Clark's always been such a good boy. Loves his parents, obeys them, does his chores, smiles sweetly. Maybe that's why his entire being--body, mind, and soul-- is tingling, spinning, soaring, with this just especially delicious . . . dirty feeling.

Zipping through the cornfields, grinning, because he's not being good now. No, not at all. He's being a bad boy. And about to get worse. His parents are sleeping, peacefully, on this deep dark, Tuesday night. Just an ordinary night, when all good boys and girls are tucked in their beds in their flannel pajamas dreaming sweet dreams.

Clark comes to a halt in front of the castle. He breathes deeply and smiles into the night. He, Good Boy Clark Kent, has snuck out of the house to meet his secret lover. His older, male, gay lover. He shivers, remembering and anticipating the sweet, dirty things he and Lex do.

Lex had called him on the cell phone he gave Clark earlier. Another secret he's keeping from his parents. Let's fuck, he said in that low voice. Clark's heart had began racing as he got dressed. No underwear--no point to it, after all. He had snuck out of the house, this time not for the purpose of chasing down bad guys. No, he snuck out of the house to have sex.

Clark knows he is not like other people. His secrets and responsibilities lead to a destiny unimaginable by any ordinary standard. He builds his life around layers of deceit. He's the original , big, dumb farm boy. The sweet bumbling geek who blushes at girls, helps old ladies across the street, and trips over his own feet. As corny as Kansas in August.

Except.

He's not.

No one suspects how good an actor he really is. How fast his mind works, how much darkness and weight there is to his life. Sometimes it is just so hard to be what he is, to keep up the pretense, and not let the vastness of his soul leak out. He thinks most humans would be paralyzed with fear if they had a glimpse of what he really is. Most, but not all.

Not Lex.

Maybe it's because Clark's soul was what brought Lex back from the dead. Maybe it's because Lex is more perceptive than most people. Or maybe it's just that they are meant to be together, but Lex saw Clark, right from the beginning. Maybe not all of it, no, but enough to see through the cornfed veneer.

So it's to Lex he goes now. Into the castle, up the stairs, toward the bedroom where he can see Lex waiting for him, reclining on his bed, naked under the covers and reading a book.

Clark shivers with a sweet thrill. So fucking immensely thrilling--to defy his parents, to let out, if just for a few hours, a deep part of himself, peel back the layers and expose himself to another being. He loves the secret looks he and Lex gave each other while in public, the clandestine meetings. He loves sharing this with Lex. Loves not being a good boy any longer. Loves being dirty. Loves the sucking, and the fucking, and every sweet and nasty thing they do. He remembers yesterday talking to Pete about girls. Well, listening to Pete, anyway, blather on about how he was gonna score that weekend with his newest girl, all the while thinking, Pete, you clueless bastard, guess who's not the virgin here? Guess who's been doing things you can't even imagine?

Sex. Dirty, nasty, hot, wet, hard, gay sex . . . Clark paused in front of the door to Lex's bedroom. Oooh yeah. It was so good. He'd been surprised. Not at the fact that sex felt good--it was supposed to, after all. No, he was surprised at himself, at his talent for sex, the depth of his appetite for it. In bed with Lex, he shed his shy farm boy skin like a snake, and became this coiled, driven, hot thing, insatiable, and irresistible. So bad, and so good. It was freeing, to have his soul finally in tune with his body. Sweet, and dark.

Clark takes a deep breath, and opens the door.