A Real Boy

By

CJ

I squint, trying to make you stop shifting. I blink, trying to fix you in place. I do not have my glasses on, and I cannot tell if you are a boy or a girl. I cannot tell if you are wooden or flesh. I cannot tell if you are real. ~From Pinocchio: a dream


Clark had spent the last three years avoiding the topic. It wasn't like either of his parents were going to bring it up. Sure, his Dad had given him The Talk when he was twelve, but, frankly, it hadn't explained things in detail.

They lived on a farm, and it wasn't like he didn't know about animals being in heat and what happened then. After all, the Kents kept their own bull. So when his Dad told him about 'urges' and 'desires', Clark had pretty much assumed these were things that he'd feel when the time was right.

When he'd asked his Dad how he would know when he was ready to have sex, Jonathan had clapped him on the shoulder and smiled. "You'll know when you've met the right woman, Clark. One day you'll meet her, and you just won't be able to control your feelings."

So Clark waited.

Shortly after that talk, Clark decided the Lana was pretty close to 'right'. He got queasy, nervous, whenever he was around her, and he certainly couldn't control himself. Falling over his feet for the tenth time one week, Clark decided she must be the one. He'd just have to wait until she felt the same way.

That was when he was thirteen.

Two years later a Porsche hit him and his dad gave him the other talk - the one about meteors and spaceships and why Clark was different.

Alien.

It was a revelation, but Clark held it back from the rest of his life, like keeping a finger on a domino so that it wouldn't collapse along with the rest of the chain.

He didn't feel the same around Lana after she took off her meteor-pendent necklace, but that wasn't all bad. At least now he figured that when he finally felt the urge for sex, he wouldn't throw up.

*~*~*~*

The autumn before he turned sixteen he shared his secret for the first time, and Pete wanted to know.

≥So, Clark, man, what about other stuff.≤

Peteπs voice floated into Clarkπs haze of autumn evening contentment.

≥Other stuff?≤ Clark hitched himself up on his elbows a bit to stare at his friend and frowned in confusion. They lay sprawled at opposite ends of the Fortress couch after what must have been the freest afternoon of Clarkπs life. Thinking was not on his agenda. He was busy just being.

≥You know, I mean, you run fast, and jump like Jordan, cars bounce off you and you can see through whatever you want, but what about, like, you know.≤ Pete paused, raised his eyebrows and made a vague gesture with his right hand.

≥Pete, I can see through walls, but I donπt read minds. What are you talking about?≤

≥You know. Sex. Jacking off. Coming. Is it different for you? The same? I mean, whatπs it like?≤

≥I donπt.≤ Clark sat up abruptly, feeling like his skin was going to torch.

≥You donπt know?≤ Pete said, puzzled.

≥No. I just donπt.≤ Clark definitely wasnπt looking up now. ≥I donπt do that.≤

≥Cπmon, Clark, everybody does it; itπs no big deal. I didnπt mean to embarrass you.≤

≥Everybody? You mean, like, a lot?≤

Pete laughed. ≥Yeah, everybody, and, yeah, a lot. Especially guys our age. Gotta take the edge off somehow, right? So, itπs natural, not something to get freaked about. I didnπt mean to get all personal on you like that. Forget I asked, man. Slipped into TMI there without even thinking about it.≤

≥Thatπs OK, Pete. I mean, Iπm just not used to talking about a lot of stuff, you know.≤ Clark smiled at his friend, even as the ease of the afternoon slipped away with the setting sun.

≥I better get home.≤ Pete said, standing and tossing the basketball back to Clark. ≥Iπll see you in school tomorrow.≤

≥Sure.≤

≥Itπs gonna be great, man, mark my words.≤ Peteπs grin was huge as he stood and clapped Clark on the shoulder.

≥Right.≤ Clark smiled. ≥See you tomorrow,≤ but he didnπt get up as he watched Pete bounce down the loft steps.

Everybody.

A lot.

Heπd known people did that sometimes. Heπd heard guys joke about it. But åa lotπ?

Clark could count on two hands the number of hard-ons heπd had in his life, and he didnπt even need both hands to count the number of times he had jacked off.

Did his people just have a low sex drive? A race that naturally practiced abstinence?

Well, that would certainly explain why there werenπt more of his kind, Clark snorted to himself, and tried to shake off the pricking sensation behind his eyes.

Maybe he just wasnπt doing it right.

He did a quick check to be sure his parents were still in the house. -Ah, the usefulness of x-ray vision! - and then lay back down on the couch and slowly unzipped his jeans. He ran his hand under his briefs, adjusted his soft cock and continued down to gently massage his balls. It felt...nice.

Pleasant.

But if he had needed to åtake the edge offπ like Pete was saying, heπd have preferred to go on a flat-out run. He pulled his hands out of his pants. It just didnπt do it for him.

He tucked his hands behind his head and focused. He thought about the times he had been hard. What had set him off? Who had he been with? What had he been thinking?

They were questions heπd been avoiding for a long time.

Kissing Tina. Holding Lana: fine and normal. But these examples were closely followed by fighting with Greg-the-human-insect and wrestling with the invisible boy.

And breathing life into Lex.

