Potion

NOTES: Sequel to 'Everything'. This is an a/u, but let's say possible spoilers for Seasons 1-4. Feedback to green_tea37@yahoo.com

WARNINGS: All activities performed by professional characters under controlled conditions – do not attempt at home.

Crater Lake dream sequence alert – I just couldn't help myself.

This is a self-edited work. Read at your own risk.

This story features Clex – that is male on male sexual situations.

You've been warned. If any of the above is a problem, now is the time to turn your little red wagon around.

Disclaimers: Alas, to my deep regret, I do not own the characters. This story is based on characters owned by DC Comics.

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Lionel stands at his office window, staring down into the streets below, as he ponders once again where he had gone wrong with his son. Had he left Lex too much with Lillian? Had he ignored their mutual fascination with romantic tales and epic poems a little too long? He'd tried so hard to counter the damage done with Lillian's softness by exposing Lex to authors like Machiavelli, Sun Tzu, and Nietzsche, but his attempts at damage control had apparently been too late and too little.

Had Excelsior Prep been where his son's secret problem began? Boarding schools did have a certain reputation, but what else could he have done? His son had to attend the right school, and Excelsior offered endless opportunities to make acquaintances that would be profitable later. Lex, as usual, had turned the whole enterprise upside down. As far as he could ascertain the boy hated everyone at the school, and went out of his way to ensure that the sentiment was passionately reciprocated. His son's jaunt through assorted institutions of higher education had not gone much better.

Then he'd sent his son to Smallville, thinking the boy would settle down after a brief exile from the pleasures of the wider world, but things hadn't turned out exactly as he had expected. Lionel stares down at Metropolis, spread and ready for his taking in the light of the dawn sun. He'd expected Lex to be so desperate to escape the boredom of managing a solitary fertilizer planet in the middle of nowhere that his son would agree to anything, even a few minor lifestyle alterations, but instead his son is actively resisting all his attempts to detach Lex from Smallville.

At first, he assumed that his son had realized the potential profits to be had in unlocking the source of the strange powers that Smallville citizens manifested. He'd been proud of his son for managing to establish a relationship with that strange Kent boy, and waited with interest to see if his son's Trojan Horse tactic would result in new insights about the local mutant population. He'd speculated that his son's obvious freakishness might draw fellow mutants to Lex, and make them inclined to accept his son into their society.

He'd been so proud and hopeful, and then this.

Lionel turns and drops into the chair behind his desk, glowering at the tabloids that Dominic had so gleefully showed him. He looks at a big color photo of his son and the Kent boy, flanked by Lex's security team as they exit a rundown apartment complex. Clark is wearing an expression more suited to someone unexpectedly stumbling into a nest of spitting cobras, while every line of Lex's body radiates satiation and relaxation. Even caught staggering drunk out of a club, or vomiting in a gutter, his boy had never lost that carefully honed hardness before.

Lionel sighs loudly. Why hadn't Lex come to him with this problem? He would have helped if only the boy had. He isn't unreasonable. He isn't a bad father. He's worked hard to help Lex overcome the weaknesses that Lillian had instilled in the boy. And hadn't he steeled himself to give Lex over to Belle Reve and electroshock therapy to save his son's life from Morgan Edge?

Why had his son spent so much time hiding behind a carefully cultivated illusion of bisexuality? The effort would have been better spent on seeking some remedy for his condition. Perhaps he wrongs his son; perhaps Lex had been seeking resolution on his own, but had been unsuccessful and reluctant to admit it. The boy had always been too proud, but nonetheless, his son shall have the help needed to be cured. The future of the Luthor dynasty is too important to leave to Lex's haphazard methods.

Lionel lifts the small glass vial from its nest of padding. He holds the vial up to the sunlight streaming through his window. The clear liquid holds only the faintest green tint. He'll make the transition as painless as possible for his son. Lex will have access to the best psychologists on the LuthorCorp payroll as well as the most beautiful women in the city to help the boy accept his new preference as smoothly as possible.

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Martha sets the coffee pot back on its burner as she hears the sound of a car pulling up out front. Who could that be? She tilts her head as she hears the clump of her husband's boots on the porch, and then the murmur of voices, and sound of someone driving off. Had one of their neighbors needed to borrow something?

"Martha!"

"In here," she calls back. Martha adds a spoonful of cream to her coffee, and turns to see Jonathan standing in the doorway, his big hands full of crumpled newsprint. "Who was that?"

"Wilma Wilkenson."

"Oh." Martha frowns. Wilma is every bit as bad as Nell. Neither woman had any qualms about ogling her Jonathan and trying to flirt with him right in front of her, but not even that explained the stunned expression on her husband's face. "What did she want?"

Jonathan waves the papers. "She thought we would want to see these."

Martha walks over to him, frowning as she notices the high flush of color on his cheeks and the way his mouth is clamped tight and flat. Is it his heart again? What had upset him? She eases the papers from him and spreads them on the kitchen table. She sniffs disdainfully as she spots the bright red banner of the Metropolis Blaze. 'Heartland Hustler!' "What is this nonsense?"

Jonathan groans and sinks into a chair, dropping his head in his hands.

"Jonathan, are you alright? Do we need to go to the --"

"No."

"I'm not surprised that Wilma reads that sort of thing, but why would she think we wanted to see them?"

"Clark—"

"Clark?!" Martha sits down, and looks at the other tabloids. She examines the front pages, braced for horrifying headlines about alien farm boys. 'It's A Boy – Toy!' 'The Billionaire and the Farmer's Son!' 'Lex's Latest!' She slumps with relief. "Oh."

"'Oh?' Jonathan scowls as he picks up one of the tabloids. Some times he doesn't understand his wife at all. "These morons dare print these lies about our son, and 'oh' is all you have to say about it? I knew That Man would be a bad influence on Clark. How many times did I warn our son? And did he listen – no! Well, maybe he'll listen now."

Martha ignores her husband's irate mutterings as she glances at a picture of a photo of Lex standing next to a red car, holding the door open while her son folds his long body into the passenger seat, and dark clad security men keep the gawkers at bay. The tightness clenching around her stomach eases as she studies Lex's smile. When had he fallen in love with her son? Is that what her son wants?

"Lies! All of it. Nothing but lies!" Jonathan glares at the paper quivering in his hands. "We need to make them print a retraction immediately. How dare they libel my son like this!"

Martha frowns throughtfully. Clark had always reacted strongly to Lex, and he certainly seemed to crave Lex's company. The produce delivery schedule had never been an object of such avid interest on Clark's part before Lex had moved to Smallville, but afterwards, her son read the schedule like it contained the latest football scores. And Lex related troubles evoked the same range of dark broods, sulky fits, and moody mopes that Lana problems had provoked.

"Just look at this!"

Martha blinks at the pictures splashed across the The Trendsetter's front page. A full color close-up of Clark playfully sticking his tongue in Lex's ear pretty much answers her questions about what her son wants. The next photo shows the boys sitting in a Porsche, Lex clutching the steering wheel with a dazed expression, while Clark leans close, one hand cupped around Lex's head, and the other wrapped around a bottle of guava juice.

"Guava juice is on the list, Martha! Our son is never drinking that stuff again. Maybe he shouldn't even drink apple or grape juice any more."

"I don't think it's the juice." Somehow she doesn't think putting guava on their list of things that Clark has odd reactions to, is going to stop Clark from licking Lex's ear again. Not if the looks on both boys' faces are anything to go by. The other pictures are less amusing. There are no traces of gentleness in the older Lex; only an abundance of gritty dangerous edges. Those photos would have scared her yesterday, but now those edges look like safety.

"Of course, it's the guava. No, you're right. I bet that smirking creep slipped Clark something."

"You shouldn't call Lex names."

"Why not? He is. I can't believe that they are saying that our son and That Man." Jonathan flattens his lips over adjectives that he is not going use in his wife's presence. "They're making it sound like our son and Lex – it's ridiculous! Clark's been chasing Lana before he was even old enough to know why. And there's Chloe; he asked her to the prom. And Jessie – I didn't much like that girl, but she was a girl. And Alicia, okay, I didn't really care for her either – talk about missing a few marbles – but she was cute, and a girl."

"If Clark's in the habit of sticking his tongue in Lex's ear, I can see where they might've gotten the idea," Martha murmurs dryly.

"We've got to get rid of all the fruit juice in our house. If guava does this to him, god knows what that new pomegranate juice you wanted to try might do to him."

Martha opens her mouth and then closes it. She'll let Clark explain that one to his dad. "Is the gate closed and locked?"

"The gate?" Jonathan stares at his wife. "Our son is being slandered in gossip rags because he's friends with That Man and you're worried about our gate? What? You think the chickens are going to stage a stampede?"

"It's not the chickens that I'm concerned about. Remember what it was like around Smallville when Lionel was trying to find Lex and take the poor boy to Belle Reve?"

"That was a mess." Jonathan shakes his head. "Reporters snooping all over town. And trying to sneak into the castle."

"And where do you think they'll snoop and sneak this time?"

Jonathan's eyes widen, and then narrow with determination. Not on his farm they aren't.

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Clark stands at the end of the Crater Lake pier. He flexes his feet against the sun-warmed wood as he eyes the inviting indigo waters lapping softly at the weathered wood. He can hardly wait to feel the cool wetness of it closing around his body. Clear blue sky spreads gloriously overhead. Clark tilts his head back, spreading his arms wide as he offers his bared body to the sunlight, blissfully soaking up the warmth. His eyes snap open as he hears footsteps, and a nose tingling burst of perfume blows toward him on the breeze. Lana! Clark dares a burst of speed to snatch up red boxers from his pile of discarded clothing and pulls them on. "Lana. What are you doing here?"

"It's so hot. I wanted to go for a swim." Lana pushes her loose hair back over the shoulders of her powder blue knit top. She tucks one hand in the pocket of her jeans as she stares at Clark, her gaze sweeping slowly from his glossy mop of black hair, to hard muscled chest and narrow waist, before dropping to the heavy outline revealed by the soft drape of red cotton.

"Oh." Clark slants an uneasy glance around the shoreline behind her. What if someone sees him, almost naked with Lana, and tells Lex? What is he going to do? What would Lex do to him? Clark shivers as he tries to imagine what sort of darkly mysterious and wicked things Lex might do to him. He thinks of Lex, in one of those black suits, commanding him to –

"We could share. It's a big lake." Lana's smile fades as she stares around his shoulder. Her hand rises to cover her mouth as she whispers, "Oh, my god. Clark, look."

Clark turns his head and his eyes widen in horror as he sees a huge scaly creature uncoiling over the water with Pete struggling half-in and half-out of its wide mouth. "Pete? PETE!"

"CLAAARK!" Pete beats his fists against the creature's snout. HEEELLLP!"

Clark jumps as something soft and wet touches his foot. He looks down to see Chloe looking back at him as she sits on the planks at his feet. An electric blue bikini clings to her soft white curves. "Chloe? What are you doing here?"

"Swimming. What does it look like I'm doing?" Chloe smiles, her eyes crinkling in amusement. She splashes her feet in the water as she glances at Lana. "Is there some reason I shouldn't be here? It is a public lake."

"No. Yes. I mean," Clark's voice trails off as he looks uneasily from one girl to the other. He turns hopefully toward the shore, but no Lex jogs to the rescue around the trees.

"Unless you count our new lake serpent." Lana stares back at Chloe as if evaluating her potential as serpent bait. She wraps a possessive hand around Clark's arm.

"By all means," Chloe purrs as she studies the drape of red cotton, "let's count the new lake serpent."

"Chloe! That's not what I mean." Lana scowls.

"Chloe, you have to away from the water. Now. You too, Lana." Clark eases away from her hand. He gasps as he suddenly sees the entire high school faculty unpacking picnic baskets and blankets on the artificial beach spreading between the trees. Where had they come from?

Principle Kwan is standing at the edge of the lake, shading his eyes with one hand as he directs a disapproving stare at them. Behind him, Miss Atkins is sprawled on a towel with the basketball, football, and wrestling coaches fighting for possession of a bottle of suntan lotion. Clark scowls as Miss Atkins winks at him and unfastens the black strings of her bikini top. He turns his back on her and looks from Lana to Chloe. "Where did those people come from?"

Chloe rolls her eyes. "Once upon a time, in a bed far, far away –"

"I invited them." Lana waves at the cheerleaders.

Clark glances over his shoulder, and sighs as he sees the cheerleaders dragging their boyfriends away from Miss Atkins' end of the beach, and shoving them into the lake. "They shouldn't be doing that."

"What's got your boxers in a twist? Oh, shit! What the hell is that?" Chloe's eyes widen as the serpent surfaces with Pete. She cups her hands around her mouth as she yells, "Pete! Pete! Are you okay?"

"DO I LOOK OKAY? HEEELLLP!"

"What can we do? We don't have any weapons." Lana frowns as she watches the snake shake Pete. She looks at Chloe. "What about your cousin? I bet Lois could get some serious firepower out here. I don't think a pistol or a shotgun would work on that."

"Are you implying that Lois has a closet full of military ordnance?" Chloe turns a cool stare on Lana. "Or that she would trade on her relationship with her father?"

