Lex's first kiss came after many other firsts.

It came after the first time he'd been called "queer" and "faggot" by the other boys at Larchmont Academy. He was a freak, but "freak" was too boring a term for them. They wanted him to be worse than that. And being gay was right down there with being poor.

Billy Almquist, a muscular rugby player, tormented Lex day after day. On more than one occasion, Lex had ended up in the infirmary nursing bruised ribs and split lips. Oddly, Lex didn't mind. The infirmary was peaceful and removed. It allowed him respite from his classmates. The physical price he had to pay was small. Lex simply lay and read Aristotle and wished this hell called middle school would end.

After a particularly bad beating, Lex earned two whole days of vacation, which he spent nestled in starchy white sheets with "The Iliad." Reluctantly, when he was deemed fit to walk, he crossed the quadrangle and headed for his dorm. The pain had receded enough so that Lex was able to take deep breaths of the chilly near-winter air.

As if Billy had a wire tap to Lex's life, he appeared from a dark alcove and accosted Lex.

"Hey, Faggot. Decided to come back to school?"

Lex stopped walking. Tried not to show fear. Billy circled him, assessing Lex as if he were considering a purchase. Then, suddenly, before Lex was aware of what was happening, Billy had pulled him into the shadowy recesses of the chapel. Lex steeled himself for another beating. But the sharp impact of Billy's fists never came.

Instead Billy had him pressed against the wall, the planes of their bodies aligned in perfect symmetry. Lex could feel Billy's erection through his pants.

"Listen up, Faggot..."

Lex liked how Billy said Faggot with a capital F. Like it was his name. Or like he was God. With a capital G.

"You're going to do what I tell you, or the other day is going to seem like nothing compared to the crap I'll beat out of you. Understand?"

Lex nodded mutely. No, he didn't really understand. Billy was being vague as usual.

Billy pulled back a little and undid his fly. He took Lex's hand and placed it on his cock. Lex didn't have to be told what to do. He'd done it to himself a million times. Just never to anyone else. He rubbed his thumb over the head and jacked Billy's cock until Billy came, silent and ungrateful.

Afterwards, Billy wouldn't look at Lex. He zipped his pants quickly. Before Billy left, he pressed Lex against the wall and wrenched his wrist back. A piercing pain shot up his arm.

"Don't tell anyone," Billy whispered.

Like Lex would ever have admitted to touching Billy. Maybe another guy. But Billy? Lex may have been at the bottom of the social ladder, but at least he had taste.

Then Billy was gone. Lex's hand was covered in Billy's drying come. He shuddered. And wondered if there were washrooms in the chapel.

That was Lex's first hand job.

Lex gave his first blowjob under similar duress. And, once again, Billy Almquist was the one who coerced him. Just who was calling who "faggot," anyway? At this point, Lex thought, he was going to end up straight. It all made an eerie kind of sense. Maybe his father had planned it all. Had known that Lex was attracted to other boys and had staged this so that Lex would turn the other way, run screaming for any girl in sight. That was just the kind of thing Lionel would think up.

The first kiss came much later.

By the time Lex got to high school (Buchanan Prep), he was good and pissed off. And tired of being pushed around. He took up boxing and running. He was skinny and didn't bulk up like the grunts on the football team, but somehow they knew. And they stopped harassing him.

That didn't make Lex any less of a social outcast. He spent most of his time in the library plotting his revenge. He knew he was smarter than everyone else, but he figured it didn't hurt to hone his mental acuity. While other boys dated girls and did idiotic things like get drunk at ski lodges, Lex brushed up on ancient history and famous battles. It was good to learn from the mistakes of others.

It was in the looming stacks of the library that Lex first met Ethan. Ethan was a close contender for the title of "school loser." He spoke more clearly in equations than in sentences. And Lex doubted he'd ever lose his awkwardness. Destined for math professorhood, Lex decided. But Ethan actually smiled shyly at Lex and said hello when Lex passed his carrel.

They didn't become friends from any common interests, or an ability to converse, but rather from a simple instinct to stick together in the face of insurmountable opposition. They ate dinner together in the dining hall. But didn't talk so much as greet each other and then eat in companionable silence.

As Lex walked Ethan home one night after the library closed, he was startled by Ethan's hand on his. He stopped walking.

"I'm sorry," Ethan said, and pulled his hand away.

"It's okay." Lex tried to decide what to do. "I don't mind."

"I thought you were..." Ethan couldn't say it.

"Yeah, I am."

Ethan really wasn't a bad-looking sort. In that nerdy way.

They stood awkwardly under the maple trees in the quad. It was dark and quiet except for leaves rustling.

Lex leaned in and Ethan met him halfway. Their lips bumped, then adjusted, and they were kissing. It wasn't at all like Lex had expected. Or maybe it was kind of like what he'd expected long before his expectations had been corrupted and twisted beyond recognition. Like that, but less magical.

Ethan was sweet. But that was about all. Lex pulled away. Neither of them spoke. As if by some mutual agreement, they continued their walk. At the door, Lex quickly kissed Ethan's cheek.