The taste had been so intense with Lex; the scent had been faint because of the water, but it had been the same as he'd smelled on Greg and Tina.

Clark felt his cock growing hard as he focused his memory on the clean sharp scent, that, come to think of it, many people in Smallville shared to some degree. Many, but not all.

Lana definitely had it, but not Chloe. Heπd never gotten hard with Chloe. His cock softened at the memory, so Clark put it aside. He cared for Chloe, but right now caring wasnπt what he wanted to think about.

The meteor mutants weren't the best jacking off material either. Okay, they sort of smelled good, but they had been trying to kill him his friends, which sort of put a damper on the mood.

Which left Lana and Lex.

Lana was beautiful. Sweet. He could imagine spending a whole night just watching her sleep. But the sleep thing? Wasn't doing much for him.

Lex, on the other hand, he could imagine lots of things.

Fencing. Sweating.

Licking, kissing, tasting.

He imagined the sweat on his tongue: hot and salty and sharp and clean; Lexπs scent rubbed all over Clarkπs skin, blending, compounding, marking. His scent all over Lex. Lexπs tongue running over Clark. Biting, battling, breaking through.

The two of them laying entwined, lifting, rolling weightless, humming through lips that moved continuously over damp skin. Sharp and clean and needed; wanted so much, so much, donπt stop, donπt stop, God, Lex donπt stop!

The hot stream that hit Clark in the face brought him back to himself so abruptly that he fell back to the couch almost before he had the chance to realize that he was several inches in the air. The couch shuddered, or Clark did, he wasnπt sure. He pulled the blanket off the back cushions and lay under it, losing himself in the aftershocks of orgasm.

Avoiding the shock of what he'd got off on.

So, after that, he'd do it, but try to limit himself to, well, girls.

Not very often, at first, cause the urge wasn't that strong, and he had trouble keeping to appropriate material.

It wasn't like he didn't try to focus on the appropriate images: Lana, Tina. Lana's little white blouses, which were practically see-through even without x-ray vision. Tina when she kissed him. That taste. The scent of Lana's sweat on a hot summer day.

He'd lie in his bed and think about those tastes and smells. Sharp and metallic and spicy and something that he just didn't have a name for, but he liked it.

And then he'd think of Lex.

That taste in Lex's mouth by the river as Clark begged him not to die. The scent, sharp and close, as Clark held him and watched the Level 3 scaffolding crash to the floor.

"How'd you pull me up, Clark?"

Adrenaline and something more.

Lex always got him off. It made him curl up in bed at night and try not to think. It made him wonder about just how alien he really was. And sometimes, just before he fell asleep, it made him hope that maybe Lex was a little bit alien himself.

At night after his parents were in bed, he'd surf the Internet and read about how experimentation was normal and fantasies were a safe form of experimentation for teens. Clark would nod to himself and choose to ignore the fact that the thought of Lex touching him not only made him hard, but could also make him float several inches above the bed.

It was a phase.

When the new school year rolled around, Clark thought he mostly had a handle on things. He really did.

He was experimenting. Maybe he was bisexual. Certainly he liked girls and would go out with them. Lana was who he wanted to date. She wouldn't press him for more than he could give, because she was a nice girl. Nice girls didn't do that. And he wanted a nice girl.

Until he met the new biology teacher and suddenly he was getting hard just looking at her and he couldn't get rid of it without setting things on fire.

Lex was the same way. Well, not with setting things on fire.

And not with Clark.

But it was obvious at the wedding that Lex was head over heels in love and horny as hell over his new wife, Desiree, the biology teacher.

None of which boded well for Clark's future sex life. He was going to be the geek alien that caused fires while peeping in on his best friend having sex with the biology teacher.

Which would have been funny, except what if it were true, and what if he hurt someone?

"It's just a matter of learning control, Son."

Standing there in the midday heat with his father gripping his shoulder reassuringly, Clark stared at the scarecrow and tried to think about sex. About having sex. Or at least sexy people.

Clark glanced at his dad.

Okay.

Not working.

He stared at the scarecrow. Thought of Lana: her eyes, her lips, the curve of her-

His father clapped his hand on Clark's shoulder encouragingly. "Come on."

Clark shook his head, and tried to focus on the scarecrow again. He frowned. He squinted.

It was like trying to masturbate with his dad in the room, and wasn't that an image that was going to haunt him for life.

"Dad...this might be easier if I was..." He shrugged without looking at his dad.

"Alone. Yeah. Sorry."

"Thanks."

Neither of them took their eyes off the scarecrow, then, with another pat on the shoulder, Jonathan headed back to the house.

Clark figured he didn't need to look at anything to start a fire; he was going to self -combust from blushing.

Ok.

So.

Sex.

Or at least sexy.

Or whatever.

How exactly had he been feeling when the Talon had caught on fire? He and Lana had been sitting and talking about romance, and passion. She was so pretty and so close, and she'd talked about how Lex could act on his passion for Desiree.

Clark let his mind go for a moment. Images of Lana's glowing face, of drops of perspiration slipping down between Desiree's breasts, of Lex standing with his long black coat tucked back and his hands in his pockets.

He felt a tingling at the base of his spine and he started to get hard.

Lex.

