Word count: 2,490
Notes: A coda to the final scene of Trespass. Huge thanks to my fabulous and clever betas, myownghost and allzugern.
Summary: Clark and Lex work through some issues.
Feedback: Makes my day.
The Last Word, by Kate
It’s times like these Clark wishes he could get drunk.
He stares numbly at the invitation he’s been holding in his hand for the past hour and stands up. Why didn’t he just say no? It’s weird for him to be going to this wedding, isn’t it? He has every right to boycott, doesn’t he?
The thought of watching Lana marry Lex makes him feel…frustrated, helpless, and a little queasy.
Sprinting to the mansion only takes a few minutes but when he gets to the front door he hesitates - and not just because there’s an unsmiling guard standing next to it with his hand hovering over his gun holster.
“I’m here to RSVP,” he tells the guard, waving the wedding invitation in front of his face. The guard glowers at him, but doesn’t stand in his way, so he takes a deep breath, opens the door, and steps inside.
He’s not here to see Lana and he hopes he doesn’t run into her. He doesn’t believe for a second that Lana genuinely wants him at the wedding, which means this is between him and Lex.
Walking as slowly as possible and trying to locate some kind of recognizable emotion inside himself, Clark plans what he’s going to say.
Lex is in the den, alone, drinking neat scotch, charcoal shirt making him look both pale and menacing, firelight bouncing off his head and half of his face in shadow. The way he smiles at Clark when he walks into the room shows he’s not surprised to see him.
“Clark,” Lex says coolly. “Here to get the last word in?”
Clark looks Lex in the eye and keeps his voice as even as possible. “Thanks for the invitation, Lex, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline.” He holds out the card.
Lex raises his eyebrows. “There’s no need to return it to me. Why don’t you keep it for now? Just in case you change your mind.”
It’s difficult not to rise to Lex’s taunts, but Clark knows it will bug Lex so much more if he doesn’t. “I can’t see that happening,” he says, then he decides to lighten the mood a little. “Besides, it’s weird.”
“Weird,” Lex repeats in a tone that suggests he hadn’t noticed that before. “You excel at weird, Clark. Why should the fact that it’s weird stop you?”
“It’ll hurt too much,” he replies quietly, looking away. Saying that out loud to Lex is the only thing he can think of that might stop Lex from being so cruel.
Lex walks towards him and stands a few feet away, staring into his eyes. “Good,” he spits out. “I want you to hurt.”
Clark doesn’t understand. “Why?” he asks. “Why do you want to hurt me?”
“Because you hurt me!” Lex yells, eyes flaring up with rage, then he twitches, visibly attempting to regain composure. “You tried to kill me,” he says with far less emotion in his voice. “I think I’m owed a little vengeance.”
There’s no good way to respond to that so Clark just stares at Lex sadly and feels like a failure. Lex stares back, mouth pursed in a thin hard line, eyes black in the near darkness of the room, and full of resentment.
Neither of them moves for a long time; then Clark looks away and speaks softly. “I hope you and Lana will be happy together."
He turns to leave, but he’s stopped by Lex’s hissed accusation. “Liar.”
Clark spins back around. “What?”
He gets a hard smile in response. “You don’t want Lana and me to be happy. You don’t want me to be happy.” Lex shakes his head and grimaces. “Oh, and you’re not human.”
Clark’s entire body turns cold, frozen, numb with something that might be terror. He swallows, then tries to smile mockingly, desperate for something to say that won’t sound ridiculous. “I don’t matter anymore, remember, Lex? You told me I didn’t matter.”
Lex takes a few steps towards him and now they’re close enough to share breath. “You don’t,” Lex says, voice thick with malice.
It’s difficult to keep his breathing regular. What does Lex know?
“Then what’s with the crazy accusations?” Clark asks lamely. “Try to remember that you don’t care anymore.” He’s grasping at straws, and he suddenly hates that he doesn’t have the ability to read minds. That would be a hell of a lot more useful than being able to fly at this point in time.
They’re staring at each other again and it’s not unfamiliar. Clark knows Lex’s eyes better than he knows anyone else’s.