Lana flicks her long hair back. "If the combat boots fit--"

"CLARK KENT, GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE AND DO SOMETHING."

"No!" Clark wonders if he looks as queasy as he feels at the thought of the military finding out about him. He looks at the beach where the teachers and students are pointing at the monster, and taking pictures with their cell phones. He takes a deep breath as he tries to force his voice to sound reasonable instead of panicky. "We can't do that."

"Why not?" Lana demands.

"CLLAAAARKKK! HELP ME!"

Oh, god. What is he going to do? Clark looks from Pete to the students and teachers lining the beach as they call suggestions and advice in between placing bets and snapping pictures. He looks wildly at Chloe. "Chloe, what do I do?"

"What do you want the most, Clark?" Chloe asks softly.

Conflicting impulses rattle confusingly around his skull. He wants to fly across the lake and rescue Pete. He wants Lana and everyone else to leave so they won't see him being alien. He wants Lex to appear and make everything right. He wants –

"CCCCLLLLLAAAAARRRRK!!!!!!"

He pivots to see the serpent arching and making helpless spitting noises as Pete clings to its wiggling tongue.

"GET YOUR ALIEN ASS OVER HERE NOW!"

Lana gasps. She stares at Clark in open disgust and horror. "Did he say alien?"

Clark takes a step back, his eyes pleading. "Lana, please."

"Of course not," Chloe interrupts. She gives Clark's arm a comforting pat. "Why would Pete say 'alien'?"

Lana turns a suspicious look on Chloe. "Then what did he say?"

"He said, 'alert'."

"Alert," Lana repeats dubiously. "Alert ass. Chloe, that makes no sense."

"Pete doesn't make sense in the best of times. How can you expect him to make sense when he's being eaten by a lake serpent? Just look at his position, clutched in the slavering maw of a great – oops." Chloe stares out over the lake with a dismayed expression.

"Ooops?!" Clark turns around. He shades his eyes with his hand as he studies the little surges and eddies rippling across the water. "Oh, shit! Where did it go?"

The serpent surges back out of the water, twisting its narrow head. It arches its throat and its black eyes widen. Hack. Hack. Hack-hack-hack. HACK-HACK-HACK! HAAAACK-HAAAACCCKKKK!!! The serpent spits up a pair of yellow trunks before disappearing back into the lake, leaving the trunks to drift slowly across the water.

"Pete! No!" Clark flies up. He bangs his head on the ceiling and bounces back down in bed with a crash of shattering wood and metal. He stares wildly around at the sun slanting across the unfamiliar room. Where the heck is he?

His gaze focuses on a movie poster of Warrior Angel, and a big grin spreads across his face. Oh. That's right. Lex had persuaded him into the penthouse, and then persuaded him that the enormous bed in the master bedroom was in dire need of being broken in. Somehow he doesn't think that this is exactly what his lover had in mind.

"Clark?" Lex gingerly leans up on his elbow, sweeping a stunned stare over the scattered bedding and sagging bed frame. "Is there something you would like to share with the rest of the class?"

"Oh, god. I had this awful dream."

"Not exactly the revelation that I had in mind."

"I thought you said that you knew everything."

"As tedious as I find your dad's rants about the perils of Luthors, you really should pay more attention to them."

Clark leans over his lover. His gaze narrows with suspicion as he studies the clear pewter blue of Lex's eyes and the alluring curve of scarred mouth. "Are you saying that you don't know everything?"

"Who does?"

"What do you know?"

"Many, many, many things. If you want to know specifically which of your secrets I know, you have only to ask."

Clark opens his mouth and pauses. There's no way he can ask a specific question without revealing something, and if it's something that Lex doesn't already know, his lover will once he asks. He searches the piercing blue stare, looking in vain for the smallest glint of reassurance.

"Go on, Clark. Ask me a question? I dare you," Lex taunts softly.

"Okay. I will." Clark swallows nervously as he tries to sort through the panicked questions fluttering wildly in his mind. Which should he ask? Which is most important? "Lex. Do you – did what we did – did you mean it?"

"Yes. I meant it. If anyone else had stolen one of my cars, I would have made a wreath of their bloody entrails and hung it on my garage." Lex caresses his lover's face, fingertips gliding over the frowning line dark brows and graceful slant of cheekbone. "Didn't you ever wonder why I gave you so much latitude with both my person and my toys?"

Clark tilts his face into the delicate touch, seeking more of it. Lex is just joking, isn't he? About the entrails? In his mind's eye he can see his father's disapproving frown. He pushes the image and his gathering uncertainty aside. "Then I guess it's a good thing that I'm not the average guy."

"A very good thing."

"Do you know that I'm dangerous?" Clark asks quietly. He stares at the pattern of freckles on his lover's shoulder. Will Lex dismiss his concerns about his potential for harm the same way his family had? His dad and mom seemed to have complete faith that he would never knowing do harm, despite the things he'd done while on Red K.

Even Pete had laughed until he cried at the idea of an evil flannel-clad Kent-raised farm boy, while Chloe had looked worried, but she only patted his hand and told him to stay away from the red stuff and he'd be fine. She had seen, and suspected more of his darker side while he was Red, than Pete had. Lana didn't understand what was happening to him, she would just urge him to see a therapist again. And now that they are taking Psych 101 together this semester, she keeps reading the section on multiple personality disorder and eyeing him sidelong.

What if he gets exposed again? The worry has been lingering in the back of mind, getting bigger and bigger. His mom still had the bit of black kryptonite, but would she be able to ambush him with it again now that he knows she has it? His dad hadn’t used green kryptonite to try to get the ring away from him a second time, and price his dad had paid – Clark rubs his cheek against the muscled contours of his lover's chest, seeking reassurance.

And his parents aren't getting any younger, and now his dad's heart is weak. Pete and Chloe are smart and brave, but he isn't sure that would be enough to contain Kal-El. But Lex -- he feels absolutely certain that Lex would and could successfully control him exactly because of the very qualities of personality that make his dad worry so much about their odd friendship.

"Clark," Lex strokes his fingers through the dark hair, tilting his lover's head back. He captures and holds the soft jade gaze. "If you are asking me if I am afraid of you, the answer is 'never'. If you are asking, if I am afraid for you – every day."

"Remember when I came to you in designer clothes and demanded to borrow one of your cars?"

"Umm, World Conqueror Clark? Fondly."

"Fondly?" Clark lifts his head, looking deeply into Lex's eyes. He's never gotten that reaction from anyone exposed to him while he's being Red. Even his parents were uneasy and scared around him then. "You weren't scared?"

"Of the debut of Mad, Bad, and Dangerous to Know Kent?" Lex arches an eyebrow. "He disappeared before I had the chance to get to know him better, but I thought that he was very, very –"

Clark leans lower, drawn by the husky whispery drop of Lex's voice. "Very, very what?"

"Hot."

"Hot? Lex, he's – I mean, I'm dangerous."

"So am I, but I don't see you running and screaming."

"That's because running around screaming about evil Luthors is my dad's job."

"Oh? What's your job then?"

"Me? I try to hold things together without being noticed."

"I hate to tell you this, but you haven't been doing so well on not being noticed front."

Clark sighs as he thinks of his storm cellar's worth of secrets, his ever increasing stack of lies, and Jor-El lurking in the caves like some extraterrestrial version of Phantom of the Opera. Has Lex ever run into Jor-El in the caves? That's another question that he doesn't feel ready to ask. "That's what you think."

"So there are secrets still."

"Secrets, I bet you haven't even dreamt of, Mister I Know Many Many Things. Not even in your wildest, weirdest dreams. If you want to know about a specific one, all you have to do is ask."

Lex grins. "You're learning. By December, I may even have you well trained enough to turn you loose at the LuthorCorp Christmas party."

Clark groans and flops over on his back. "Not the LuthorCorp Christmas party. Jeez, Lex, threaten me with anything but that."

"That's the way it works; you go to the party with me, I brave the Annual Smallville Christmas Parade with you."

"Like there's any comparison."

"The party does tend to lack that special meteor mutant touch, if you over look my presence." Lex tilts his head back as he stares up at the cracked plaster. "Does this sort of thing happen to you often?"

"I dream. I float. Therefore I am."

Floating. Lex silently measures the distance from bed to ceiling with his gaze. He frowns at the spiderweb of cracks; those did not suggest the same sort of delicate drifting as the word 'floating' did. There had definitely been some sort of impact. "Thank you, young Descartes. I was under the impression that you slept through most of your philosophy class."

"How do you know that I -- I did not."

"And it's the opening act for amateur hour at the Liar's Club."

"Okay. So maybe I might have dozed off a time or two."

"Or four, or five, or six."

"I couldn't help it. I was rooming with Pete that semester. He snores." Clark widens his eyes at Lex in mock alarm, "You – you don't snore, do you?"

"And what makes you think that you don't?"

"I don't snore. Do I?" Clark asks, suddenly uncertain until Lex sniggers. "Lex!"

"So how many beds have fallen victim to your evil alien powers? And how have you been explaining the carnage?"

Clark sighs. "As little as possible. First, I claim ignorance, and then I say that there must have been a hidden fault in the frame."

"Is that the best you can do?"

"Hey!" Clark protests. "It works. I suppose you think you can come up with a better one?"

"I know that I can."

"Oh, yeah?" Clark challenges as he fingers the sheet concealing the flat lines of his lover's waist. He tugs the sheet away, staring raptly at each fractional revelation of creamy skin. His breath quickens at the first glint of copper gilt hair. He leans forward and tenderly kisses the fine scattering of copper, following the faint trail lower and lower to nuzzle the half hard shaft. His tongue darts out for a quick taste. "Let's hear it then."

"That sexy mouth of yours is the only excuse you need to explain away any number of wrecked beds." Lex spreads his thighs wider as Clark eases between. His hands knead encouragingly at the width of his lover's powerful shoulders. His eyes half close in delight at the contact. Lex gasps, his hands clenching in Clark's hair as wet heat slowly surrounds him. His hips jerk at the velvet stroke of tongue. "Clark."

"We're going to tell people that my mouth broke this bed?" Clark pulls back to admire the swollen length, gleaming wetly from his mouth. It'd never occurred to him before that a cock could be pretty, but his lover's is. The cream and coral of it makes him think of the antique rose brushes planted around the back of the farmhouse. Lex's skin is certainly as petal soft, but his scent, oh, god, that's even better. Clark nuzzles delicately at the ripe roundness of balls. "Lex, that's even worse than claiming that the frame was weak. How could my mouth possibly break the bed?"

"Trust me, Clark. People will believe absolutely anything about a Luthor, especially when it involves sex. And no one can possibly doubt that exquisite mouth of yours could drive me to break any number of beds."

Clark squeezes his eyes closed against the heat rushing through him at the sound of his name said such hoarse tones. He wants to hear Lex say his name that way again, over and over and over. A rough noise escapes him as he wonders if he really can drive Lex to acts enthusiastically debauched enough to break a bed.

"Clark?" Lex tugs his lover up, staring at Clark's face -- the black fans of dark lashes edging the closed eyes and the lush lips make his lover look like some dreaming god. He's going to have to paint Clark like this one day. Lex brushes a kiss across each eyelid and then the pink lips.

"Ummm?" Clark leans blindly toward the sound of his name and kisses the curve of Lex's chin. He adjusts his angle, finds the sloping shape of lower lip and kisses that too. He searches out and kisses the tiny scar marking the graceful curve of upper lip. He whispers against the yielding warmth of his lover's mouth, "Do we really have to go out there and face those photographers and reporters? Can't we just stay here all day?"

"You can; I have some things to take care of. Those Luthor accessories that I warned you about include things that go flash by day, as well as things that go bump in the night."

"Very funny, Lex." Clark hides his face in the crook of his lover's throat and shoulder. He doesn't mind everybody knowing about him and Lex. Well, everybody except his parents that is. Oh, god, he's going to have to tell his parents that he and Lex are – Clark tries to imagine Lex at the Kent kitchen table for Thanksgiving, staring at his dad over the turkey, and his dad glowering back with the carving knife clenched in one fist. Oh, god. Maybe he should appoint himself turkey carver, just to be on the safe side. Just in case his dad still hasn't completely adjusted to the idea by November. Or even by December.

December, oh god. If they do Thanksgiving with his folks, will that mean Christmas with Lex's? Clark tries to imagine himself in the castle's formal dining room, surrounded by Luthors on Christmas Eve. He doesn't even want to think about what sort of gifts Luthors traded among themselves for Christmas. Festively beribboned jars of venom and anti-venom? Cell phones preloaded with bugs? Calligraphic lists of untraceable poisons? Porsches with cut break lines? Exploding punching bags?

"What?" Lex asks quietly as he feels Clark's muscles tensing. His hands slide over the wide spread of his lover's back, massaging the tight muscles. He frowns as his fingers drift over the groups of muscles; his lover is definitely put together in a way that's subtly different. Helen had to have noticed, but she's safely dead. Had Lionel ever – no, his dad had neither Helen's medical training, nor his own artist's knowledge of anatomy.

"I was thinking about holidays with our families."

"I'm impressed, Clark. I always took you for a more of a by-the-seat-of-his-pants sort of planner than a long range strategy man."

"Lex," Clark warns. "It may be spring now, but the holidays will be here before you know it."

