Love Was
By Elandria Lore

It wasn't really that he was invading a friend's privacy. You know, if they were really friends anyway. Which he wasn't sure about. And how much did that suck.

He was just...doing research. Yeah.

Right.

He sighed, disgusted with himself, but that didn't stop him from hitting 'enter.'

His jaw dropped when 33,000 hits were found.

Thirty-three thousand. For a real person. Who wasn't a movie star or a sports star. Thirty-three thousand for a twenty-one year old who lived down the street from him.

He swallowed hard. Jesus.

And then he started looking at the links. Newspaper articles, pictures, videos, magazines, it was insane.

They had the announcement of his birth, he thought as he scanned through the pages. His hospital visit in '89, which made him flinch. And then there were his teen years, which provided most of the material. His exile, which had made several major newspapers.

Jesus.

Superspeed-reading had him going through the pages as soon as DSL could put it on the screen. Or screens, because he had four of them open.

Apparently Metropolis couldn't get enough of the Little Prince. Especially when he was being bad. And this was just the stuff that made it into print. He was pretty sure that Lionel Luthor could make any story disappear should he want it to.

He was just starting to get into a rhythm when his hand suddenly stalled on the mouse and his jaw dropped. Gulped. Stared, his hand hovering, afraid to move. Breathe.

You'd think that he wouldn't be able to find something like this without specifically looking. There had to be a warning or a...and there probably had been but, see, the thing was, he hadn't been looking.

At least, not for this.

The words swam in his vision as his eyes darted over the screen, all of them excruciatingly clear. All of them...

Wow.

He swallowed hard again and laid his hand gently back on the mouse. Moved the page down. Stared some more. Shivered violently, and started to read.

It didn't take him more than an hour, even at regular speed. There wasn't really much on there. Four short stories, links to three other pages. Seventeen stories total, probably not more than a hundred pages in their entirety.

He did, eventually, find the warnings. All four pages had them. There were very specific, very clear.

They didn't do a damn thing to slow his pulse.

Because they'd not exactly been short on descriptions. Hadn't been spare with the details.

His palms were sweating.

And he was very, very hard.

He suddenly had to leave. Go. Somewhere. Anywhere. Fast, fastfast.

But...

He saved the link.

Shut down his computer.

Then ran.

But it really all led back to one place.

He really couldn't kid himself.

Though denial sounded like a really good idea right about then.

The sky was gray as he stood hunched outside the gates, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jacket. He was really just standing there, pondering his existence. Wasn't really looking beyond the gates, wasn't really thinking of moving past them.

Just...thinking. Incessantly.

And then he wasn't thinking, but walking. Wasn't walking away, but to. Door open, kitchen clear, empty hallway.

Not empty office.

And wow, he didn't care how cool the description, no one could match the actuality, the presence, the slow sultry slide of that voice.

He was shivering again.

"Not to put it too bluntly, David, but you don't really have a choice at this point."

"Of course I have a choice," the voice blustered electronically. "I don't need your business."

"I beg to differ," he said easily. "My company provided yours with twelve percent of your net profit for the last fiscal year, an amount in excess of $100,000, which is not insignificant to a still growing company like yours. The more accurate statement, I think, would be that I don't need your business." Small, significant pause. "I would be happy to start looking for other vendors, but frankly I'd like to continue this relationship."

There was a very long wait and then a sigh he probably wasn't supposed to hear. "I'll see what I can do."

"You do that."

There was a tiny beep and a slight shuffling of papers before a staccato clicking. He was very busy, probably didn't want to be interrupted. He was an important man. 33,000 websites.

He walked to the doorway and looked across the long expanse of the study. It was an interesting contrast; dark wood paneling, a wall of stained glass, expensive first edition books, and thick rugs surrounding an oasis of technology; glass desk, wireless phones, sleek black laptop.

And in the middle of it all, dressed in expensive black wool pants and dark plum linen shirt, clear blue eyes fastened on the screen as long, pale fingers typed diligently away.

He could really only stare. And it was almost insane that he'd never noticed it before. Every other meeting they'd had previously he'd always been nervous and uncertain; things had just happened around the older man. Things with no logical explanation. Things that he hadn't been able to ignore.

