Smallville: A Law Divine (Mm,oral)
by A Campbell
The mansion seemed unusually still as Clark entered. He scraped mid-February
slush from his boots onto the mat in the foyer and looked around. No one, not
even staff. He hoped Lex wasn't going to think he was a dork for bringing him
a Valentine's Day card (a mushy one) and present. And he really hoped Lex
wasn't going to be too glum on this particular holiday. After all, he'd
manage to lose not one, but two wives, over the past year. And Clark intended
to cheer him up.
He was surprised to find even the library deserted when he stepped through
the stairway door. "Lex?" he called. No answer. Lex was always here when he
came in. If he hadn't already met him in the entryway. Clark waited a moment,
then looked down, and, frowning, narrowed his eyes. There were dark, wet
spots scattered on the parquet floor. Oil, paint...? He bent down on his
haunches, touched a finger to one of the spots, studied the fingertip. It
He sniffed his finger. Tasted it, to be sure.
Clark's throat tightened with alarm. For awhile, no matter what the
adventure, Lex had seemed miraculously to escape all injury, but lately he
was really taking a beating. Clark was concerned. About Lex, mainly, and
he didn't know how much more he could take emotionally, himself. He was
invulnerable, but Lex could get hurt. And, if he did...
Well, he didn't know what he would do.
He looked around. "Lex." Still no response. "Lex!" he called again, and this
time he could feel fear in his voice.
It could be someone else's blood. But, whose?
Lionel's? Lex has finally killed him, Clark thought, astonished at the mean
thrill that sped through his body. But no such luck, he was sure. Lionel was
He supersped through the first floor, then used his x-ray to scan through the
walls, searching for Lex. First floor: nothing. Then he aimed for the second
floor, squinting as his vision fixed on his friend at last. Saw Lex bending
over the sink in the private bath, holding a towel to his face.
The towel was white only around the edges. The rest was bright red.
"Lex!" Clark's gaze darkened with horror. He sped upstairs, and was there in
an instant. He could tell that his own face was quite drained of blood when
he reached the bathroom door.
"Hey, Clark," Lex greeted him without turning around, his voice muffled
by the towel. Lex never acted surprised to see him, no matter what the
Clark reached out, touched Lex's back with hesitation, then let his hand
trail gently up to the back of his neck. "God, what happened. You're
bleeding." His thoughts ran frantically. Lex had seemed especially vulnerable
since his return from near-death on the tropical island. Bruises, aches and
pains, fevers, and now this. What had happened? An accident, or had he cut
himself on purpose?
Lex turned off the faucet with one hand. "Yeah, you noticed." Clark looked
around in dismay at the blood-spattered sink and fixtures. The washroom
looked like a crime scene.
"Are you okay?"
"It's nothing," said Lex. "Just a nosebleed. Haven't had one of these since
I was a kid."
"Just? There's blood everywhere, Lex. Any more, and you'll probably pass out.
Tell me what I can do. Please." The sight of all the blood was almost making
Clark feel as though there were kryptonite around, and he could tell from the
sound of Lex's voice that his mouth was full of blood, too. Usually, Clark
was okay with injuries, but, when it was Lex who was hurt... He leaned
against the counter, and took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down
enough to be able to help.
Lex pulled the towel from his face, which was streaked with blood that was
partially dried. Fresh blood still gushed from his nose, dripping onto his
blue shirt, staining it dark. Quickly, he replaced the towel.
"I can't talk yet, Clark. Sorry." He mumbled through the fabric.
Clark looked around, helpless for a moment, and then frowned with
determination. "Come on," he directed. He grabbed a clean towel from the
linen closet, and, fighting the urge just to pick him up, took Lex by the
arm, and led him into the bedroom to the side of the bed. He grabbed a
couple of silk-cased pillows, stacked them, and gave Lex a gentle push.
Lex dropped to the mattress without argument, stretching out on the satin
bedspread. Clark reached for a corner of the bloodstained towel, pulled it
gently from Lex's hands, and replaced it with the clean one. "Put your head
back as far as you can." He pressed the fresh cloth underneath Lex's nose,
as firmly as he could without hurting him.
Within a few minutes, it was soaked through, too.
Clark kneaded Lex's wrist slowly and steadily to maintain circulation. "Let
me call a doctor," he urged, his voice low and beseeching. He felt a little
dizzy, and took a deep breath, surprised at his reaction, because he usually
considered himself pretty tough, after all.
"No," Lex sounded uncharacteristically faint. "I'll be all right."
