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Alone Together Author: Author's note: Alax knows that this is my favourite story of hers, so she basically knew that I was going to mess with it. Heh. The fic just breaks my heart every time. So, babe, hope I didn't f* it up - too much. ;) BTW, you have to read this fic as though only the first few episodes of SV ever happened even though Clark is on the verge of 18 in the fic. Thank you: to my moss-y pie for re-reading Alax's fic in order to beta mine. *hugs* "What?" He was barely able to keep from barking his annoyance into the cell phone. "Lex..." He could recognize that voice anywhere. "Clark?!" "Lex... why aren't you here?" The words were slurred together and Lex wondered at having recognized the voice to begin with. "Where are you, Clark?" There was a significant pause before Clark spoke again. "I don't know." Another pause. "Lex... I need you." He hung up, quickly dialing Jeremy's number. "I need a trace. Right now!" *** Lex practically jumped out of his plane, silently hoping that his staff wouldn't notice his obvious agitation. Stalking across the blistering asphalt, he tossed himself into the waiting limo. In automatic mode, he speed dialed Gabe, quickly clearing his schedule with efficiency that could only be achieved when two people had been working together closely for many years. He paused to try to remember who else he needed to call. Finally, he settled on the Rosses. They would make sure that everyone who needed to know, would know. He slammed his fist into the seat when they hung up the moment they heard 'This is Lex Luthor.' Someday, he would learn to stop starting all his phone calls that way. He tried again, this time starting with 'It's about Clark,' which earns him two minutes of silent listening. He hung up when Mr. Ross murmured a disgruntled 'Fine.' Tapping the window, he yelled almost too loudly at the innocent driver, "Step on it." His hands were trembling as he sprawled on the seat and tossed back a sizeable shot of whiskey. If someone had told him a week ago that he would be rushing at breakneck speed to a Motel 6, he would have laughed out loud. But there he was. Never more anxious to get to a Motel 6. Where Clark was. He choked down another shot and took a steadying breath. The last couple of weeks were the worst he could have possibly imagined. His absolute dependence on Clark's presence had never been more evident. He grimaced at the reminder of the unanswered emails in his mailbox, the unreturned phone calls, the total lack of concentration on his fucking business. So worried. So worried about where Clark was, what he was doing. If he was okay, if the people around him were okay. Clark had been so angry; furious at the universe for having the audacity to ignore the oftentimes almost unreasonable conviction that is inherently Kent. The last time Lex had spoken to Clark, they'd had a loud argument. Lex had tried to talk some reason into Clark, but all he got was outrageous, random accusations, some even directed at him. His Palm had told him it was twenty-one minutes from Newark to the motel. He could trust that Michael would have the one driver who could get him there in fifteen. Glancing outside, he confirmed that he was clearly in a small town. He wondered why Clark had ended up there of all places. God. He fucking hoped that Clark was all right. He would never be able to forgive himself if the last time they had talked it had been -- that argument. He slouched into the seat, trying to think of what to say to Clark. Pete and his parents are worried sick. Chloe hasn't had a good night's sleep since you disappeared. Lana can't stop crying all the time. God, I miss you so much. The limo came to a jerking halt and Lex took a deep breath. Gathering his nerves, he opened the car door and stalked towards Room 201. He rapped on the door loudly, unsure if Clark was even awake... or alive. The door opened after several long moments and they simply stared at each other. He didn't know what to say. How to begin to express the relief that was flooding through him at the sight of Clark. Had to fight the rising urge to throw himself at the rumpled frame and wrap himself around Clark until his brain could convince his heart that Clark was there, in front of him. Finally, when he could no longer stand the silence, he quietly murmured, "Everyone's worried about you." Clark seemed to absorb this for many more long moments. "And you? Are you worried about me?" "I just flew across half the country. Yeah, I'm worried about you." Clark looked like shit. His clothes were stained with what possibly was vomit. His hair was poking in every direction. His eyes were puffed up in a heart-wrenching combination of crying and lack of sleep. He wanted so badly to avert his gaze. The desperation he found within tore through his guts. Licking his dried, cracked lips, Clark stumbled back into the room, sprawling gracelessly on the floor. He followed, quickly locking the door. When his eyes settled on the green rock on the floor beside Clark, he rushed forward and slammed the lead box close. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Instantly, Clark seemed more alert. "Feeling." Lex's mind reeled with a hundred different ways of yelling at Clark for being so insanely stupid, but Clark was suddenly wrapped around him, melting into him. "I'm so tired." Nothing easier than to hold Clark against him. Trying to soothe out all the sorrow that he could practically feel under the smooth, silken skin. Desperate to make the anguish his instead. Tears seeped into his shoulder as he tried to pull Clark deeper into his embrace. Their bodies twisted in an uncomfortable lump of limbs. He stroked a hand through Clark's greasy hair, gentling the sobbing with meaningless words. 