Things that had apparently blinded him so completely to the man before him.

Like how he might taste.

His chest tightened and his hands clenched. He swallowed. Hard.

Suddenly had trouble breathing.

Because those clear blue eyes were suddenly looking at him. Perfectly flawed lips were smiling. His mind suddenly flashed back to the words on his computer screen. Couldn't imagine that mouth on him. Anywhere.

Desperately, desperately wanted to.

Blood was rushing through his ears and it must've blocked out any sound, because he blinked and the other man was moving towards him.

Liquid swivel of hips.

Which should not at all have made him hard.

At all.

He was sweating.

The easy smile had been replaced by a look of concern. Those lips were moving, talking, saying something. Something he should probably be responding to. A hand: wide, strong, was coming towards him. Reached for his arm. Touched him.

He felt it through three layers of cotton.

Closed his eyes.

Breathed.

Yes, God, come closer.

Because it wasn't like a story. Not at all like realizing your best friend was everything you never knew you wanted. Not at all like the destiny the other man spoke so freely of.

Both hands were on him now, gripping his shoulders, moving him over to the couch.

"Come on, sit down. What's wrong; tell me anything. Please. Let me help."

Love was not nervous energy or babbling.

A hand touched his face.

"Open your eyes," and the voice was strained now. "Tell me what happened."

Love was not clawing, gripping hunger as a strong arm wrapped around his shoulder.

Love was not taking advantage of the desire to press closer.

Not burying his face in the hollow between neck and shoulder.

A hand was now tangled in his hair. Comforting. More arousing than he would've thought.

More everything than he would have thought cause JesusGod, how could he have missed this?

How?

Words tumbled against his neck, a vague crooning; hand against his back in soothing circles; crisp linen flowing over skin that was softer than he would've expected.

Something to do with the sharpness of character he imagined; diamond hard. Sharp. Cutting.

Beautiful.

Cool and distant. Like a star that you couldn't get close to.

He was close.

He was burning.

Breathing in soap and cologne and skin. If he opened his mouth he could probably taste it: the smell, the skin. If he could open the hands that had fisted in his lap he could probably touch; muscle and flesh over bone.

If it were a story, the hands would freeze at the tentative touch on a wool-covered knee; the tentative lick just below an ear. If it were a story, hands might push him back in uncertainty; blue eyes would search for green. He would open his own to see stormy gray as passion threatened to overtake judgment. But his own eyes would tell their own story, and without words, without any hesitation he would be taken.

Ravished. Despoiled. Debauched.

If this were a story they would be in love.

Or maybe in hate.

If this were a story he wouldn't feel so helpless or hopeless or young. So lost and confused and vulnerable. So inexplicably desperate.

But it wasn't a story. He was all those things.

And he was wrapped up in the man who'd made him feel them. And really so much more.

It had been four hours since he'd started this insanity. Four hours that marked a complete right turn from his chosen path. Again. For the second time in two months.

And this time goddammit, he wasn't going there alone.

Lex was really freaked. Clark could tell because he was trying not to look freaked and failing miserably. This was the Lex who never failed at anything unless he meant to.

He was freaking Lex out.

And really, he felt kind of smug about that because Lex so often had the same affect around him.

Of course, immediately after he thought that, Lex started to look less freaked. Telepathy perhaps. Or possibly just the fact that Clark was no longer trying to merge with him on a molecular level.

He imagined Lex's molecular level was just as hot as the rest of him, but that was probably the insanity talking.

"Hey," Lex said softly, one hand still on his shoulder, but the rest of him shifting minutely away. "You okay?"

Lex was also, apparently, not paying attention.

"I think," Clark started, stopped. Cleared his throat, which was dry and tight and scratchy and he hadn't been crying, had he? His eyes flew from his hands to Lex's shoulder, which wasn't wet, thank god, and then to Lex's eyes. "I'm not," he started again and fucking hell, his eyes welled up. No control over it. None.

Shit.

He clenched his jaw tight and saw a momentary flash of concern from Lex before he looked back down at his hands. Because he couldn't look at Lex, and no way in hell was he ever going to get up and walk away because it's not like a chance to be this close to the other man came along every day.