"Then let me call Mom. It's not stopping," Clark said in desperation.
"No," Lex shook his head. "Just give it some time."
"I don't know," Clark shook his head, "It could be serious." Overruling Lex
wasn't easy; he knew that better than anyone, but if things didn't get better
soon, he was going to insist they get some help, whether or not Lex agreed.
"This one's dead," Lex muttered weakly. The latest towel was already sopping
with blood, and he held it out, let it drop to the floor. "Here. There should
be..." Lex yanked a handkerchief from the drawer of the bedside table.
"Yeah." His voice was muffled through the big handkerchief as he used it to
staunch the flow of blood from his nose. Which did seem to be lessening, even
to Clark's worried gaze. "Here."
Clark searched his pockets. "Here." He pulled out a crushed, half-empty
package of Christmaspatterned tissues and held it out to Lex, who regarded
poinsettias and Santas in semiastonishment and then burst into as hearty
laughter as he could, considering. Clark eyes widened with alarm; then he
gave Lex a small smile, a little relieved by his patient's display of humor,
but still worried.
"God, Lex, don't laugh. You'll start it up, again. Just stay quiet. Put your
head back further." His broad hand gave Lex's brow a gentle stroke. "You're
cold. And really pale."
"So are you," said Lex with a faint smile. He reached up to touch Clark's
face, then let his hand fall. "Don't worry about me, Clark. I always mend."
His eyes dropped closed.
He still seems awfully weak, Clark thought. "Just try to relax. Maybe I
should put on some music for you."
"Sure," Lex agreed. "If you pick something good."
Clark wandered over to Lex's CD cabinet and began thumbing first through
discs that lay on the desk, then scanning those on the rack.
"The Calling, Stabbing Westward--"
"Something a little milder this afternoon."
Clark continued to flip through the disks.
"Andy Williams?" Clark scowled, sure he'd misread, then pulled the CD out.
He held it gingerly in his hand, looked over at Lex, mystified, realizing
belatedly that his voice probably dripped disgust.
"That was one of my mother's favorite albums. Yes, she liked Andy Williams.
When yours was probably into the Strawberry Alarm Clock and the Association."
Lex shifted on the bed to get more comfortable, punched and fluffed his
pillow. "Actually, that sounds pretty good right now. Restful. Put it on."
Clark shrugged. It'll be corny, he thought, but if it's what Lex wants, I'll
deal.* He pulled a chair next to the bed.
"No," Lex shook his head. "Lie down with me." He put a hand on Clark's wrist.
"Not yet," said Clark. "Put your head back." And just don't look at me while
this is playing, he thought.
Clark couldn't help but notice how much more biddable Lex was when he wasn't
feeling well, for he did as Clark asked without complaint, let his hand drop
and lay still. Clark punched "play" on the CD remote with reluctance. He sat
back in his chair, eyes sliding gradually closed as the mellow voice of Andy
Williams filled the room.
It wasn't so bad, after all. Clark's limbs relaxed gradually, he felt himself
sinking into the padded chair. "Lips of wine, warm with fire," the throaty
voice crooned, and Clark could almost swear that, instead of being stuck in
late-winter Kansas, he was lying on a Hawaiian beach, soaking up the sun,
feeling stronger than ever. He could feel warmth coursing through his body,
school and Smallville hundreds of miles away.
He was almost dozing when Lex's voice called him back to consciousness.
"I think it's stopped," said Lex. "Finally. Thanks to Andy Williams."
"I hope it has," said Clark, shaking himself awake. "You gave me a scare!"
Clark sat us, and reached over to take the wadded-up towel from Lex's hands.
He took it to the bathroom, and found another and a washcloth in the linen
closet. When he returned to the bedroom, he knelt before the small
refrigerator and rummaged until he found a small bag of crushed ice. He
turned around to find Lex sitting up on the bed.
"Well, this was awkward," Lex was half laughing. "I don't usually greet my
guests this way."
"Lex, I'm not a `guest'." I'm your friend."
"Yeah," said Lex. "Well, thanks for being a good one. I'm all right, now." He
swung slim legs over the side of the bed.
Clark, in full caretaker mode, leveled a warning scowl. "Oh, no, you don't.
You're staying right there, for at least a half hour."
"I'm a man of action, Clark. I can't stay still for long."
Clark gave Lex his best "Don't fuck with me" look. "The hell you can't. You
will if I say so."
Lex smiled, slight.
"You're still pale," said Clark. "Where did your staff disappear to?
