#bvs clex

[momosansovino]

/Wouldn't be much of a surrender if I resisted./ 

#happyvalentinesday❤

[this-life-one-leaf]

[momosansovino]

The land of Kansas had turned into ashes. The sight of it hurt him to the bones, as if the most important part of his youth had burned down, and abruptly taken away. After all, it was easy to blame everything on Lex, but he didn’t want to.

                                                 《All We Grow》

[mysteryismyart]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

A little continuation to my Clex soulmates color AU. (I just like to write Lex’s breakdows:))

[mysteryismyart]

A continuation to this prompt fic http://mysteryismyart.tumblr.com/post/145869908950/so-i-just-read-all-your-bvs-fics-on-ao3-and-i-have#notes

Lex wakes up the next morning and tries to remember.

Lex woke up to agony.

Well, that might have been an exaggeration, but Lex dealt in absolutes so a head ache slowly but methodically pounding at his temples and the whole feeling of…wrongness in his body warranted a ‘code red’. He groaned into the pillow, and then groaned again because of the disgusting feeling in his mouth.

He was still wearing a suit.

Oh yes…The party must have been a success, Lex thought.

He pushed himself up and off the bed, stumbling over the edge but managing not to face plant on the floor. He needed a shower. He stood on his feet, unsteady, and looked around. The room was as pristine as ever – the cleaning staff was notorious at fighting Lex’ messiness – with the obvious exception of the bed. A glass of water was waiting on the nightstand. Lex grabbed clumsily and drowned the whole thing in one go. That was good. That made him feel more like himself.

As Lex slammed the glass back on the table, something else caught his eye. A sheet of paper, blank, safe for two lines on the top. A LexCorp engraving at the bottom called for official business so he reached for it, disregarding how much he did not want to work. The content was surprising though.

A phone number. And a name.

Clark Kent.

“Huh?” Lex peered at the paper as if it can reveal more secrets. “Kent…”

Something was nagging at the back of his mind, a thought that demanded to be acknowledged. The hangover was making it difficult but he was starting to recall something…

“Clark!” An enthusiastic shout. Nothing unusual that, Lex was always enthusiastic, especially when drunk.

“Clarky!”

“Oh…” Not good.

Lex squeezed his eyes, trying to shut down the memory, but his ears were ringing with his own voice, obnoxiously loud and demanding. He desperately needed to call for Mercy, but her patronizing would be the final nail in his coffin. He wouldn’t mind some babying right at that moment, but somehow she always skipped the good part and treated him like a child who was suffering terrible consequences his own actions. She would be so condescending.

Still, the situation called for some clarification. He found a phone, still in his jacket pocket, and sent her a quick text. Then, preparing to his horrible fate, he perched on the edge of the bed, hiding his face in his hands. He needed a shower and some more sleep and then, maybe, he will feel human again.

“You called, boss?” Mercy appeared, quiet as usual. How can someone wearing those heels move so soundlessly?...

“What’s this?” He waved the paper at her, looking up through the curtain of hair.

Her little smirk told him everything she thought about his current condition. Stupid. Pitiful. Why was he employing her again?

“A phone number, Sir.”

“I can see that,” he replied tersely, in no mood for games.

“It’s what you asked for.” She shrugged. “Last night.”

“Clark Kent’s number.” Lex said slowly, each word tasting sour on his tongue.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I believe you had a deal with him, Sir.”

Lex narrowed his eyes in suspicion, half expecting the whole thing to turn out to be a joke. But Mercy was not the type for jokes.

“Care to elaborate?”

“Apparently,” she glanced away, fighting a smile. “You really wanted to take Kent home. Or at least make out with him right there. Kent, however, was a perfect gentleman and told you to call him in the morning if you were still interested.”

That explained the mortifying memory of Lex trying to climb Kent like a tree. Metaphorically and literally. Mortified Lex released a pitiful whine and looked down at the sheet of paper. He had crumpled it up in a fit of agitation and now he tried to smooth out the corners just to have something to do.

“So are you, Sir?”

“What?” He asked distractedly.

“Still interested?” Her tone was too casual and Lex could easily understand the underlying warning. Was he though? Interested in Clark Kent…probably. The man’s alter ego, however, was not a simple issue. Lex’s gaze ran over the lines; he contemplated but it was all just pretend. He knew the answer as soon as he saw the numbers. He shrugged and Mercy heaved a sigh. She too, knew the answer already.