Clark frowned, and with a practiced turn of thought, brought his focus back to the girl he'd been in love with for as long as he could remember. What would it be like to hold her, kiss her-

He imagined running his tongue over smooth, almost hairless skin and felt energy crackling up his spine, but-

"Lana." He said with conviction as heat raced out of his eyes and the scarecrow burned.

After a moment he closed his eyes and cut off the heat, but it was still there just waiting to escape. The morning sun was beating down on him, but Clark just stood and imagined snow and deep lakes and fields of ice.

When he opened his eyes, the only thing burning was the scarecrow.

It wasn't until later, after his arrest for arson over the one fire he hadn't started, and his daring jail break; after Desiree's multiple betrayals of Lex and his father's shotgun insanity, that Clark found himself thinking again.

It was over. Desiree had been carted away, Lex had been taken to the hospital and had refused to let Clark come along, and his folks had gone out to smother his dad's guilt with a romantic dinner.

There was nothing left to do but think.

Clark settled up in the loft with his homework, trying to occupy his brain with something, anything besides thoughts of what he really wanted.

Homework was a book report for English class on Fahrenheit 451. Despite the irony and the fact that school didn't give extra credit for saving the town from a super-slut, homework just didn't have what it took to hold Clark's attention.

It was easy not to think when you knew that if you didn't melt a bullet in the next .2 seconds your father would be guilty of murder. There wasn't room for thought when you were putting out the fire trying to crawl up your best friend's back.

But now, in the quiet of the loft, it hit.

Lex's scent, sharper because he'd been so wired; his taste carried faintly on panted breath, his smooth skin painted with red streaks, shivering under Clark's stroking fingers: it all came together in a pool of lightning that sat in Clark's belly looking for a way out. Clark tried to concentrate on the book he was reading, but it was like his body was on auto-playback and all it could recall were the top ten sensual realities of Lex.

He closed his eyes as a precaution and tried to think cool thoughts. It would have been fine, except that he felt his body lifting away from the ropes of the hammock as his brain was flooded with the memory of Lex's bowed spine, his ribs, the curve of the back of his skull, all that delicate structure under Clark's fingers as he tried to put out the fire Desiree had lit. The delicious tension between pressure that would save and pressure that would kill.

The sound of a shoe scraping on the steps up to the loft brought him back to earth hard enough to make the hammock rock.

Lex came up the stairs, his shoulders tense, but otherwise not giving away any sign of the burns that had reddened and blistered his back that morning. "Clark. I was hoping I'd find you."

Clark climbed out of the hammock, glad that his shirt was long. "Hey Lex. How you feelin'?"

"Like I'm waking up from a bad dream."

"You really loved her, didn't you?" Clark remembered the look on Lex's face the day of the biology class fire as he had rushed to Desiree. How it had hurt to see Lex look at someone else that way.

"I thought I did." Lex walked over to gaze out of the loft window. "I filed for an annulment, which my lawyers tell me should be final in a couple of days. I'll let the police deal with Desiree."

Clark tossed his book back on the hammock and went to stand beside Lex, because even just across the room felt too far away. "When that's finished?"

"Try to be more cautious." Lex smirked and leaned his hands on the window ledge. Clark had the impression that he was holding on. Holding back. "I let my passion get the best of me. I won't make that mistake again."

"Lex, I don't think having passion is such a bad thing."

"You're right, Clark. Passion for life and work and friends is great. As long as you keep it in check. I should take a page out of your book."

Clark slid his eyes out to the stars, feeling a charge run through him. He thought of cool mountain lakes. "How do you mean?"

"How long have we been dancing around each other, Clark?" Lex asked, still staring out the window as if the answer lay somewhere across the cornfields.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Lex." Clark stumbled through his answer and knew it was unconvincing. He swallowed hard.

"Of course." Lex dropped his gaze to his hands and chuckled. "It's probably wiser that you don't."

"Lex, I..."

"It's okay, Clark. After all, you're fifteen. I can't even touch you without risking jail."

"Yeah, I'm fifteen. You probably wouldn't have to."

Clark realized that some decisions were like jumping off a high dive: you didn't realize you had made them until after you had jumped in.

The silence burned hot and cold between them until Lex finally looked at him with a sharp, slow smile. "You think?"

Clark blushed. Of course.

"Maybe?"

The lights in the loft were too bright, or the sky outside was too dark. Lex was flushed and stood out against the night, framed in the window, like a ghost, like a bruise. His hands shook until he shoved them in his pockets.

"Shall we test your theory?"

"Now?" Please, God, don't let that squeak have come from his own mouth.

Lex clenched his jaw and nodded, which confused Clark all to hell since Lex then turned on his heel and walked towards the steps.

"Lex?"

"You're ready or you're not, Clark," Lex said without turning back, "but you have to let me know."

That's when Clark realized that the one he wanted was walking away, maybe for good, and the fact that he knew all the reasons this was a bad idea, but couldn't stop: wasn't that how his dad had said he'd know?

Lex was the right person.

Then Clark was standing in front of Lex and couldn't be sure if he had used his speed to get there or not.

"I'm ready, Lex. Just-" Clark swallowed. Lex watched. Waited. "Just quit asking me, okay? Just tell me what to do."