It was that way for a while. Lex never felt anything special. But Ethan was comforting. Human contact in a world where Lex was isolated and shunned.

They never did more than kiss. And after a few months, they drifted back to how they'd been before the first kiss. With no regrets on either side.

It should have been great. The first time Lex fucked anyone. But it wasn't.

As he thrust against her sweaty body, he thought that he was probably the envy of a lot of guys out there. Here he was, fucking Tiffany Melrose. In an empty bedroom. At a palatial estate belonging to some rich asshole friend of Lionel's. While the other partygoers mingled, unaware of the fact that two teenagers were fucking in a guest bedroom.

Tiffany was kind of strung out on coke. Her hair was tangled, her eyes blurry and red. At fifteen, she was already messed up. But she was hot. The kind of girl who wouldn't look out of place in a swimsuit issue of "Sports Illustrated." Lex was sure she'd fucked more guys than there were in his entire class.

Lex didn't know how he'd ended up with Tiffany. There were plenty of teen playboys panting after her. But she'd chosen him to snag for a quickie. Maybe the others would come after dinner, Lex thought. Or maybe she was just doing this on a bet. Or to get revenge on some dickwad boyfriend.

"Oh, God!" Tiffany cried out. A minute later, Lex came in a rush, unable to hold back any longer. Not that he was really trying. He didn't really give a shit if she came. Besides, Tiffany was what "Maxim" would call an "easy O." At least one of them was having a good time.

He pulled out. After a minute, Tiffany sat up. "That was great, baby." She extracted a cigarette from her purse, which lay right beside them on the bed. "Gotta light?"

Shortly after that, Lex received his first blowjob. And he didn't have to threaten anyone to get it. Something about him must have changed after Tiffany. Maybe people could tell he'd fucked a hot girl. Because, suddenly, despite the baldness and the inordinate fondness for ancient texts, he was a hot hook-up. Finally, at 16, he could ask a girl to a dance and not receive an "As if!" in reply. He was into girls. Maybe because his experience with them, limited as it was, was less horrifying than his experience with boys.

He didn't treat them as well as he should have. In fact, he was an asshole. But, on some level, the girls expected it. They wanted sex, and Lex gave it to them. Purely as a result of repetition, he got good at it. He was a fast learner, after all. And why do something badly, when you could do it well? He might have been an asshole, but he was a good fuck. That was what counted.

Lex hadn't given up on boys entirely. He fucked his first one sometime when he was seventeen. He couldn't even remember who it was. Some kid at a club? Lex had been drunk, possibly high. It was all a blur.

But he definitely remembered the first time he had been fucked. Why was it that the more painful and horrible a life experience was, the better you remembered it later? For years after the "event," as Lex called it, he couldn't get naked with anyone without consciously having to force the image of his first time out of his head.

Nate Brattigan was the male equivalent of Tiffany. The dictionary definition of hotness, and the son of the very conservative Corn King CEO with whom Lionel was about to make a big business deal. The contract was millions of dollars and Lionel had been working on it for months. Lex liked efficient chess moves. Sleeping with Nate would get him laid by a stud and it would piss Lionel off by crashing the contract. What could be better?

Lex timed everything. He knew when Mr. Brattigan would come home and find them, and he paced the sex accordingly.

"You're so hot. I've been thinking about you all night," Nate said.

Lex's skin tingled all over as Nate's dexterous mouth kissed his neck, then his bare chest. When Nate touched Lex's ass, Lex couldn't help but cry out from the sensation.

"Are you a virgin?" Nate whispered seductively in Lex's ear.

Lex wasn't naive. He knew better than to tell the truth. "No."

"Beg me."

Lex had never begged anyone for anything in his life. Had never begged even when having the crap beaten out of him. But his brain was sex-addled. "Please. Please fuck me." Lex wanted it.

"I'm going to." There was something in Nate's voice... "Get on your hands and knees."

There'd been blood and pain, lots of pain. And Nate seemed to get off on it. Lex hadn't planned on this turn of events. But he was hellbent on accomplishing his task. He hid his face in his arms, bit his lip to keep from crying, and prayed Nate's dad would hurry up.

It was with unforeseen gratitude that Lex heard the door open. Mr. Brattigan pulled Nate away, yelling to wake the dead. He dragged Nate from the room, ordered Lex to "get dressed and get out," and said he'd never do business with Lionel again. Lex's plan had worked. But he didn't feel any sense of triumph.

For a while, Lex couldn't even move. He crumpled up and pulled the blanket around himself. Just lay there. Still and silent on the blood- and come-stained sheets.

That was the first time.

He'd sworn off boys after that. Vowed he'd never let anyone fuck him ever again. He would do the fucking. Be the one in control.

So he dated women. Victoria. Desiree. Helen. A catalogue of vengeful women who'd shown him he wasn't in control at all. It was enough to make a man go celibate. Of course, Lex's heart hadn't belonged to any of them. It was already taken. Taken long before Desiree scratched her little claws down his back. Long before Helen, in her reserved way, had finally let him sleep with her.

