A Summer Of Broken Hearts

Part I: A Summer of Broken Hearts

This was written for the Rhiannonhero Summer Title Challenge

Rating: R but will turn NC-17
Discalmer: Smallville belongs to DC comics and WB. This is non-profit entertainment. No infringement is intended so please don't sue me

Thanks to Rose7 for all her time and beta efforts. A big thank-you to Skuf also, for going through all of this and correcting my comma and grammar errors. Any remaining mistakes are my own. Please feel free to point them out.

6


Lex crawled onto his four-poster bed, collapsing on his stomach, as he grabbed a large, down pillow from the pile against the headboard. Clutching the pillow between his arms and chest – a habit carried over from childhood – Lex sighed contentedly when he felt his body relax for the first time that day. He resided in the rest of the mansion, but this space, this three-room suite, was his home. Here he was free from observation by eyes and ears, both human and electronic; he had made sure of that. Knowing his Father held nothing sacred, not even private sleeping quarters, Lex had covertly purchased a small fortune in high-tech security and then installed it himself. Nothing and no one could gain access to these rooms without his knowledge. The lesson had been bitter, but he had learned it well. Not having to worry if someone would catch him off his guard, Lex felt free from the paranoia that often plagued him. Here he could afford to give his mind the rest it required from Lexcorp business, as well as the never-ending personal and corporate intrigue his Father insisted they engage in.

Lex turned on his hip, raising one knee slightly and allowed his thoughts to wander. They didn’t go far. Clark. The name seemed to reverberate in his head, and he suddenly felt as uneasy as Clark had looked when he arrived tonight. It was as though whatever was to blame for his friend’s behaviour had influenced his own mood. Lex had tried, more often than he cared to admit, to find an answer to the seemingly simple question of why he felt so drawn to Clark.

He had never had a friend, and had never imagined he would come to a point in his life where he either wanted or needed one. In truth, he never believed himself capable of opening up enough to another person to actually make any semblance of friendship work. Clark was different – so different that he fit Lex like an oddly shaped puzzle piece. His very presence dragged the better part of Lex’s nature into the open, and caused him to behave less…Luthor-like. He was still surprised at times to hear himself revealing to Clark personal feelings, or discussing important events in his life that he had not yet shared with another person. In the beginning, the sharing had felt awkward, but knowing intuitively that Clark would not betray his trust, he began to speak more freely. Being able to open himself up in such a way was oddly comforting, and pivotal in forming the connection he felt between them.

Lex shifted and slid up to sit against the massive, mahogany headboard. He absently reached out for his unfinished glass of Macallan as his thoughts continued to center on Clark. At times it seemed incomprehensible that they could be friends. As he sat here in his silk pyjamas, in a climate controlled room, drinking 30-year-old scotch, Clark was most likely sitting in his barn loft, in the summer heat, drinking a glass of lemonade. It really was absurd…well, on the surface anyway.

There had been a time shortly before the tornados struck, though, when Lex had become frustrated by the number of weak excuses and blatant lies Clark shielded himself with, no matter how many opportunities Lex had offered Clark to confide in him. If Clark thought he could brush over an impossible situation with a simple ‘I must have been lucky’ or a ‘I don’t know, Lex’ over and over again, he was mistaken. Lies, Lex could deal with, but being played for a fool was something else. He had decided it would be best to slowly put an end to what, at times, felt like a one-sided friendship.

That decision was overturned the day Clark brought Ryan to him from Sommerholt; another of the incredibly bizarre situations that Clark constantly seemed to get tangled up in. He knew it would have been nearly impossible for a normal teen-aged boy to free Ryan from such a clinic without being stopped. When he asked Clark how he had managed it, Lex had seen, for an instant, a look that told him Clark was about to offer some feeble excuse – one that usually made Lex want to slap him. A breath later, the expression in his friend’s eyes had changed and those lips that he was sure had been about to inflict another absurdity upon him, fell open in a quiet sigh. Clark had looked through the doorway at Ryan and then turned back to him with an open, intense expression. “Please don’t ask, Lex. I don’t want to lie to you, but I can’t explain either. Please just accept that I did it,” Clark had quietly replied. In this request was admission, and in admission an understanding grew between them. It was enough for now that Clark had acknowledged that things were not as they appeared. Lord knew, Lex had his own share of secrets, and though he had rarely ever outright lied to Clark, he was guilty himself of hiding among shades of truth. In unspoken agreement they had begun a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy.

Usually, when he looked at his friend, Lex saw what everyone else did – a tall, good-looking, though sometimes awkward, teenager. Other times, when he least expected it, he caught glimpses of a man infinitely older than the sixteen-year-old Clark appeared to be. That man was extremely intense and intelligent, full of mystery, and radiating something that dissipated like smoke when Lex tried to grasp it. It was as frustrating as it was compelling. In those moments, Lex was captivated. He felt immobilized by a longing so deep, for something so beyond his reach, he knew he would do what ever was necessary to possess everything about Clark he understood, and those things he didn’t. There were moments he wanted so desperately that he thought he would die for lack of it – though he could never rationally define what it was he wanted.

So what the fuck was this all about? Did he want Clark? Was this some kind of repressed sexual desire that manifested itself as restless longing? He knew he had never consciously entertained secret sexual fantasies about his friend when he closed his eyes at night, but just how did he feel about him? Lex sipped his drink, his right arm tightly clutching his pillow against his body, while he considered carefully, taking into account all of the sex partners he had enjoyed both male and female. No, he didn’t believe there was any hidden sexual agenda. The want that he was desperate to identify didn’t have the same feel to it as the sort of desire that flooded him when he saw a hard cock pressing against tight jeans, or a creamy, supple breast pushing up out of a low-cut top. He could not reconcile that sexual desire with what he was chasing – that was deeper and more intense than any sexual gratification he had ever experienced.

Lex closed his eyes against the uneasy feeling that was building inside him, and shifted his thoughts to the odd interaction between Clark and his father earlier today. Clark’s behavior was bizarre enough on any given day, even if one took into account the rampaging teenage hormones, but Jonathan Kent, well, that was a different story. He had been angry certainly, but there had also been an under-current of fear there. Lex had no idea what to make of that. Surely he wasn’t afraid of Clark physically attacking him? He knew that his friend was strong, but even when confronted by an angry Clark, Lex had never been afraid of him. Maybe Jonathan had been afraid of what his son’s strange behavior might have implied? It certainly wasn’t as if this was the first time that Jonathan had witnessed Clark behaving strangely.

Lex’s lips unconsciously formed a small smile as he remembered how Clark had shown up at the mansion last fall. He had been full of attitude, wearing expensive clothes, and then had proceeded to cajole the Ferrari keys from him. When Clark showed up at the mansion again the next day, ready to throw in his lot with Lex in Metropolis, Lex had gone to Jonathan to find out what was going on. A lot of good that had done. Before sundown, Clark had returned the Ferrari amid humble apologies, and bumbling explanations for his actions. Maybe Jonathan was afraid that Clark might be using drugs. Lex couldn’t imagine it.

Shaking his head Lex put his empty glass on the night table, swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Trying to sort out his feelings for Clark was a bit like wandering around a strange room in total darkness. When he least expected it he would stumble on to something. In the mean time, a hot shower would hopefully relax him, and if he was lucky he would sleep, despite the unfamiliar restlessness that had taken hold of him tonight.