“I’ll leave you to it then.” She said and turned to leave. “Just…be careful.”

Lex waited until the door closed behind her to dial the number.

[mysteryismyart]

Hi! I think are a fantastically amazing writer, and I've read all of your BvS books on ao3. If you have time and want to, I was wondering if you could write a soulmate au (everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate) for Clex? Thanks!

Hi! Thank you for your amazing words! I’m incredibly happy that you enjoy my work:D

I’m not sure if this is what you had in mind when you sent me the prompt, but I hope you will like it! I try to fit the prompts within the movie canon when it’s possible so I did it here. Turned out pretty sad as a result.

(also I hope I did not mess up the grammar too badly)

Lex iswatching. It’s surprisingly easy to blend in with the crowd in the morningrush. He lowers the cap down over his eyes and pushes through the tourist group,hoping he had not missed the target. He catches a glance from a young girlwaiting in the line for coffee and her face lights up with recognition but Lexputs a finger to his mouth, winking playfully. It makes this little meeting theirown personal secret and the girl preens at the honor and smiles back and keepsher mouth shut.  Good.

Lex steps aroundthe bus stop crowd and finally slows down by a non-descript apartment building.Nothing special except for the prize it keeps inside. He lingers there, looksat his mobile to check the time. Instead focuses on a text from Mercy. She isasking him to get back to LexCorp. In a very straight manner she warns that hisimpulsiveness will ruin them. She always does this. Lex ignores it. Looks up atthe building again. Third window on the fourth floor.

Lex changeshis mind and sends Mercy an emoji. Smiling. Upside down.

His phonespings with a new message, no doubt an angry retort, but he ignores it thistime. Watches how the lights go out in the flat. Feels his skin tingle withanticipation.

He leanscasually by the building across the street, most likely looking like a propercreep loitering while the crowd rushes by. He bites his lip when the door ispushed open and a figure steps out, in a hurry gets the jacket snagged by thedoor handle, scrambles to free himself, glasses falling down his nose. Free, helooks up and around, assessing the movement around him and dives into the flow,just another passer-by in a hurry.

Lex followы at a moderate pace, keeping histarget in sighе whilefalling behind not to get noticed. Not that the man is expecting any pursuit.Not that Lex has anything on his mind but to catch a proper look.

Clark Kentturns, avoiding a crush with an elderly woman, and smiles at her and…

And Lexfeels a wave of dizziness hit him and his eyes grow out of focus. He pauses,leans on a lamp post, the unexpected weakness making him lose his step. When helooks up, fingers still gripping the metal to keep steady, his target isalready out of sight. Lex knows where he is heading, has the route mapped outwith any variables taken into account. Which holds absolutely no meaning to himat that moment.

The worldcomes into focus again, slowly as if his eyes need to adjust all over again,and colors start creeping in from the sides. Very pale, very light, like comingout of a fog, but Lex notices them all the same. Squeezed his eyes shut, hopingto chase away the unwanted blue of the sky. It doesn’t help. The colorы rush in and he bites his lip untilit bleeds and then wipes the red blood away with his hand.

Thisdoesn’t change anything.

He takesout a phone to text Mercy.

“How is the operation SuperBat going?” Winky face.

He gets toplanning with renewed vehemence.

Lex has aplan. To be fair, Lex always has a plan. This one, however, is of a more personalnature. It’s only his and is simple and effortless so he has not even informedMercy. He prefers to keep this recent development to himself.

He doesn’tknow if Mercy can see color, though the way she stares at the kryptonite makeshim wonder. And he can’t blame her – Lex is unable to tear his eyes away too.This inconvenience, he thinks with distaste, has got at least one good side toit. He is now able to appreciate the beauty of the bright green playing on thesurface of a rock from another planet. How bright it is. How it only gets moreshine the deeper it goes. How the surface is dusted with darker shades,tarnished by its time under the sea. It’s the most beautiful thing Lex had everseen. He is mesmerized, could spend hour and hours, watching the shapes in thedepth of the kryptonite. For that he is grateful. So he enjoys the power whileit lasts, because if everything goes according to plan – and it will – theworld will drop back into black and white soon enough.

Lex willhave found himself a new amusement by that time.

