Word count: 1,347
Notes: Thanks to estrella30 for the ever helpful and brilliant beta. *loves you hard*
Summary: Set a day later. Clark turns to Lex.
Feedback: yes please.
Jigsaw, by Kate
It’s all gibberish. Lex slams his laptop closed and stares into the empty space of his office, unable to move or think. Thinking would mean feeling and he’s afraid to feel. He doesn’t want to know how he feels.
It’s been a day since the funeral and Lex has no one to talk to about it. Not that he wants to talk about what Jonathan Kent’s death means to him (he doesn’t know), but even if he wanted to, he’s got *no one*. Not anymore. He wants to call Lana but he doesn’t. That’s yet another thing he doesn’t want to think about.
The door to his office opens slowly and Clark walks in, and the first thing Lex notices are his eyes.
Dressed in clothes so familiar and so *Clark*; flannel and denim and it should be inappropriate, but it isn’t.
Clark stands in the middle of the room, his empty gaze fixed on the edge of Lex’s desk.
It’s an effort but Lex stands up and walks over to Clark, stands a few feet away from him and he can’t speak. What is there to say?
Clark shifts his gaze to Lex, to his torso, and doesn’t say a word. The slack muscles of Clark’s face make Lex ache. Grief radiating off him like black smoke and Lex wants to turn back time. Make it better. He wants to offer comfort but he doesn’t know how.
Clark steps forward robotically, reaches one arm out and places his palm flat on Lex’s chest. Lex moves into the touch and Clark slides his hand up over Lex’s shoulder. Lex allows himself to be pulled into an embrace, not tight or loose, but they’re *close*. He wraps his arms around Clark and holds on and Clark grips Lex’s back and presses his body into Lex’s. Breathing softly, warm against the skin of Lex’s neck. And Lex could swear that Clark is smelling him. The hug goes on and on and they move a little against each other, bodily contact so necessary, so essential for Clark. Essential for Lex.
There is nothing to say.
Lex closes his eyes at the feel of Clark’s lips, lightly resting against his neck, breath damp and warm. And if Lex wasn’t sure before what Clark was here for, he is now. Erection pressed against his hip, and Lex doesn’t understand *why*. Why is *he* the person Clark turned to? It doesn’t make *sense*.
It feels right.
He extracts himself and his voice breaks as he whispers, “Come on.”
Clark doesn’t respond but he follows as Lex walks out of the office and slowly climbs the stairs. When they enter Lex’s bedroom, Clark walks straight past Lex, and Lex stands still and watches, as Clark methodically takes off his boots and socks, stuffing a sock into each boot. Then he lies down on the bed, on his back, and stares up at the ceiling, the outline of his erection clearly visible through his jeans.
Lex looks at Clark for a few long moments and then he shuts the bedroom door. Is this the right thing to do? Lex can’t imagine turning Clark down - not ever, really - but *especially* not now.
Lex isnt hard yet, but he is full of want.
Walking over to the bed seems to take forever and Lex doesn’t think Clark has looked at Lex’s face yet. Does that make this easier or harder? He sits down, body facing inwards, towards Clark.
As if he were undressing a child, Lex slowly undoes the buttons on Clark’s plaid shirt, one by one, and Clark doesn’t stop him, doesn’t help him, doesn’t do anything other than stare at the ceiling with the same lifeless expression on his face. Lex opens the shirt and then pushes up Clark’s tee shirt and flattens his palms down over the hot skin of Clark’s stomach. He runs his hands up over Clark’s chest, nipples under his thumbs and Clark closes his eyes.
Lex wants more of Clark’s body.
“Let’s take these off,” he says softly and Clark doesn’t hesitate. He sits up, strips off the shirt and pulls the tee shirt over his head, chucking them both off the bed, then lies back down. Lex really needs to get Clark’s attention. He starts unbuttoning his own shirt and when he gets to the last button and removes it, almost sluggishly, Clark finally looks over.
They make eye contact for the first time and Clark’s eyes, God, his eyes are just *desolate*. It’s painful to see and suddenly, there’s nothing more to think about.
Lex takes off his shoes and climbs onto the bed, then he climbs onto Clark and Clark immediately wraps his arms around Lex and their bare chests join together and they’re one.
They stare at each other for a while until Clark’s eyes are wet. Clark is remembering his pain and Lex kisses him, tenderly, on his mouth. The kiss starts so quietly but it soon turns into something more intense than Lex could ever have imagined. Clark’s need manifesting itself in desperation and now they’re writhing against each other and kissing each other with violent force.
Rolling around on the bed, clinging and grabbing, and Lex is hard now. Teeth digging into his shoulder blade and Clark’s hand between his legs, rubbing at Lex’s cock roughly. Lex on his back looking up at Clark, who stops and pulls away, then quickly undoes Lex’s fly and moves to the side, positions himself so he can pull off Lex’s boxers, pants and socks, all in seemingly one fluid movement. Clark falls onto his back and pushes his own underwear and jeans off, kicking them off the bed, crawling over Lex again and yeah, it’s better naked.
Naked and hot and Lex is starting to sweat. He can’t get enough of Clark’s skin, of Clark’s body, of Clark thrusting against him, cock hard and leaving a trail of wet desire wherever it touches Lex.
Clark is moaning now, unruly hands almost *brutal* as he touches Lex like he can’t stop himself, a tight fist around Lex’s cock, jerking him off. He’s holding back, Lex knows it. But not by much and that’s okay; Lex doesn’t bruise easily but he *wants* Clark to bruise him. He *wants* Clark to have whatever he needs and Clark *needs* this.
Clark flips Lex over so he’s lying on his belly and Clark’s hands are everywhere, fingers digging into Lex’s skin and it doesn’t hurt *enough*. Then Clark’s body is on him again and he’s sliding his cock up and down the cleft of Lex’s ass.
“Can I-“ Clark chokes out and Lex doesn’t need words to answer Clark. He reaches over awkwardly and pulls open the top drawer of his bedside table. Clark does the rest. He crawls over and searches through the drawer and finds it. Lube.
Moments later and Clark is back between Lex’s legs and he’s sliding fingers in and out of Lex, but Clark’s impatient and he can’t wait and Clark soon replaces his fingers with his cock. Pushing in slowly, surely, indisputably. And then pulling out nearly all the way.
“Thank you,” Clark breathes out as he thrusts back in hard. Like their first kiss, Clark begins fucking Lex slowly, almost gently, but it escalates into something more fierce, something more than just sex. Something like self destruction.
It’s the missing piece of the jigsaw of their intertwining lives. Fucked up sex.
Despite the pain he’s in, Lex’s orgasm is powerful and endless and Clark’s follows his almost immediately.
Wet face on Lex’s back, Clark on top of him, inside him, rasping gasps into his skin, sobs full of pleasure and despair, whole body shuddering as he comes and comes.
Lex cradles Clark in his arms afterwards, and strokes his face. Clark doesn’t speak and he doesn’t cry. He just clings to Lex and stares into space.
The death of Clark’s father for this. Lex doesn’t want to think because he’s afraid of feeling.
He’s afraid that all he’ll feel is happy.