'It's okay,' 'I'm here now,' 'I'll make it better.' Meaningless. Completely fucking meaningless. Because the truth of it was -- he couldn't make it better. Things were so beyond his control that his head was spinning at the thought of how *much* he couldn't make it better. He dragged Clark into the bathroom. Without asking, he pulled Clark's T-shirt over his head and helped him shrug out of his pants and boxers. He ran a hot bath, then carefully guided Clark's boneless body in. Clark merely leaned back into the tub, closing his eyes as Lex tried his best to wash the week away from him. He froze when Clark grabbed his wrist roughly. Their eyes met over the foggy mist and Lex felt part of him dying. "Does anyone know you're here?" Lex shook his head. "They know I've found you. They don't know where." Clark nodded slightly, closing his eyes again. When Lex thought he could do no more, he pulled Clark out of the tub, drying him with gentle rubs. His endless fantasies of seeing Clark naked and glistening wet plunged into an unenviable death. The circumstances caused a thick bile to rise in the back of his throat. He wrapped the towel around Clark's hips, bracing himself before looking up again. The emptiness in the eyes staring down broke him. Hot tears marked paths down his face and he honestly could not remember the last time he had cried. When he felt arms around him, he pulled back quickly. That wasn't why he was there. He was supposed to be doing the comforting. Wordlessly, he led Clark into the bedroom, careful to avoid meeting his eyes. He quickly scanned the room, not surprised that Clark didn't have any belongings with him, save for his soiled clothes and three empty bottles of Wild Turkey. Clark crawled into the bed, pulling the sheets tightly around him as he curled into a ball. He stood there for many minutes, just staring at Clark. Wondering if he should stay or leave or just fucking drag Clark home. But where was home anyway? Where was home when fate had ripped it out from under you? Steeling himself for a possibly violent response, he touched Clark's shoulder. "Come on, Clark, let's get you home." "I'm not going back, Lex. Ever." The venom in Clark's voice that made him wince. "You don't mean that. Everyone is worried about you. Let's go home." The rage in Clark's eyes as he turned to Lex made him stagger back a few steps. "Haven't you heard? My parents are dead. I don't have a home anymore." He swallowed hard, unsure as to what to say. A million different platitudes jetted through his mind and not a single one adequate to express what he wanted to say. Every molecule in his body, torn between the desire to leave a man to his grieving and the desire to reach out and try to make it all better. Suddenly, Clark was standing before him, hollow eyes boring into him. "Make me feel." He wasn't prepared for it. Dreamt about it a million times, never imagined it would come true. But there it was, Clark Kent was kissing him. Hard and fast. No finesse, no patience. Just wet and sloppy and his head was swirling with a haziness that was threatening to overwhelm him. With a determined shove, he pushed valiantly against Clark's chest, even though he knew that it would do nothing. Thankfully, Clark let him go. "I can't -- I can't do this, Clark." Clark took a step forward, closing in on him. And for a soul-shattering moment, it actually occurred to him that Clark could force himself on him if he wanted to. But instead, Clark simply stood before him, breathing softly. "I need this, Lex. I need you." His best intentions battled with the raw need blazing in liquid green eyes. Just a slight lean forward and he drowned himself in the kiss he found, trying to pour into it every single emotion that he could never hope to verbally express. Every unspoken promise that always belonged to Clark. They stumbled towards the bed with Clark all but tearing away his clothes. Falling in a tangle of entwined limbs, their bodies rocking in a mysterious rhythm. Clark's breath was hot against his neck, hands roaming restlessly down his body as if there was some hidden truth to be discovered. He smoothed his hands down Clark's back, trying to get him to relax. "It's okay. Shh." All he got in return was a pained whimper. He pushed Clark onto his back, trying to read behind glassy eyes. Leaning down, he slowed their kisses, sucking gently on Clark's tongue. The unhurried rhythm of his grind eliciting muffled moans. He slid down slowly, dropping small kisses along the way until he found himself between Clark's thighs. With a gentle swipe around the head, he mouthed his way to the base of Clark's cock. Clark's body arched in a groan and Lex swallowed the cock whole, trying to relieve the edge bubbling underneath Clark's skin. Grabbing Clark's hand, he planted it on the back of his head, urging him to find whatever rhythm he needed. There was a slight pause before Clark started pounding into him. His eyes stung with the effort to not gag. Again and again. Hard and fast. He opened his throat wide, swallowing when he remembered. Wanted to make it so good for Clark. Wanted to make it all better. He could give this Clark, if nothing else. He could give Clark himself. He coughed in surprise when Clark abruptly pulled his head back, dragging him up the bed. Completely confused when Clark started kissing him urgently. "I want you to come with me." Clark maneuvered them until they were both on their sides. He mimicked Clark when he slid a hand down and grasped Lex's cock. Tried to follow the quick twisting motion of Clark's hand. "Just pretend it never happened. Just pretend that everything's the same. No accident. No funeral. Nothing. Just you and me." "Clark. Don't..." He wanted to back away from the hand now. It was all wrong. He was selfish. This shouldn't be about him, it had to be all about Clark. But there was an ironclad arm around him and the hand on his dick felt so fucking good. "Maybe we're