So, one more snugglefic challenge and then I shall turn my attention to--er, angst? Pain? Misery? Clark/Lana?
Wow, a pairing that combines them all....
For Jack, very belated birthday gift or early Christmas present.
Calm in the House
Jack and Isi, thanks for the encouragement.
Answered snugglefic challenge, among other things. And just for kicks, tell me when you recognized the story.
Lex is sprawled on the bed, still dressed--suit pants, crisp shirt, though the tie's discarded over a chair and Clark had seen the jacket in the living room when he came in. He grins, knowing Lex didn't mean to fall asleep at all. The cell phone's on the bed beside him, and there's a real possibility that someone was on the other end when Lex fell asleep. A folder leaks papers over the comforter into a pool on the floor. Sighing, Clark leans over to pick them up. At the first touch on the mattress, Lex opens his eyes.
Electric blue, like he's never been asleep at all.
"Home, I see." Rich, low drawl, sleep-roughened. Like sex.
Licking his lips, Clark knocks the rest of the papers off the bed, ignoring whatever random Lex-specific order they'd been in, pushing Lex onto his back at the first surprised protest.
"I missed you," he murmurs, catching Lex's wrist in one hand, pinning it to the bed. The first hint of a smile curls up the corner of Lex's mouth, but Clark frowns at the pale lavender circles beneath the blue eyes. "You're not sleeping again."
"I sleep." It's not the most believable Lex has ever been. "There was a summit yesterday. I'm still working on--"
"You tell them what to do and they do it. It's called delegation. Heard of it?" Clark catches the other wrist and brings it down, unwillingly caught by how good Lex looks stretched out under him. And Lex *knows* it, that's the damndest part.
"I delegate enough." Lex glances toward where the folder and papers are scattered on the floor with resignation. "The new regimes are in place, but it's fragile--"
"Politics." Clark hates politics. Freeing Lex's wrists, Clark sits up, settling over Lex's hips. Gets a reaction, too.
"We're setting up a new world order. That requires a certain amount of politics." Lex's voice is indulgent. "How was the earthquake?"
"Got everyone out," Clark answers absently. "Most people listened to the warnings and got away, so the city was--" Lex looks tired, Clark thinks, frowning. More than tired, in fact--the very edge of wired, like he's burning on something--. Fuck. "Did you talk that idiot doctor into giving you more stimulants?"
"Yes." Lex raises an eyebrow. "I don't have time to make them myself, so if you're going to get pissed, get pissed at me. He won't tell me no."
Well, that's true. No one *would* tell Lex no, not to anything he wanted. Clark couldn't imagine the person capable of it.
There's a second of rebellion--Clark can see it, feel it like something trying to crawl out from beneath Lex's skin. That--other time, other *person*, that still marks Lex's mind in places Clark hasn't quite been able to reach. Yet.
The thing is, he doesn't *expect* obedience from Lex, doesn't want it--it wouldn't be Lex. Not even a possibility, he *knows* that, depends on it in every way. One person who looks at him and sees--just Clark. Not--not the *thing* that everyone else sees, the thing that Lex feared and ran from for so long.
Just Clark now, and it's almost worth it that it took so long. He treasures it, treasures Lex, to the point of allowing so much more than he'd ever expected he would, so much more. But. "Promise me, Lex."
"What will do you if I don't?" Real curiosity, edged with that *other*. Both slender hands fold over his stomach--the new hand Lex had designed is even better than the old one, feels so real under the glove Lex always wears. Without x-ray, Clark might never guess it was a prosthetic.
"I--" That's the question. Clark stares down, trying and failing to think of anything that could possibly work. "You could overdose, Lex."
"I did it for years and never misjudged."
"It scares me."
That stops him. Blue eyes narrow. "I'm careful."
Blank panic. It's unreasonable, and Clark knows it, but it doesn't change the feeling. "It scares me. Stop doing it. Please, Lex."
Lex understands. Fingers close gently over his. "I won't ever leave you."
