The Artifact

THE ARTIFACT

By Raythe

DISCLAIMER: Not mine. No money made.

PAIRING: Clark x Lex; Lionel x Lex

WARNINGS: Slash/Incest/AU

RATING: M

CHAPTER SEVEN: THE MYSTERY OF BLOOD

Lex’s POV

Lex shut the door to the mansion long after Clark had exited from it. Already he missed the boy even though he had been the one to send him away. Lex rested his back against the cool wood. He stood there for a few moments, hearing only the soft ticking of the mantle clock.

Under the shadow of the spaceship in the Kents’ cellar, Clark had asked him what they were going to do. Lex had given him the only answer he had. But he knew Clark didn’t understand the full ramifications of his words.

The boy had given him that wide-eyed shocked stare and Lex didn’t have the heart to push the issue any further. They still had a little time while Lex “rechecked” Helen’s results before things were going to change radically. Maybe he would think of another solution during that time, but he doubted it.

So instead of causing Clark to panic even more by explaining what the new reality was bound to be, Lex said anything more. Instead, he had them leave the cellar. He even had the sense remained to make sure the boy had locked the cellar doors. Anyone could go down there! But then again who would look in a storm cellar for a space ship? Clark had clicked the padlock shut and even tested it to make Lex happy.

Clark was just as obliging when Lex asked to be superspeeded back to the Castle. The awe-shucks grin and the blush tinging his cheekbones told Lex that Clark thought their evening was going to go forward in a pleasant manner. Lex hated to dash his hopes, but it was yet more proof that Clark was simply not understanding.

The last thing Lex ever wanted to do was hurt Clark; and he never wanted to turn him away. His own desire had threatened to eat him alive as he felt the boy’s arms go around him to take him to the Castle. Lex had rested his head on Clark’s shoulder. He had felt the soft brush of Clark’s hair against his skull then the tentative caress of lips, before that strange sensation of being moved at faster than the eye could see enveloped him.

It had hurt to tell Clark when they arrived at the Castle that only Lex was staying. Clark was to go back to the farm, alone, for the night, which the boy had refused to do.

“I told my parents I would be spending the night at your place. They’ll ask why I’m not,” Clark had said softly, resisting Lex’s efforts to shoo him back to the farm house.

Clark was like a piece of granite when he chose to be and Lex had almost laughed hysterically again at that description. Stubbornness was a Luthor trait after all.

“Tell them my father’s staying at the Castle. You won’t have to give any more of an explanation than that,” Lex had offered.

“But I want to be with you,” Clark had said, his lips pursed into an unconscious pout.

Instead of wanting to laugh, Lex had wanted to cry at that. He’d shut his eyes. “I want to be with you, too, Clark.”

And soon they would be. All the time. Another thing, which Clark didn’t seem to understand. They’d be brothers. Clark would be a Luthor and that meant … well, it meant a lot of things, but one of them was that Clark would be living with Lex. He was sure of it. His father wouldn’t want to drag a teen around with him, nor send Clark to boarding school. Oh, no, Lionel intended to use Clark to keep Lex in line. And that meant keeping the boy close to Lex, in his sight and on his mind. A living, breathing, loving reminder of what Lex had to lose if he disobeyed. But Clark didn’t see any of this and Lex didn’t want to show to him until he absolutely had to.

“You don’t have to go home … or back to the farm … right away. Actually, I should take some of your blood before you do. I have sterile test tubes and needles in a lab in the west wing,” Lex had said and the boy had blanched.

Clark was shaking his head before he was speaking. “It won’t work.”

“What won’t work?”

“The needles won’t go in. Invulnerable skin,” Clark had explained.

“How did Helen get the blood from you the first time then?” Lex’s forehead furrowed as he had then remembered how Clark had looked in the hospital that one time the boy appeared injured. He had murmured, “You were bruised then and—”

“A lighting strike temporarily transferred my powers to someone else. Making me seem human,” Clark had said and his head had drooped as he’d softly confessed, “But now … I think I’m even stronger and more … invulnerable than before.”

Lex heard the shame in the boy’s voice. Clark was ashamed at being different. Alien. And Lex felt a wave of hatred for the Kents run through him. How could Clark not view his alienness as a terrible thing with Jonathan Kent spouting platitudes about human goodness? He shoved the anger into a box in his mind, compartmentalizing it for later. Too much was at stake right now for him to be distracted.

“I suppose if some Kryptonite were near me my skin might be soft enough to puncture,” Clark had offered.

