![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lomedet
Clark + Lex (or Clark/Lex) - "When you choose the lesser of two evils, always remember that it is still an evil." - Max Lerner
I decided to try this as a kind of timestamp for Ruat Caelum.
Bruce checked up on him every day now. Clark couldn’t say he didn’t understand why, though it was an open question whether Bruce could have diagnosed him if there’d been some creeping rot in his soul, some Lex-borne infection. Arguably Bruce, who would take a false positive over a false negative every time, couldn’t have seen health and therefore was equally incapable of identifying sickness.
But Bruce didn’t change his acerbic comments, even when Clark started bringing the League Lex’s innovations, alien technology hybridized with Lex’s own impossible genius. They made sure to have scientists give independent confirmation of Lex’s results, but Lex never tried to fool them.
Every free moment Clark had was Lex’s. Post-invasion, Clark Kent was dead, or irrelevant anyway. There was only Superman. And Lex did well enough in the labs, but Clark knew he needed human—or, well, sentient—contact. Like a shark’s teeth, constantly growing, Lex would destroy himself without something to grind against. Clark would tell him about the world outside, and Lex would explain his experiments. At first Lex made suggestions about what Clark should do to manage various conflicts, but then Clark would drop all mention of whatever the problem was—it made for some pretty blank days on his side—and eventually Lex stopped.
Lex made seven escape attempts in the first six months, then two in the next year, then nothing for eighteen months, culminating in a spectacular and nearly-successful breakout foiled only by the accident that Clark came back six minutes earlier than Lex had planned for, which Clark was only able to do because of the gravitational stabilizers Lex had developed four months previously.
Clark never said that last part to Lex, but Lex knew anyway.
After that, Lex didn’t speak for two weeks, longer than he’d ever managed before. He still came to bed, though, responsive and passionate by turns, so Clark figured he was just working it out for himself.
On the fifteenth day, when Clark came back to the Fortress, Lex managed to shock him, more than with that very first murder, more even than with the truck back at the very beginning. Clark entered—
And Lex knelt.
His head was bowed, the bump at the back of his skull visible, his shoulders straight but not tense beneath the gray long-sleeved shirt that was all the formality Clark allowed him. His hands rested calmly on his knees.
“Lex?”
Lex raised his head, meeting Clark’s eyes. There was something different in his face, like a hurricane had blown itself out across the ocean. He waited for Clark to say something more.
“Stand up,” Clark said, still concerned, wondering if this was another ploy or a break with reality. But Lex rose smoothly, kissed him and took him to bed, and afterwards discussed crop yields with the same precision as ever.
And if some fire in him was out, he was still almost all of Lex, and Lex was so much more than anyone else that there was no comparison. Anyway, Clark couldn’t have let him go, not when it would have ended in death, maybe Lex’s, maybe hundreds of millions of people.
Still, it was easier not to look in his eyes, most days. Lex never pressed him on it.
forladydey
Lex/Clark, Undercover reporting at a car show
“Tell me again why we’re undercover,” Clark groused, adjusting his nametag.
Lois shrugged. “Carter isn’t going to admit he’s importing parts built with slave labor to a couple of reporters. And you look good in a mechanic’s uniform.”
Lois herself was decked out in a light blue sequined number that covered the essentials but left no doubt as to Lois’s possession of extra essentials. Lois thought that anyone who was distracted by her body deserved what happened next.
“C’mon,” she urged Clark, “here they come.”
Carter rounded the pedestal on which the concept car was slowly turning, followed by two South Asian businessmen—and Lex.
Lois managed to keep smiling; Clark hadn’t been smiling in the first place. “Hello, gentlemen!” she chirped. “Can I interest you in a recap of the features of our newest model?” She drew herself into a perfect presenter’s stance, both hands gracefully indicating the concept car (a bright blue that complemented her outfit, Clark couldn’t help but notice) and her hips tilted towards it invitingly.
Carter and the two unidentified men were magnetized. Lex smiled politely. “Perhaps while you’re doing that, your mechanic friend can show me some of the advanced features on the vehicle itself.”
Which was how Clark ended up wedged in the car, ten feet up on the pedestal, with Lex, who was having far too good a time with this.
“What are you doing here?” Clark growled at him.
“Clark,” Lex said, sweetly and reasonably, “this is a $500,000 car. Where did you expect me to be?”
Worse, Lex didn’t even bother to ask Clark what his excuse was for the uniform, which was baggy except where it was tight, and had Doug embroidered on the left breast.
Clark squirmed in the seat, which was really too small for him.
“While I’m here,” Lex continued, “perhaps I can get some service?”
In the mirror, Clark saw that his cheeks were candy-apple red.
But it was as good an excuse as any and better than some, masquerading as another person. He put his hand on Lex’s zipper, and Lex drew in a loud breath.
“I think I can take care of your problem,” Clark said.
Lex’s eyes fluttered closed. “Are you sure about that?”
“It’s a temperamental machine,” Clark said, stroking his fingers down Lex’s stomach with one hand even as he pulled Lex’s clothes apart with the other, “but I think I can do it some good.”
After, Clark watched Lex restore his composure, a man sliding into a shark suit and pulling it seamlessly around himself. Someday, he hoped, it would be different between them, no more half-accidental encounters centered around a pretense of one sort or another.