But fornow…now he has a small scheme of his own, crafted carefully to ensure thatClark Kent will not be able to tell who his soulmate is.

The processis not immediate, Lex knows. He has read the research. He had it confirmed byhis own experience. It is also slowed down by alcohol. Which might not actuallywork in case of an alien with super metabolism but Clark would not know it. Sohe sends a waiter to circle the crowd of journalists and Kent, who refuses aglass once, twice, finally gives up on the third time.

Lex talksto the representatives from the library, they smile and thank him and hope formore donations. It’s infinitely boring but he needs to kill some time beforethe big speech. Kent spends it observing the crowd, taking absolutely no noteswhat so ever, not even tries talking to any other patrons. Bruce Wayne hadcaught his eye, Mercy informed Lex earlier. That’s good. Disgusting but good.

Lex doesn’twant to feel a bite of jealousy, the bitter taste of it in his mouth that evenchampagne can not wash away. But he does, so he drinks until Mercy swoops inand replaces it with sparkling cider. It doesn’t matter any way – Lex couldnever get properly drunk. The time for the speech comes and finally Clark Kentis looking at him, but not paying any attention. Which is good. Bad. Good.

Good becausehe won’t realize what brought on the change.

Lex rushesthrough the speech, bit and pieces of his real thoughts slipping and spillingonto the confused crowd before him. And nowKent is watching him, his brows scrunched in polite puzzlement at Lex’s completelack of control. And then, suddenly, he turns. Lex could see his profile: thefrown lines had grown deeper from real concern. Ah. So it has started then.

By the timehe gets to Kent and Bruce Wayne, finally, finally introducing himself, Kentmust have been properly perplexed and hopefully very anxious. His eyes keepdarting to Bruce until suddenly they stop on Lex. On Lex’s hair. Red, Lex waspleased to see the day before. He rather liked the color.

Kent seemsunable to look away. Confused. Once again confused. Befuddled. Puzzled.Bewildered. Lex’s smiles stretches wide. But he needs to make his exit beforeKent can fully realize. He gets away, excuse easily presenting itself, and getslost in the crowd. Curious. Are Kent’s eyes following him? Trying to catchanother glimpse of ginger hair among the guests. Lex can’t give him thatpleasure though. He shakes off the library curator and leaves the party. Thisshould be enough.

“It’srather poetic, isn’t it?” Lex says to the man kneeling at his feet. No. Not aman. A god. Dressed in red and blue – garish enough to make Lex regret seeingcolors.

He reachesout. But he can’t touch. He could touch Clark Kent, that parody of a human, buthe can’t bring himself to touch Superman.

“You aremine.” Lex enunciates, pleased beyond belief how Superman’s eyes widen. “Inevery way.”

And it’sthe delicious truth. He owns Superman’s body, thanks to a beautiful plan bornout of his cunning mind and an ordinary woman whose kindness had saved thisatrocity of a man long ago. But he also owns Superman’s soul. And that makesthe fire burning in the other’s eyes – tamed – all the more satisfying.

“Mine tolove.” Lex spats the words. They have no meaning to him, so twisted andtarnished they fall from his lips like a curse. In his next words he believeswith all his heart. “Mine to kill.”

And hesends Superman away to the fight that will either kill him or destroy him.

[mysteryismyart]

Hey :) Ok first of all I have to say that I absolutely love all of your clex fics. They're amazing and I'm so thankfull that your using bvs Lex Luthor! He's so adorable, Jesse Eisenberg was fantastic, anyway I wanted to ask whether or not you're still taking prompts? Because I recently saw Man of Steel and thought what if Lex and Clark started talking about how difficult their childhood was and that they both start to understand the other better. Totally up to you but thanks anyway, bye :)

Hi! Sorry it took me ages to post this but I hope you are still interested in the idea:)

Thank you for all your wonderful words! I admit I didn’t want to go the usual way and have them get a heart-to-heart, so I came up with this idea instead. I hope you can still enjoy the story:D (This was written with the scene from Man Of Steel in mind. I’m sure you’ll understand whihc one)

Warnings: dark, past childe abuse, emotional hurt/comfort

Clark remembers running – a flash of a memory that takes center in hisbrain and won’t budge. His head hurts like someone is drilling into his templesand he clamps his hands over his ears but it’s of no use. The noise is inside; it is in his mind and makes himlose control. The sense of reality is slipping away, destroying his tentativegrasp on the situation. He is on his knees but he doesn’t remember falling, theconcrete is hard and cold even through the Superman suit. If only he couldremember…if only he could recall coming here, what here actually is…

Why is it so cold? Why is there no one..?

Clark is sure he didn’t come alone. There was someone…someone weak soClark had to put him at his back, despite the mistrust between them. Someonebrilliant who managed to figure out the passcodes and get them inside. Someonewith a shrill voice, that rang in Clark’s ears when they got ambushed andseparated. Someone with bright blue eyes that shone with anger and fear as theother person got dragged away. His name…what was his name!

But Clark doesn’t remember. Doesn’t understand.

His vision is a blur – only a dark corridor ahead in a sharp focus.

And he runs.

No.

He remembers running. But it’sa wrong memory. This one is old and faded and so drenched in fear Clark knowsinstantly that it belongs to a child. Unable to resist he goes along with thevision, lets it carry him away.

So Clark runs. The corridor is long, the lights are dimmed, and thewooden floor squeaks under his sneakered feet. He knows this one. And, eventhough there is no childish laughter chasing him out of the classroom orworried calls of Ms. Rampling he dashes away down the passage that seems moregloomy than it actually was and barrels into the closet on his right. The smallroom is filled with darkness despite his mind insisting there should have beena light on – a single bulb casting unpleasant yellow glow. It’s not there now.It’s a small detail but it makes him uncomfortable, like his own skin is toobig for him.

He squirms but finds a place on the floor, folding his small body in afamiliar position. Hands wound around bent knees, an illusion of protection.

A sounds echoes outside – footsteps. And a sudden fear rushes throughClark. Father. One word filled withsuch terror it sends shivers down his spine. A scream rises in his throat andhe clamps both hands over his mouth to stop it. Tears are falling down his faceas he chokes on the cry; he is shaking so violently his teeth would be chatteringif he wasn’t keeping his jaw shut forcefully. Anything to stay unnoticed.  

In a distant part of his brain Clark understand that this makes nosense. In his childhood he had never been afraid of his father. Jonathan Kentwas a strict man but he was loving and caring; never in his life had he madehis son feel this way.

Clark feared the outsiders, all those classmates who laughed and thenshunned him, all the teachers who looked at him with either pity of fear. Theworld around was scary but home was one place where he always felt safe.

This makes no sense – it’s the last moment of clarity before a new waveof dread overwhelms him.

The steps draw closer and he shoves his head between bent knees, hopingto make himself smaller, praying to go unnoticed. He mutters under his breath,every word a silent plea to any deity that would listen. The panic is rising,it’s wave like a familiar blanket enveloping him, and he rocks and mumbles withgrowing desperation.

Please, no.

Please, help!

And as always his plea goes unnoticed. Never an answer. Never a savior.The door is pushed open, bright light illuminating an intimidating figure frombehind. Clark cannot see the face but he doesn’t need to. A word slips past hislips, unbidden. “Father.”  It’s a whimperso weak and pathetic it breaks Clark’s heart.

The intimidating figure doesn’t respond; Clark could barely make thetight set of his jaw through the light hitting his sore eyes.

He is so scared. God, he is so scared, how does he make it?

Clark knows now that this memory he is reliving does not belong to him.And the big hands reaching for the small figure can not hurt him, had neverhurt him, but he whines and backs away, sliding on polished wooden floors.  He thrashes and screams but the huge figureof a father is meticulously calm as it grabs his shoulder and drags him out.

Last rays of the evening sun warm up the western gallery and it’s aterrifying dissonance with the ice cold fear inside him. He still fights andtries to get away, but he is too weak in the face of this man.

Clark screams Lex Luthor’s fears out and cries his tears and ripshimself away from the memory before it takes the turn for the worst.

He comes to on the floor of a small cell, windowless walls made ofconcrete. There is no door but he doesn’t need one, burns a hole right throughand stumbles his way out. The room beyond has a couple guards but mostly peoplein lab coats who watch him in fear. Clark doesn’t bother with them – just asthey don’t bother trying to stop the Superman as he tears his way through thecompound in search of his accomplice.

It seems they were mostly relying on technology to keep him subdued andwhen he managed to shake off the mind control they have no other means tofight. Clark can’t care less. A memory still burns in his mind, the echo ofterror resonating in his chest. It hurts, it hurts so much he has to ball hishands into fists to keep the emptions in.

