|Clex fic: Back to the Barn
||[Feb. 25th, 2009|06:38 pm]
Title: Back to the Barn
Summary: After a fight, Clark finds a creative way to tell Lex he's sorry. Written for CLFF Wave #30
This is far from being their first fight. They've argued about the amount of time Clark spends with Lois, whether Lex should be allowed to maintain a secret lab (Clark says "no"), and whether Oliver should ever be allowed within a mile of Clark. (Lex thinks not.)
The arguments are generally quick and heated and end with amazing sex.
This fight is different. Lex isn't going to back down because he's not wrong, it's that simple and it's too important.
"We need the laser," Clark says uneasily. "The last alien invasion, it was too close-"
"Then why is the laser pointed at earth?" Lex asks. "In case we get out of line?"
"Lex, you know it’s not like that. And hopefully it will never be used."
Lex narrows his eyes:
"This isn't you. Whose line is that? The Bat's? Green Lantern?"
"No! When we were enemies, you used to accuse me of this exact same arrogance, jeopardizing the world under the guise of protecting it-"
Clark opens his mouth but Lex doesn't give him a chance to get a word in:
"You weren't wrong then – I was arrogant. And I'm not wrong now. The League's gone power-mad. It’s not you – but you’re the one who can stop it."
Clark takes a breath, looks down on his lap.
"Lex, we voted. We all agreed."
"Seven of you get to decide what's best for earth? When only three of you are human?"
Clark pulls back, stung. Lex instantly regrets the "human" crack, but he can't back down on this, it's too important.
"Clark, I'm sorry but…."
But Clark is already gone, a receding blur on the skyline.
* * * *
The trouble with having a super-powered partner is he can always find you, by tracking your voice, your heartbeat. So when he doesn't come find you, that's because he doesn't want to, and perhaps this is the end.
Lex knows he lacks credibility in arguments over morality; it's the price he pays for past actions. There's no reason why the League should listen to him. But it should be different with Clark. Lex has worked so hard to regain Clark's trust.
He can't face a Clark-less penthouse, so he drives to the manor in Smallville. There are plenty of unhappy memories here to brood over and a decent supply of brandy as well.
The text message comes just before midnight.
"Lex…come to the barn."
Lex snorts. A minute later:
Lex is already feeling better.
* * * *
Clark doesn't own the farm any more. The new owners sold the pasture and livestock to the neighbours and went to Miami for the winter. Lex turns down the familiar driveway, awash with memories: there had been so many hopeful trips to the barn, succeeded by less hopeful ones…
He parks the car and walks quietly up the barn stairs. At the top stair, he can't repress a gasp.
Clark is wearing flannel and jeans: the way he looked when they first met, when Lex fell in love with him.
Clark's eyes meet his:
"Hi Lex," His voice cracks a little. "My Mom said you were coming over."
Lex tilts his head. What sort of game is this?
"I could really use some help with my homework. I've got this essay to write…"
His eyes are pleading with Lex: Play along? Lex sits down.
"What's the topic?"
"It's a poem," says Clark. "By Milton. It’s called "Lycidas". It’s about a shepherd and his friend. The friend drowns and the shepherd mourns for him."
"I know it," says Lex. "For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead. Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor… So sinks the day-star in the Ocean bed."
"You almost drowned," says Clark, softly. "You've been hurt so many times."
Lex looks down at his lap, his throat tight. This is so close to the conversations they had back then, conversations that tantalized, came so close to declarations but then swerved back to safer topics like homework, or football, or girls.
"Lex, I have to tell you something," says Clark. "My parents don't want me to…but I need you to know. I've always needed you to know."
Lex waits. So many times he'd ached for Clark to tell him
"I'm not from here; I came to Earth with the meteor shower, from the planet Krypton."
There are tears in Clark's eyes and even though Lex has known for years, this is the way he'd always wanted to hear it, even wished he could go back in time and have this moment, have Clark offer it to him freely.
Lex looks down at his lap.
Clark puts a hand on his shoulder. Lex can't answer. Clark drops the role-play and says:
"I'm sorry. This was a bad idea. I just thought…."
Lex says nothing. Clark says
"You were right about the laser; I've disabled it."
Lex still can't speak; his throat is too tight.
Lex looks up into anxious green eyes and then he lunges, pressing Clark down into the couch. Clark opens his mouth but this isn't the moment for talking and Lex shuts him up with a kiss. Soft mouth – how many times had Lex sat on this very couch, listening to Clark talk, all the while thinking about his mouth and the things he could do to this boy, if only he wasn't determined to be good?
Clark's hands have come up to span Lex's back, but Lex grabs him by the wrists and pins them over Clark's head. It's pretence; Clark could be free in a millisecond if he wanted but it's a game they both enjoy, the strongest being in the world letting Lex hold him down. Clark looks amazing spread out underneath him. Lex grinds his hips against Clark, and Clark growls.
Lex undoes the buttons of the flannel and rubs his palms lightly across Clark's chest, pausing to tease the nipples. But he leaves Clark in his sleeves, because half-undressed Clark is one of Lex's biggest kinks. But the jeans, the jeans are coming off.
Lex takes an enormous work boot into his lap and slowly works on a lace. Clark watches, his eyes like saucers. Lex can tell by his posture that Clark is poised to pounce on him, is just waiting for his cue, but it’s not going like that tonight. He lightly tickles the ball of Clark's foot, and watches a tremor ripple up his leg.
Second boot off; Lex settles between Clark's legs, and goes to work on his fly, with deliberate slowness. He lowers his head so that his mouth is nearly touching Clark's zipper, and Clark's hips buck upwards. Lex slips his hand inside the fly, through the cotton boxers, to touch skin. Hot skin, alive and pulsing in his hand.