It was Lex's turn to swallow. His eyes narrowed and he stepped back and motioned Clark to stand in the middle of the loft.

"Strip."

Clark pulled in a sharp breath and didn't know if he would ever let it out. He could smell the hay and hear a breeze picking up outside. He wished he could turn off the light, but Lex's eyes were holding him and he wasn't sure he'd be able to continue without that.

So as he undid his shirt buttons, he didn't look down. He toed off his sneakers, shrugged out of his shirt, and got his hands all the way to his waistband before hesitating.

Lex didn't say anything; he just stepped closer. Until Clark had to lower his head to keep eye contact, until their mouths were less than an inch apart.

And Lex breathed the words into Clark's mouth. "Pants, too, Clark."

The puff of air was hot and swept over each individual hair on Clark's face, and it made him feel like he'd been hit with the Porsche all over again. The taste, that sex-taste and sex-scent from that day on the river and from right in front of him now, it cut through him. Flayed him.

"Lex, please..."

"Pants, Clark." Lex's voice was soft and rubbed across Clark's skin like velvet. He started to walk slowly around Clark, staying close, breath skimming over skin. "And no, I am not going to touch you. That would be illegal. But it doesn't mean you can't touch yourself if you want to. And it doesn't mean you can't stop this. Just tell me you don't like it and we'll stop."

Clark frantically shook his head and groaned at how quickly he was getting hard.

"Good." Lex said, as if that were an answer. Clark could hear him smile. "Then I will remind you one more time." He leaned in until Clark could feel the heat of Lex's lips between his shoulder blades.

"Pants, Clark."

With numb fingers, Clark finally got his jeans unbuttoned and unzipped. He pushed them and his underwear roughly down his thighs to his ankles and then kicked them off.

Lex continued walking around him, breathing across Clark's nipples, his cock, his neck.

The night sounds outside the barn faded and all Clark could hear was his own heartbeat and Lex's commands.

"Stretch up, Clark. That's right. Hands over your head. And on your toes, please." It brought Clark's nipples to exactly the height of Lex's mouth.

Keeping his balance was easy, but Clark felt dangerously light on his feet.

Lex walked around and around, scrutinizing. Clark felt a tremor beginning in his triceps. It couldn't be fatigue, but it still spread up to his fingers and down across his back and chest.

"You're right handed, aren't you?" Lex asked in his softest, most casual voice.

Clark nodded.

"Out loud, please, Clark."

"Yes." Clark managed after a deep breath.

"Lower your left hand and lick your fingers, Clark. Suck on them."

Clark's cock jerked as he brought his hands down to his mouth. Lex was standing right in front of him and smirked as he glanced down.

"Did I say you could come off your toes, Clark?"

Clark felt stupid shaking his head with fingers in his mouth, but he did anyway, and bounced back up onto the balls of his feet.

Lex made another circuit while Clark tried to stay on his toes without floating off them. His right arm was still raised over his head, as if straining for the ceiling, but reaching the ceiling was the last thing Clark wanted.

"Take your wet fingers, Clark, and rub them over your nipples."

Clark did it, feeling hot and awkward and stretched almost beyond endurance. He felt gangly, like pulled taffy. He was exposed and sure that he looked like a complete dork. The image of Pete walking in, or his parents, streaked through his brain. His heart spiked on adrenaline, his legs began to tremble, and he wondered what time it was.

Just as Clark opened his mouth to ask Lex something, anything, normal, Lex leaned forward and blew a sharp cold stream of air over his nipples.

"God! Lex!" He gasped and his left hand reflexively pinched and gripped his the nipple he'd been teasing. He twitched as if he were going to bring his right hand down to cover himself as well, but Lex shot him a warning glare and Clark jerked it back up over his head. He'd discovered a connection running straight from his nipples to his dick, and he wondered how he had missed it all this time. It was drawing him up further, making his eyes burn to the point that he clenched them shut for Lex's safety as he dug his toes into the wood of the floor to anchor himself.

Clark realized he'd completely lost track of Lex when he heard the sound of a zipper being pulled down and felt Lex's heat directly behind him.

"God, youπre amazing, Clark. Holding this position. How long can you stay on your toes like that?"

Clark opened his mouth, then swallowed and tried again. "I don't know."

Skin on skin, the noise was still behind him. Clark was glad his eyes were still closed as he felt a rush of heat shoot up his spine.

"Suck on your fingers again and then I want you to bend over and fuck yourself." Lex paused, panting. "You can rest your right hand on your thigh to steady yourself if you need to, but don't come down off your toes."

There was no question that Clark would do it. His legs were tight and knotted from being on point for so long, his spine shivered with energy, his right arm felt a mile long and his left felt thick as a post. His body wanted to float or burn and didn't much care which, but he carefully lowered his right arm and rested his hand on his thighs. Then he put the fingers of his left hand in his mouth and sucked like they were Lex's cock, deep, like they were going to shoot down his throat.

Finally, he bent over, reached back with his wet hand, and penetrated himself with one finger.

It was electric and terrifying and felt like jumping off the roof of the Planet building. He started to pump two fingers in and out of his hole without any encouragement from Lex, and he realized he couldn't stop.