Kryptonite-altered biochemistry has proved that--Lex has used the labs here for the last two years studying himself, studying the others, and he would know, better than Clark. There's no reason to be afraid, Clark *knows* that, but….
"I know." It doesn’t change the feeling. Biting his lip, Clark closes his eyes, every impossible possibility turning in his head. Lex--accidental overdose when Clark's gone, and God, fifteen years, letting Hamilton use him as a--a *guinea pig* and for that alone, Clark could have killed the man. "I'm--I'm just being paranoid, I know--"
"I promise." Flesh and leather smooth on his face, and Clark shivers at the slow, warm circles of his fingers into his skin. Lex would never bend for anyone else. "I promise that I'll only do it when you're here and know how much I'm using. Better?"
Somewhat, yes. Opening his eyes, Clark look down, stomach clenching at the look on Lex's face. That--God, that look that always makes him catch his breath, lose his train of thought, stop *thinking*, because all of Lex is here, with him. That part, that part Clark doesn't like to think about, the part that ran and hid and fought him for so long--that part's pushed aside, buried, *broken*, just for him. Broken more every day.
"I love you."
The slow smile's so beautiful it almost hurts. "I love you, too. Come here."
It's never the same any time. Never. Slow, open mouth, soft and gentle, abruptly deepening, and Lex--Lex *consumes* him, just like that. Hands twisting in his hair--longer now, Lex likes that even if he's never said it--body arching into his, and Clark presses them together, light-headed and, and God, so happy.
Even after two years, it's still so--amazing. Like too many years and too many nights alone, hoped for so long that it's never enough, never *be* enough. It's--everything, everything he's ever wanted.
Quick roll, and Lex is on top of him, lining up their hips, groaning into the kiss, the sexiest sound, and Clark loves this. Loves the weight and warmth, the rhythm of his hips that Clark follows, cock to cock through soft cotton and wool. Reaching up to unbutton the crisp cotton shirt, fingers lingering on the skin beneath, half-wanting to taste, but wanting Lex's mouth so much more.
But Lex pulls away, smiling again, and Clark opens his eyes on raw heat--so alive, so much more than anyone Clark's ever seen. "It's almost done," Lex murmurs. "Everything we've worked for. It's almost done." Mouth almost reverent when it presses another kiss to his mouth, then sliding down, warm and wet. Lingering on the pulse point, sucking, and Clark slides a hand to his head, fingers slow and gentle on smooth, silky skin.
Something--something so *good* in this.
"That's why--" Lex bites lightly, moves to another spot, then lifts his head after a slow lick. "That's why I've been working like this. We're so close--the last ones were dealt with today."
Last ones. Clark tightens his grip, meeting the blue eyes.
"The last cell?"
"One hundred and seventeen. The last cache of Kryptonite was taken today." Lex's grin lights up the room. "The war's over. It's all ours. Everything, Clark."
God, that explains--catching his breath, he can't look away. Lex, who wore triumph like a right, meant to be in every line of his face and body. Not simple tiredness after all, not pushing himself for some insanely anal reason, but--for this. For *them*.
"Over." Tastes the word. Clark can barely remember the world before the war. "You--you're sure?"
The grin's wide and perfect. "I handled it personally."
What he doesn't say, executions. Necessity has never equaled complete acceptance, and Clark winces away from that. Hypocrite, he thinks, then shakes the thought away. He's known from the beginning, always known, the only way to win would be like this. He needed Lex to make it work, to do the things he simply can't, to think of the things that he doesn't.
The only person who understands Clark's vision and can put it in motion the way that the world needs. "God, Lex--" The excitement's contagious. "How--I mean--when can we--"
"Tomorrow, today, whenever. We can start the real rebuilding now." Almost incandescent now, looking down at him. Lit up from within, and it's more than triumph, it's *justification*. For everything, every sacrifice they've both made to have this.