"Today is Valentine's Day," said Lex. "They're all married or seeing someone,
and I gave them the afternoon off."
Clark wrapped the bag of ice in the washcloth, and held it out to Lex. "Well,
then, hold this on your nose, and let me get you something to eat. Maybe your
cook keeps some beef broth in the kitchen? Something like that'll help you
get your strength back."
"No. No food. Maybe later. But, I could go for something to drink, now. Some
Clark bit his lower lip. "I don't know, Lex. Are you sure that's a good idea?
Wine might make you sicker."
Lex just looked at him. "Wine's restorative, Clark," he said, his voice
patient. "Good for you. Let's go down to the cellar and you can help me pick
out a bottle."
"Let me get it," Clark protested. "You stay here and rest."
"How much do you know about wine?"
Not much, Clark thought. "Okay, but you've got to be careful, Lex. Promise
me. Or, we're coming right back here without the wine and I'll make you some
tea, or something."
"Sure, Doc. Whatever you say." Lex got to his feet with a compliant grin.
It was Clark's first visit to the lower level of Luthor manor. The cellar was
dark and cool, and so still that their footsteps echoed in the gloom. Clark
could hear the gentle clink of the wine glasses and corkscrew Lex had picked
up from the kitchen as they passed through.
"I'm really feeling better, now, Clark. Trust me."
"You're sure?" Clark wasn't sure why they were whispering.
Lex stopped before the alcove where the wine collection was stored. He
studied rows of dustcovered bottles, tapping one every so often with the tip
of a finger, and Clark could hear him talking under his breath. Finally, he
put the corkscrew in his mouth for a moment, long enough to select one. He
removed the cork with a neat twist, and took a sniff, then held the cork out
to Clark. "What's your opinion of this one?"
Clark hesitated, then sniffed obediently. "Fine," he said, knowing he'd say
that, no matter what. Like he could tell. But he always appreciated Lex's
treating him as though he was a sophisticated man of the world, even when he
Lex took a long swig, not bothering to pour it into one of the glasses. He
gasped when he finished drinking, and swiped his mouth with the back of his
Clark caught a quick breath "Are you okay?" he demanded uneasily. "You
probably shouldn't drink too much, or too fast." He knew that if Lex wanted
wine to drink, he would pay no attention to any admonitions, but he had to
"Mmm. Chateau Mouton-Rothschild. Worth the nosebleed. I shouldn't be
contributing to the delinquency of a minor, but...have a sip, Clark? Your
reward for being a good doctor today."
Clark knew he should refuse. His parents wouldn't approve of him drinking at
Lex's. They only allowed him one small glass of champagne on New Year's Eve
or at weddings, and that was it. But, he took the bottle from Lex without
protest and tipped it up to his lips. Lex's gaze followed the motion of his
hand, his mouth, his expression shrouded in the dim light of the cellar.
"Mmm," said Clark, too, after a concealed cringe and a swallow. "Good." It
wasn't good at all, it was gross, but he didn't want to look like an
ignoramus. He handed the wine back to Lex, who took another sizable draught
"More?" Lex raised his eyebrows and held the bottle out again, raising it
slowly to Clark's mouth, nudging at his bottom lip with the glass edge. Clark
shook his head and pushed the bottle away.
"Lex, if I show up for supper tonight drunk, my parents will kill me."
Lex was rummaging through the bottles on the rack, paying no attention.
"Chateau Margaux, Chateau Latour, Chateaux Haut-Brion...$1010.00 a bottle,
That's obscene, Clark thought with a mixture of disgust and admiration. That
would buy Dad at least two cows.
Lex blew the dust off the bottle and onto Clark's shirt, and grinned.
He's not sorry at all, Clark reflected with an internal grumble. And this was
taking too long; Lex should get back to bed. Frowning, he let Lex fiddle with
the wines a minute or two longer, and then touched his arm. "Okay, Lex," he
directed. "Pick out the ones you want, and let's head back upstairs. Lex?"
Lex didn't seem to be listening. He just set the bottle down on the stone
ledge by the cellar door. He was looking around, and off. When he spoke, his
tone was soft and husky.
"Desiree and I came down here once. Right before the wedding." Lex's voice
grew gradually more distant as he spoke, and Clark had to focus better to
hear him in the deep quiet of the still cellar air. "Had sex up against the
wall, then on the floor, right over there, in front of the furnace. Luckily,
it was turned off, because of the heat wave. Otherwise, we'd have combusted,
it was so hot." He chuckled, and it sounded to Clark as though the chuckle
ended in what was almost a sob.