Wouldn't stop.

Clark heard Lex crouch behind him, stroking himself. He felt a feather of air blow across his hole, around his spit soaked fingers, until he begged.

"God, Lex! Please!"

Lex moaned and stood up. The sound of his strokes grew louder, wetter, until Clark felt liquid heat on his ass, running down his crack, slicking his plunging fingers.

Like Lex was touching him, fucking him.

Clark shattered.

Later, he would remember falling to the floor, lying there in the damp traces of his own semen as it seeped into the rough wood. He remembered feeling like he was sinking, too. Boneless, he went through the floor, all the fire and flight sucked out of him with just words and breaths.

"Clark?"

"Mmmm. Sleepy."

Fingers whispered over his forehead and he smiled. Hands tried to move him, but he shrugged them off. A blanket was laid over him, and a cushion from the old sofa was put under his head. He felt a kiss on his cheek, and then heard the scrape of expensive leather soles went down the stairs.

Clark was aware of all this as he dreamed.

In the dream there were colors without names, which shifted and flowed like oil on water. Some of the colors were good to eat.

But in the dream he didn't know oil, or water, and eating did not require a mouth.

There were words that weren't sounds and touches that weren't from hands. These soothed him even though they weren't real, even though he knew it was the ship.

Ship.

That concept did not change. Not like touch, water, and food. The ship never changed.

Not even when he did.

It won't hurt, the ship told him in his father's voice.

It didn't.

But when it was over, he woke to find the lights gone except for a few pale specks, and there were sounds that he heard now, and touches with weight.

He clung to the concept of the ship and it spoke to him still with the familiar not-sound.

See how this moves, Kal-El? It is for touching and holding. Now you try.

Good boy.

And these muscles move like this for chewing, eating, and swallowing.

And this is food.

Eat.

Well done, Kal-El.

The drills went on and on, and his new body, with its new senses, was difficult to adjust to at times, but he wanted to please the ship. He needed at least the shade of his father's love.

Then there was a roar, and white light and weight, and the ship cracked like an egg.

Walk, Kal-El.

No, Daddy! Want to stay with you!

Do not cry, Kal-El. It is a new life, but it is life. It is not our body, but it will be yours. Our strengths go with you, redoubled under their yellow star. You will be more than them, but you will live among them. You will not be alone, Kal-el. There will be those who will teach you the intricacies of your new body and the subtleties of instincts your mother and I do not know.

Do not cry, my son.

But he couldn't stop and it was the suddenly strange wetness of his own tears that woke him as the dream fled, so fast that only snatches of color remained.

Clark didn't know why the softness of the cushion and the texture of the blanket seemed different, or why he imagined his father smiling at him, whispering, And that was ecstasy, my son.

No way would Jonathan Kent ever say that. Clark really didn't want to think about what his dad would say.

It was just one of the many things Clark decided not to think about.

Because he really didn't want to know why stretching up to get the extra coffee cups off the highest shelf in the Talon's supply closet made him hard. He'd come over after school to help Lana with some of the heavier chores at the Talon, and now he stood on his toes in the back room tying to get a grip on a heavy box of crockery that was shoved too far back on the shelf, praying no one would come in. The idea made him think of Lex. How he would saunter in, stand just behind Clark, and breath the words, "Turn around."

Clark rested his forehead against the rough edge of the plywood shelf; his hands braced against the shelf above, his cock so hard it hurt. He was shaking just from the image of Lex finding him here: hot, hard and on his toes.

Finally he got the box down, panting a little. He almost dropped it when Lana called his name from the door.

"Clark?"

He turned quickly, holding the box strategically low.

"Got 'em!" He said with his nothing-weird-here smile.

"Great! It sure is nice having someone tall around." Lana smiled, ducking her head, as if it were a character flaw that she wasn't taller.

"Glad to help." Clark cocked his head and took in Lana's half-smile, her pale blue sweater that hugged the swell of her breasts, the little chain at her throat that highlighted the graceful curve of her neck and jaw.

The longing that he was used to feeling at these sights just wasn't there.

Lana frowned, and Clark realized he had been caught staring.

"Clark, is everything okay?"

"Yeah, sure." Clark shrugged and looked away. "Where do you want these?"

"Just put them anyplace on the bottom shelf."

The storage room had been the projection room in The Talon's previous life. Lana had put in shelving during the remodel and now there was plenty of space. He found an opening on one of the lower shelves and shoved the box in, relieved that it was safe to turn around.

"You know, Clark, you've been distracted all day - is there something you want to talk about?" Lana asked.

"No, not really." Clark shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I just have a lot of stuff on my mind lately."

"Stuff?"

Clark walked over and looked out of the projection room window. The theater area was dark and all he could see was his own reflection in the glass: the sharp planes of a face that had lost all of its baby fat years before his classmates, the black hair that couldn't be forced into anything resembling a style, the mouth too big and the plain t-shirt and flannel that he'd always worn.

He didn't look any different. Not that he could tell.

He jumped a bit when he felt Lana's hand on his shoulder. "You know, when I was little, I used to look in the mirror and in windows and think that my reflection was living in another world, where everything was almost the same but a little off. I always wondered what she was like."