“You’ve always felt soft to me. Almost fragile even though I knew I hit you with my car and it left not a mark on you,” Lex had said as he’d grasped Clark’s wrist and slid the flannel shirt up to the elbow, exposing the silky, golden skin. The boy gave a slight shudder as Lex’s fingertips traced the blue vein-trails from his wrist until they disappeared deeper into Clark’s flesh. “You’re breakable, Clark. Sometimes you don’t seem to understand that so I have to make sure you don’t get broken,” he said the last as a whisper.

“Lex,” the boy had said his name breathily, arousal tinting Clark’s cheeks a becoming pink.

Catching himself, Lex had jerked his hand back. His own skin had burned where he’d touched that beloved flesh. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“But why? You were just saying what you felt … and acting on it.”

Those wide, green eyes had stared at him, confused, and Lex had wondered, not for the first time, how someone so intelligent as Clark was and living in this terrible world as Clark did could still be so untouched by it.

“Because we have to get used to … not doing these things … again,” Lex had said then changed the subject, “You keep calling the meteors Kryptonite. Why?”

Clark had stuffed his hands into his jean pockets and scuffed the ground nervously as he had said, “Krypton is the name of my planet. Or was the name of it. It was destroyed. The meteors are all that remains of it. They followed my spacecraft here and … well, they weaken me and … and cause the mutations and … kill people.”

Lex had nodded. His hand had passed over his scalp, the unconscious gesture he had yet to rid himself of when the meteors were mentioned. Clark had looked stricken and Lex cursed his own subconscious.

“Don’t feel guilty about what happened to me, Clark. I’ve never been sick a day in my life since the meteors came. I heal incredibly fast and … haven’t you heard, bald is beautiful?”

Clark had given him a lopsided grin. “You really are a geek, you know that, right?”

“To know my geekness is to love my geekness,” Lex had said.

“Yeah. Love every part of you,” the boy had whispered and took a step closer.

Lex had taken a step back and Clark’s growing smile faltered as he realized that Lex was going to stick by his no-touching rule that night. At least, Lex was going to try, which was another part of the reason he wanted Clark to go home. He simply hadn’t known if he could last that long against the irresistible force that was Clark Kent. Or Clark Luthor.

“I guess we can’t get some Kryptonite at this late hour,” Lex had said.

Clark, however, had started staring off into the Luthor property, his eyes narrowing, then widening as he gave a low cry. “Ah, found some!”

“Found some?”

“Kryptonite. There’s some in the flowerbed right by the drive. Not much, but I think it would be enough if you laid it right on my skin,” Clark had explained.

“How can you see it? Its pitch black out there,” Lex had said.

“Oh, x-ray vision. At night Krypton glows green when I use my x-ray vision,” Clark had explained.

Lex had tried to keep the gob-smacked look off of his face. He didn’t want to make Clark feel any more like a freak than he already did about his powers. But despite Lex’s semi-teasing statement to Clark earlier that night, the boy did have all the best superpowers a comic book hero would need. Now if only he could …

“Can you fly?” Lex had asked him suddenly.

Clark had given him a shy smile. “Not yet. I can float though. I think one day soon I’ll be able to fly.”

“Unbelievable,” Lex had breathed then his wonder gave way to dismay. How was he going to keep Clark’s powers from Lionel’s notice? And if he couldn’t, what would he have to do to keep Clark safe? Anything he had to, was the answer his mind offered, and he knew there was probably nothing he wouldn’t do to ensure Clark’s happiness and welfare. “Well, let’s go get that Kryptonite.”

“Uhm, Lex, why do we need to test my blood anyways? From what you said … no matter what we find we aren’t going to dispute Helen’s results,” Clark had asked quietly. The boy’s hunched shoulders and lowered head had let Lex know that Clark was worried that he was about to go all mad-scientist on him.

Lex had not been offended at Clark’s fear. It had been drilled into him by the Kents. And to some people, no matter how sweet and good and human-like Clark was, they would see him as a creature that had no rights or worse was a threat. Perhaps in another life, Lex would have thought the same thing. And that frightened him more than anything. Because Clark was what made Lex human.

Lex had explained slowly, “I want to test your blood just to see if Helen mixed up the samples in the first place. I want to compare your blood to the sample that Helen gave me. If it clearly isn’t yours, and isn’t mine, then it would indicate that there’s another Luthor heir running around.”

Clark had immediately perked up as he understood Lex’s plan. “Oh, I get it. Like she had a mislabeled test tube. Meaning that she never tested my blood at all, but somebody else’s, right? And then we could find that person and distract your father with them and then I’d be off the hook.”