Or like ever.

So he would stay there and bear his humiliation until he died.

Or, at least until Lex threw him out.

Which could really be at any moment considering his behavior.

But Lex shifted closer again and his hand went back to rubbing his shoulder. Clark wanted to lean into him, fall asleep and never wake up. Just to be close.

And yeah, Clark thought, that's what love was.

And all the other stuff too.

Because four hours ago he understood in his head what his heart had taken for granted. He couldn't live without Lex. Not now. Not ever. He just didn't want to.

He wanted to listen to him talk for hours about Greek rulers and the origins of words. He wanted to watch Lex listen to him as he spoke for hours about astronomy, knowing the older man knew everything he knew and more but didn't appear to mind. He wanted to tell him about kicking Pete's ass at basketball because of his killer lay up and watch Lex teach him a new bank shot.

He wanted to watch Lex smile as often as possible. Wanted to hear him laugh and be the cause of it.

Wanted to hear him moan.

Wanted to be the cause of it.

His hands were still clenched tight in his lap, and Lex was saying, "It's okay, whatever it is, it's okay," interspersed with, "We'll figure it out," and, "I'll take care of it."

Total and complete acceptance, and his parents would say it's because he wants Clark's secret, his friends would say it's because he wants to look good, and his classmates would say it's because he wants Clark's ass.

There was a greater than average possibility that at least one of them was right.

Which is why it surprised the hell out of him when he heard himself say, "I'm an alien."

Cause wow, that hadn't been on tonight's agenda at all.

The hand stopped stroking his shoulder but it wasn't removed. Lex stopped talking but he didn't shift away.

And apparently that meant his brain could give his mouth the green light because he was speaking again.

"And I want to have sex with you."

And there was really nothing like the mention of interspecies mating to bring sudden and extreme discomfort to any situation, so Clark looked up at Lex and steadily added, "Can you make that okay?"

And there was really no way he could. Clark knew that. He knew Lex couldn't fix everything no matter how hard he tried, because there were just some things you couldn't fix.

Like falling in love with your best friend.

So he didn't wait for an answer. Knew what he was doing was wrong even as he did it. Because he'd had the talk with his father, so many talks, because you never, ever force yourself on a girl, son. Knew his mother would be horrified. And Lex wasn't a girl either but he was still weaker, still would never be able to fight him off.

Didn't fight him off as he just leaned in, leaned over, pushing Lex back against the couch as he lifted his leg and straddled Lex's thighs, hands against his wrists, Lex's eyes were really wide, really blue, mouth was open and wet.

"Just let me," Clark whispered against Lex's lips, pushing forward as Lex pulled back.

"Clark-" Lex said, his voice rough and ragged. He was trembling.

"God," he said breathless, "just once."

And his mouth was finally there, pressed hard against Lex's. Open and wet and hot and ready, readyready. He wanted in. Wanted to live inside Lex, who's tongue was tangling with his own, who's chest was pressing against his with every gasping breath.

Fingers tightened on soft skin and he dragged his lips over smooth jaw. Lex's head tilted back, and Clark had to drag his teeth across the rapid pulse. Had to bite and lick and suck. Had to.

Nothing could have stopped him in that moment.

Nothing.

Except Lex's long, needy moan.

He had been pressing down. Didn't realize Lex was pressing up. Didn't realize until that exact moment that Lex had stopped fighting to get away, and started to pull closer. Didn't realize until that exact moment that Lex was hard too.

Dragged his mouth away. Looked down at Lex; mouth like crushed strawberries, hazy, half-lidded eyes, dark with, JesusGod, desire. Hunger.

"Clark," gasping and harsh. "Please." Hard thrust.

"Fuck!"

And Lex twisted, wrenching himself from Clark's grip in a surprising motion. Launched himself at Clark, flipping them both off the couch and landing on top of them as they rolled.

"Off," he snarled, his hands clawing at Clark's clothes. "Off. Now."

"God." His own hands joined Lex's. A button hit his cheek and ricocheted off the couch. He might've broken Lex's belt.

"This is insane," Lex breathed against his chest before biting his nipple.