"Yeah, mirrors were spooky when I was a kid." Clark agreed, talking to Lana's reflection rather than directly to her. "I always expected to see something different. My mom tells this story about how I cried the first time I ever looked in her big mirror that hangs on her closet door."

"What do you see now?"

"Somebody with a skin that doesn't fit what's inside." Clark answered without thinking, then blushed and looked away. "I gotta go."

Lana pulled her hand back. "Sure."

Clark took two strides to the door and stopped. "Lana?"

"Yes?"

"When you were dating Whitney, did you- I mean- he was a lot older than you." Clark didn't turn around. He tried to figure out just what he wanted to say as he spoke in the direction of the door. "Did you pretty much know what you wanted? What you were ready for?"

"I wasn't always sure, but I figured it out. Whitney was a good guy." Lana started to sound defensive. "I don't regret anything we did."

Clark nodded and finally looked back at her. "That's good. You shouldn't have regrets about that kind of stuff."

"What's going on, Clark?" She was really frowning now, scrunching up her nose in confusion.

"It's nothing." Clark tried the smile again. "Just thinking too much, you know?"

"Yeah, I guess." Which meant she didn't know what he meant at all, but was willing to let it slide.

"See you later." Clark told her and was gone without ever hearing her reply.

After all, Clark had chores. He had homework. He had school. He didn't come in from the library until late and his mom said Lex had called - three times. Clark felt hot and guilty. But he didn't call back.

He should have known Lex would come looking for him.

"Clark, you want to come over and shoot some hoops for a couple of hours?" Pete suggested as they finally walked out of school the next afternoon and headed for the bus.

The glare off the sidewalk after the dimly lit halls of Smallville High made them both squint, and Clark figured that was why they didn't see it at first. He had no other explanation for almost walking by the Lamborghini Diablo.

"Clark." Lex was leaning against the side of the Diablo, hands in his pockets, wearing frameless purple sunglasses. Except for the glasses and his pale skin, he was as black as the car: black slacks and shirt, with a long black cloak.

Just the voice did it. Lex had a liquid voice laced with oils. Exotic oils that made exotic colors.

Clark got hard just from hearing it.

He glanced at Pete and then back at Lex and the car, the Lamborghini, then back at Pete again who was smiling and shaking his head.

"Go on, Clark, " he shrugged. "If it were just Luthor, I'd be kinda pissed, but man, you gotta ride in that car."

Clark grinned and hitched his backpack a little higher on his shoulder and the tail of his shirt a little lower. "Yeah, can't pass up the chance for a ride like that."

Pete headed over to the bus while Clark turned to Lex. "Hey."

"Hey."

Lex opened his mouth, then shut it and looked at Clark up and down, much as he had in the barn. Then he pushed off the car and gestured to the passenger side. "Get in. I'll run you home."

Behind the mirrored windows, the interior of the Diablo was black on black. Clark slid in and shifted on the cool leather. Lex settled behind the wheel and the doors shut with a soft thunk, coming down like weighted beetle wings. Lex made the engine purr and then growl as they left the school parking lot at speeds Clark was sure he'd be hearing about the next day.

He didn't know what to say. Lex wasn't talking either, so they just rode in silence for a while until Clark realized they weren't headed back to his house.

He licked his lips. "Lex?"

"The other night was a mistake, Clark." The sentence slid out of Lex's mouth like it was on skates. Practiced. Choreographed. That would be a ten for technical execution of the brush-off.

No, no, no! Okay, so he'd avoided thinking about this for the last two days, but that didn't mean he didn't want to do it again. Like, today, if at all possible. "Lex, I-"

"I'm sorry." Lex continued smoothly. Not a hitch. "I shouldn't have let our flirtation get out of hand." The Diablo was accelerating and Clark wondered if Lex was even aware that he was shifting into fifth gear and why did it seem that this conversation was moving even faster than the Lamborghini?

Clark needed to throw up a roadblock, sand on the ice, something to stop Lex from finishing this conversation without him.

"How's your back?"

Lex's head whipped around and then back to the road. "What?"

"Your back. The burns. How are they?" Clark wished he could check, skim his fingers over the pink skin and watch Lex shiver.

"Not as bad as they were. Not as bad as the doctors thought." Lex explained to the windshield and Clark nodded, while trying frantically to think of more to say.

What came out was probably not the best choice, but it was the one thing Clark really wanted to ask. "Why was it a mistake, Lex?"

"You're fifteen, Clark."

"We covered that already."

Lex barked out a laugh. "We certainly did. Christ, Clark, do you really think what we did wouldn't be considered corruption of a minor?"

Corruption.

Clark hugged his backpack tighter. "You didn't touch me."

"I shot my wad all over your ass, Clark." Lex bit the words out like they hurt.

Clark swallowed. "I wanted you to." Lex's sharp intake of breath was loud, even over the purr of the Diablo. "I really wanted you to. I needed you to do that."

"Needed it?"

"Lex, I'm not like other people. About a lot of things." Clark swallowed. "I think, maybe, I'm really not like other people when it comes to sex."