"Does this mean you're looking forward to helping me poison dad's fruitcake?"

"Lex."

"Oh, come on. It'll be fun. Besides anyone who eats something as appalling as fruitcake is just asking for it."

"Lex. I eat fruitcake."

"You're disillusioning me, Clark."

"You are not poisoning Lionel's fruitcake."

"Spoilsport." Lex drops a kiss on his lover's dark hair. "Okay, I won't do it, but only because that would mean that I'd inherit LuthorCorp, and that wouldn't be nearly as satisfying as taking it, while my dad watches and despairs."

Clark shakes his head. "I'm never going to understand your family."

"Don't worry about it. We understand each other all too well. Lionel knows that I'm the only one who can run LuthorCorp if anything happens to him."

"He wouldn't give Lucas control just to spite you?"

"No. Dad cares about LuthorCorp; it's his personal monument as a great man. If Lucas got his hands on it tomorrow, he'd run the business into the ground. Lucas has all the guile of certain fruitcake snarfing aliens – "

"What is it with you and fruitcake?"

"And all the delicate stealth of a charging rhino."

"I do not snarf."

"But floating, you do. Only during dreams? Or can you control it?"

Clark rolls onto his back, pulling Lex down on top of him. He opens his eyes. Fiery shimmers still glaze his vision, but not too intensely. He plants a quick kiss between pale copper brows. "I can control it."

"And the bed wrecking? Can you control that too?"

"I had a bad dream, okay? Then when I hit the ceiling, it startled me." Clark sighs with pleasure as Lex begins rocking slowly against him, teasing him with the barest touch of damp velvet cock gliding against his. He arches his hips, seeking more contact, but his lover moves with him, allowing only the lightest touch. "Oh, god. Lex, that feels so good."

The slow, languid pace is erasing the last of the unease left behind by his dream. Clark relaxes into the smooth roll of his lover's body. The electric intensity of his first time with Lex had been flying in a thunderstorm, leaving him happy, exhausted, and dazed. But this, this is a slow, sweet building of tension like the sizzle he can feel tingling in the air as clouds mass and darken on the horizon. Clark cups the muscular swells of his lover's ass, gently urging Lex closer. "Please, Lex, please. I need more."

"You want more?"

"Yes, god, yes." Clark plants his feet against the mattress and lifts his hips as he pleads hoarsely, "Lex, please."

Lex settles fully against the golden warmth of his trembling lover. He leans down to kiss the tight pinkness of each nipple. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are like this? I should have you painted like this."

"Lex!"

"What?" Lex lifts his head, watching as shock spills pure teal across the autumn tinted irises. But the urgent squirm of his lover's body against him betrays interest in the idea. "We could have a mural done in my suite at the castle."

"Lex, that would be – I couldn't."

"Why not?"

"Why not?" Clark echoes in astonishment. He blushes as he imagines some enormous picture of his naked self spread across a wall. "Lex, people would see it."

"Ummm, I bet my suite would be the cleanest one in the whole castle."

"That's not funny, Lex. Anybody could walk into your bedroom and see me on the wall."

"Not quite anybody."

Clark frowns. If a wall-sized painting of himself looming over Lex's bed would discourage even one lurking brunette, it might be worth the embarrassment. "What if someone takes a photo of it and sells it?"

"You'd never be asked to explain a broken bed away again."

"Lex." Clark groans as he rocks into the quickening pace of his lover's thrusts. He wraps his long legs around the silken flex of Lex's lithe body, pulling the other man close as dampness spills between them. He turns his head and kisses Lex softly. "If anyone should be on a mural, it should be you."

"But where would you put it? I can already hear the roar of outrage as your dad walks into the loft. Perhaps if you pointed out that he could make a tidy sum charging admission, he might allow you to keep it."

"You do remember my dad?"

"Ah, right. He'd accuse me of various vile plots, and then bristle if I offered to have the mural painted back over." Lex eases to one side and wipes himself off with one edge of the sheet. "I'm half-tempted to do it, just see what he'd accuse me of plotting. As creative as I am, I can not begin to imagine what sort of evil scheme a nude mural in his barn could further."

"If you do that, there will be no pumpkin pie for you this Thanksgiving. Maybe not even at next Thanksgiving, unless you grovel a lot and convince my mom that you are sincerely penitent."

"I'm not very good at penitence. I'm even worse at groveling."

"I know." Clark sighs with sleepy pleasure as his lover blots the dampness from his stomach.

"Thanksgiving, huh?"

"Ummm."

"Are you sure your parents are going to go for that?"

"I did promise you everything. Thanksgivings and Christmases with the Kent family are included in the package." Clark yawns. "If I'm willing to face your dad and your family over the holiday table, you can deal with mine."

"The Luthor family only does holidays when it's advantageous for corporate PR. The events are strictly photo ops."

"Kents take family holidays seriously. 'Resistance is futile.'"

Lex snorts at the movie quote. He shoves the sheet to the floor. "Fine. You've been warned. Just don't leave me alone with your dad."

"Funny, I was about to say the same thing about yours."

"So tell me about this dream that had you bouncing off the ceiling."

"It was silly." Clark tugs Lex down beside him. He turns on his side, hooking his thigh over his lover's hip.

"The best ones always are. Tell me."

"I dreamed that a serpent ate Pete."

"Not seeing a problem yet."

"Lex. A giant snake ate Pete. Have you ever seen a snake eat?"

"You have to ask? I'll have to remind you about this conversation while you're munching fruitcake under the Christmas tree with my dad. No doubt he will be delighted to discover a fellow deviant since Lucas and I won't touch the stuff. Plus it halves his chances of encountering any added ingredients since Lucas will be the only one with poisonous ambitions."

"Are you trying to convince me that I should have stuck with Lana?"

"Having buyer's remorse, Clark?" Lex kisses the relaxed pulse beating beneath golden skin of his lover's throat. "Too late. All sales are final."

"Good." Clark tilts his head back, encouraging further explorations. "In my dream, we were at Crater Lake -- Me, Chloe, and Lana -- skinny dipping. Hey! What was that for?"

Lex kisses the spot that he'd just bitten. "You have to ask?"

"It was a dream, Lex."

"So skip ahead to the good part."

"The good part?" Clark asks cautiously.

"The serpent chowing down on Pete."

"That's not a good part, Lex."

"Depends on who you ask."

Clark rolls his eyes. "Pete can't possibly annoy you as much as Lucas annoys me."

"Lucas fouling you in a basketball game doesn't measure up to Pete invading my office and threatening to shoot me."

"Pete wasn't himself, Lex. He was under Nicodemus' influence."

"Oh, I think he was very much himself."

"If I can ignore Lucas, you can ignore Pete."

"What about if I ignore Victoria, you ignore Lana?"

"Lana isn't interested in me like that any more."

"Does that mean that if Victoria – "

"It means she is out of luck," Clark responds firmly. "I'm the only brunette getting lucky with you."

"In that case, it's up to you to keep me entertained. I want all the gory details. Was there lots of screaming? Did the snake gulp Pete down? Or did it chomp on him into Pete bits first?"

"You sound way too gleeful about that."

"A Luthor needs his little pleasures in life, Clark."

"Should I be worrying about your definition of 'pleasures'?"

"Of course not."

Clark sighs as he arches his throat, offering more skin to be licked and tasted. He knows that silk smooth tone. It means he should have started worrying months ago, and it is way too late now. "The snake swallowed Pete whole, if you must know. I froze up. I didn't know what to do, Lex. I could have saved him, but if I did then Lana would know my secret. I was scared."

"You should listen to your subconscious more often. It apparently has more sense than your conscious mind does."

"Lex," Clark protests.

"Red spandex, Clark. Red. Spandex. Do I really need to say more?" Lex asks as he pulls back to study his lover's face. The stubborn set of full mouth and determined glint in big eyes would tell him that this is a battle lost already even if he couldn't sense the stubborn willfulness radiating from every delectable inch of skin pressed against his own. Lex sighs. He might not be able to keep Clark out of the rescue business, but he can damn sure make certain that his lover's liabilities are limited.

"My face was covered."

"And how long do you think it would have stayed that way if my father's security team had gotten their paws on you? There will be no more rescues until we figure out a way for you to do it safely."

"But Lex – "

"I don't care if you see Godzilla getting ready to mop the floor with Santa Claus." Lex places a silencing finger over Clark's parting lips. "You will stay out of it until you have some way to camouflage your identity."

"I can't promise that, Lex."

"Clark."

"I can't, Lex. My dad always said that I must have these abilities, and have been sent here for a reason. I have to help when I can."

"If you are discovered, you won't be in any position to help anyone. I'm not asking you to stop permanently, but I am demanding that you stop until we arrange an adequate disguise."

"How can I ever be disguised once we leave this building? My face will be everywhere."

"The frenzy will die down in a few days, and we'll be old news. After that it will only be the occasional photo op and odd interview request, unless something happens to stir the reporters back up again. I've been dealing with this my whole life, Clark. I'll teach you."

"I don't know, Lex."

"Wait and see if you don't believe me. Tomorrow morning, the tabloids are going to be full of insinuating stories of how I've bought myself a beautiful lover, or stories about the jaded Luthor who took advantage of an innocent and lovely farm boy. Or the not-so-innocent farm boy who managed to seduce a billionaire." Lex nibbles on the curve of Clark's ear. "I don't care what version they write as long as it is clear that you are mine."

"What if someone finds out about my secrets?" Clark whispers back. "They'll be looking even harder now, won't they?"

"Spotlights only make the surrounding shadows deeper and darker. I have more secrets hidden in those shadows than even Chloe, Pete, and your dad together can begin to imagine."

"That's a lot of secrets, Lex."

"I'm very, very good with secrets, Clark, and no one is going find yours. But if anyone should, there will be a very pissed off Luthor waiting for them."

"Lex, you can't just go around—"

"Bribing people? Of course, I can. I bribe people all the time." Lex stands up and looks down at the bed. "In fact, I need to go to the office and bribe a few now. Not to mention arranging for a new bed to be delivered. I think we could use something bigger."

"Oh." Clark smiles uncertainly. For a second, the set of that scarred mouth had reminded him of seeing Lex standing over Nixon's body; there had been no remorse on Lex's face that day, only a chilling determination. It isn't a side of Lex that he likes to think about, but his father would have died that day and his own life would have been horrible changed forever if Lex hadn't been there, and been willing to do what they could not. And it's exactly the ruthless part of Lex makes him comfortably certain of his lover's ability to stop Kal-El cold. "Bribery's good."

"I'm so glad you approve. A Luthor needs his little hobbies."

"Have you considered jigsaw puzzles?" Clark asks as Lex walks toward the bathroom.

"After homicidal mutants, murderous spouses, scheming relatives, and the alien next door, jigsaws seem a trifle dull."

"Ummmm, Lex?"

Lex pauses, looking over his shoulder. "Yes?"

"I have to go home. I have to tell my parents – explain to them that I'm – that we're together now."

"They aren't going to like it."

"I know." Clark studies his lover's blank face for a second, and then gets out of bed. He walks over to Lex. "Hey, you're stuck with me. You know that? They aren't going to change my mind."

"Are you sure about that?"

Clark leans in for a slow kiss. "Absolutely. I'll call you if I can't get back today. Dad might need some help with the farm while I'm there."

Lex sighs. He feels perfectly certain that Jonathan would discover any number of chores that urgently required Clark. "There's a helicopter pad on the roof. I'll make arrangements for a LexCorp copter to pick you up and take you to Smallville."

"You don't have to do that. I can get there faster on my own."

"This isn't about speed, Clark." Lex tugs his lover down for another lingering kiss. "This is about appearances. You can't just show up in Smallville without any visible means of transportation – not when we're being watched so closely by the media. Promise me you will wait for the copter. And call me later."

"I promise."

WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

"Are you sure?" Pete leans forward, planting his elbows on the white squares of table top. He glances around at the scattering of shoppers pausing for a quick brunch. His gaze seeks out Lana's slender figure as she waits her turn at one of the eateries lining the food courtyard. He lingers over the dainty curves outlined by her jeans and magenta sweater before turning back to his friend. "No way. You're crazy, Chloe. She isn't interested in me."

"Why not?" Chloe asks.

"I'm not tall enough. She always goes for the tall guys." Pete smiles brightly back at Lana as she catches his glance and waves.

"Tall isn't everything, Pete."

"Uh-huh, and how long have you been ogling Clark now?"

"I don't ogle Clark because he's tall. Lex is tall; do you see me ogling him? No. I ogle because he's Clark."

"Who happens to be tall, handsome, and disgustingly nice to top it off," Pete shakes his head. "That's a tough act to follow, even if I wanted to."

"Oh, you want to. You know you do." Chloe smirks. Her smirk fades as she remembers some of her fights with Clark. "And, Pete, if you think Clark's disgustingly nice, you've never had a real fight with him. He's gone places in some of our fights that you never would've gone, no matter how mad you were at me."

Pete glances curiously at her. "Like?"

"My mom."

"Your mom? Shit. He said stuff to you about her?"