"Yes," Clark hissed, arching off the floor.

Lex's fingers raked down his sides, his tongue tracing the latticework of Clark's abs. Clever fingers convinced Clark's jeans to open and he dragged them unceremoniously down long legs. He licked his lips, cupped Clark's cock through his boxers, then met his eyes. "I'm going to fuck you so hard."

Mewling and writhing on the floor, Clark could only agree enthusiastically with that suggestion. Whined as Lex spread his legs and knelt between them. Bit his thigh. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, and he may have been saying it out loud, but he just didn't care because Lex's hand was on his dick and Lex's mouth was on his balls and Lex's tongue-

"JesusGod!" he screamed and came.

And he might have blacked out because humans couldn't move that fast, but when Clark opened his eyes, legs were hooked over Lex's shoulders and Lex's right hand was slicking his cock with Clark's come while his left was...

Clark's eyes rolled back in his head as he made the most inhuman sounds, his body twitching like a puppet, and Lex was still talking to him, mouth on his knee, licking him; sweat and skin.

"Since I first saw you," he said huskily, "so fucking perfect," and his hand twitched and Clark jerked. "Want you," he rasped.

And in his mind Clark was screaming, Yes, God, please, now, anything, but he couldn't get his mouth to form the words. Couldn't get his hands to do anything but claw at the floor as Lex pushed inside him with his fingers making him pant and twitch and moan.

Shuddered hard, once again and fought to open his eyes to look, to see, and Lex was hovering over him like a conqueror, his eyes blazing with heat and fire and Clark was almost strangling with lust but he opened his mouth and gave a single breathless gasp of, "please," and watched in wonder as Lex's eyes went dark as pitch; thrust helplessly against air as Lex withdrew his finger and gave a long, keening wail as Lex grabbed his hips tightly and entered him in a long smooth stroke.

Jesusfuckinggod, he thought. Then whited out.

Someone was gasping for breath. Oh wait, that was him. Gasping. It was really a very good thing that breathing was an autonomic response because other wise he might have actually died instead of just passing out.

Which was...really lame, probably, but he couldn't help but think it was the coolest thing that had ever happened to him. Coolest thing that had ever happened to anyone he knew.

Lex Luthor had fucked him 'til he passed out.

He knew he was smiling like a lunatic, but at this point he was really ready to embrace his inner freak.

"You planning on letting me in on the joke?" asked a low amused voice from above him.

Clark opened his eyes, saw Lex smiling down at him, saw something wild and wonderful in the blue of his eyes. Shivered. "I..." he swallowed and closed his eyes briefly trying to focus, but that really made it worse because Lex might not have been in him anymore, but he was on him and around him; hands, legs, body, skin, eyes, touching him. Everywhere.

"Clark?" Lex asked gently, sounding concerned: a hand tracing over his face.

Clark shook his head, knowing he couldn't speak, grabbed Lex's hand and just. Pulled him down. Touched his lips; shaped them with his mouth and his tongue. Because this was Lex. And he might never get enough.

"Clark," Lex murmured. Moaned as Clark's hands ran down his sides. Closed over his ass. "Jesus." He grabbed for Clark's hands; pinned his wrists to the floor. Clark whimpered, thrust up against Lex's hip. "Jesus," Lex whispered again, then took Clark's mouth in a sloppy kiss. "We should get up," Lex said after a long moment.

Clark shook his head and mouthed Lex's shoulder.

"Clark-fuck-the servants won't disturb us but-christ-your parents."

"In Grandville until late," Clark said, grinning as he looked at the deep red bruise on Lex's neck. "Grower's Convention, we go every year," he said carefully not mentioning that Lex was now matching his thrusts. Just in case he got it in his mind to stop.

"Why didn't you go?"

"Still grounded." And then thought, fuck, as Lex's gaze sharpened on his face, then smoothly rolled off him and stood. "Lex?"

"Jesus, Clark," he said rubbing a hand over his head. "I can't-why?"

Lex was looking at him again, but was now a room away and Clark was suddenly very aware of his nakedness. "Why?" he asked leadingly with a very eloquent hand motion as he awkwardly stood.