Almost too much to process. All the suffering Clark's witnessed, tried to help--gone. Under Lex's guidance, under that brilliant mind, everything is going to come to fruition. Fifteen stupid years wasted, but maybe--maybe that's what Lex needed, to become the man who can do this, can remake a world the way it's supposed to be. Ruthless when necessary, driven, and utterly devoted, in a way no one, even Clark's most adamant followers, are. They follow--that thing. The alien. Superman. Their god.
Lex--Lex is *Clark's*. Only Clark's.
Lex shrugs off the shirt, bending down, and Clark arches his throat, giving Lex better access. Slick, warm tongue, perfect, so perfect, and in only two years did what Clark couldn't do in fifteen. The war is *over*.
Running his hands over all that smooth, flawless skin, then shuddering to a stop, cock jumping at the feel of the fading mark on Lex's shoulder. He can feel Lex's grin.
"It's healing again," Lex whispers against his ear, then nips the lobe lightly.
Lex heals so *fast*. At first, frustrating, but somehow--somehow it has become something different. A renewal between them, perhaps, more intimate now that Clark knows how to do it. Heat vision and solid steel.
"Do it," Lex whispers, tongue sliding in his ear, slow and thick and wet. God. "Do it to me."
"Tonight?" He can't keep his hands away, and he never thought Lex would do this, but--he did. And does it every time with that same look, that look that makes Clark so hard it hurts, so high it scares him a little. Makes him wish he could be marked like that, knowing what it means to Lex, what it means to him to do it.
"Right. Now." And Lex shifts lithely to the bed beside him, cross-legged, staring at him with hooded eyes. Lust and need and that--that thing in him that's still fighting Lex's choice. That rebellious thing, that grows fainter every time Clark does this, and Clark nods, mouth dry, sitting up. The part that *needs* this.
The shaped metal is from their top drawer, carefully preserved in a special box. Taking it out, Clark breathes deeply, sliding it between his fingers as he goes to the bathroom, feeling every memorized curve. Saline spray, antibiotic, dressings to keep it clean until it heals enough to be left to the open air.
Kneeling behind Lex on the bed, sitting the things aside, and drawing his hands down the broad back. Lex shivers, hands closing over the sheets, and Clark gets up, getting the mirror off the wall.
Needs to see Lex's eyes when this happens. Like the first time all over again.
It's the work of only a few seconds to heat the metal, and the back in front of him is tense. Clark can't quite help it--traces the fading scar with his tongue, slow and easy, feeling Lex shiver, and the blue eyes half-close, lost in a haze of perfect surrender to this, to them, to *Clark*.
The first press of hot metal on his skin, perfect over the former scar, makes Lex hiss. Blue eyes widen impossibly, shocky and bright and so hot, so incredibly hot that Clark bites back a groan.
"Clark…" Lex whispers, hands braced on Clark's thighs, and Clark pulls the metal away. Heat again, quick. Again, and watching the silky skin *take* it, dark red and sore, raw, wounded, Lex *leaning* into it. Mouth dry, he feels Lex shiver against him, and they're so close.
"Look at me," Clark whispers. Needs to *see* it, reflected in clear blue, in the mirror, the almost transcendent look of utter--joy? Clark's not sure, never has been, but it's Lex, it's *his*.
Three, and Clark slides an arm around Lex's waist, pulling him closer. Mouthing the unmarked shoulder briefly, letting his teeth rake across sensitive skin, and Lex groans. Head turning just enough to catch his mouth, an awkward kiss, hot and wet and perfect.
Clark pulls away to press it in again, other hand sliding down that flat stomach, and Lex is so hard, cock jerking, head slick and wet already. The smell--he's gotten use to it, like barbecue, cooking flesh, this concrete way that Lex shows love and promises forever. Letting Clark write it into his skin one burn at a time.
The fifth time they're both shuddering, and Clark pulls it away, sucking in a slow breath at the angry red skin that will heal to scar in mere hours. Leaning forward, he can't help it, letting his mouth settle over the raw heat, and Lex shudders hard against him, shifting back into him. Murmuring Clark's name like something holy, sacred.