at my loft. No, we're at your office. Maybe we're in Metropolis." He jacked Clark harder, fighting the urge to rock into the warm fist around his cock. "We'd just been to a benefit dinner. We were both in tuxes. You looked so fucking hot. Working the room like you own it. And everyone was looking at you, undressing you with their eyes. I was undressing you with my eyes." He was pretty sure the groan filling the room was his. So good. It could never be this way with anyone else. Clark was breathing faster now, harder, hot and moist against his ear. "Then you caught me watching you. Put on a show for me. Dominating the entire place, dismissing people like they needed your permission to walk away. So powerful. So beautiful." They both groaned, their hands moving faster now, trying to find sweet release. So fucking wrong, but so fuck -- yes. "We knew it was going to happen. All night long - staring, smiling, imagining this very moment. Forgetting all the stupid pretence -- oh God -- of relationships we've used to camouflage how much we really want each other." Clark gasped into his shoulder, burrowing closer and Lex couldn't help rocking into the tight sheath of Clark's fist. "And God. I wanted you so much. Could barely make it to the elevator just at the thought of going to my knees for you." Oh fuck. "Touching you. Tasting you. Fuck. Looking at you the way you are now. Knowing that I -- look exactly the same." Lex fought against release. He hadn't wanted it this way. All through the years he had patiently waited for Clark to decide. Watched as girlfriend after girlfriend waltzed through Clark's life. Imagining the perfect moment when they would finally act on all the barely harmless flirtation and heated stares. But not like this. Not under these circumstances. But there they were, in a seedy motel room, rutting into each others' fists. A hair's breath away from release. With Clark's whimpers going straight to his cock. Harder and faster now. No rhythm, just relieve, release. Their bodies bumping into each other with each urgent rock. Clark screamed as he came in jerking spurts. Lex closed his eyes and tried to pretend that they were in Metropolis. And everything was perfect. And Clark was really his. He thrust forward one last time and shuddered his own climax. They both rolled onto their backs, breathing raggedly. Not touching, but close enough to feel the other's heat. The room smelled like sweat and sex. Heavy and laden. Dirty. Not the way it should have been. Not the way that he had ever imagined it. His breathing was still quick. His chest constricting in a desire to deny what had just happened. When he could no longer ignore the fact that they were naked and that it had all happened just the way that it did, he turned slightly and touched Clark's cheek. His entire body froze when Clark winced out of his touch. God. Things were so fucked up. He didn't even begin to know what to do. He tried to find the words, tried to find the strength to pull away. Reassure, dress, comfort... leave? Before he could decide, Clark whispered softly, "That wasn't all about grieving, but I need to be angry right now." "Do you want me to go?" "No." Without so much as a pause, but Clark's eyes were still closed and his entire body was still stiff with distance. He pulled the sheets up around them, lying back quietly, careful not to touch Clark. They lay that way for many hours, the day darkening behind closed curtains. Their bodies half a hair away from each other, covered in the drying crust of semen. Their breathing betraying that neither was asleep. The silence was so fragile that when it shattered around them, Lex almost cringed. "I have no home." He didn't know what to say, so he just didn't. Instead, he reached out experimentally and nudged Clark's hand. He nearly let out a sigh of relief when the blunt fingers entwined around his. Squeezing in what he hoped was comfort, he fell back into the silence. It was many hours still, before Clark spoke again. The room was in complete darkness safe for whatever little light filtered through the curtains and sneaked it under the door. "Will you be my home, Lex?" "Yes." And he didn't need to think about it. Clark had been his home for so many years now that it was only fair. He could do this. He could protect Clark. Make everything better. No one else. Just him and Clark. And it could all work. It would all improve. It had to. Maybe he didn't have all the answers, maybe he couldn't always see through the cloudy uncertainty of the future. But right then, he simply squeezed Clark's hand, trying to convey all his promises. And tomorrow didn't seem to matter all that much anymore. Tomorrow was a lifetime away. Tomorrow had obstacles such as the fact that Clark wasn't quite eighteen. Or the fact that there was a distinct possibility that he would never see Clark again, if he was sent off to a foster home or loaned out to a distant relative too far away. His mind clamored frantically. Mentally bribing lawyers, judges, social workers - anything to offer Clark reprieve, if only for a short period of time. Maybe in his arms. If Clark still wanted him. Yet somehow, there was a part of him that felt like Clark was already gone. The tainted memory of the day merging with the searing reality of his parents' passing festering in Clark's brain. Lex's entire chest constricted as he forced unwanted thoughts out of his head. He shifted closer to Clark, sinking into the warmth. Forgetting the world outside that was waiting for them. He would fight them all tomorrow. But today, he just wanted to pretend that it could be like this forever. Just them. Alone. Together. end Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to their owners/creators/copyright holders. This fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights. |
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