"He was pretty pissed because I'd been looking into his adoption. I didn't know the danger to him and his family then. And I swear, Pete, I said nothing that could have brought that crazy Dunleavy woman to Smallville." Chloe opens her variety package of biscotti and shakes the cookies out onto a napkin. "He apologized later – when he needed some help from me to rescue Lex."

"Damn, Chloe. I can't believe that he would go there."

"He went, guns blazing and flags flying." Chloe pushes the painful memory away. "I don't think Clark's fights with Lana ever reached that level of nasty, but I can see why she might decide that a guy who is notorious for giving good date is a hot prospect."

"Giving good date?" Pete rolls his eyes at the phrase. "Chloe, that's so lame."

"Hey, you're the one with the rep for being a well mannered date, and after the Clark version of dating, you look pretty damn good. I bet I could count on one hand the dates that Clark's managed to have without unexplained incidents and disappearances."

Pete picks up his straw and points it at her. "If I work up my nerve and ask her out and she says no, you are going to be in sooooo much trouble."

"If you ask, she will say yes."

"Okay, I'll ask, but if I get a no –"

"She isn't going to say no. Think positive, Pete."

"Well, while we're thinking positive," Pete glances at Lana; she's almost at the front of the line. He leans closer to Chloe. "What's the plan? How are we going to get into that penthouse?"

"Forget about the penthouse, Pete." Chloe picks up her dark chocolate biscotti and dunks it into her coffee. Ummm. Chocolate and coffee, two of the best flavors in the world.

"I bet I could find a way in," Peter taps his straw against the plastic lid covering his soda. Some of his crazier racing buddies could stage a scene in the street, and then he could get past the doorman in the confusion.

"No. You need to stay away from there."

"Chloe," Pete protests. "I know some people who know some people who could –"

"Can you say 'security cameras'?' Chloe gives him a stern look. "I know you don't remember sneaking into the castle, and shooting up Lex's office, but you did. Your face does not need to be showing up on security tapes if something happens at the penthouse."

"Man, I wish I did." Pete sighs wistfully as he peels the paper covering off his straw. Unfortunately Chloe does have a point. His mom would absolutely freak if he got picked up for stalking Luthors; she already felt like she owed Lex for not pressing charges against him. Damn Luthor probably loved having a judge feeling that way. "I could get a mask."

"Pete, no."

Pete smoothes a hand down the sleeve of his beige sweater, the one that all his cousins had sworn made him look totally hot, and glances at Lana. If she's feeling the heat, she's sure not showing it. "And what about your face showing up on the camera? What's your excuse?"

"Hey, I'm just another journalist in pursue of a story. Why pay any particular attention to me?"

"But Clark will notice you, and if he's gone all red on us—"

"Sssh. Lana's coming back." Chloe looks up with a big smile as Lana walks toward them carrying a white plastic tray. "Hi, Lana."

"Lana." Pete grimaces as he glances at the cup of yoghurt, clear plastic bowl of salad, and bottle of water on the girl's tray. Somebody needs to introduce that girl to real food, and he's just the guy to do it. "You waited in line for that? That's not food. This," he unwraps his mega-burger and inhales with pleasure, "this is food."

Lana sits down next to Chloe. She sets her tray on the table and frowns at the food spilling out and over the foam containers on Pete's blue tray. At this rate, he's going to eat himself into a heart attack before he ever asks her out. She glances hopefully at Chloe and gets a tiny nod in return. She relaxes into her chair with a smile. "Do you know how much fat is in that thing?"

"Ummm, fat." Pete takes a big bite. "Ummmmm. Ummmm. Ummmmm. Good stuff." He offers his packet of French fries. "Try some."

Chloe smiles as she watches them. "Don't mind Pete; he's building up his fat stores to hibernate for the winter."

"Is that right?" Lana peeks at Pete from beneath her lashes as she takes two fries from him.

"Damn straight." Pete nods.

"Are you two still dreaming up ways to get into the penthouse?" Lana asks. She nibbles on the fries. "Why not just ask Clark to buzz us in? I'm sure he would."

"Oh. Well. We want it to be a surprise." Pete pretends the small act of punching his straw through the lid of his drink requires his close attention.

"A surprise? Why?" Lana frowns at them.

Pete sighs. Because they aren't entirely sure which Clark will be waiting on the other side of the door. And he sure as hell doesn't want to encounter Red Ring Clark without back-up. If only he'd been able to get Mr. Kent on the phone, but he hadn't, so now it's just him and Chloe to handle the latest alien emergency. Damn, some days being Clark's best bud was exhausting. "It'll be more fun that way."

"More fun?" Lana looks from Pete to Chloe in disbelief. "I thought we were supposed to be planning an intervention."

"Well, see, that's why we have to sneak in. Who wants to be the object of an intervention?" Chloe asks. "I wouldn't open the door if it was me. I'd be sliding out the back window, and running off."

Pete nods. "I'll second that."

"Do you think that Whitney's right? That Clark is taking something? I had trouble believing it at first when Whitney suggested that to me, but it would explain so much."

Pete takes another bite of his burger, and chews slowly. What are they going to do if Clark has gone Red? He's fresh outta sledgehammers. The only weapons they have are his talent for fast talking, and Chloe's ingenuity. He looks hopefully at Chloe.

"Really? Whitney thinks that?" Chloe asks.

Lana lifts a spoonful of yoghurt to her lips. "Do you remember the times that Clark acted weird?"

"Weird? I'm not sure what you mean." Chloe bites into her biscotti with a sharp snap of white teeth.

Pete frowns. "Clark is not weird. Exactly. He's refreshingly different."

"When doesn't Clark act weird?" Lana stabs her spoon back in her container of yoghurt. She glances sidelong at Pete before turning her attention to Chloe. "Why do you think I kept dropping him to date other guys? What about the time he ran away with Alicia – remember all the rumors that were flying around then? Or abandoning me for the Wild Coyote and Jessie? Or the time that he asked me out on a date, and ended up making out with you at the Talon instead?"

Chloe sighs loudly. "How many times do I have to say that I don't remember what I did after the cave parasites bit me?"

"Clark's a guy." Pete rips open a packet of ketchup and squirts it over his pile of fries. After a moment's consideration, he opens a second packet and adds more the ketchup. "Guys do stuff like that."

"Not guys who want to date me," Lana warns. She levels a suspicious look at Chloe's blissful smile. "But we're getting off track. I have a list of counselors that Whitney recommended if Clark needs them. It would really be better if we had Mr. and Ms. Kent with us, but I haven't been able to get in touch with them."

"I tried to call the Kents earlier, but they weren't answering their phone," Pete mumbles around his burger.

"I tried to call too." Chloe glances at Lana and adds, "They're probably screening their calls. I bet their phone's been ringing off the hook today."

"Yeah, that's probably it." Pete glances from one girl to the other. He waves a fry at Chloe. "Come on now, work with me here. There's got to be a way to get into that penthouse."

"I still think we should just call Clark and ask to go over and talk. I'm sure he would want to see us." Lana opens her bottle of water and sips.

Pete glances at Chloe, but she's staring into her foam cup. Is Clark is acting strange because he's on the red stuff? Or the red and something else, or something worse, 'cause even on the red rocks, Clark hadn't hit the level of freaky that it would take to voluntarily get horizontal with - he grimaces - a Luthor. Could Lex blackmailing Clark? He can't imagine anything short of blackmail or a sizable bribe that would get some poor sap in Lex's bed, and Clark would do anything to protect his parents and keep his secrets. "I know. We'll buy a box of pizza, and claim to be delivering it."

"I doubt pizzas deliveries to the Luthor penthouse are a regular occurrence." Lana rips open a pack of crackers. "Besides all that would happen is that someone would buzz him, and ask if he was expecting one. It's not like they'd give you the passkey to his floor."

Pete sighs. "Okay. Fine. No pizza."

"Yes, pizza. Clark likes pizza. I think he'd be much more likely to listen to us we show up bearing food. What do you think Lana?" Chloe swirls her last biscotti in her coffee before biting into it. She ignores Pete's what-the-hell-are-you-doing stare.

"That might work." Lana nods. "Pizza is his comfort food of choice. It might be good to have some on hand to make him more relaxed and willing to listen."

Pete rolls his eyes as he reaches for another fry. He scowls as his glance falls on one of the big TVs hanging from the ceiling. "Have you heard the things they've been saying on TV? It's ridiculous."

"I'm not so sure it's ridiculous." Chloe shrugs as she thinks of Clark walking shoulder to shoulder with Lex down the streets of Smallville, his green eyes soft with an affection echoed in his wide, happy smile. "I wouldn't be surprised if Lex is attracted to Clark."

"Who cares what Lex likes?" Pete scowls at the idea of what Luthor weirdness Lex might be inflicting on his friend even now. "Clark isn't interested in guys."

"Does the possibility that Clark might like guys bug you?" Lana asks. "There's nothing wrong with two people of the same sex liking each other like that."

"I don't care if Clark starts dating the male half of Met U, but – Lex Freaking Luthor? If Clark likes guys, I'm sure that we can find some nice guy who'd be happy to let Clark practice guy dating with him." Pete polishes off the last bites of his burger. He taps the table. "I am now calling the Save Clark Committee to order. Stop digressing and start brainstorming. Come on, Chloe, focus. I can't believe that we can't get in that penthouse."

"Believe it." Chloe shrugs. "I've seen the blueprints. He's got everything covered."

"No way," Pete protests. "You know how many times the police have been called out to the castle to deal with intruders? Why should the penthouse be any different?"

"Pete's right." Lana sweeps her long black hair over one shoulder. "Lex has security at the castle, but they don't seem to be very efficient. How many times has someone been arrested for breaking into Luthor Manor?"

Chloe sets her cup down. "And that's just the ones we know about."

"What?" Pete frowns at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I always wonder how many people break into the castle that we never hear about. What if those ever-so-convenient lapses in Lex's security are traps instead?" Chloe glances from Lana to Pete.

"I always knew you were crazy, and you're even worse when you're hopped up on caffeine." Pete peers warily at Chloe's empty cup. "How much of that stuff have you had already?"

"Not nearly enough." Chloe sighs regretfully. She pulls a pen and notepad from her satchel and scrawls a number on it. She rips of the square of paper and hands it to Lana. "Okay, this is the number for Clark's favorite pizza place. Get two large pizzas with everything on them, and meet us at the penthouse."

"Right." Lana takes the paper and tucks it in her jacket as she stands up. "I'm glad that you two are being sensible about this."

"Now what did you go and do that for?" Pete asks as he watches Lana walk away, talking into her phone. "If Clark has gone Red, god knows what he might say, or do in front of her, and you know how she feels about meteor freaks, which if we're really lucky is what she'll think he is."

"Who said we were going to wait for her? The pizza place that I sent her too is all the way across town, by the time she drives there and back, we'll have a chance to scope out what we're dealing with."

Pete stands up, following Chloe over to the trash bin. He dumps his containers inside and adds his tray to the others piled on top. "What? We're just going to go ring the doorbell?"

"Lana's right. That is the fastest and simplest way."

"Yeah, but what if Clark is all different?" Pete frowns as he holds the door leading into the parking lot open for her. "The only way to stop him is figure out where the Red is and get it away from him."

"What? You think he'll want to go straight for the gusto again? It's a risk, I'm willing to take." Chloe grins. She gives Pete a glance full of mischief. "Look at it this way -- if Clark's really interested in Lex, it'll be Lex's gusto that he grabs. But if Clark has just discovered that he likes guys, it might be your gusto on the line."

"You just leave my gusto outta this. There will be no gusto grabbing." Pete glowers at her. "Maybe we need to stop by the hardware store and pick up a nice sledgehammer. We could put a ribbon around it and tell Clark it's an early Christmas present."

"Oooooh, I can see it now. Clark standing at the door, asking, is that a sledgehammer in your pants, Pete, or are you just happy to see me?" Chloe teases as she unlocks the doors to her car.

"Why do I hang with you? Why?" Pete slides into the passenger seat. "My uncles are always asking me why I spend so much time with you."

"Really? What do you tell them?"

Pete grins. "That you've got back."

"I've got far too much backside." Chloe sighs. She turns her car on and pulls out of the parking slot. "Why do you think I wear loose pants and skirts instead of snug ones like Lana?"

"Now see, that's where you go wrong. You need to wear those jeans you had on the day we jumped the gorge. You get more pants like those and you'll be beating guys off with a stick."

"Pete Ross, fashion consultant," Chloe intones as she wheels out of the lot.

"Hmmm, I wonder if my mom would go for a change in major -- telling beautiful women what to wear sounds like way more fun than being a lawyer. And I have tons of style. I wonder what sort of classes you'd have to take to be a fashion consultant. I bet they'd be chock full of hot girls, too. Just imagine a whole career of making hot girls look hotter," Pete muses as they pull out into the busy highways surrounding the mall. "Yeah, I could get into that."

WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

Clark speeds into the farmhouse. He walks slowly to the big table and winces at the tabloids spread across it. So much for all his worries about how to break the news to his parents. He looks at a picture of him sticking his tongue in Lex's ear. Oh, shit. Clark flips open his cell phone and dials. "Lex, it's me."

"Where are you?"

"Home." Clark listens to soft sounds of Lex's breath, the squeak of leather, and hushed voices in the background. He can hear the ding of an elevator, and the clatter of shoes on marble.