Quick, automatic work to clean, dress, tape in place.
Lex goes up on his knees when Clark pulls, letting Clark unbutton the fine wool pants, boxers and cloth pulled down, ripped because Clark's impatient and can't wait. The lube's in the drawer, work of seconds to get to it, and Lex hasn't moved, eyes half-closed, breathing fast and shallow, cock hard and pressed almost to his belly.
"Clark," he murmurs dreamily, and Clark jerks his jeans down, kicking them off the bed. Slicking two fingers with a shaking hand, circling the tiny hole, pushing inside. Lex tilts his head back and it's perfect, a kiss that sucks away air and thought and everything but the feeling, *this*, between them.
"Mine," Clark whispers, and this is when he believes it most. Absolutely. Quick stretch, they're both so ready it aches, and Clark pulls Lex into his lap, legs splayed over his, and slides into him. "God, Lex…."
"*Yes*." Lex's head against his shoulder, and Clark reaches around, stroking his cock. Watching Lex in the mirror, uninhibited, high, twisting on him, so beautiful it *hurts*, and this is Lex, who is Clark's, always. No little, nagging voice in his head, that other place in Lex weakening more, dying a little more every time Lex does this for him, for them. "Yes, Clark--"
"*Mine*." Too many years without him, maybe, that makes Clark need this so much, so desperately. Like a drug, an obsession, and he bucks up, speeding his thrusts, his hand, wanting to feel Lex let go, just for him, for this. "Mine, Lex. You're mine."
Shuddering now, constantly, and Clark sucks into the smooth column of his throat, tasting blood beneath the skin, feeling the shining edge of orgasm in reach, but he has to see Lex first, Lex give up everything for him. *Knowing*.
"Love you--" Whispered on a shuddering breath, and Clark can barely nod, one hand locked on Lex's hip, the other around his cock. Tension like something palpable between them, drawing them tighter together, binding, and no one, nothing can ever come between them again. Not now, not ever.
"Come for me, Lex. Give it up for me, just for me." So hard to hold on, but this is the best part. Leans and nuzzles into the bandaged mark, and Lex shudders hard, ass contracting around his cock and Clark holds tighter, shaking. "This, just for me, just us, only me, forget everything, everyone else, Lex. Mine, Lex, say it, tell me--"
"Yours." Almost *forced* between clenched teeth. "Just you, nothing else…" No one else, and every sacrifice is worth it, Clark thinks, trying to find enough air to breathe.
"Just me, Lex. Let it go, do it, Lex, do it, please, for me--"
It's perfect--shudder of his body and Clark pulls him closer, wanting to feel every twitch, and Lex comes, God, so *hard*, and Clark watches it all. Beautiful in pure ecstasy, wet heat spilling over Clark's hand and it pushes him too, fast, orgasm blinding, black spots dancing before his eyes as he thrusts up one last time, so *deep*, and comes.
Forever, like he'll never stop, the metal-taste of Lex's flesh and blood in his mouth, the feel of Lex all around him, coming deep inside, another way to mark him. Make him feel everything.
They collapse on the bed, and Clark removes the mirror before they can break it, pulling Lex close, riding out the shivers of his body.
Long, long moments of pure bliss, and Clark half sits up, jerking the blankets out from under them both, then curling up against the warm, hard body, resting his head on Lex's chest to listen to the slowing of his heartbeat, Lex's hands in his hair slow and dreamy.
"Only yours," Lex murmurs, voice slurred, low and utterly honest, and Clark sighs into his skin, holding on tighter. "Clark--"
"Love you." Whispered, before lifting up, looking into shocky, sated eyes. "Go to sleep."
"Demanding." With a little twitch of his mouth, then the blue eyes slit closed, hands tightening convulsively, like Clark might leave if he doesn’t hold on.
So perfect, and on the day they finally own the world.
Clark pulls him closer and smiles before drifting off into sleep.