"Lex," Clark shifted with discomfort. He didn't want to hear about it, and
didn't think remembering it was really doing Lex any good.
"She was...Oh, God, Clark. If you could have seen her that night..."
Clark was glad of the dim light in the cellar, for he felt an uncomfortable
pang of jealousy, and was sure his eyes would have flashed dark if Lex could
have seen. Jealousy, and, incredibly, arousal. "I can imagine," he muttered.
Noticing that he'd gotten hard immediately at the mention of Desiree made him
desperately annoyed with himself. He remembered her kittenish voice and full
lips, her cleavage glistening with perspiration in the late-summer heat, and
willed himself to stop thinking. The timbre of Lex's voice usually turned him
on, anyway. But listening to Lex talk about Desiree, about what they did, in
that sleek tone that was half a whisper, was causing him a serious problem.
And he tried, but he couldn't help recalling the night she had come to the
loft. How determined she'd been, how she'd moved in, so close, touched him...
how he could have...
"Remember how she looked in that---"
"Lex," Clark said abruptly. "Stop. You're sick. We need to get you back
upstairs so you can rest." Even reminding himself that she'd tried to burn
Lex to death didn't seem to be making a difference. He took a gulping breath
and tried to gain control of himself, to will the blood to drain from his
"It's okay, Clark. I'm okay. It was warm that night, even down here. Luckily,
she was wearing that same garb. You know, the thin, sheer floral dress that
looked more like baby-doll pajamas...but no underwear, this time..."
Clark groaned as he felt himself get even harder. Lex leveled him a gaze both
critical and comprehending.
"Her legs, wrapped around my waist..."
Clark swallowed hard, then gasped. "Don't talk about her, Lex. Please. She's
gone. And I'm here." He shifted from one foot to the other, hoping Lex wasn't
going to notice his state of arousal. A vain hope, of course. Lex glanced
coolly down, then grinned, and Clark turned away with a muttered curse. He
has radar, he thought, irritation warring with excitement. But I have to be
strong, Clark told himself. Lex should stay calm. He couldn't let him get
"Yeah," said Lex. "And, thank goodness for that." He moved in close, brushing
a slim hand over the front of Clark's slacks. Clark's cock was pressing so
hard against the fabric that it was outlined clearly even in the gloom, Lex
traced with his finger, then pressed hard, earning a moan from Clark. They
locked gazes, then Lex shoved lightly, pinning him back against the wall,
then rolled his hips, just a little. Clark's hands raised to grasp Lex's
elbows, feeling a tremble run down his spine that made him feel tender, all
over. The tip of Lex's tongue was like a cat's, protruding ever so slightly;
he made a small, clucking noise as he leaned up to hum in Clark's ear.
"*'Lips of wine, warm with fire, you are my one desire'*," He touched the tip
of one finger to Clark's trembling lower lip. "Thanks for taking care of me
this afternoon, Clark." Lex slipped a hand under Clark's shirt, worked a
finger under the waistband of his pants. "Now I'll return the favor."
Clark trembled, letting his eyes go half-closed. "Please, Lex. Stop. You
shouldn't--you should rest." Be strong, he remined himself again.
Lex shook his head. "This is the best therapy I can think of, Clark." His
tone was low and bedroom-soft; he smiled a little giddily and took another
swig of wine. Clark trembled at the sound of his voice, watched as though
in a trance as Lex pulled the bottle away and let the rosecolored liquid
spill out over his lips as he laughed.
Lex kissed him slow and deep, and beneath the wine, Clark could detect a
faint taste of blood, so far off and distant that it disappeared when he
tried to chase it with his tongue.
Lex fumbled with the button of Clark's fly, clumsier than usual--because of
the nosebleed, Clark told himself, and gnawed at his lips. He still wanted
to insist that this was a bad idea, but he didn't have the strength to
resist. Not when Lex was like this, focused, determined...even though he was
ill. Not when Lex was touching him this way, with at least two dozen hands.
Stroking, sliding his palm into the tight, damp warmth of Clark's jeans.
Closing around Clark's stiff cock, nimble fingers meeting warm flesh,
scrabbling for a tighter grip.
With another moan of defeat, Clark let his eyes drop closed. He pushed into
Lex's cool hand as Lex peeled his fly further back with the other, then let
it slide in to grasp his balls, weigh them in his palm. Lex slipped to his
knees on the cement floor, and Clark drew a quick breath, shaking his head,
eyes growing round with a combination of alarm and anticipation. Lex was
leaning in, opening his mouth, and Clark made one more valiant stab at
maintaining control, grasped Lex's shoulders to push him back.