“Exactly.” But Lex doubted that was the case.

There were three facts that told Lex such a scenario wasn’t likely to be true. First, the painting from hundreds of years before showed Luthor ancestors that bore an uncanny resemblance to the two of them. He sensed his father wasn’t lying about the painting’s authenticity. Second, there was the blood test which showed Clark was a Luthor heir. And third, and perhaps most damningly, the fact that Clark, an alien being, looked so impossibly human in every way even though the odds against such a thing were astronomical. These facts were all mixing in Lex’s brain and forming a terrible conclusion. But he wouldn’t even let himself think it until he had tested Clark’s blood himself.

“Okay, then,” Clark had said as he started towards the Kryptonite. His steps had abruptly slowed. “Uhm, Lex, even with a small amount of Kryptonite near me I get sorta sick, real fast, so maybe if you—”

“I’ll go get it. How about you meet me in the lab? Then we’ll only need to expose you to the Kryptonite for a moment. Can your x-ray vision pick out which room the lab is?” Lex had asked, trying to make it a game to distract the boy.

Clark had squinted at the Castle then gave a crow of delight. “First floor, right by the two potted geraniums in the last hallway.”

“Perfect. Meet me there,” Lex had said and Clark had loped away.

The rest of the night with the boy had been uneventful. The three blood vials Lex had drawn from him were now resting in the refrigerator in the locked lab. Looking red and human as could be from the outside. Clark had been fascinated, if a little ill from the Kryptonite, by the blood drawing. Lex realized that the boy had probably rarely seen his own blood. He’d insisted on giving Clark juice and a cookie afterwards even though the minimum amount of blood taken had not hurt the boy at all. Clark had laughed at that, having seen in the movies how people got woozy after giving blood, and drank and ate eagerly all that Lex gave him. Besides, it had given them a few more moments together before Lex was forced to make the boy go. It was just a creak on the stairs caused by the Castle settling, but it was enough to remind Lex that his father was in residence. He didn’t want Clark subjected to any more of Lionel Luthor that night. And he doubted his own restraint.

“Call me tomorrow? Let me come see you, please?” Clark had begged.

“Of course, Clark. Tomorrow,” Lex had promised. He could still feel the brush of Clark’s fingers against his cheek from the caress the boy gave him before he supersped away.

Which led Lex to where he was now, avoiding the fact that there was one more person in that house that he had to draw blood from to perform the tests: his father. Lex pushed off from the front door. He had three test tubes with their needle packs and a flexible rubber hose to use as a tourniquet in his pocket. They slapped against his leg as he walked and were a physical reminder that he needed to see the elder Luthor.

He slowly walked up the stairs and down the hallway until he was outside his father’s door. The soft strains of Mozart and the sound of a cognac snifter being set on the marble topped table by the fireplace in Lionel’s bedroom told Lex his father was awake. Probably waiting for him. Lex took a deep breath, forced his heart rate down and knocked.

He didn’t wait for his father to tell him to enter before he opened the door and strode in. Best to make this as businesslike as possible. It was only when he caught sight of his father sitting in the overlarge chair by the fire dressed in a dark blue silk dressing gown and matching pants that he realized his mistake in bearding the dragon in his den. Lex froze halfway into the room.

It was the first time he had allowed himself to see his father in his bedroom half-dressed like this since one night three years before. When Lex had been drunk and high and in a mood so dark that he didn’t care what happened to him. He had just acted on how he felt and damned the consequences.

And that was always a mistake with his father.

Though Lex had a slight satisfaction in believing that he had surprised Lionel that one time.

As those thoughts filtered through Lex’s brain, his body betrayed him. His eyes riveted at first on his father’s hands. They were larger than his. Coarser. More masculine some would say as the backs of them were dusted with golden red hair and the fingers were callused from fencing and horse back riding. Lionel might be a corporate titan, but he wasn’t afraid to be physical.

Slowly Lex’s eyes drifted upwards. Over the taut, silk-covered stomach to the ‘v’ of revealed muscled chest to the tumbled tawny locks that lay on Lionel’s shoulders. Then his father’s throat was in view. Even with the beard obscuring the skin, Lionel kept the beard cut close enough that the sharp line of his jaw could be seen and the expressive lips were clearly visible. At the moment, that mouth was slightly open in a smile, revealing a snippet of very white teeth. The better to eat you with, my dear, the line from Little Red Riding Hood rung through Lex’s head, before he finally looked into his father’s eyes.