Lex remembered his first kiss. Fumbling and awkward, yet sweet. No spark, but it was nice.

Then there had been plenty of passionate kisses and hot sex and every other thing a guy could want.

But it had never been both. Never sweet and hot, never searing through his heart.

Until the day at the river. When he started to reconsider his vow.

It hadn't even been a kiss. But Clark's mouth on his had been all those things. There was the touching awkwardness that Lex, even in his near-unconscious state, could sense. And then there was Clark's strength, his passion, his determination to keep Lex alive. It had surged through Lex, and Lex was convinced that was what saved him: Clark's will.

It took Lex a while to realize what he was feeling. He was in love. For the first time. And he would have done anything to erase all the people who had come before. So he could start new. Be a kid again. Have a second chance.

He feels the first kiss not in his lips but in the pit of his stomach. A melting heat that flares outward, lacing up his spine until even his brain feels the tingle.

"Clark..."

"Sh."

Clark leans in again. Doesn't give Lex a chance to say anything. Lex kind of likes it this way. He recovers from the shock and hugs Clark closer to him. How did he go so many years without this?

They kiss hungrily, like maybe someone is about to take the other person away. Like time is running out. Like something, somewhere has been released. Something that's been waiting four years, since the day they met.

Lex pulls back for a moment. Just so he can look at Clark. Make sure that's who it is in his arms. It's not a dream. He's pressed against the cheap drywall of Clark's dorm room, the keys in his pocket digging into his thigh because Clark is latched onto him and doesn't seem to have any plans to let go.

"Clark, what brought this on?" Lex threads his fingers through Clark's hair.

"I missed you."

Lex laughs. It's not something he does often. Especially now that Clark is all the way in Metropolis and they haven't seen each other in a month. "You missed me?"

"Yeah."

"If I'd known, I would have come to visit you sooner."

Clark stares at the floor. "I thought it might get better once I was here. You know, once I wasn't seeing you all the time. But it just got worse."

"Mm," Lex says, brushing his thumb along Clark's jaw. He leans in for another kiss.

"Is this okay with you?" Clark is unsure again.

"No, Clark. It's not okay." Lex kisses Clark's neck, sucks on his collarbone. And prays this isn't a dream. Because he'll be heartbroken if he has to wake up from it.

It's the first time he's ever felt this way. And he wants it to last forever.

As he pulls Clark's jeans down over his hips, Lex is overcome with nervousness. Like he's never done this before. And he hasn't. Not with Clark. Even though he's sucked more cocks in more places and in less time than is probably healthy. Or safe.

They've been together for two months. Usually Lex finishes whole relationships in that span of time. Or they finish him.

At first, Lex couldn't understand how any eighteen year-old boy could possibly hold out, could possibly turn down sex. It boggled his mind.

But maybe Clark understands him better than he understands himself. Maybe Clark understands that Lex needs a complete second chance. That he needs to live the whole thing over again. Starting with the first kiss.

Maybe this is how it is for normal people. Normal people who don't get coerced into sex when they're thirteen. He can feel everything like it's supposed to be--innocent, yet exciting--sweet and slow.

He kisses Clark's hip bone. Wants to kiss every part of Clark's body because he loves it all. Eyelashes, elbows, the smooth skin of his back... But this is his favorite part yet. Clark's cock. He licks the slit and hears Clark suck in a breath. Swirls his tongue around the head. Takes more and more of the length into his mouth.

"God, Lex. I can't believe I--"

"Good things come to those who wait, Clark."

"No talking," Clark moans, complaining.

"You said you liked things slow." Lex runs a finger along Clark's slick shaft.

"Are you trying to make me hurt you?"

Lex smiles and gets back to work. If you could call it work. He likes the noises Clark is making. Little whimpers and moans. Those sounds alone are enough to make Lex come. And it makes all the difference to be blowing someone he actually cares about. It doesn't feel like subservience. He licks his finger and presses it against Clark's opening.

"Lex, what--Oh."

He presses farther. Then all the way inside as he continues to lavish attention on what is currently the center of his world.

"Fuck."

Clark never swears. Lex crooks his finger, rubbing the bumpy spot, and Clark comes with a shudder.

Yes, some things are worth waiting for.

Lex hasn't done this since the first time. He's terrified, though he doesn't want to admit it.

"Lex?"

"Yeah?"

In the dim light of the bedroom, Lex can just make out Clark's expression: trepidation, love, uncertainty.

"I'll be okay."

Their naked bodies press together, skin sliding against skin. Lex takes a deep breath. He can do this. It's Clark. The person he trusts most in the world. The person he loves most.

Clark kisses Lex's jaw. Ghosts his fingers along Lex's scalp, caresses his shoulders.

"You're scared. I can tell."

"Make me unscared," he says, and closes his eyes. Pulls Clark closer. He has faith. Clark isn't Nate. And he's not anyone else either. He's just Clark. He's a revisionist, rewriting Lex's past, giving him a future. And the words Clark chooses for him aren't like his father's words, or any of the life stories Lex wrote for himself at one point or another. He has a different story now. One that just might have a happy ending.