For now, they’d both take what they could get.
lomedetClark + Lex (or Clark/Lex) - "When you choose the lesser of two evils, always remember that it is still an evil." - Max Lerner
I decided to try this as a kind of timestamp for Ruat Caelum.
Bruce checked up on him every day now. Clark couldn’t say he didn’t understand why, though it was an open question whether Bruce could have diagnosed him if there’d been some creeping rot in his soul, some Lex-borne infection. Arguably Bruce, who would take a false positive over a false negative every time, couldn’t have seen health and therefore was equally incapable of identifying sickness.
But Bruce didn’t change his acerbic comments, even when Clark started bringing the League Lex’s innovations, alien technology hybridized with Lex’s own impossible genius. They made sure to have scientists give independent confirmation of Lex’s results, but Lex never tried to fool them.
Every free moment Clark had was Lex’s. Post-invasion, Clark Kent was dead, or irrelevant anyway. There was only Superman. And Lex did well enough in the labs, but Clark knew he needed human—or, well, sentient—contact. Like a shark’s teeth, constantly growing, Lex would destroy himself without something to grind against. Clark would tell him about the world outside, and Lex would explain his experiments. At first Lex made suggestions about what Clark should do to manage various conflicts, but then Clark would drop all mention of whatever the problem was—it made for some pretty blank days on his side—and eventually Lex stopped.
Lex made seven escape attempts in the first six months, then two in the next year, then nothing for eighteen months, culminating in a spectacular and nearly-successful breakout foiled only by the accident that Clark came back six minutes earlier than Lex had planned for, which Clark was only able to do because of the gravitational stabilizers Lex had developed four months previously.
Clark never said that last part to Lex, but Lex knew anyway.
After that, Lex didn’t speak for two weeks, longer than he’d ever managed before. He still came to bed, though, responsive and passionate by turns, so Clark figured he was just working it out for himself.
On the fifteenth day, when Clark came back to the Fortress, Lex managed to shock him, more than with that very first murder, more even than with the truck back at the very beginning. Clark entered—
And Lex knelt.
His head was bowed, the bump at the back of his skull visible, his shoulders straight but not tense beneath the gray long-sleeved shirt that was all the formality Clark allowed him. His hands rested calmly on his knees.
“Lex?”
Lex raised his head, meeting Clark’s eyes. There was something different in his face, like a hurricane had blown itself out across the ocean. He waited for Clark to say something more.
“Stand up,” Clark said, still concerned, wondering if this was another ploy or a break with reality. But Lex rose smoothly, kissed him and took him to bed, and afterwards discussed crop yields with the same precision as ever.
And if some fire in him was out, he was still almost all of Lex, and Lex was so much more than anyone else that there was no comparison. Anyway, Clark couldn’t have let him go, not when it would have ended in death, maybe Lex’s, maybe hundreds of millions of people.
Still, it was easier not to look in his eyes, most days. Lex never pressed him on it.
for
ladydeyLex/Clark, Undercover reporting at a car show
“Tell me again why we’re undercover,” Clark groused, adjusting his nametag.
Lois shrugged. “Carter isn’t going to admit he’s importing parts built with slave labor to a couple of reporters. And you look good in a mechanic’s uniform.”
Lois herself was decked out in a light blue sequined number that covered the essentials but left no doubt as to Lois’s possession of extra essentials. Lois thought that anyone who was distracted by her body deserved what happened next.
“C’mon,” she urged Clark, “here they come.”
Carter rounded the pedestal on which the concept car was slowly turning, followed by two South Asian businessmen—and Lex.
Lois managed to keep smiling; Clark hadn’t been smiling in the first place. “Hello, gentlemen!” she chirped. “Can I interest you in a recap of the features of our newest model?” She drew herself into a perfect presenter’s stance, both hands gracefully indicating the concept car (a bright blue that complemented her outfit, Clark couldn’t help but notice) and her hips tilted towards it invitingly.
Carter and the two unidentified men were magnetized. Lex smiled politely. “Perhaps while you’re doing that, your mechanic friend can show me some of the advanced features on the vehicle itself.”
Which was how Clark ended up wedged in the car, ten feet up on the pedestal, with Lex, who was having far too good a time with this.
“What are you doing here?” Clark growled at him.
“Clark,” Lex said, sweetly and reasonably, “this is a $500,000 car. Where did you expect me to be?”
Worse, Lex didn’t even bother to ask Clark what his excuse was for the uniform, which was baggy except where it was tight, and had Doug embroidered on the left breast.
Clark squirmed in the seat, which was really too small for him.
“While I’m here,” Lex continued, “perhaps I can get some service?”
In the mirror, Clark saw that his cheeks were candy-apple red.
But it was as good an excuse as any and better than some, masquerading as another person. He put his hand on Lex’s zipper, and Lex drew in a loud breath.
“I think I can take care of your problem,” Clark said.
Lex’s eyes fluttered closed. “Are you sure about that?”
“It’s a temperamental machine,” Clark said, stroking his fingers down Lex’s stomach with one hand even as he pulled Lex’s clothes apart with the other, “but I think I can do it some good.”
After, Clark watched Lex restore his composure, a man sliding into a shark suit and pulling it seamlessly around himself. Someday, he hoped, it would be different between them, no more half-accidental encounters centered around a pretense of one sort or another.
For now, they’d both take what they could get.
Tags: