Rating: Adult. If you're under eighteen, please go elsewhere now.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and DC Comics, not to me.
Read Chapter 1 here.
Clark began to feel like a prisoner on the farm. Every time he set foot off the premises, someone snapped a photo of him. He thought of destroying every camera that was pointed in his direction with a quick blast of heat vision, but he was smart enough to realize that if he did that, they'd begin to realize there was something odd about him before too long.
The one thing he had to do was convince them he was perfectly normal. He had to play the ordinary Kansas farmboy if it killed him. He couldn't run over to Kansas A&M in superspeed, or even do his chores quickly. He couldn't be seen putting in fence posts by hand, or driving nails with his thumb, or lifting the tractor without a jack.
It was frustrating as hell, and he was rapidly beginning to sympathize with the pet fish he'd had when he was little. Life in a goldfish bowl sucked.
Because of his abilities, his parents had brought him up to be a private person, and that was his natural inclination anyway. He loathed the feeling that everyone was watching him. Unlike a lot of the Lex Girls, he hadn't gotten involved with Lex because he wanted to be splashed all over the society pages. He wasn't using Lex to grab a moment of notoriety, or to make his name and face better known.
He just loved Lex, and wanted to be with him.
He and Lex were still calling each other all the time, but they'd decided to take a week or so apart from each other physically, just to give the media a chance to cool down. Clark had figured that would be easy enough.
He'd been wrong.
He hadn't realized how necessary time spent with Lex was to his emotional well-being nowadays. By the third day, he was already overflowing with bad temper. He'd spent the evening doing chores, then seething quietly in his loft. At midnight, he was still awake, staring glumly into the darkness.
His body ached with needs that hadn't been assuaged since all this started. He was a teenaged boy, overflowing with hormones, and he wanted sex all the time. Going without sex for most of a week, when he'd gotten in the habit of making love to Lex on a daily basis, sucked.
He thought of Lex, lying there in the darkness in his huge bed, curled up cozily beneath the covers. He thought of Lex's warm, soft skin, moonlight-pale against the deep blue sheets...
A little moan rose from his throat, and he shifted uncomfortably on the couch, and tried to put the images out of his mind.
It didn't work. His imagination was already in overdrive. He saw himself sliding into bed with Lex, slipping under the covers and kissing him all over, until Lex woke up and the two of them...
Stop it, he thought to himself. Just stop it.
But he couldn't stop it. He was in love, and thinking about the guy he loved, wanting to be with him, was perfectly natural. He couldn't help wanting to be with Lex, in every sense of the word. He missed making love to Lex, but he also missed talking to him, holding his hand, laughing about silly things, spending time together.
Lex had been a part of his life for years now. Even before they'd started their physical affair, Clark had been used to seeing him on a daily basis.
Going three days without seeing him made something inside him ache.
He shifted on the couch again. Yeah, he definitely had an ache.
He closed his eyes and moaned again. Damn it, this was not fair. He'd finally realized how much Lex meant to him. And all he wanted was to spend some quality time with his significant other. That wasn't so much to ask for, was it?
He opened his eyes and stared into the darkness. Nighttime, he thought, was the best time to avoid prying eyes.
If he was ever going to have a private moment with Lex, this was the best time to do it.
His mind made up, he stood up and scooted down the stairs in superspeed.
Lex was already in bed. Despite his reputation as a party boy, he was a businessman, and he kept pretty reasonable hours. The mansion was dark and still when Clark entered, although a few security guards were on duty patrolling the ground. None of them spotted Clark as he whooshed by them.
He zoomed upstairs and went into Lex's tastefully appointed room. The rest of the mansion was crowded with heavy, overly wrought wood furniture and antique paintings. But Lex had decorated his private sanctuary with sleek modern furniture and quiet abstract paintings.
"I might live in a mausoleum," he'd told Clark once, "but I'll be damned if I'll sleep in one."
Clark closed the door behind him, and listened. The sound of Lex's quiet, steady breathing filled his head. He kicked off his shoes, stripped off every stitch of his clothing, and padded over to the bed.
And then he slid beneath the covers, just as he'd imagined in his fantasies, and pressed up next to Lex.
Read Chapter 3 here.