"Should I be imaging you curled up in my bedroom then?"

"I'm at the farm."

"I see." Lex sighs quietly. "Tell me that you took a car there."

"I – I was in a hurry. It's not that far a walk, Lex. Not for someone who's used to it. There's no reason for anyone to think anything."

"Your friends seem to feel that there is plenty of reason to be thinking the worse when they couldn't get in touch with you at the penthouse."

Clark winces as he remembers the unanswered messages on his phone. "Oh, shit. What did they do?"

"Chloe lays a mean ambush. Too bad she's determined to be a journalist instead of businesswoman. I could use more people on my team with that kind of creativity and initiative." Lex's voice hardens as he continues, "And when I find out who leaked my schedule for the day, there will be an opening for a promising candidate at LexCorp. Have you talked to your parents yet?"

"No, I'm sitting in the kitchen, trying to get my nerve up."

"Do you want to wait for me to talk to them with you? I don't think my being there would help with your dad, but if you need me, I'll cut this meeting short and fly down."

God, he wants the comfort of Lex's steadying presence, but it will just make his dad freak out more. "No. It's okay. Go ahead and finish your meeting. It'll give me more time with my parents."

"Good luck," Lex murmurs dryly. "I've notified the staff at Luthor Manor that you are to be considered a member of the Luthor family and treated accordingly. You can take refuge in my suite any time you want to. I'll have your clothes packed and sent down."

Clark grins. A concern for his wardrobe is so charmingly Lex like. "Lex, I've got clothes."

"Flannel doesn't count."

"What about," Clark tugs the paper closer to him and studies the photo of a teenaged Lex in a dress, wig, and some sort of face framing hat, "chiffon? Does that count?"

"Chiffon? Clark, have you been holding out on me?"

"You're a fine one to sneer when I'm sitting here, admiring a charming picture of you in pearls and – what?"

"Shit. Are they publishing that picture again? It was a Halloween party for god's sake. You'd think that I went as Marie Antoinette instead of as a flapper. And it was silk, you fashion impaired idiot. I can't talk much longer. Clark, -- "

Clark frowns at the sudden stop. He sharpens his hearing, listening to the soft sound of his lover's breath, and the rustle of paper, and then a muttered curse. "Lex? What is it?"

"You might want to stay where you are until I come down. It seems that my dad decided to take up residence in his suite of rooms at the castle. Be careful around him."

"I'm always careful around your dad."

"Not careful enough or he wouldn't be so interested in you."

"Why did he decide to come here?" Clark asks uncertainly. "You don't think it's because of me, do you?"

"The timing is suspicious; this sudden vacation wasn't on his schedule. Something happened to make him add it. Stay at the farm. Let my dad enjoy a peaceful afternoon of harrowing the staff in between issuing directives to LuthorCorp, releases to the press, and plotting the downfall of LexCorp. Just be careful, and that reminds me – don't eat anything in the castle without thoroughly checking it first. Not even if it comes from a common dish. Not even if it is something that Lionel is eating."

"You weren't joking this morning, were you? I knew that he'd poisoned your scotch, but -- you mean that he tries to poison you on a regular basis?" Clark draws in a shocked breath.

"Not on a regular basis. That would be predictable."

"Why?"

"Good, clean fun?"

"Lex!"

"It does add a certain something to family dinner parties."

Clark frowns at the tiredness seeping into his lover's soft voice. It makes him want to race back to the penthouse or down to LexCorp and take care of his lover. But he's got to talk to his parents and his friends; they'll never believe what he says if Lex is standing right there. "I'll miss you tonight."

"I've got to go, Clark. I'll see you tomorrow."

Clark turns his head as he hears the sound of his dad's truck pulling up to the front of the house, then the slamming of doors, and the chump of work boots. This is it. He turns slowly to face the door. He offers weak smile as his mother walks through the door.

"Clark!"

"Mom." Clark stands up as his mom runs toward him. He meets her in the middle of the kitchen and hugs her. He watches over her head as his dad stomps toward them, face creased with worry.

"Clark, you haven't been drinking any fruit juice have you?"

Fruit juice? Clark stares blankly at his dad. What did juice have to do with anything? Oh, shit. Had some idiot started lacing fruit juice with kryptonite? Or had the stuff polluted their small apple grove? "I just got here. Why? What's wrong with fruit juice?"

"What's wrong with –"

"Jonathan," Martha warns as she pulls back from her son's embrace. She looks up into his face. "Are you okay, Clark?"

Clark can't stop the slow grin spreading across his face. "I'm fine."

"And Lex?" Martha asks, watching her son's eyes closely enough to catch the rapid flicker of bronze across the calm green.

"He's fine too." Clark's grin widens before he sobers at the memory of his conversation with his lover. "Lex says that Lionel's at the castle."

"Is he? I hadn't heard that." Martha glances at her husband. "We haven't needed to go into town today."

"Clark, son, what happened? What did That Man do to you?"

Clark blushes as he remembers the many wonderful things that Lex had done with him, and to him, for the better part of the morning, both at his apartment and later at the penthouse. "He was protecting me."

"Protecting you how? What does the nonsense I saw in the papers this morning have to do with protecting you?"

"It wasn't like Lex planned it," Clark protests. "It just happened."

Jonathan snorts. "Nothing ever just happens around the Luthors."

"Lex didn't know that I was going to," Clark firmly closes his mouth.

"Going to what?" Martha asks.

Clark stares down at his feet. "I saw this article about Batman, and I started thinking about how I could help people so much easier if I had a disguise." He peeks under his lashes and finds his parents staring at him with dread. "I bought some costumes online. Nothing distinctive. Nothing that they probably don't sell thousands of all the time." He risks another peek; his parents still seem stunned. "I've trying them out. Last night, I decided to go to a LuthorCorp lab."

Martha sinks down into a chair. "Clark."

"You – went into a LuthorCorp lab?" Jonathan rubs his chest.

"Lex was there."

"Doing what?" Martha asks.

"The same thing I was – spying on Lionel. I started feeling sick."

"Sick? The only thing that makes you feel sick is," Jonathan drops into a chair next to his wife. He sighs loudly. "What happened?"

"I got sick and kinda fell off the catwalk, and broke some stuff. Lex got me out. He took me back to my apartment, and stayed with me. And then this morning," Clark hesitates as he glances at the tabloids, and sees the picture of him sticking his tongue in Lex's ear. He hadn't known that they'd caught that.

"How?" Jonathan growls. "You're a public figure now, thanks to that bald weasel. How is that protecting you? They are gonna be looking high and low for anything on you, Clark. I don't know how well those fake adoption papers are going to hold up to that kind of scrutiny. And if anybody talks to the right people and puts things together – look how close Chloe came to figuring it all out. Hellfire, the girl did figure it out eventually, and you still don't know exactly how she did it."

"Jonathan, stop it," Martha interrupts sharply as she looks at her son's paling face. "Clark knows the dangers. We all do. Who to trust and who to not trust is his choice."

"Lex said that he's good with secrets, and that no one will find mine." Clark lifts his chin. "I believe him."

Jonathan stares at his son. "He knows? You told him?"

Clark shakes his head. "This morning, he told me that he knew."

"He was playing you, son. I bet that sneaky snake didn't know anything. Tell me you didn't tell him."

"Lex is not a snake." Clark tucks his hands in his pockets. "I didn't have to tell him. He knew that I'm – not from here. He knows what green kryptonite does to me. This morning, he woke up to me crash landing in the bed after a bad dream."

Martha touches her son's shoulder. "Clark, the things that we saw in the papers this morning – is it true?"

"I'm living with Lex now."

"You're living with –" Jonathan bites off the words with an effort. That damned bald freak of a Luthor had gone and seduced his son. "Clark, son, I know things can get confusing when you grow up. Especially the first time you get intimate with someone."

"I'm not confused. I want Lex. He wants me. We want to build a life together," Clark announces firmly.

"What about Lana?" Jonathan asks. "I thought that you wanted her. What's behind this sudden change, Clark?"

"I still like Lana." Clark looks back down at his sneakers. "I like Chloe, too."

"I didn't mean as just as friends, son."

Clark stares harder at his shoes. "I didn't either."

"Son."

"I'm not confused. I mean I was confused, but when I woke up this morning with Lex, it was like math."

"Math?" Martha prompts quietly.

"Like when you aren't getting a problem, and you keep looking at it, and going over it, and then suddenly you get it."

"That's the fruit juice talking," Jonathan mutters.

The fruit juice? Clark stares at his dad. Where had this obsession with juice come from? He turns to look at his mom, but she just smiles at him.

"Maybe Lex would like to have dinner with us," Martha suggests as she reaches up to stroke her son's hair.

"Thanks, mom." Clark relaxes as he leans into the touch. Maybe it will all be right after all. His parents will learn to appreciate Lex after they get to know him better. "I'll ask him."

WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

Clark sighs as he turns over again, sheets twisting around his waist. After several minutes he sits up, thumps his pillow a few times and tries again. How long has he been lying here any way? He glances at the clock. Shit. Only 10 p.m.? Still the sooner he goes to sleep, the sooner it will be morning, and the sooner he will have Lex. He feels like he's a kid again, waiting for Christmas morning.

He rolls over, wrapping his arm around the extra pillow; it feels nothing at all like the hard lean body of his lover. Maybe if he can just hear the sound of Lex's voice. Lex is probably still up and wrecking havoc on some hapless company. It'd be a public service really if he called and distracted him. Clark tucks his pillows against the headboard and sits up. He picks up his cellphone and hits speed dial for the penthouse number. "Lex, it's me."

"Something wrong?"

"No. I was thinking about you."

"Good thoughts?"

"Very good thoughts," Clark lowers his voice to his deepest register. "Why do you think I can't sleep?"

A soft sensual laugh drifts down the line. "Is this where you ask what I'm wearing?"

"Now that you mention it," Clark slides his free hand down his chest to bestow a friendly stroke over the swollen front of his pajama bottoms. "What are you wearing?"

"A towel. I just stepped out of the hot tub."

"Oh, god." Clark groans as he imagines all that creamy skin flushed with coral, and gleaming with the sheen of water. "I wish I was there."

"What are you wearing?"

"Just pajama bottoms."

"Flannel?"

Clark grins at the hopeful note in his lover's husky voice. "I thought Mr. Fashion Snob didn't approve of flannel."

"What can I say? Years of exposure to you in flannel have given me a fetish. Will you wear your flannel pajama bottoms for me tomorrow night?"

"Maybe." Clark strokes himself through the soft fabric, imaging his lover's touch. At this rate, both of them are going to end up with a flannel fetish, but he doesn't care. He gasps as his thumb slides across the crown. "Oh."

"Wear one of those appalling plaid shirts for me tomorrow."

"You got something against plaid now?"

"Right now, I'm only fantasying about having something against plaid."

"What – "Clark bites his lip as he listens to the rustling of sheets, and imagines Lex sliding into bed next to him, all bare and delectable. "What would you like to have against my plaid flannel?"

"You'll find out tomorrow."

"I don't think I can wait that long." Clark closes his eyes, focusing on the soft sounds of silk on skin, and then skin on skin. Oh, god. Lex is doing the same thing he is. Oh, god. He squirms restlessly against his bed.

"You want a preview of coming attractions?"

Clark laughs softly. "Tell me that wasn't a pun."

"What if it was? Does that mean that you don't want to hear my plans for farm boy debauchery?"

"Debauchery?" Clark swallows hard, all amusement gone.

"In your very own barn."

"Oh, god."

"I've had plans for your loft for a very long time."

"What – what sort of plans?" Clark asks breathlessly as his hips arch into his firming strokes.

"First, I'm going to touch you."

"Where?"

"Everywhere. Then I'm going to rip that flannel shirt off, and touch you some more. I'm going to stroke and kiss and lick until you're panting and begging for more."

"Oh, god. Lex." Clark shudders as he rubs himself harder through his flannel pajamas. "Then what?"

"When you convince me that you're ready, I'll let you take off your jeans and boxers. I'm going to walk around you, and look at you."

"Look at me?"

"Ummm. I like looking at you. I'm going to look at every inch of you. You might protest a bit, but we both know you want it. That you like being looked at. Your pretty cock will be standing high and proud, weeping for my attention."

"Lex."

"Your sweet nipples will be tight with wanting me. Wanting me to pinch, and pluck, and tweak, and suck. And perhaps, if you are very persuasive, I might give that sweet cock and those pretty nips what they are begging for. Or I might not, because I want something this time."

Clark pants roughly as he clutches the phone. What is Lex going to do to him? "What do you want?"

"I want that exquisite ass of yours," Lex whispers hoarsely. "Will you give it to me? Will you let me have it? Because I'm going to bend you over the nearest bale of straw and pull your cheeks apart and -- "

"Oh, god. Oh, god. Yes." Clark shudders as he comes all over his pajamas. He sinks against his pillows, listening to his lover's urgent breathless noises and low groan. "Oh, god. Lex – are you really going to do that tomorrow?"

"Wear flannel tomorrow, farm boy, and find out," Lex dares and hangs up.

Clark folds his phone closed. He tugs off his pajamas and wipes himself off with them. He drops the pajamas on the floor and pulls up his sheets. Oh, god. He's never going to get to sleep now.

WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

"Red? No." Clark looks from Chloe to Pete. Why would they think that he's on Red? He leans back against the fence that he'd just finished repairing. "No. I want to be with Lex."

Pete stares back at him with a bewildered expression. "You want to? With Lex?"

Clark scowls. "What's wrong with Lex? Lots of people want Lex."

"But – but – he's," Pete stumbles to a stop at the look in his friend's eyes.

"What? A guy?" Clark demands sharply. "What's wrong with that?"

"There's nothing wrong with THAT!" Pete snaps. "What's wrong is that he's a Luthor! You can't trust him. You know you can't."

"Pete," Chloe warns softly as she glances at Clark's flushed face. She wraps her hand around Clark's arm. "Clark, are you sure about this?"

"About what? That I want Lex? Yes."

"Clark, man, you've never even dated a guy." Pete frowns. "You've always wanted Lana, and when you weren't dating her, you were dating Chloe, or Alicia, or that Jessie chick. And even if you like guys now, all the girls you dated were hot – I mean – Luthor? Damn, Clark, I've seen better looking fruit bats."

"Then you need to get your vision checked. Lex is hotter than anybody I've ever been with." Clark glowers, but his glower fades into a slow grin as he remembers certain moments when he'd been dating Lana. "You just wait until Lana notices that you have a secret."

"I don't have a secret. I don't know what you're talking about." Pete sticks his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket. "I am an open book."

"So you're going to take Lana street racing?" Chloe raises her eyebrows. "I can't see her approving of that."

"How did you – " Pete turns from Chloe to Clark, eyes narrowing at his friend's smirk. "Clark Kent, did you tell—"

"Hello, Ace Reporter here." Chloe grins. "Nobody had to tell me."

"More like Psychic Reporter – sees all, hears all, knows all. Wait a second," Pete stares suspiciously at her for a second. "You aren't psychic, are you? There haven't been any weird and personal encounters with a certain rock that you've been keeping a secret."

Chloe giggles. "Worried, Pete?"

"About you? Please. But you," Pete frowns at Clark, "you need serious help. Dating fruit bats for godsake. They don't even have help lines you can call for that."

"I don't think he ever dated Lex." Chloe pauses as she reconsiders exactly how much time her friend spent in Lex's vicinity. She looks at Clark. "Or did you? Were you two secretly dating the whole time?"

"No. At least I wasn't." Clark flattens his palm against the fencepost. Had Lex thought of their odd dance between friendship and enmity as a courtship? Had Lex been courting him while he had been he'd fixated on guarding his secrets? "I don't know about Lex. I haven't asked him."

"Clark, have you been gay all this time?" Chloe asks. "You could have told us instead of dating me and Lana."

Clark searches her face, seeking the half-hidden hurt in her eyes. He touches her face. "Chloe, no. When I was dating you and Lana, I was dating you with no thought of Lex like that. It's only recently that I came to see how beautiful he is. And I mean, Lex has always made me feel all quivery and nervous, but in a good way – like -- like – like the roller coasters that you told me about. Like driving fast in fast cars," Clark turns to look at Pete.

Pete stares at his friend in disbelief. Is Clark cracked? That scrawny bald freakazoid beautiful? Lex as a thrill ride? Pete shakes that image out of his head. That is just so wrong. "Clark, man, are you sure you're okay? Even when you were hopped up on the red rocks you wanted Chloe or Lana."

"And now I want Lex." Clark gives his friends an exasperated look. "Red kryptonite doesn't have anything to do with it."

"Well, that's great." Chloe smacks Pete hard on his shoulder. "Because Pete promised he'd be cool about your newfound fascination with other guys as long as no Red was involved, didn't you, Pete?"

"Yeah." Pete sighs. "I did say that."

"Clark, are you sure about this?" Chloe asks. "Lex is dangerous."

"I know."

Chloe eyes the tiny smile edging his mouth with suspicion as she considers his description of Lex as being scary exciting like her long ago roller coaster ride. "Is that part of why you like him? Because he is dangerous?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe," Chloe repeats. "So he has at least registered in Clark World as dangerous?"

Clark huffs an exasperated sigh. Why did his friends and family always treat him like a head case? If his being in love isn't enough, he can give them plenty of rational reasons for making Lex his partner. "Did you register what I'm really like when I'm – different?"

"Different?"

"When I first wore the ring, I was relatively well behaved," Clark glances at Pete, "when you consider what I could've done." He turns to Chloe, "And when I ran to Metropolis, you and Lana caught me on my good days. Multiple that by a thousand, and imagine what I was like on a bad day."

"What does that have to do with Lex being –" Chloe stops as she thinks it over.

"That's right. I'm dangerous too." Clark smiles grimly. "People have it wrong, Chloe. Lex isn't the most dangerous guy in the Smallville area. I am."

"You might have more power in some ways, but you would never do the things that Lex has."

"No, I could do much, much worse. Chloe, when I ran to Metropolis, I didn't care enough about anything to commit large scale destruction. I liked my toy box the way it was, and that was exactly how I saw Metropolis and the people in it – as my toys. When I ran away to Vegas, with Alicia, all I was interested in was getting sex, and I was willing to do whatever would persuade her – marriage or destroying half the city – it was all the same to me as long as I got what I wanted out of it."

Her blue eyes are wide and soft and sad. "You're scared? That's why you are with him?"

Clark shakes his head. "I'm with Lex because I love him. But I know that if I become dangerous again, he'd figure a way to bring me back, while keeping me from doing too much damage."

"Does he know about you and Red?"

"He saw me on it twice, but he didn't know what had happened to me, or why I was different. I'm going to tell him about it. Just -- not yet. What he knows about me already probably makes me seem awfully weird."

Chloe takes a step closer. "Clark, I have to ask, is Lex holding something over you?"

"You think Lex is making me – no, I'm with Lex because I want to be."

Chloe searches his gaze. His eyes are a soft and familiar jade in the dim lights of the hallway. She can't see any trace of the hardness or wildness that had been there the other times. "And you're you? You're really yourself?"

"Who else would I be?"

"The Clark who disappeared in Metropolis? The Clark who ran away with Alicia?"

"Oh. No, I'm not." Clark winces. God, the stuff he did on Red. Unfortunately, it was never his Red K self, so completely indifferent to consequences, that had to deal with upset parents and friends, and try to explain the inexplicable.

"Why didn't you call me then?" Pete demands. "Or Chloe? Or Lana? Why didn't you respond to any of our messages?"

Chloe smacks his arm. "We tried your apartment and got a recording announcing that the number was no longer in service. We tried your cell phone and left messages. You never called any of us. What were we supposed to think, Clark?"

"I'm sorry. I wanted to talk to my parents' first. It was a lot to deal with. I needed some time before I talked to anyone else. You both know how my dad feels about Lex."

"Give it time. Maybe once he sees that Lex makes you happy –" Chloe frowns. She isn't sure even that will do it. Ms. Kent seemed to have a soft spot for Luthors, so it would be enough for her if Lex made Clark happy, but Mr. Kent would be a harder sell. "I don't know, Clark. But if this is what you want, then I'm happy for you."

"Thanks." Clark leans down and kisses her cheek. "That means a lot to me, Chloe."

Pete claps his hand on Clark's shoulder. "I think you're totally cracked, but you are my friend, and I want you to be happy."

"Thanks, Pete." Clark smiles, and wraps his arms around both his friends.

WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

"Clark." Lex leans out the window of a silver Hummer with the LexCorp logo splashed on the side. He looks his lover slowly up and down, itemizing the vision standing by the side of the road. Item: black hair, wet and curling, crowned with duckweed. Item: one white grin, flickering nervously off and on. Item: two smoky green eyes accented by smudges of mud. Item: one navy flannel shirt, torn and streaked green. Item: one pair of jeans, ripped, wet and muddy. Item: two bare feet, also decorated with mud.

"Hi, Lex." Clark glances warily away from the expectant blue-gray gaze. He wiggles his toes in the cool grass on the verge of the road. "Nice day, isn't it?”

"Yesterday morning was pretty damn good, and I have great hopes for this evening."

Clark steps closer to the truck, running an admiring hand over the glossy silver paint. He's never driven a Hummer before. Would Lex let him drive this one?

Lex leans back in his seat, eyeing his lover's shredded clothes. "I thought we agreed that there would be no rescues until we figured out a way for you to do it safely."

"No one saw anything."

"Clark, you've got to stop. It's much too dangerous with so many strangers with cameras lurking around Smallville. The local citizens might be so used to odd happenings that they shrug them off and look the other way, but outsiders don't have that particular mindset."

"I had to. No one else could have dealt safely with this one."

Lex runs a hand over his head. "Get in. How did things go with the big announcement?"

"Mom wants you to join us for dinner." Clark sighs. "Dad isn't happy, but he'll get used to it, to us."

"Clark, get in before some roving reporter wanders by."

"Can I drive? I've never driven one of these." Clark hastily brushes away the drying mud clinging to his jeans and shirt.

"Be my guest." Lex opens the driver's door. He walks around to the other side, sliding into the passenger seat as his lover climbs into the driver's seat. "What happened?"

"Well, I umm," Clark glances at Lex. Where should he drive to? The castle? The farm? If he goes home, he won't be able to do more than steal a few kisses from Lex, but if they go to the castle, they might run into Lionel, and he might not get even that much if Lionel aggravates Lex too much. "There was this pond."

"That would explain the mud and duckweed."

"Duckweed?" Clark sighs. Why, out of all the people that could have been driving down this stretch of road, did he have to get caught looking like an escapee from a compost pile, by Lex who always looked so elegantly exotically beautiful? Clark leans closer as Lex reaches toward him, his pulse speeding up at the gentle brush of Lex's fingers in his hair.

Lex holds up a clump of greenery with a grin. "Duckweed."

"Oh." Clark bites his lip and looks away, fighting back a surge of disappointment. He runs his hands through his damp hair, dislodging more weeds. Just when he thought he couldn't look any more ridiculous in front of Lex. Clark fingers one of the rips in his shirt. Who knew that a mutant goldfish could be so mean?

"Last time, I found you this disheveled in a cornfield, the local football team had attacked you. Did you do something to annoy the swim team this time?"

"Oh, no. It was nothing like that. I fell into a pond." Clark turns the truck around, ignoring Lex's questioning glance as they head down a dusty track leading away from the Kent Farm and the castle.

"You fell into a pond," Lex repeats disbelievingly.

"Well. Yeah." Clark squirms. Even knowing that Lex knows, it's still hard for him to stop prevaricating. He'd spent the better part of the afternoon disposing of a pack of giant mutant goldfish after his dad had been attacked by one while checking on a sick farmer's property. He had fallen in after the goldfish had lunged out of the water at him like a marauding crocodile. "I slipped."

"You look more like you just got keelhauled."

"Dad was over at Pansford's farm. You know, checking on it, and taking care of stuff while Mr. Pansford is in the hospital. Several of the other farmers are doing it, and today was Dad's turn."

"And?"

"He ran into a problem."

"No?"

Clark frowns at the look of mock amazement Lex flicks at him. He guides the truck down a narrow private drive. "Do you want to hear this or not?"

Lex glances around. The dirt road leads to a weathered barn, and beyond it he can see the corner of an unfamiliar house. In the distance, he can see woods stretching along distant fields. Closer at hand is a fenced off stretch of pasturage. A group of goats are staring back at him as if trying to decide whether he might have food or not. A handful of chickens are targeting the Hummer with their beady black eyes. "Clark, where are we?"

"Pansford's farm." Clark strokes his fingertips over the hard line of his lover's thigh. He murmurs huskily, "I missed you last night." He glances shyly at Lex. "I thought we could borrow his barn."

"I missed you too."

"I thought that we could – you know. My dad's back at our farm, and I've finished the chores here. There's no reason for anyone else to be here today. It wouldn't take me but a second to fix a place."

"Sounds like a plan to me." Lex leans over and kisses Clark

WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

Jonathan pokes dismally at his fruit salad that had been set in front of him as soon as he finished his sandwich. Ever since his heart attack, Martha had kept him on a strict diet. He hadn't minded – much. But fruit salad – that's not a dessert. He sighs with longing as he thinks of apple pie with ice cream – real ice cream, not that pallid imitation stuff – heaped on top.

"Something wrong with your salad, Jonathan?"

"No, no, it's fine." He hastily shoves a forkful into his mouth. He swallows as a sharp rap sounds on the kitchen door. Jonathan scowls and pushes back from the table. If one of those dratted reporters had dared, dared set so much as one toe on his land – he stomps over to the door and flings it open. His scowl vanishes, replaced by a broad smile. Two girls to see Clark. Now that's more like it. If only Clark was here to see them. "Chloe, Lana, come in."

Martha smiles around his shoulder. "We were just eating lunch. Come in and let me fix you something."

"Thanks, but I'm good." Chloe steps inside with a smile. Her smile widens as she inhales the fabulous scent of coffee. "I wouldn't say no to a cup of coffee."

"Coffee's always good." Lana follows her friend inside.

"That's great. You're just in time for Martha's fruit salad." Jonathan waves the girls toward the table. Maybe if he was really lucky they would eat the rest of it and spare him additional helpings for the rest of the day. "Come sit down and have some with us. I insist."