They were miles out of town now, with nothing around but highway and cornfields. Lex pulled off onto one of the country roads and then into a small clearing under a maple tree that stood between two fields. He stopped the car, put it in park and turned off the engine. Clark watched him as he melted into the black heart of the Lamborghini. He had his driving gloves on so the only thing that stood out was the pale skin of his face and head.

They'd sat for almost a full minute when Lex finally turned sideways in his seat and said, "Clark, just because youπre gay, or even bisexual, doesn't mean you're alone. There are plenty of people out there, people your own age, with the same preferences."

"That's not what I mean." Clark broke in. "Or, maybe it's part of it, but it's really not the main thing." He twisted the straps on his backpack, wondering how he was supposed to explain this without, well, explaining everything. And how could he do that when he didn't know everything? "It's just sometimes I don't know how it's all supposed to work. Or feel."

He looked out the window at the corn and remembered Reilly's field. That had hurt until Lex had found him.

Lex put his hands back on the steering wheel and flexed his fingers a few times as he stared out the windshield. Then he took a deep breath before saying, "Even liking the sort of thing we did night before last night isn't that unusual. You aren't alone just because you like participating in consensual power exchange during sex. Most people do, to some extent. It's just a matter of degree."

Clark ducked his head and smirked, "You mean I'm not a complete freak just because I got off on you ordering me around."

Lex laughed and some of the tension left his shoulders. "That's exactly what I mean. Figuring this stuff out, experimenting, it's all part of being a teenager, Clark."

The car was hot without the air conditioner running, even sitting in the shade of the maple. Clark could feel sweat forming on his back and his palms. The leather seat cupped his ass and the black on black interior seemed to be closing in around him.

"So what'd I do wrong?" Clark knew there had to be something. Laws didn't stop Lex, not if he really wanted something. So, it followed that he didn't want Clark.

Lex's sigh made Clark feel about six years old. "You didn't do anything wrong, Clark."

"I can get better. That was-" Clark's throat closed up for a second so he swallowed again, "that was the first time, like that, but really-"

"Clark!" Lex interrupted him sharply. "Listen to yourself! You're not ready for this kind of relationship! You don't know what you want and nothing I say can be anything but some kind of manipulation! Dammit, I am trying to do the right thing here. Can't we-" Lex paused for a moment, then leaned back in his seat wearily. "Can't we just go back to being friends?"

"No."

Lex looked over at him in shock. The despair in his eyes cut Clark so sharply that he couldn't let it stay there long.

Clark leaned forward, cupping Lex's jaw carefully, tracing the delicate bone and gliding his fingers over the mandible to the ascending ramus where it hinged onto Lex's skull.

So delicate. So breakable. Clark laid a careful dry kiss on Lex's trembling lips then pulled back just enough to look into his eyes.

"I do know what I want, Lex." Clark whispered. "Maybe not the details, but I know I want more than just friendship. I know I want more of what we did in the loft. And I trust you to teach me the details."

"I can't." Lex's eyes searched Clark's face for something, Clark didn't know what. "I can't let you do this."

"But you can't stop me, either." Clark pressed the door controls and the Diablo slowly raised its wings again, letting in the light and the scent of autumn corn and heated earth. Lex squinted, even with his sunglasses, and started to raise a hand - whether to ward off the glare or Clark's next kiss, Clark wasn't sure.

It didn't matter.

In a blink he was out of the car and around to the driverπs side. He pulled Lex out and paused, giving his friend a chance to realize he'd been moved. It took a moment for Lex to shake his head and focus. "How..."

Clark's heart was pounding and he started to shake, but it wasn't as bad as it had been with Pete.

"I told you I wasn't like other people," he managed to get out breathlessly before he kissed Lex again, not wanting to wait for Lex's reaction, praying that he wouldn't see the accusation 'freak' blazing in his friend's eyes.

Friend.

Lover?

It had to be lover, because Lex was kissing back.

With tongue.

Clark moaned as he learned that tongues were for more than just tasting a meal. Lex's tongue was slick and taut and supple. It flicked, laved, curled over, around and between Clark's lips. It danced. It massaged.

It almost made Clark forget about all the other things he wanted to do ≠ almost.

He pulled away grinning now, more confident. He wanted to show off.

"Clark?" Lex looked at him and frowned, opened his mouth to say something, and then he was naked and lying on his back across he hood of the Diablo straddled by the young man he'd been so afraid of taking advantage of just a few minutes ago. Whatever he'd been going to say was changed to, "Hey!"

"Told you that I know what I want." Clark's grin was swept aside by hunger as he surveyed the body that Lex had hidden from him in the loft: the long muscular legs, pale, with sparse golden hairs that went to a darker strawberry blond at his ankles and crotch. The smooth, defined stomach and chest with almost no hair at all. Lex's penis lay curled between his legs, not hard, and Clark wondered why.

"Clark? What-? How?" Lex pushed up on his elbows and stared at Clark, then took a deep breath. "So I'm guessing you're really fast?"

Clark nodded absentmindedly. "And strong," he added as he gently fondled Lex's balls, liking their weight and the velvet feel of the scrotum. He heard Lex hiss and felt a twitch of interest. He reviewed what he'd heard in locker rooms as well as what he'd been able to guess from the sounds Lex had made back in the loft, and came to a quick decision, sliding back off the hood of the car.

"Clark, wait, we need to talk, I want to ask you-"

"Later," Clark promised as he dropped to his knees on the ground in front of the sloping nose of the Diablo, tugging Lex a little further down the hood. He placed Lex's legs up on his shoulders and gave a long hard lick up Lex's perineum to his balls.

"Fuck, Clark!"

Clark sucked Lex's balls into his mouth.

"Jesus!"

Clark listened enough to be sure Lex was shouting in pleasure and not pain, but otherwise ignored his words. There was too much else to think about: the musky sharp scent, the velvet skin, the taste that was like nothing else Clark knew, the legs that tightened and gripped around his head, the dappled light coming through the maple leaves covering Lex in drops of gold and green that shifted as he thrashed his head back and forth and his hands scrabbled for purchase on the hood of the car.

Clark shifted up a bit and smiled to see that Lex was hard now. He licked his lips and then pinned Lex's hip with his left hand as his right came around to grip the base of Lex's cock and angle it so that Clark could easily take it into his mouth.

"Shit!" There was a thud as Lex brought his fist down on the hood. He tried to buck but Clark held him firm.

The taste was salty and sharp. Clark wanted more; he needed it. Something more that was Lex. He slowed his rhythm as he thought about it and heard Lex groan. Humming happily he ran a soothing hand over Lex's stomach and considered his next move. Then he remembered his own feelings in the loft.

Between one heartbeat and the next, Lex was turned on his stomach and Clark was lapping at Lex's perineum again. As he worked his way between the cheeks, licking and stabbing with his tongue he smiled to hear Lex reduced to simply groaning Clark's name over and over.

"Shhhh." He whispered, blowing the air across Lex's twitching hole, which only made Lex moan louder.

Clark backed up then, to look, just look, at the shivering, gold-dappled body laid out for him on the hood of the Diablo: ass raised, balls glistening, every muscle tensed. So beautiful and so right. He saw his own reflection in the windshield just visible over Lex's shoulder and felt more at home in his skin than he had since the day he'd stuck his arm in the wood chipper and learned he was an alien.

He and Lex were right together.

He had a flash of changing places with Lex and knew that he'd ask about it later. Beg if necessary.

"Jesus, Clark, don't stop, not now, please-"

Clark saw Lex bite his lower lip viciously to stop the words that seemed to be leaking from his mouth.

"Hey, I'm not stopping, It's okay. Promise." Clark stuck two fingers in his mouth; shivering at the memories of the last time he had done that. Just as Lex had made him do for himself, he took his wet fingers and began to fuck Lex's ass with them.

Lex whined and moaned and tried to push back on the fingers, but Clark held him still with his free hand as he worked him slowly open with his other. Clark stood to get a better angle as he finger-fucked his lover harder and deeper.

"Come on, Lex. Come for me. Come on!"

Lex's lip slipped from between his teeth as he let out a howl and bucked and thrashed under Clark's sweat slicked hands. Lex's ass clenched around Clark's fingers, but the strokes didn't stop, didn't even slow down until Clark felt the shock of his own orgasm roll through him. He arched and came, squeezing his eyes shut at the sudden heat and floating up over Lex by just a few inches. He came down as the orgasm trailed off. He drifted down slowly enough that he had time to withdraw his fingers and catch himself on his hands. Then he settled over Lex, gently covering his lover's body with his own.

Clark didn't know how long they had been lying there when Lex finally spoke, "I hope you aren't as out of it as you were last time, because sleeping out here is a bad idea."

Clark chuckled and rolled off to one side. "Nah, I'm okay. How are you?"

"Fucked." Lex said with a laugh as he looked at Clark. "Well and truly fucked." He rolled onto his side as well and Clark could see the way Lex's come had spread all over the car's hood and up Lexπs stomach.

Clark grinned and raised an eyebrow. "So that's good?"

"Yes, that's good." Lex reached out one hand and ran a finger down Clark's cheek. "I think we have things to discuss, don't you?"

"Yeah, I guess." Clark answered, suddenly uncertain.

He did want to tell Lex everything, and he'd gone too far to stop now, but years of warnings from his parents echoed in his head and he felt his stomach twist at what he had committed himself to.

"Come on, I'll drive us back to the mansion. You can call your parents and let them know I've invited you to dinner. Then we can talk." Lex smiled.

Talk.

Clark nodded. He'd known there was going to be talking. That had been part of this whole decision he had jumped into, right? He could talk. Had been able to for years. He could handle it.

Really.

Lex leaned in and gave Clark a slow and thoughtful kiss. "It'll be okay. I promise. Between what you showed me today and what I already guessed, we're halfway there."

Clark nodded and tried to smile, but gave up in favor of pulling Lex close and burying his face in the crook of Lex's neck. The touch of warm skin, the smell of sex and Lex, and the hands rubbing gentle circles on his back made it easier to be certain this was the right thing to do.

"Hey, we get through this, then I'll show you the bedroom." Lex whispered.
Clark pulled back to grin at his lover. "Cool!"

They both laughed.

It was going to be okay.

After they cleaned up a bit, Lex dressed and they got into the car. Just as he started the motor Clark thought he heard a voice whispering through the trees:

And this is love, Kal-El.