"This," Lex hissed with a hand motion of his own.

"Oh. Umm, well," he shifted his shoulders and considered covering his crotch and then thought that would seem weird, cause, that cat was already out of the bag. So to speak. "I mean, does it really matter?"

Lex chin tilted up slightly and Clark was too far away to read his eyes, not that he ever really could. "Yes," he said flatly. "It does."

Wow, and his life really had a talent for going from really good to really bad. Really quickly. And he was still really naked, but he didn't want to be the first one to start putting on clothes because that meant that Lex might follow his lead and despite the fact that Lex seemed kind of pissed right at the moment. Clothes would just make a bad situation worse.

So he sat heavily on the couch and dropped his head. "I guess, I just...I mean, I was reading. On line." His head shot up. "I mean, not prying or anything, just...interested," he said, his eyes shifting away again. "And there was this-well several actually-and I didn't mean to, but I kind of did, and that. Well, made me think. So I thought and just, kind of...ended up here. And I saw you. I mean...saw you, you know."

And so that's what Lex looks like when he's baffled, Clark thought, and wondered how many more new Lex faces he would get to see today. Re-thought over what he just said, realized he hadn't actually said anything and opened his mouth to start again.

"It's called RPS," he said quickly. "It's, well, an acronym. Real Person Slash."

Lex gave him a look that said quite clearly. And this relates how?

"Slash is..."

Gay sex?

Homoeroticism?

Queer relations?

"Umm," he cleared his throat. "Well it's-this particular-"

"Clark-"

"It was about you," he blurted. "Having sex."

Lex raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure there are several tabloid articles out there about-"

"Not articles, Lex," he interrupted. "Stories."

"Porn?" Lex asked, surprised.

Clark, and he really couldn't believe this, felt himself flush. "With men," he said quickly.

Lex looked askance. "There's gay porn about me on the internet?"

The shock in his voice made Clark smile. "Yeah."

"And you read it?" Lex asked, now considering.

"Yeah," Clark said softly.

"And it made you...think"

"Yeah," Clark sighed, then shifted uncomfortably on the couch and glanced up at Lex. Who still wore a closed expression.

"If you're that open to suggestion," Lex said after a long moment, "you're going to have a hard time getting through college unscathed."

Clark snorted a laugh and looked down at his hands. "It wasn't really the suggestion that I might...with you. I mean," he said looking up quickly, "if that's what you think. It's not." He looked back down again. "I just didn't know if you'd want to...with me."

"So you went looking for an excuse."

"I wasn't looking for that," he exclaimed, horrified that Lex might think he was some kind of pervert, especially since he kind of was. "I mean," but Lex was almost smiling now. "It was just-you were so...yeah," he said with a chagrined smile. "I pretty much just wanted to know if you'd hit me if I jumped you."

"I think we can safely assume that I wouldn't," Lex said wryly.

"Yeah," Clark sighed, with what he knew was a dopey expression on his face.

"So," Lex said, walking slowly forward. "You're obviously attracted to me."

There was something very leading in the statement but Clark was a little hazy on the details. Because Lex was walking towards him.

Because Lex was walking towards him. And he was naked.

Because he was walking toward him, naked. And really kinda getting hard.

"Uh...what?"

Brilliant.

But Lex was smiling now, smiling like Clark had never seen. It was almost like his smirk, but with his indulgent, 'aww cute' smile tacked onto the end. Kind of like his intense, 'I just want to figure you out' gaze with a smattering of 'trust me, I would never hurt you' eyes.

And Clark was so hard he thought he might pass out, what with the complete lack of blood in his brain.

Because Clark was pretty sure the look meant 'I am going to fuck you so hard,' and having just had recent experience with that phenomenon, Clark was now having difficulty breathing. Might've punched finger holes in the couch. Was already trembling.

Cause, God, nobody had looked at him like that. He'd never even seen a look like that. Didn't think anybody could look like that but Lex, and Lex was looking at him like that.

"I said," Lex murmured, reaching out a finger and stroking his face. Full. Body. Shudder. "You're obviously attracted to me, but..."

And Clark couldn't tear his gaze away from Lex's eyes because it was like an eclipse: the pupil so wide and dark with the blue just shimmering around it. Like a star waiting to be born.