These people are not the man from his dream – that one is a shadow ofthe past, long dead but still haunting – but Clark still wants to punish them.Instead he crashes the compound, breaking through walls in his search.

Finally he comes across the lab that is a mirror image of the one hebroke out of. It’s abandoned already, devoid of people but with the tech stillrunning. There is no need to scan the place – he sees the cell in the cornerand knows what he will find inside. Who he will find.

With trepidation Clark burns out the hinges of the door, barelynoticeable chrome on sterile white, and carefully pulls the slab of metalaside. He is cautious of what he might see but steps inside nonetheless; hecan’t wait to get away from this place and purge the memories burned into thebacks of his eyelids.

“No!” A shout startles Clark and he backs out a step even before hisgaze finally lands on Lex Luthor. “Leave me alone.” It’s a snarl but it lacksany fire so Clark dares to move in instead.

He doesn’t know what to say, Luthor looks distressed and agitated; Clarkwishes he could know what the man is seeing. Which one is it, he wonders as hecrouches in front of the redhead. “I’m here to help.”

Luthor shakes his head violently. His pupils are blown wide while hiseyes look around wildly, seeing what his mind has concocted. No, that’s notright, Clark reminds himself, seeing whatever they pulled out of my memory. But which one?..

Luthor digs his fingers into the red curls and closes up as if hishearing hurts, squeezes his eyes shut like he tries to shake off the visions.

“Stop,” a strangled mutter is barely heard over his rapid breathing.“Stop the whispers.”

It’s as if he is going into a panic attack, but Clark had never had…

“Oh,” he knows with unexpected clarity what is torturing Lex Luthorright now. “How can I help you if you won’t let me in?” He asks, just becausehe needs to be sure.

“The world is too big,” Luthor spats out. The words come out against hiswill and the tone is a far cry from Clark’s own, weakened with desperation andhanging on a hope that his mother could help him. Luthor delivers the line withspite and bites on his lip to keep the rest in.

“It’s alright,” Clark promises in his best soothing voice. His mother’swords make the memory bearable, make the world alright. “Just focus on myvoice.”

He needs to shake Luthor out of this daze, probably as soon as possibleso that they can get out of this awful place. But first Luthor needs to shakeoff the spell that had engulfed him. This memory is not so terrible but onlybecause Clark always concentrates on what comes next – his mother’s love as shetalks him down, makes the too big world melt away and shrink to only two ofthem when she smothers him with a hug. It’s obvious this part is unreachablefor Luthor, who is stuck with the fear and confusion that young Clark had felt.

“L…Lex,” Clark calls out in a soft voice. “Just focus on my voice. Youare alright. You are alright now.”

Luthor’s eyes find his, the mad haze falling from them as a flicker ofrecognition sparks up. He is not there yet but Clark is reluctant to bring upMartha’s next words, that precious gift that belongs to him alone. But also heisn’t sure mother’s love would be enough to help Lex Luthor.

“I’m here to help.”

Luthor’s eyes light up at that. “Help?”

Clark swallows around the lump in his throat and nods. “Yes.” He knowsnow. And he is not backing down. “I’ve come to save you.”

He reaches out, tentative not to spook. Luthor is trembling and hecrosses his arms and hugs his midriff protectively; but his eyes, his eyes arekeenly watching Clark’s outstretched hand. Carefully, with a hand that isshaking violently, he reaches back.

Clark waits until Luthor’s fingers, ice cold and delicate, land on hispalm, testing, and then with more confidence grab his hand. Clark pulls him outinto the light, away from the confines of the cell, and Luthor falls againsthim, weakened by the ordeal.

“Is it over?” Clark asks just as Luthort mutters, “I’m fine.” And pushesaway. Though he is in no hurry to put as much space between them as possiblelike he usually does. Bloodshot eyes glare back more out of habit than out ofanger.

He is so subdued, it makes Clark wonder if the memories, enforced on himby their captors, had changed something in him. Like it changed Clark. It’s notenough to make him like Luthor, but it is a tiny piece that makes himunderstand the redhead better. Clark didn’t ask for this, but now that he hasit, this shadow of terror that haunts this man, he will cherish it. He willtreat like a precious part it is; to better know his enemy, to betterunderstand him. So that, one day, he might be able to help.