Two girls and Clark nowhere in sight. How long could it take the boy to clear out a few feral fish? He'll just keep the girls talking until Clark showed up. Maybe it would make Clark realize what he was missing. Despite all of his son's denials last night it had to have been the guava juice. If he could just keep Clark down on the farm for a few days, maybe it would wear off. What if he trapped the girls in the barn with Clark? Jonathan absently eats another forkful of the salad. Martha wouldn't approve but desperate times called for desperate measures.

It wouldn't be like he was forcing anyone. He would only be providing opportunities. Both girls had been chasing Clark for years, and Clark had dated both of them. Jonathan sits back in his chair, tuning out the conversation in favor of studying the two girls. Both were pretty enough to tempt any boy. Both were smart, although Chloe struck him as the sharper of the pair. Clark said that she had figured out his secret. That would make things much easier for Clark, but the boy had been fascinated by Lana for years and used to speculate about sharing his secret with her.

Both girls were brave, but Chloe seemed more at ease with Smallville and its oddities. He couldn't see Clark completely leaving the place behind, and he had a feeling that Lana couldn't get out of town fast enough. Either girl would make a fine wife for his son. Jonathan finishes his salad and pushes the bowl to one side. Maybe Clark just needs a push – something to remind the boy of what a fine thing an armful of warm, willing woman is.

WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

"Lex, I'm fine," Clark promises. He'd stared at the ceiling all night, waiting for this. He isn't going to lose it now. He slants an admiring look over the graceful length of his lover's lean body, the hard muscled lines still concealed by fine black wool and crisp white dress shirt. "There isn't much that can hurt me. I mean it hurts when stuff happens, but it doesn't do any damage."

"Are you sure?" Lex unfastens his tie and curls it in his suit pocket. He circles the brunette's tall figure, trailing his fingers over wide shoulders as he studies the body poorly concealed by the loose drape of damp flannel shirt and jeans. He can't see any bruises staining the golden skin revealed by the torn shirt, but there are other ways to hurt, and thanks to his dad's extensive tutelage, he is personally familiar with most of them.

He can't see any traces of distress in the eager teal eyes. He moves around Clark ghosting random touches over the well-worn flannel; tracing the curve of bicep, and then the ticklish twitch of sides as his fingers skim along the circumference of waist, pausing for a teasing dip over the swollen length pressing hopefully against denim.

"Lex." Clark tilts his hips into the fleeting touch only to sigh with disappointment as his lover moves behind him again. He glances over his shoulder at the blankets and hay bales that he'd set out in hopes of inspiring Lex to make good on last night's promises. "I've been thinking about this all night."

Lex traces the formidable lines of back muscles through the soft fabric. He loves to touch Clark's back, to look at it; see and touch the tangible evidence that his lover is anything, but the average farm boy. So many years of watching, trying to catch Clark out in their game of cat and mouse, and all he needed was the chance to study the musculature of his lover's back.

Did Clark know? Is that why the brunette had been so very careful to avoid being caught shirtless anywhere outside of a locker room? He supposed the locker room had been safe enough since Clark could keep his back carefully turned away, and few high school boys would be bold enough to risk more than the most discreet peeks at their fellows. Lex strokes over the heavy angles of shoulder as he shifts to stand in front of Clark. His palms glide over the slope of chest and swoop over the indention of waist, lingering over the ripple of stomach muscles in the wake of his touch. His fingers ease back up to ghost delicate circles over nipples beading tightly.

"Lex, please," Clark whispers. "Touch me. Really touch me."

Lex runs his fingers over the placket of his lover's shirt. "What will you give me if I do?"

"What do you want?" Clark gasps, arching his chest as his nipples are suddenly sharply pinched. Slim fingers ease inside a rip for a wonderful second he feels the coolness of Lex's touch soothing the tender skin.

"I want a lot of things." Lex grabs worn flannel and rips. He ignores Clark's startled twitch, and glides his fingers over the flannel, just barely avoiding the golden warmth of smooth skin. He leans forward to puff a soft breath over exposed pink nipples. "What if I wanted to buy you a new shirt?"

"More flannel?"

"Not this time." Lex licks each nipple and teases again with a soft puff of breath. "I want to see you in something tailored."

"Just tell me you aren't thinking of purple." Clark draws in a sharp breath at rough nips, followed by soft licks.

"Something wrong with purple?"

"No, of course not," Clark murmurs in completely unconvincing tones as he tries to imagine himself in lilac or lavender.

"Just for that I'm going to buy you a purple shirt and make you like it," Lex promises as his fingers skate up Clark's spine to toy with the curls at his lover's nape.

Clark arches his neck into the touch. "Make me wear it? Yeah, you could do that. Make me like it? I don't think so."

"I know so." Lex slides the ruined shirt off Clark's shoulders. He nibbles his way along the line of collarbone.

"Just because you look hot in lavender, doesn't mean that I will." Clark groans as Lex slowly explores the hollow of his throat with lingering licks.

"Who said anything about lavender?"

"I suppose you'll be after me to wear silk boxers next."

"Flannel," Lex murmurs against his lover's skin. He pops the button on Clark's jeans.

"If you think I'm going to burn up in the summer wearing –"

"I'm prepared to offer incentives."

"Incentives? I might be interested in incentives" Clark groans as the trail of kisses moves slowly down his torso. He closes his hands over his lover's shoulders as Lex slides down to kneel in the straw. In a few days, Pansford will be back home, working right here in the very same barn. The Carter twins had been here the day before. Mr. Ross had been in here yesterday. Any one of them could have been standing right there. The barn door is only half-closed. Anybody could --

Lex looks up, frowning, as something thumps against the outside of the barn.

"It's just the goats." Clark flexes his hands uneasily. The last thing they need is for a photographer to sneak up while he's distracted. "Maybe I shouldn't have suggested this."

Lex kisses his lover's hip, and goes back to unzipping Clark's jeans. "Worried about scaring the goats and chickens?"

"I don't think the goats will mind, but the chickens have very strong opinions about this sort of thing."

"Oh?" Lex eases damp jeans and boxers down and off. He watches in fascination as the dusky cockhead is slowly exposed by his lover's panting excitement. Beautiful. Like watching a rose bloom across a series of photographs. He kisses the tip softly. "Are the chickens for or against?"

"Oh, god." Clark groans as velvet heat slides over him. He looks down and groans as he watches Lex sucking him. His trembling hands brush gently over the smooth curves of his lover's head before settling on Lex's wide shoulders. His hips arch in helpless protest as Lex pulls back. The sight of his cock stiff and slick from his lover's mouth makes his vision haze with orange. He tugs pleadingly at his lover. "Lex, please."

"You're falling down on you job, college boy." Lex slips his finger in his mouth and sucks on it.

"My job?" Clark gulps as he watches the finger slide wet and gleaming from Lex's mouth. Oh, god. What is Lex – going to – his eyes widen as his legs are urged further apart, and his lover's fingers stroke delicately over his balls and then behind. "Oh, god."

"You're the lookout, college boy. I expect you to keep me apprised of any activity out there." Lex strokes his finger teasingly along the cleft, pausing fractionally over the velvet furl tempting him, as he closely watches Clark's reactions. The flex of thigh muscles, and trembling jut of dusky cock is very promising. Lex smiles as fluid beads and quivers on the verge of sliding down; he bends his head and licks it away. He whispers against the crown, "What if one of those helpful farmers decides to check on the Pansford Farm? What if your parents get worried and decide to check on you? What if a reporter decides to see she can find someone to interview here?"

"Oh, god. Lex, I need you. Please." Clark sighs in relief as the slick heat of his lover's mouth surrounds him again. He can hear the sound of a distant motor approaching. Who could be interrupting them now? No one else was scheduled to be out here today. Just his dad. Oh, shit. Not his dad! Surely his dad was plenty busy at home. Oh, god. Clark arches frantically into the distracting pull of his lover's beautiful mouth. No. Not his dad's truck. The sound is maddeningly familiar, but he can't concentrate. "Lex, Lex, there's someone. I can hear a motor."

Lex merely hums an inquiring noise and sucks harder. He circles his fingertip lightly over the furl, then more firmly as his lover presses into his touch. He eases the tip of his finger inside, groaning at the tightness as he imagines it around his cock.

"Oh, god. Oh, god. Oh, god. Lex, please. It's getting closer. I can hear it. It's heading this way. Oh, god. Lex! It's – shit, it's Chloe's car. We've got to – got to – oh, god!" Clark closes his eyes against the intense rush of heat that fills him as each thrust of his hips drives his lover's finger deeper inside. Had Lex really meant it when he said that he wouldn't stop? This feels – oh, god, he's never felt anything like – Lex's finger flexes inside him and sunbursts of pleasure explode behind his eyes.

"Oh, god. Lex, we've got to – the door is open." Clark leans against his lover as Lex slides up, supporting him.

"That's my problem." Lex leans up for a quick hard kiss. He pulls away to spread a faded red blanket over the bale of straw. "You are going to bend over that bale and stay there – legs spread and waiting for me."

"Lex," Clark protests nervously as he glances at the door. It won't be long before the girls see that he isn't in the kitchen garden behind the house, and decide to try the barn. "I can't. What if –"

"You can and you will." Lex grabs his lover and bends Clark over the bale. He presses close, whispering in the brunette's ear, "You will stay right here, in exactly this position."

"But Lex," Clark shivers at the crisp sensation of his lover's shirt against his back; he can feel the warmth of Lex's skin and the tight beads of nipples through the fabric. Soft wool presses firmly against his inner thighs as Lex forces his legs to spread even wider.

"Stay," Lex orders as he moves back, taking a second to admire the view. He leans down and traces a single lick over the exposed cleft. "Think about that while I'm gone."

Clark shudders against the blanket. His hands fist in the straw. "But –"

"If I come back, and you've moved – in any way – you're going to home, one unsodomized farm boy."

"Sodomized?" Clark freezes into place as he hears Lex leaving the barn. Isn't his lover even going to – oh, shit. Lex isn't pausing to close the door. And he can hear Lana and Chloe calling him. They're getting closer. Oh, shit. Oh, god. Sodomized. Does that cover what he thinks it does? Oh, god. He rubs his damp cock against the blanket.

What if Chloe and Lana see the open door and look inside? Oh, god. What if a photographer catches him like this? Then everyone will see him spread out and ready to be fucked. Oh, god. He can feel the breeze, cool against the dampness lingering on his skin, reminding him of exactly where Lex will be touching him when his lover gets back.

He's never been so very, very aware of such a tiny patch of skin. He nervously clenches and unclenches as he remembers the press of Lex's finger inside. It had felt so good, and so bad, and Lex's cock is so big. How will he take it? Can he take it? Even Lex's finger had felt big when Lex had – oh, god, he's so hard. He's got to stop thinking about it or he's going to come all over the blanket before his lover gets back.

Clark stiffens as he hears voices coming closer, and then relaxes at the sound of Chloe's car starting up and driving away. He risks a glance over his shoulder at the approach of quiet steps. "Lex?"

"Do you still want this?"

"Please." Clark waits, trembling. He can almost feel his lover's gaze sliding over his mercilessly exposed body. Being like this with Lex makes him feel far more tenderly vulnerable and fragile than anything that the latest batch of mutants could dish out. "Please, Lex. I want you."

Lex walks around to stand in front of Clark, he holds the bronze stare. "How do you want me?"

"I want you to – to," Clark bites his lip, and gives his lover a pleading look. Is Lex going to make him say it?

Lex removes his jacket and carefully folds it over a stall. He slowly unbuttons his shirt, pretending to be oblivious to the brunette's avid stare. Lex shrugs his shirt off and drapes it over his jacket. "To what?"

"To fuck my ass," Clark whispers. He hides his hot face against the blanket.

"Clark."

He lifts his head to discover a naked Lex standing directly in front of him. Clark reaches out, running his fingers through the fine filigree of gilt copper curls, smiling at the soft tickle. He bites his lip as he trails a considering finger up the length of Lex's cock and draws a circle over the width of the rosy head: it looks awfully big when he thinks about where he is asking Lex to put it, but even so, he wants this. He needs it. He won't feel completely claimed by Lex until he does this.

"Clark."

Clark looks up, his doubts evaporating as he sees the concern shimmering behind the hunger turning Lex's eyes a smoky silver blue. He licks the dampness beading the head.

"Clark, if you have any doubts, if you aren't ready," Lex draws in a sharp breath as Clark begins stroking slow licks over the length of his cock. "There are plenty of other things we can do instead."

"No. I want to do this. I want you to take me. I want to feel like I belong to you. Marked. Claimed."

Marked. Lex smiles slowly as he pulls away and moves behind his lover. If Clark wants to be marked, he'll be more than happy to surround his lover with proofs of ownership. He bends to kiss the corded line of the brunette's throat. "You are mine, Clark. Never doubt that."

"I need to feel it." Clark reaches back, hands stroking greedily over the sleek lines of Lex's body. He sighs with delight at the slick slide of velvety dampness as Lex moves over him, pressing him down against the soft blanket. "I need to feel you."

Lex laughs softly. "Oh, you'll definitely feel me. I can promise you that."

