by Pearl-o

Clark liked this time of night the best, when his parents had gone to sleep hours before, and the entire house was dark and still and quiet. There was just a bit of light in his room, moon shining through the window, and the only noises he could hear were the crickets outside.

It was late, but he wasn't tired, exactly. Or not sleepy, at least; not ready to collapse and fall over -- more of a pleasant, drowsy, in-between state. Just far enough to make everything seem a little far away.

It was easy to see in this amount of darkness. It always had been, even before the x-ray vision ("organic carrots," he told Pete, and Pete had nodded solemnly). His room looked cleaner this way, with the clutter reduced to shadowy blobs around his room.

Clark turned onto his side to see his desk. His backpack had been dumped on it earlier, and the contents were splayed out messily across the surface. Textbooks, the novel they were reading in English, his sweaty gym uniform, a leftover candy bar from lunch. His science notes were almost hanging over the side of the desk, just barely keeping from falling to the floor. They should have been back inside his notebook, but they'd been out, being used, that afternoon and he hadn't put them back.

"I shouldn't stay too long," Clark had said, looking down a little and away from Lex. "I have a chemistry test to study for..."

It was a lie, really, because Clark had mostly memorized the chapters they were working on, but one tiny lie wasn't a very big deal, in the larger scheme of things.

Especially when it made Lex raise his eyebrows, and say, "Are you sure? I don't want to brag, but I do have some experience in that area."

"You want to help me study?"

Lex had smiled, and stood up. "If it's the price I have to pay for your company. You need a refill on your coffee?"

Clark had nodded, and watched Lex walk toward the Talon's front counter and talk with Lana.

Clark rolled away from his desk, onto his back, and gazed at the ceiling. Lex and Lana had looked good together. They always did. They were both good-looking in an exotic, captivating way, much more interesting than the way Clark looked. They'd look better together than either would with him, Clark thought, and he frowned. Not to mention they were both human. And didn't have stupid secrets to keep from each other.

Lana didn't like Lex at all, though -- and that shouldn't be comforting, because people should like Lex, and get to know him, and see what a great person he was.

And Lex wasn't interested in high school students, anyway -- and that should be comforting, but wasn't.

Clark narrowed his eyes at the crack in his ceiling. This was stupid. He should be sleeping, not being pointlessly jealous of, well, everybody.

He heard a tiny noise and turned his head again to see his notes fallen to the floor.

He sighed and rested his hands on his stomach. Lex had really gotten into the study session this afternoon. It had been strange to watch him, deep in concentration, making his small, animated gestures. He'd been like almost a different person.

He'd leaned forward, across the table, and looked intently into Clark's eyes. "Do you see what I'm saying, Clark? Does that make any sense?"

And Clark had just flushed and nodded, unable to speak, and taken another sip of his coffee.

And Lex had grinned, open and wide.

Clark sighed again in his bed and slipped his hand under his pajama pants. Lex might smile like that if he and Clark ever did anything. Maybe. He didn't smile like that for anyone else. That had to mean something.

If Lex were here right now, they could both fit in Clark's bed. It would be a tight fit, but they could manage. Clark could straddle him again, rub his hands over Lex's chest, and see that expression on Lex's face; only this time, it wouldn't be because Lex was on fire and in pain. It would be good.

He squeezed his cock a little tighter as he stroked, and couldn't stop a small breathy noise, even with his parents down the hall. He should be more ashamed, and it sucked that Lex was always getting hurt, but -- it was really the only time Clark got to touch him.

Yeah. Clark was a bad person.

But he was still better than all those other people -- Lex's skanky girlfriends or wives that hung around the castle and took up all his time. They didn't care about him, and Clark did, a lot, and he watched out for him. He tried, at least.

If Lex were here right now, he could kiss Clark, a real kiss, deep and wet and important. They could ... make out, even. Clark wasn't completely inexperienced, not anymore, thanks to the stupid ring and Jessie.

He gazed straight up above him as he pumped into his fist. Jessie had been nice, soft and good-smelling and with hands that seemed to be everywhere all at the same time. And the Ferrari had still smelled like Lex. Like his cologne, or just his presence that none of his possessions could ever quite shake.

There was a shirt buried deep in one of Clark's dresser drawers that Lex had lent to him months before, after the whole thing with Kyle Tippet. He'd washed it, and even taken it over to return, but he hadn't quite managed it.

If Lex were here right now, Clark thought, it could be Lex's hand on his cock instead, and he shut his eyes tight. It could be his hand on Lex's cock, and both of them doing this together, and Lex would be intense and overwhelming and perfectly here, like he always was. More so, like this afternoon at the coffee shop.

He could feel the pressure building, and he turned his head sharply sideways to bury his head in his pillow when he came.

He listened to his breath slowly calm. If Lex were here right now, he would sit on the edge of Clark's bed, and they would have a long conversation about destiny and friendship, with lots of meaningful pauses and deep looks. And then Lex would leave and go home, and nothing would happen.

Clark bit his lip as he got up from bed to clean himself up.


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