And by the way Luthor looks back at him, astonished, Clark thinks maybehe is not alone in his revelation.

[mysteryismyart]

So I just read all your BvS fics on ao3 and I have to give you a massive kudos. They're all so cute :D If you don't mind I have a prompt for you: could you write Clark dealing with a drunk Lex at a party?

Hi! Thank you for the prompt! It’s was fun to write:)

I know I’m very slow in dealing with prompts, but I won’t abandon any of those, I hope you don’t mind it took me so long to write this. And I hope you will enjoy the story!

(At some point Follow Me Into The Jungle came on myplaylist while I was writing. So all the drunk Lex happens to this song in myhead)

The party was wild even by a crazy rocker standards.Clark honestly had no idea how he was supposed to interview the celebrities whowere ranging from ‘on the wrong side of tipsy’ to ‘outrageously drunk’. Jimmy jokedthat they probably could pull all the secrets out of these people and theywouldn’t even remember any of it the next day. How the hell did a bookpresentation turn into this was a mystery that would most likely go foreverunsolved; it certainly felt like he had turned away just for a second andeveryone went from serious to hard party mode. The abundance of liquordefinitely didn’t help, as well as the sudden strobe lights in what at firstseemed to be a serious congress hall.

The heat was unbearable as Clark wound his way througha mass of dancing bodies, carefully evading a groping hand or two andsidestepping a movie star who tried to make out with him. There really wasn’tanything for him to do, but his editor would be furious if Clark left andmissed anything noteworthy.

“You know what’s the most ridiculous thing about thisis?” He shouted over the music to Jimmy, who was trying to catch a couple goodshots. It wasn’t working well, seeing how he was equipped to shoot a gala, notan orgy under strobe lights.

“I have a feeling you are about to tell me.”

“If nothing truly atrocious happens – and I’m talkingan attack of a huge lizard level of horrible – all I’m going to write is howthis distinguished people were all nice and noble and supported the author.”

“Well they are very supportive.” Jimmy commented. “Oneof them even lets her do body shots off him.”

Clark groaned and ran a hand over his face.

This was anightmare. At times like this he wished he could get drunk – at least then hewouldn’t be feeling so out of place in this crowd. He was sweating in a shirtand a jacket and the glasses continued sliding down his nose every fiveminutes.

“I’ll get some water,” he warned Jimmy before headingfor the bar. It was a huge neon contraption along the back wall of the room – acenter of attention for almost half of the patrons, the second half occupyingdance floor.

Clark had to shove his way through, still gentlethough, reining in his irritation. He managed to reach the bar withoutincidents, a crowd stepping away to join the dancing and he was lucky enough toget their place; Clark thought he could take a breath and let his guard down alittle. The barman quirked an eyebrow at Clark’s order of water but compliedwith surprising efficiency – seeing how another group had just decked by theother end of the bar and was asking for more alcohol. Very vigorously.

The glass was cold in his hand, promising so wantedrefreshment, and Clark lifted it to his lips…only to have the water spilled allover the front  of his shirt when a bodycrashed into his side. Instead of a slurred sorry he got a distorted “ClarkKent!” shouted in his ear and clingy hands grabbing his shoulders. Heavy weightdragged him down as the person practically hung onto him in a careless hug.

“Clark. Claaaaaark,” a happy voice purred while thedrunken stranger (but no, not really a stranger, there was no way Clark wouldnot recognize that voice) rubbed his cheek on his shoulder. “Clarky.”

“Hello, Mr. Luthor.” Clark said stiffly and tried toturn around and dislodge the drunk billionaire at the same time.

“No, no, no, no, no!” A finger waved in front ofClark’s face hit him on the nose accidentally and then pressed on the tip withmore purpose. “You should call me Lex. We have been through so much together!”A happy grin split his face and Lex Luthor grabbed onto Clark’s neck preparingfor another hug.

Clark kept him at bay, careful not to hurt but firmstill. Lex struggled and flailed madly; his bony hands clung to Clark’s shirtwith unexpected strength and, unable to step up instead he dragged thejournalist closer until his head was firmly planted against Clark’s chest.

“This is nice.” He muttered to Clark’s pecs while hishand trailed all over the muscular torso. Lex rubbed his cheek on the roughfabric of Clark’s cheap shirt and sighed contentedly. “I want to stay hereforever.”