"Good." Clark gasps, arching his throat into the wet, sucking kisses, wishing that he could be marked liked that by Lex's passion and strut around all the next day, flaunting vivid evidence that Lex is his and no other brunettes need apply. He arches his back as his lover's mouth moves down his back, lower, and lower, and lower.

"I hope you still think so when you have to sit down in the truck again."

"I don't care. I want this." Clark pants as he feels Lex's strong hands on his ass, spreading him wider. Is Lex fixing to do it? He moans loudly as velvet wet strokes over him again. "Oh, god. Lex!"

"You should have listened to all the people warning you that I'm a perv, Clark."

Clark quivers in shocked delight as the slow stroking resumes. He'd never imagined anyone touching him like that, much less that it could feel so good. He makes a choked noise as the strokes begin changing into a slick circling and then a gentle probing. He squeezes his eyes closed and presses his face into the blanket. He pants in desperate hoarse sounds as he loses control and comes helplessly onto the blanket.

Lex laughs softly. "Did you like it?"

An inarticulate noise is the only response he can make as he sprawls across the bale. He raises his head as he hears a squishy sound then feels Lex's slick finger easing inside. Clark turns his head to look over his shoulder at the lean, hard line of his lover's body. What will it feel like to have Lex inside him where no one else has ever been?

He wants to hurry and claim the experience. He wants to draw the moment out, balancing forever on the trembling edge of anticipation and need, waiting for that first touch. He shivers with the emotions as Lex's fingers eases deeper.

"If it gets to be too much or too intense, tell me." Lex gently eases a second finger inside. "Okay?"

Clark gasps, his cock lifting, as Lex's fingers stroke inside him.

"Too much?" Lex asks huskily as he kisses Clark's shoulder.

"No. More. Ooooh." He flexes his thighs against the sweat damp slickness of his lover's skin as a third finger stretches him. Clark moans and presses back.

"Still good?" Lex whispers between kisses.

"God, yes."

"Too much?"

"Not enough." Clark shudders as his lover's fingers thrust carefully in and out of him, gradually moving deeper with each push; stretching and flexing to brush a place that sends a hot bright surge of pleasure dancing through him. He reaches back, clutching at his lover. "Lex! Please. Please. I need it now. Do it."

"Ssssh. I'll take care of you."

His whole being seems focused on the hot slickness of his lover's cockhead pressing lightly against him. It feels so big, so large compared to Lex's fingers, but he wants it. He's determined to have it. Clark cries out as Lex pushes inside. His lover's cock feels as impossibly good as it feels painfully big. "No!" His hands tighten on Lex's ass he feels his lover stop and start to ease out. "NO! Stay. Don't leave. I want it. It feels –"

"Feels?" Lex prompts breathlessly.

"Good. It does hurt a bit, but in a good way." Clark sighs as his body trembles and adjusts around the thick cock. He pushes back, arching into the slow, shallow thrusts that gradually become deeper each time Lex pushes into him. It feels better than he ever imagined, having Lex gliding in and out, a heated inexorable ebb and surge into his body that sends bursts of spine melting pleasure flowing through him with each thrust

He pants as he rocks with Lex's straining body, matching the increasingly demanding rhythm as they surge back and forth, riding closer and closer. Clark cries out as he spills over into a white hotness of pleasure. He tilts upwards, rocking back into his lover's thrusts until he feels the pulse of Lex's release inside him.

Clark shifts his hips experimentally, testing the new sensations there as Lex slumps against his back. The thick softness of his lover's cock feels nice; almost as good as when Lex was hard inside him. He likes the sensation of having Lex resting so intimately inside him. He likes feeling the liquid warmth of his lover's pleasure there.

Lex moves his hips, sliding gently away. He strokes Clark's flank. "You're so beautiful. I should hire someone to follow you around holding a big flashing sign, 'Property of Lex Luthor'."

"I can see that sign following me all over the farm and school. I don't think my professors will be impressed, and dad would probably prefer to stick with more traditional measure for scaring crows away from the vegetables."

"Oh, your teachers might be more impressed than you think." Lex nuzzles lazily. If any of them gave Clark trouble, they would discover the hard way that money talked just as loudly in the halls of academia as it did in the rest of the world. "In deference to your dad's sensibilities, I'll consider alternative methods of crow dispersion."

"You don't have to worry about crows on my account. I'm not the one with flocks following him around." Clark eases up, and turns to face his lover. He cups Lex's face and draws him close for a tender kiss.

"You should know me well enough to know that any crow that lands on me without an engraved invitation is a dead crow."

"In that case, I want custody of all invitations."

Lex kisses his lover again, long, slow and sweet. "Fine. I'll give you the key to the invitation box."

"Good."

"Clark?"

"Hmmm?"

"Are you okay?"

Clark grins. "I'm way better than okay."

"Think you might want to do it again?"

"Now?" Clark shifts his weight tentatively. There's a faint soreness lingering, but not as much as he'd been expecting. "I really don't feel that sore."

Lex smirks. "Give it time."

"Tomorrow? Can we do it again tomorrow?"

"Do you have any idea how sore you are going to be?"

"Not me. Invulnerable alien, here. Remember?"

Lex sniggers. "Let's wait, and see how your invulnerable ass feels tomorrow morning."

WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

Lex slows as he threads his way past the trucks and cars lining the road outside the Kent Farm. He stops in front of the barn, and turns to face his companion. He fingers one of the jagged tears in the blue flannel shirt. "I had no idea that duckweed could do that kind of damage."

Clark wraps his hand around his lover's wrist. He wants to lift it to his mouth, and lick the tender center of palm, nibble at the tips of long fingers, and suck the sensitive skin of inner wrist. But not when his parents might step outside at any second. He allows himself only the barest stroke of his thumb over the beat of Lex's pulse. "Would you believe me if I told you that a giant mutated goldfish tried to eat me?"

"If we were anywhere but Smallville, I wouldn't believe it for a second. But since we are here, remind me to check the koi pond in my garden."

"I didn't know you had a koi pond."

"It's a recent addition."

"Maybe I should go with you," Clark offers huskily. He wants to turns his face into the few inches of throat rising above the collar of Lex's shirt, to lick and suck that white skin. He dares another stroke of his thumb against the silken coolness of his lover's wrist. "Just in case."

"Thanks, but I think I can handle it."

"Don't be fooled by those bright eyes and glittery scales, Lex." Clark leans closer and risks a fast kiss. "Goldfish are vicious."

"Ummm," Lex tugs his lover back for a slower, longer kiss. "Koi aren't goldfish. I wonder if they will mutate to be more or less vicious. I'm voting for more so they can keep my dad entertained."

"How long is he going to be here?" Clark glances around uneasily, half-expecting to see Lionel looming amid his mother's sunflowers like a scarecrow.

"It depends on how his scheme du jour is progressing." Lex eases his finger through the open plackets and traces a circle over the still tight nipple, smiling as Clark inhales sharply. "He might move back to Metropolis or he might linger at the castle. He believes in keeping a close eye on his properties and holdings."

"You’re his son, Lex. Not his holding."

"That's not the way he sees it." Lex shugs. "Maybe the fish will get him and it will all be moot."

Clark grins as he imagines Lionel being dragged kicking, cursing, and struggling into the pond by a determined fish. "You'd let the koi eat your father?"

"If they can take him, they may eat him with my blessings. But my father is a tough opponent, so I might find him munching on them instead of the other way around."

"Lex, you wouldn't let the koi have your father."

"You think not? My father would push me in the pond himself if it suited his agenda."

Clark frowns. Maybe he should start volunteering answers to those questions that his dad is not asking. He had spent all morning trying to subtly introduce the subject, but no matter what he said, his dad responded with lectures on the evils of exotic fruit juices and bad company. The bad company was Lex. He got that, but where guava juice came into the picture, he couldn't imagine.

"He's here for a reason, Clark. I simply don't know exactly what it is yet."

"Lex, maybe he just wants to spend time with you. You are his son. He has to feel something for you even if he," Clark pauses, trying to figure out a tactful way of describing Lionel Luthor. He slides a comforting hand up the soft wool of his lover's sleeve to grip Lex's shoulder. "I'm sure he cares about you."

"Oh, he cares. He simply has his own unique way of showing it." Lex's mouth tilts into a cold smile.

“Lex,” Clark leans closer, tilting his face to claim another kiss, only to start at a sharp rap against the window. He glances over his shoulder to see his dad and mom staring at them. Clark hastily opens the door and slides out. “Mom, Dad, look who I found."

“Hello, Mr. Kent.” Lex smiles jauntily at the older man. Ah, the joy of knowing this is killing the senior Kent. How it must gall. He could save the Kents and their farm a thousand times over, and it wouldn’t make a dent in Mr. Kent’s conviction that he is the enemy. He holds Mr. Kent's cool stare for a second before turning his gaze to Clark’s mother and allowing real warmth to touch his smile. “Ms. Kent, it’s a pleasure to see you.”

“Lex.” Jonathon nods, tucking his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He glances at his son, his frown deepening as he spots the missing buttons on his son's loose shirt. "Clark, what happened to your --"

"Hello, Lex." Martha smiles at him as she wraps a hand around her husband's bicep.

"Mmmm, I can smell my mom's chicken casserole baking. I bet there's nothing that good waiting for you at the castle," Clark glances at Lex. "Why don't we stay for dinner?"

Martha glances sidelong at her husband and then back at Lex. Her expression firms with determination. "By the time Clark gets cleaned up and changes clothes, dinner will be ready. Would you like to join us?”

“Come on, Lex," Clark urges. Maybe if his dad was around Lex more he'd see what a complex and fascinating man Lex is. Clark eyes his father's tense face and sighs. Or maybe not, but it would be a start. Maybe by November his dad would be used to seeing Lex sitting at their table. "Stay for dinner.”

“Clark,” Jonathon frowns, “Lex is a busy man with a company to run, I doubt he has time for this.”

Lex pulls the keys from the truck and smiles demurely. “I always have time for my friends, Mr. Kent. I would be delighted to stay for dinner. Thank you, Ms. Kent."

WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

Jonathan dries the last dish and slips it in the drying rack. He peeks at the clock hanging on the wall; his son has been alone in the loft with That Man for quite long enough. He wipes his hands on a dish rag and reaches for his jacket.

"Where are you going?" Martha stares at him with suspicion.

"Just thought I might better check the gate. You know how Clark is, and I bet it would never have occurred to That Man to relock the gate." His gaze slides away from his wife's. "I won't be able to sleep tonight, wondering if reporters are wandering around loose out there if I don't check on it."

Martha brushes a kiss over his mouth. "Okay. Don't be gone long."

"I won't." Jonathan slides out the door, and walks outside. He glances up at the moon, hovering round and ripe above. There's plenty of light, but it wouldn't hurt to have a little more, and he had left his flashlight in the barn. It isn't like he's checking up on anything except the gate.

He walks around the house, and pauses, ducking back under the cover of shadows as he sees something long and skinny scuttle across the pasture and toward the barn. What the hell? Had one of those damned photographers dared set foot on his land? And, damn it all, his son and That Man are in the barn doing god knows what. Jonathan glares at the creeping figure. He is not going to have it. It hasn't been so long since he played football that he doesn't still have a mean tackle.

A cloud slides across the moon, blocking its glow. Now! He races across the yard and slams into the tall figure, just as the stranger turns. Something breaks between them. He can feel fragments of glass prickling and scratching against his skin, and his chest is wet with a thick oozy liquid. What the HELL? This isn't a photographer. What had this man meant to do to his boy?

His victim twists under him, and out of his surprise-slackened grip. Jonathan lunges after the man again and gets kicked in the chest. He lands a hard blow in his enemy's stomach, then grabs a long leg and pulls the other man down again. He tries to pin the other man, but god damn it, the skinny little fucker is strong and agile. This is worse than wrestling with pigs. A sharp elbow in his stomach and a hard fist to his jaw send him sprawling on his back. He eels around to grabs his enemy's ankle and crawls up, dropping his weight solidly over the other man's ribs. "What the hell are you doing on my land?"

The hard hands fisting in his jacket, ease, soften and slip beneath to cup his ribs. "Jonathan."

What the – he knows that voice. Never really noticed how nice it was before. So raspy and resonant in a way that shivers strangely over his bones. He has the strangest need to hear more of that voice. "Lionel?"

"Yes, Jonathan?"

"What are you doing here?" The return of moonlight reveals Lionel Luthor sprawled beneath him, loose and relaxed, as if the other man is perfectly happy to be lying on the dirt and grass with a farmer sitting on his stomach.

"I wanted to see my son."

"You didn't have to creep through the cow pasture for that." Jonathan frowns. He touches his chest, feeling the damp stickiness there. "Lex would have been back at the castle before long. What did you really come here for?"

"You, Jonathan."

"What?! You. Mmfh!" Jonathan finds himself on his back with Lionel's weight pressing him into the ground. He's expertly pinned down, and then slowly kissed with equal expertise. He's only distantly aware of the porch light flicking on and Martha's voice.

"Jonathan? Are you out there?"

"Ummmph! Mmmffh! Mmmhhhfff!" Jonathan manages as he is pressed deeper into the shadows. "Ummpph! Mmmmfff!"

THE END