Lionel’s eyes were always stormy, even when he was in a good mood. Unlike Lex’s that changed with his emotions, Lionel’s were ever constant. Lex pressed his own lips together to stop the slight tremor that had begun there when Lionel met his gaze and, of course, did not look away or even blink.

“Long time since we’ve been together like this,” Lionel said softly as he closed the book and laid it beside the half-full cognac balloon, his words telling Lex that he, too, remembered that night three years ago.

Lex had the urge to grab the cognac and swallow the whole amount down. But that would require moving closer to Lionel and he suddenly didn’t know if he could do that. If only that night three years ago had found him similarly frozen. But no, it hadn’t. He had moved that night with frightening ease.

Lex forced one of his hands into the pocket of his pants and drew out the vials and rubber tubing. He held it out to his father as an explanation for him being there, but Lex suspected it looked more like an offering.

“Come to be a vampire, Lex? Take my blood? Don’t you have enough of it in your own veins … or do you want some more?”

Lex wet suddenly dry lips. “For the tests. For Clark.”

“Oh, yes, of course. For your … brother. That’s what brings you here.”

Lionel smiled and held out his right arm, palm up. Then he slipped the sleeve of the silk robe up to expose a muscled masculine forearm.

“You have to come nearer, Lex, if you want to take my blood.”

“I …”

“For Clark, Lex. Surely you can come to me for him.”

Lex’s eyes flickered up to Lionel’s and wondered if he meant more than what that first level of meaning his words conveyed. But then again, when did his father ever mean just the obvious?

Lex almost stumbled as he moved closer to his father. He winced at his own sudden clumsiness. He mentally made his natural grace reassert itself even as knelt down in front of Lionel to take the blood more easily. Only once he was on his knees did he wonder why he hadn’t even asked Lionel to stand for the blood drawing. Lex gritted his teeth. He was in the most submissive pose he could imagine and Lionel hadn’t played any part in getting him there. He had done it all by himself.

Lex told himself that he was unnerved, ruled by the past at this moment, which had made him act this way. But if he got up in a huff it would only make things worse. Best to pretend nothing was wrong. That he had intended to be like this with his father. That it meant nothing.

Lex felt the puff of his father’s breath on his skull, smelt the rich orange of the cognac, and his own mouth watered for a taste. Of the cognac. Not his father’s mouth. Or so he told himself. He didn’t love Lionel Luthor. Didn’t need that one moment of connection they had had one night, which felt a lifetime ago. A moment without acrimony between them. A moment when Lex had felt his father loved him. That they could be more than adversaries.

The rubber tubing snapped around Lionel’s forearm. The veins bulged. Lex fumbled with the needle pack. Lionel’s free hand was suddenly holding his, steadying him. Helping him.

“Afraid I’ll hurt you, father?” Lex asked, but his voice didn’t have the normal lace of venom.

“No, Lex. Only that you’ll hurt yourself,” Lionel’s voice also was mild, almost gentle. “That’s what I’ve always been concerned by.”

Lex closed his eyes. The hiss and pop of the fire were the only sounds. It warmed the side of him that was nearest to it. At that moment, he could not see his and Lionel’s relationship as normal, what he saw instead was that he could be all right with them being anything but normal.

Lex’s eyes flew open and he stuck the needle in Lionel’s veins. The blood flowed rich and red and quickly. He inserted the next tube and the next until he had three full vials. More than enough to test. Lex realized he had forgotten a band-aid. He found himself using his hand and his own sleeve to staunch the flow.

Lionel unsnapped the tubing and flexed his arm, catching Lex’s hand between his forearm and bicep. Lex could feel the strength of the muscles that pinned his fingers. Lionel worked to keep himself in perfect shape. He was in better condition than many men half his age.

Lionel leant down until his mouth was even with Lex’s ear. Lex could not move.

“That night. That night like this night. Do you remember it, Lex?” Lionel asked.

Lex could only nod.

Lionel’s mouth came closer. Lex swore he felt it brushing against the sensitive skin of the shell of his ear. The barest caress. Lex’s heart trip-hammered in his chest. What killed him was that he didn’t know whether it was from disgust or desire.

“I still think about that kiss you gave me,” Lionel said.

Clark’s face floated up to the front of Lex’s consciousness instead of that moment with Lionel. Would the boy still want him if he knew what Lex had wanted from his own father so long ago? Perhaps still wanted?

Lex felt his father’s free hand slip behind his head as if to cradle it … or keep him still as Lionel said, his voice little more than a breathy whisper, “Best kiss I’ve ever had.”

Lex consoled himself later, safe behind the locked doors of his lab, that he had only started running after he had gotten out of Lionel’s sight.