right thing."

Oliver was shaking his head, confusion flooding his face. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I will always love Lex. He'd been a flood. A natural force in my life, and I'd never felt anything like that. It overpowered me. And, I can't say that I didn't welcome it. Because, you KNOW I did. You saw."

Clark winced, and looked away before continuing, "You saw. But, something has changed, or grown. I don't know how or when, Ollie, but I woke up and came out one morning and I realized that love is more than need or want, or an ache. It's having someone soak into your soul the way the sun soaks into my skin. It's having it feel completely natural. It's comfort and passion, and it's faith. It's how I feel about you. It's the WAY I feel about you. And, it's knowing that you feel that way about me."

Oliver's eyes were bright, dark and brilliant in the broken light, and he stepped forward.

"Oliver. I want to be with you. Wherever we are, I want to be together." Clark drew in a shaky breath. "It's been hard, because I know how this is going to go with-"

Lips smashed down onto his. Stealing the breath from his lungs. He felt himself falling back, slamming against the thin wood of the gazebo wall. Teeth bit into his lips, pulling them apart so a soft tongue could sweep against the roof of his mouth. Wet, and hot; Clark's eyes slid shut against the raging pressure against his mouth and gave. He gave everything he had, pushing back, and sucking gently.

Oliver pulled back, his mouth bruised. "I love you."

"I know. I love you, too."

Oliver's head fell forward, his eyes shut as he pressed his forehead to Clark's. "Say it again. Say it just like that."

"I love you, Oliver. I love you."

Oliver smiled, his lips brushing against Clark's cheek as he turned into the wind. "I'm so happy, Clark." He pushed his face down, turning his lips into the salty-sweet skin of Clark's neck. Tasted. "So happy. I've never been happy like this."

Clark's breath shuddered out of his mouth, and he relaxed against the wall, hissing as Oliver's hands closed around his waist. "Ollie."

"I want to see you. I want to see you come for me. WIth me. Will you come to bed with me, Clark?" The words were whispered against his wet skin, and Clark nodded jerkily. Oliver pulled back and offered a hand to Clark. Smiled when he took it and pulled him close as he stepped towards the house.

-------------------------------------------------------

"Thank you. That will be all."

Lex waited until the man had walked out, and carefully pressed down the lid of his laptop. Winced at the click that sounded.

Clark had been gone for several weeks, now, and he'd kept careful surveillance on the Queen estates. On Clark.

He'd chosen. He'd chosen Queen.

My own fault. I knew. I'm not GOOD enough. My soul. Something so wrong. I knew...I always knew. NO.

Lex swallowed hard. Getting up, he walked towards the small bar, and poured himself a straight bourbon. Drank it down, and managed to put the glass back on the counter before he fell down on his knees on the cold, hard floor.

"He'll come back," he whispered, "he'll come back to me. I know he will. He loves me. He does. I know it. I'm Lex Luthor. Of course, he'll come back. I know he will."

His sobs echoed off the walls of the stark office, and blanketed him.

"...Clark."

------------------------------------------------

Clark watched Oliver close the door to his bedroom. Smiled softly. His hands fluttered down to his sides, twitching nervously.

Oliver chuckled quietly, "One would think you'd never done this before."

Clark laughed weakly. "It's different with you."

"I should hope so," Oliver said with a grin, moving towards him. His hands slid into Clark's hair, holding him carefully as he slid against his body. "We click, Clark. We work together. We belong. It's right."

"I know." Clark gasped.

Oliver groaned and kissed Clark tenderly. Softly. Lips pressed to each other, taking and giving. Tasting. Cherishing.

Oliver's hands slid down Clark's neck, the backs of his nails riding down the line of his throat. "So amazing. You've got this incredible heart, Clark. So pure and so giving. And your body, your face, it's...you match. You know? I've never experienced someone like you. The beauty within is perfectly matched by the outer. You're so beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful."

Clark shook his head, "I'm just me, Ollie. You. You work so hard to protect people. You use the strength you have, what you can create through yourself, and you're a hero. You told me once that you weren't in my league. Ollie...Oliver," he closed his eyes, "you're what I aspire to be more like. I admire you."

Oliver brushed his mouth over Clark's, silencing him. "We're talking too much, you know it?"

Clark sank into the kiss, feeling his legs, vaguely, moving backwards and Oliver pushed him across the floor. He felt his legs brush the soft covers of the bed and sank down, pulling Oliver over him.

The scooted up the bed together, the covers bunching up beneath Clark's back.

Clark watched as Oliver sat back on his heels, pulling his shirt up and over his head. He couldn't stop his hands from reaching out to brush across the newly exposed expanse of flushed skin. His hands moved across Oliver's ribs, sliding up and onto his chest. Fingertips slowed to brush across darkened, rosy nipples, and Clark arched his neck, blowing softly. Cool, cool breath...Oliver shook violently and his hands surged down to his waist, shoving his pants down across his hips. He kicked them off, and reached for the button of Clark's jeans.

"Now, Clark."

Clark moved his hands to the soft denim and lifted his hips, helping Oliver to slide the fabric across his legs with a slithery hiss. He felt the air on his skin, and realized Oliver had taken his briefs with the pants.

Warm, rough hands pushed at his shirt, baring his chest. Clark reached down to tug it off of his head and gasped, his head caught in the dark red fabric as he felt wet heat dip into his navel.

Pushing hard, pulling, he ripped the shirt away, dropping it somewhere on the floor. Sighed at Oliver reared up to drape across him.

The feeling of skin on skin was incredible. So hot. So close. He felt the firm length of Oliver's erection rub up against his and he arched up, moaning softly.

Oliver's mouth closed over his, swallowing the sound, and those hands. God, those hands. They were everywhere at once. Touching him. Rubbing. Stroking. Grasping...

"Ollie-"

"Yeah, I know, Clark." Oliver's hips rolled against his, and a firm, busy hand was on him. Moving with him. Pulling.

Clark felt a surge, and cried out as a surge of pre-come slid out.

Oliver lifted his fingers, looking into Clark's eyes, and ran his tongue across them. The clear fluid slid onto his tongue, and Oliver closed his eyes as he tasted him. Smiled.

"Everything matches, Clark. I love everything about you."

Jerking up, Clark felt his spine burn painlessly. Bright, white heat broiled down him, and spilled out uncontrollably. He came between them, spreading across his stomach, his chest, and Oliver leaned down, slid against him. His mouth was on his as he moved, hard fast, sliding and twisting until Clark felt him tense.

His face flooded with color, pink and gold, and those chocolate-brown eyes were open wide, staring into his. Clark felt the heat spill between them, and they lay against each other, sticky and slick and warm.

They lay like that for a while, smiling into each other's faces, and laughing quietly. Clark blushed brightly as Oliver moved back, and went into the adjoining room.

He came back with two warm, damp washcloths, and they cleaned each other off. Oliver lay back in the bed and they lay on their sides, their fingers clasped together.

Clark's face was serious, but soft, "I still have to-"

"I know." Oliver whispered, brushing their combined hands across Clark's lips. "But not right now. This is ours, Clark."

"Ours," Clark repeated, smiling, and fell asleep as Oliver watched.
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