Clark gulps; there's a dangerous flash behind his eyes. It fascinates Lex that Clark's RedK side is always there, and just a little teasing can bring it to the surface, He lowers his head and breathes in the scent of Clark, tastes Clark's cock with his tongue. He lets the hardening cock fill his mouth while his hands tug the jeans down Clark's hips.
He knows the warning signs that Clark's about to come: the hands clenching, the slightly parted lips. Lex pulls back. Clark whimpers, piteous.
Lex bends down and whispers:
"First, I'm going to fuck you…"
Clark blinks, surprised. He's used to being on top.
"And as soon as I come, you can fuck me."
Clark bucks wildly underneath him and growls again:
"No," says Lex, "I think I'll take my time."
Clark is bare to the waist, with his flannel half off his shoulder. His cock is hard and wet, and his legs are spread. He's ready to be fucked but Lex has one more stop to make.
He strokes his hands along Clark's thighs and lifts the heavy balls to lick behind them. Clark trembles, the man of steel turned to putty by Lex's tongue.
"You're….still….dressed," gasps Clark, reproachfully.
"Yes," says Lex. He rubs a hand across the bulge in his pants. It’s time. He needs to be inside Clark now.
Clark's heavy legs around his waist. Lex dips to kiss him.
He teases Clark's hole, first with a finger, then with the nudging tip of his cock. Almost pressing inside, then pulling back. Clark's legs tighten around him. Clark says:
It's his warning voice. His "I'm about to lose control voice", which is Lex's greatest aphrodisiac.
They are tangled together: Lex's arms are looped around Clark's legs which are cinched around Lex's waist.
Lex closes his eyes and presses inside. The hottest, tightest hole, possessing his cock and setting off fireworks in every nerve ending.
"Harder," pleads Clark. Lex has the freedom to fuck as hard as he wants. He won't hurt Clark. But taking it slow, with leisurely deep thrusts, makes it both more tortuous and pleasurable for Clark.
"You're….killing….me," gasps Clark. Lex pulls back, nearly all the way out; he pauses, as long as he can bear it, his eyes locked with Clark's, then thrusts one last time, deep as he can go, and comes.
His arms give way and he collapses on Clark's chest, unable to move. Clark is suddenly a whirl of frantic motion, One hand is teasing at Lex's hole, the other is assembling makeshift lube from Lex's come and his own pre-cum. Lex is unceremoniously flipped over and finds himself face down on the couch.
"Sorry….Lex. I can't wait any longer."
Lex limply waves a hand to give his permission. Big hands working his ass, the thwack of Clark slicking his cock, then the first burn as Clark pushes inside him.
Clark nips Lex's neck; he does this every time they fuck and sometimes he even leans over and nips Lex in his sleep. It's possessive, his way of asserting ownership. His arms loop under Lex's arms, and he pushes Lex's legs apart to drive deeper inside him.
"Always want you," he grunts in Lex's ear. "Even when I didn't want to want you."
Lex half turns:
"Very nice. Poetic, almost. Now shut up and fuck me."
One thrust later, Lex has lost the ability to form words and gives himself completely over to Clark. Which is a metaphor for his entire life, really.
* * * *
He wakes in the pre-dawn; Clark is sitting up, looking at him. Clark whispers:
"Are we good?"
Lex sits up and shifts himself into Clark's lap. He rarely does this; it's undignified. Luthors don't sit on laps, but Clark always likes it. He rests his chin on the top of Clark's tousled head.
"You were talking in your sleep," says Clark. He wraps his arms around Lex's waist.
"I was dreaming."
"What were you dreaming of?"
"Our life together"
"And how do you see it?"
"Being with me, it’s a burden for you. The League hates me-"
Clark shakes his head, bumping Lex's chin.
"They don't. It's not in Flash to hate anybody. The rest take a pragmatic approach: you're not a villain any more, so there's no point in carrying old grudges, not when there are always new villains turning up."
"Oliver hates me."
"Well, yes. But since when have you minded that?"
Lex takes Clark's face in his hands, his beautiful face, and tilts it up so he can see him.
"Some day, I worry that you'll decide that I'm not worth the trouble. That your life would be much simpler without me in it."
And I worry about what I'll do then, Lex thinks. How I'll react, and whether I'll be able to control myself. He doesn't say this aloud.
Clark shakes his head again.
"Lex, you have always been in my life. Even we were enemies, I’d alternate between wanting to lock you up and wanting to, you know, do other things with you. What was constant was the wanting."
Lex kisses the top of his head. Clark grins.
"But after growing up a bit, I realized that I could have you in my life, the way I wanted you. That I could make a decision for myself, without worrying about what people would think about it; without acting on behalf of the League, the Planet or Metropolis. You're my one indulgence, Lex. Being with you… is me being selfish. And I will never give that up."
Lex says nothing, but he suddenly feels warmed all over, and not by the rays of sun creeping into the barn. Clark jiggles him with his thigh.
"So can we go home now?"
"Yes," says Lex. "And for breakfast, I’d like waffles. Belgian waffles, direct from Belgium, please."
He gives Clark his haughtiest look.
Clark grins and says:
"Okay, now I'm back to wanting to lock you up again…."
There's a flurry of super-speed. Lex is suddenly fully dressed and Clark is back in his flannels. Lex kisses him. The kiss begins in the barn and ends in Metropolis, with Lex deposited gently on the balcony of the penthouse.
Clark is already gone again, maybe for waffles, or possibly Superman is needed somewhere, but Lex isn't worried. Clark will return to him.
He will always return.