"No, Lex. Stop. You need to take it easy."
Lex spoke patiently, as though to a child. "This is taking it easy for me,
Clark. I'll be using great restraint, I promise you. Which is hard, but I
can do it." Clark could feel Lex's warm breath cool on the tip of his
already-leaking cock. He swallowed, hard, then looked around, scanning the
other rooms in the cellar. Lex followed his gaze, then turned back to Clark.
"We're alone," he said gently, as though to reassure him.
"Yeah," said Clark. "But you--"
"You could have a career in medicine. But, this is making me feel a whole lot
better. Trust me."
Clark had no will to argue further. A stream of pleasure like molten metal
pulsed through him as he felt the tight, wet warmth of Lex's mouth close
around his straining cock. Lex began to suck, and stroke, catching the
foreskin on the upstroke and pushing it back on the down with lips and
tongue. Clark's hand closed around Lex's head, cradling his smooth scalp;
he tried not to thrust too hard, but he only had so much super-strength,
after all. He'd been so turned on at the outset that it was over in just a
couple of minutes. Clark came back to semi-consciousness as he felt himself
half-sliding down the cold stone wall.
Lex was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and put out a gentle hand
to hold Clark steady. "Mmm. Easy, Clark," he said.
Clark couldn't speak, just sighed, relief, pleasure and contentment coursing
through him in waves.
Lex got to his feet and buried his face in the tender skin of Clark's neck.
"One problem, Clark. Down there on my knees in the semi-darkness, I couldn't
see your face when you came. Your beautiful face."
Clark couldn't hold back a grin at that, though he knew he should. He just
stood, dazed, and felt Lex's nimble hands tuck him back in and zip him up.
Then Lex took his palm and placed it on his own cock, hard under the linen
of his slacks.
"Lex." Clark raised eyebrows and smiled. "Glad to see you still have some
blood left. You must be feeling better."
"I'm feeling fine now," Lex let his voice go husky again.
He knows what that does to me, Clark thought. "I think you've had enough
excitement this afternoon."
"Come on, Clark. Desiree would have."
"Don't talk about her, Lex."
"Why not? Got you ready, didn't it."
Clark's voice was a rueful whisper. "Yeah." He couldn't deny it. He felt
almost guilty for how much the conversation about Lex's ex-wife had turned
"Those sexy moans and squeaks of yours have a similar effect on me," Lex
continued. "As you can see."
"Sorry," said Clark.
"Nothing to be sorry about." Lex had been unzipping as he spoke. Clark
glanced down at Lex's finely-sculpted cock, finally free, pulsing with blood
and as ready for action as his own had been, a few minutes before.
"Touch it," said Lex. He grabbed Clark's hand again and, letting his eyes
fall closed, placed it on his stiff cock and guided his palm to stroke, to
caress. Clark, face softening into a smile, couldn't help but savor the
impossible softness of the stretched skin under his clumsy fingers. He
couldn't resist Lex for much, either as giver or receiver. Especially when
he was this close to begging, because Lex hardly ever begged. Well,
"Come on, Clark. Please."
It was Valentine's Day, after all. Lex would enjoy this more than a card and
Clark dropped to the floor, opened his mouth, fastened on Lex's cock, and
sucked, too, tossing shaggy bangs back from his eyes to catch a glimpse of
Lex's face, because he didn't have the problem of not being able to see in
the dark. Despite being pale still, a tinge of rose stained Lex's cheeks as
the pace of his breathing quickened. He made a congested, choking sound in
his throat, and normally Clark wouldn't have pulled off, except that he was
afraid Lex might be getting sick again. He pulled off for just a second.
"Are you--" he began.
A mistake, he realized too late, because Lex was ready, too, and quicker than
"God, Clark!" he groaned, and half-splattered Clark's face before Clark
hastily slipped back on in time to finish him off. He made sure not to pull
off this time until he was sure it was over, till he heard Lex's breathing
"Sorry about that," Clark muttered. Still on his knees, he let his arms go
around Lex's waist, and pressed a soft kiss to the bare skin of his stomach
with half-open lips. Lex leaned back against the cellar wall and ran his
hands through Clark's dark hair.