“Please don’t,” Clark squeaked, not sure if he wasaddressing Lex’s words of his wandering hands. Nails dragged down his shirtfront until they stopped at his belt.

“Clarky,” Lex’s voice sang melodiously as hazy eyeslooked up at him from under heavy pale lashes. He blinked very slowly, as in a daze,and bit on his bottom lip. Full and dark red from abuse it stuck out in a pout.“Would you like to play with me?” A smirk stretched those lips next, wicked andpromising, and Clark had to fight down a shiver. “Would you like to come withme?”

With horror Clark realized that Lex’s foot was rubbingagainst his calf, the CEO practically trying to climb him like a tree…andwasn’t that a very unfortunate turn of phrase?

Lex’s left leg wound around Clark’s shin, the gestureso awkward on someone this drunk Lex almost fell over but grabbed onto Clark’sshoulders to steady himself. This seemed to distract him for a moment; elegantfingers running over Clark’s collarbone, their touch feather light as theyplayed him like the most delicate piano. It was distracting. And absolutelyunacceptable, Clark had to remind himself sternly.

“Mr. Luthor.” He protested. Ridiculously, it was soeasy to call the redhead ‘Lex’ in his head, but whenever Clark addressed himverbally only the formal greeting slipped out. “You should stop.”

“But I’m having so much fun!” Lex exclaimed in anenthusiastic whisper against Clark’s neck. As words that fell from his lips hisbreath warmed Clark’s skin, unintentionally sexual and unexpectedly arousing.Clark’s breath caught and he gave himself a moment – a second – to enjoy theheat of the body pressed to his so intimately, Lex’s tempting smirk and theglint in his eyes. The way fat beads of sweat rolled down his temple and thepulse beat widely at his collarbone in time with the heavy bass of the music.Lex ran a hand through his hair, unruly strands pushed back from his forehead,and swayed back with the movement. Clark saw his lips fall open on a breath asLex let go of him and let his body fall in with the wild melody reigning overthem.

Unable to stay away Clark moved in, winding his handsaround Lex’s slight frame. His palms slid under the pale blue jacket, over thewhite shirt, wet with sweat. Lex’s body would not stop writhing to the music.He arched his back and swung his hips and ran a hand up Clark’s neck to bringthem close.

“Now this is more fun.” Lex’s smile flashed under thestrobe lights, wicked.

Clark knew what was going to happen next, saw it inLex’s eyes, that heavy gaze under the lowered lashes. He was beautiful likethis: loose and open with his mind and body, tantalizing in this drunken daze.The usual nervousness and stumbling all gone, leaving only easy languid grace.

Pulling away was incredibly hard but Clark jerkedaside a moment before Lex’s lips touched his. A pretty pout was irresistible,and still he knew he should not give in.

“Clark…” Lex wined, bouncing on his tip toes.

“That’s not a good idea.” Clark admonished.

“Why?” The redhead bit his lip while his fingersruffled Clark’s hair. “I like Clark.”

That may be even true, but even if you do like thisside of me, you hate the other, Clark thought. Out loud, he said. “You won’t feelthe same in the morning.”

“That’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not.” Clark carefully pulled Lex’s fingersfrom his hair and gently pushed the other away. Clasping Lex’s elegant hands inhis palms he said imploringly. “You should go home.”

Lex’s eyes fixed on their hands, trapped between them,“I don’t…don’t…” He started mumbling while shaking his head. Red locks obscuredhis face and it was hard to tell what was running through his head. Nothinggood, probably.

“Call me tomorrow.” Clark said, surprising them both.“If you still feel the same way.”

Lex’s eyes narrowed. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Clark smiled at his puzzled expression.Impulsively, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Tomorrow.”

With that Clark slipped away into the crowd. Hecouldn’t find Jimmy, but noticed Mercy glaring from across the dancefloor. Shegave him a nod, a quick jerk of her head to show that she wasn’t going to tryto disembowel him tonight.

“Clark!” Jimmy’s voice made him turn. “I’ve goteverything I need.”

There was no telling if the photographer had witnessedwhat had transpired between Clark and Lex Luthor – either way he acted nodifferently. “Let’s go?”

Clark looked back, searching the familiar red headedfigure – but Lex was nowhere to be found, just as Mercy. “Yeah,” he smiledweakly at Jimmy. “Let’s go.”