Disclaimer: Smallville and its characters are copyrighted by DC Comics and Tollin/Robbins Productions

Warning: Incest, Non-Con

Lex wakes with a start, his sheets damp, his heart rapidly pounds in his chest. He hasn't had dreams like this since...since three years ago when he found Clark tied to that cross, helpless, weak and looking hotter than he had a right too.

He swings his feet over the side of the bed and lets them sink into the plush carpet. He pads out of his room and down the corridor to the room occupied by his father. Slipping silently in, he watches the restless figure toss and turn underneath the sheets. He eases over to the bedside and tentatively reaches out.

"Noooo," the man cries out, grabbing Lex's wrist.

"It's okay...it's okay," Lex reassured, "It's me."

The man clings to his wrist making it difficult for Lex to turn on the light and chase away the nightmare of the day's events.

"Lex," Lionel whispers, his voice still hoarse from sleep.

Lex settles in next to his father and wraps a protective arm around him.

Neither of them has talked about what transpired earlier, but both know. After receiving the call from Jeremiah, Lex called Clark's house. Clark never questioned why he called him instead of the police. Or maybe Clark was afraid to admit that his secret was out. All Lex knew was that he needed his father back and that Clark was the only one who could help him.

By the time he had arrived, evidence that his former best friend was there was apparent. Trees torn from their roots, the sound of titans fighting in the distance. Lex ran to his father but stopped short at the sight before him. His shirt and pants torn open, his shoes and socks missing, bound and blindfolded. The scent of sex lay heavy in the air around him. Lex paused, taking in the scene of his father defiled. His body responded and Lex felt shame for what he was feeling. Arousal and a sense of poetic justice played through his mind. His own captivity at Belle Reve still haunted him. Bound and helpless at his father's orders, he wondered if his father felt any sense of remorse right now for what he put him through. Those thoughts were chased away when his father called out to him. His shame compounded knowing that his father knew he was near...watching. And if the evidence before him wasn't enough, the way his father tried to jerk away from his touch as he attempted to free him was plenty to confirm what had taken place here.

Lex took his father home. He didn't wait for Clark; he knew Clark could take care of himself. His father showered and drank several brandies before crawling into bed. Lex tried not to hover. He knew his father wouldn't appreciate it. Lex tried to work, but thoughts of his father laying spread eagle before him ran through his mind continually. He resisted the urge to jerk off and opted to turn in early.

He was back in the cornfield. Clark was there, a red "S" painted on his chest, stripped to his underwear. Lex reached up to touch, dragging a hand along his inner thigh. Clark whimpers and begs for help, then for more. As his hand travels beneath the leg band, Clark is laying in a circle on a giant tree stump. The "S" is replaced by strange circles. Lex leans down to kiss the helpless figure, his hand still massaging beneath the boxers. The whiskers on the unshaven face sting his own. He knows who it is but it doesn't stop him.

"Lex."

Lex wakes with a start. He'd forgotten momentarily that he was in his father's room. He's disoriented for a second. Something's wrong. His father turns towards him and he realizes his own hand is someplace it shouldn't be. Lex closes his eyes and prays this is just a dream.