Lex pulled Clark to his feet. Clark smiled, and let his eyes fall closed
again. No more taste of blood, just lingering hints of the two of them as
they traded tongues more gently now. One final kiss, and Lex drew back with
reluctance, touching a finger to Clark's bruised lips.
"Beautiful," Lex murmured.
Clark stopped while brushing off his slacks, and aimed a dopey grin in Lex's
direction. He bent down to retrieve the small plastic bag that had held ice,
now melted. "Must be blood loss, Lex. It affected your vision."
Lex looked down at the floor. Clark's gaze followed, to where dark red drops
were beginning to splat on the cement. Lex glanced back up at Clark, his
expression as close as Lex ever got to ashamed, for him, and Clark's gaze
darkened with alarm.
"Oh, no, Lex."
"It's starting up, again," Lex said with casual disregard, swiping the back
of his hand across his nose.
Clark sighed in exasperation. "That's it, Lex. I told you. You should have
stayed upstairs and let me get the wine. And I told you we shouldn't do
"Damn, Clark, it was worth it. No regrets. Worth a second nosebleed, even."
Lex continued to drip blood.
Clark pulled the pack of tissues back out of his pocket, and pushed them into
Lex's hand. "Let me call Toby, at least. Or, better yet, Dr. Vargas."
"Don't be ridiculous, Clark. I'll be fine. Stop being such a mother hen.
Here." He pulled half the tissues from the plastic and plastered them to his
nose. And, in spite of himself, Clark had to laugh.
"Okay, Lex," Clark hoped he didn't sound too cross, but it had been a long
afternoon. "I think the bleeding's finally under control. You're going to
stay lying down, you're going to take it easy. No more wine, no more..."
Clark broke off, and felt himself blush as Lex chuckled. "No more anything
else. I'm calling Mom and telling her you're sick, and I'm staying here all
night. Then, if you're not better by morning, I'm calling a doctor, and no
Lex sank back into the silk-covered pillows, and patted the bed for Clark to
get in beside him.
"Only if you promise: no more fooling around." Clark gave him a warning glare
and batted Lex's hand away--not too hard--as Lex reached up to touch his
cheek. He lay down on the mattress and slid over the coverlet and in close
"Okay, Clark. I promise. No more sex. I'll settle for a kiss."
Clark tensed as Lex leaned over him but allowed him the one kiss, then tried
to sit up. Lex held him for a moment, as though reluctant to let him go, and
Clark gave up, settling back into his arms with a sigh.
"I should get sick more often," Lex mused.
"Thank God you don't. I'm exhausted." Clark willed himself to breathe deeply,
to let his tight muscles relax.
"I have a more congenial memory of the wine cellar, now. Even if I completely
messed everything up this afternoon."
"Not everything," Clark had to be honest; the sex had been great. "But, you
need to rest, now. And, I'm kind of exhausted, myself. Taking care of you is
"Ahh. Umm. Desiree..." Lex let it out on a sigh.
"Shut up, Lex." Not funny at all, Clark fumed.
"She does serve a purpose..."
"You know I'm right, Clark."
"Oh, wait," Clark wrested himself from his doze, reaching behind to rummage
in his back pocket. "I forgot. Happy Valentine's Day." The small box of
chocolates was crushed at the corners by now, but the envelope had somehow
escaped even a single wrinkle.
Lex grinned at the candy, and flicked the envelope open with a thumbnail.
"A gift card for "Wine for all Reasons," Lex read. "For twenty dollars.
That's a whole week's allowance for you, right?"
"Almost," said Clark.
"And a card." He took a moment to admire the Pre-Raphaelite illustration on
"It's mushy," Clark warned.
Lex continued as he scanned the sloppy writing. He began reading the printed
"*...All things by a law divine
In one another's being mingle,
Why not I with thine*?"
Lex smirked. "Well, we just did that, so no worries." He continued.
"*And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea.
What are all those kissings worth
If thou kiss not me?*"
"Sounds like an invitation." Lex leaned over, and Clark relaxed, letting his
own arms fold around him, hold him close.
When the kiss broke, Lex lay back down. Neither of them spoke for a few
minutes. "Shelley, Andy Williams, and Clark Kent. Not a bad afternoon."
"Happy Valentine's Day, Lex," He wouldn't have admitted it for the world, but
he had a weird yen to listen to that Andy Williams CD again.
"Thanks, Clark. It has been, due to you. Just keep that pack of Kleenex
Clark waited until Lex was asleep, then stroked his cheek with a gentle
finger. He spooned into him and, in a moment, was sleeping, too, as the
firelight faded into ashes.