He swallowed hard, knowing that brain damage was imminent if he was comparing someone's eyes to a solar event. Even if they were Lex's.

"I was wondering," and Lex was continuing like he had the rest of their lives to get the sentence out. "If maybe there was something more."

And Clark was pretty sure he squeaked the, "More?" and then shook his head slightly to clear it. Closed his eyes. Think, Clark. Think. "I, uh..." and the hand was still stroking his jaw making it really hard to focus, "think. Maybe," and he could smell Lex this close. Could feel the heat and want wrap around him. "I might possibly," and was he really thinking this? Was he really going to say it, because this was kind of a no going back thing. Kinda of a, "could conceivably be," and yeah, he really was going to say this, because it was the truth, and it was a truth he could give. Would give. Opened his eyes to see Lex looking down at him, intently. Waiting. Like he'd maybe been waiting for this for a really long time. "Am definitely, definitely," Lex's hand dropped to his neck and stilled, "falling in love with you."

And Lex's eyes went dark. And his hand tightened briefly. And his voice was wrecked. "Could be a hard landing," he said. Like it was a warning. A forgone conclusion.

Like he was already pulling away while standing so close.

Clark reached up, pressed his hand against Lex's and, despite how idiotic it sounded in his head, he said it, because Lex was into symbols and would get what Clark was trying to say. Would get all the layers of meaning wrapped in subtext. "Lex," he said softly. Smiled gently. "Don't you believe a man can fly?"

And Lex sort of spilled onto him, like maybe his knees had gone liquid, and his mouth was hot and wet and inside; like maybe he could taste the truth on Clark's tongue as it wrapped around his own. Like maybe he could breathe again as he tucked his knees into the back of the couch and rocked against Clark, making these really wild animal noises that were the fucking hottest thing Clark had ever heard.

And Clark's hands were wrapped around Lex, grabbing his ass and pulling him closer, their chests sliding slickly against each other, their cocks grinding in a rough drag that was. So. Good.

And Lex's mouth was on his shoulder, gnawing on him like he knew he couldn't mark him but was going to try his damndest anyway, and then Lex's mouth went up to his ear, and his harsh breathing was echoing through Clark's mind with hidden messages telling him that it was his biological imperative to fuck Lex until he died. And then Lex was licking and sucking Clark's ear and his voice was low and jagged and his hand was on Clark's cock.

And Clark was coming and coming as Lex said, "I love you," over and over again in his ear.

And even before he got his breath back, Lex seized, his head thrown back, his red mouth forming a surprised, 'Oh!' and Clark was practically giddy with it. With that knowledge that this was what love was.

It was holding Lex on his lap and petting him as he trembled. It was kissing his temple and slipping his tongue out to taste just because he could. It was Lex's smile; another new one; less than smug, more than contented. It was sticky and sweaty skin and a desperate need for a new couch and explanations that would be harder than anything he wanted to imagine: to Lex, to his parents, to his friends.

It was being able to walk down the street with Lex and get coffee at the Talon and maybe hold hands. It was going to the movies and sitting in the back and not minding when Lex's buttery hands slid through his hair because it was so he could tug him down for a kiss. It was yelling and fighting because he and Lex were as different as night and day and everything in the world said that they shouldn't ever get together. It was making up because in the end they were really the same and Lex said that nothing would ever stand in the way of their friendship.

It was the fact that Lex seemed content to lie against Clark's shoulder, little puffs of breath against his neck because Lex was the strongest man he knew and that meant that he knew Clark would be strong enough to hold them both.

It was the rough heat of Lex voice as he said, "I love you," again just in case Clark had missed it the first twelve times. Just in case he hadn't quite believed. Because Lex didn't say, 'I love you,' to anyone, but he'd said it to Clark and maybe he would keep saying it until they both had reason to believe.

Because even though Lex had very little personal experience with it, he was smart. He was passionate and brave and breathtaking and kind.

And he knew what love was.

And maybe he really could make everything okay.

Because now, so did Clark.

Dedicated to emrinalexander because she said she wanted more and that was about the nicest thing she could have said:)