It’s a shock when Lex reaches up and puts a hand on the side of Clark’s neck, curling his fingers around and digging sharp nails into his flesh. Lex is breathing hard and angry and he speaks to Clark in a low voice, through gritted teeth. “You’re a bad liar, Clark. And a worse friend.”
Clark doesn’t move away, but this time he gets mad. “I’m a bad friend?” he retorts, conveniently ignoring the first accusation. It’s not like he can argue with it. “You’re the one dating my ex-girlfriend.”
Another cool smile that’s nearly a sneer. “We’re a little beyond dating, Clark.” Lex doesn’t remove his hand, and they’re still standing extremely close. Why Clark has no desire to move away right now is beyond him.
“I know,” he says, sick of fighting. He’s so damn sick of fighting.
Lex pulls his hand away then and Clark catches his wrist reflexively, holding it in his fist, not letting Lex move. There’s a flicker in Lex’s eyes, but Clark can’t read the meaning of it. Lex looks over at his trapped hand, only inches away from Clark’s cheek.
“Clark?” There’s curiosity mixed in with the hostility in his voice now.
And if Clark knew what he was doing, he might even consider sharing that with Lex, but as it is, he has no idea whatsoever. He releases Lex’s hand and they make eye contact again.
“Are you jealous?” Lex whispers and Clark understands then that it’s what Lex badly needs to hear.
“You know I am,” he whispers back, eyes travelling down Lex’s face until they’re fixed on his mouth. It’s as if he’s not in control of his body when he brings his hand up between their faces and touches the scar above Lex’s top lip with the tip of his index finger.
It makes Lex’s body go rigid.
And when Clark drags his finger down over Lex’s top lip and it catches on the inside of his bottom lip, Lex trembles and lets out a sharp breath.
They go back to staring at each other, not saying anything, not doing anything.
“Was there anything else?” Lex asks, but his voice isn’t steady this time. Clark shakes his head, but doesn’t move an inch.
“You f-” Lex stops himself from finishing whatever word that was and exhales out of his nose loudly, eyes cast downwards. “Do something,” he says, under his breath.
Clark leans down and brushes his lips over Lex’s, letting them linger there to give Lex a chance to kiss back, if that is, in fact, what he wants. Lex moves into it, mouth pursing into a kiss, then they part again.
“Is that what you wanted?” Clark asks softly.
He gets an armful of Lex Luthor in answer to that question. Hard, male body pressed up against him, wrapped around him, wet mouth on his, sucking and licking; deep, needy kisses that set Clark’s body on fire, and destroy everything that’s logical and appropriate and right in the world, and Clark can’t find it in himself to care.
It’s as if Lex can’t get close enough to him. He’s writhing against him so violently, arm wrapped around Clark’s neck, keeping him pulled close, their faces joined together by their hungry mouths. Clark’s hug could well be crushing the life out of Lex, but it’s not, because he’s definitely still conscious.
When they part again they’re breathing so hard it’s practically deafening.
“We can’t do this here,” Lex whispers, fast and breathless. Clark nods and attacks Lex’s mouth again.
It’s true that they should go somewhere else, but it’s truer that they shouldn’t be doing this at all, which means one of them has to put a stop to it before they change locations. Clark’s pretty sure it’s not going to be him.
God, he’s so hard it actually hurts. He can feel Lex’s cock against his hip, rubbing there, up and down, and this is Lex…getting off. On Clark.
They break apart. “Oh fuck…let’s…” Lex moves back a few inches and puts his hands on Clark’s stomach and pushes up Clark’s shirt and t-shirt with the heels of his palms, then he slips his hands underneath and makes contact with Clark’s skin. Clark throws his head back a little and closes his eyes with a fast sigh.
Lex has gone entirely still, except for his roving hands, and when Clark opens his eyes again and looks at him he sees that Lex’s mouth has gone slack, and his eyes are unfocused; lost in this moment. Clark goes to find him.
He reaches over and starts slowly unbuttoning Lex’s shirt, taking his time with each button, enjoying the odd sensuality involved in such a simple act, and then Lex’s hands slide over his ribcage and waist, from skin to material, until they reach his hips. Lex squeezes him through his jeans, then he shrugs off his shirt. Watches Clark remove his own shirts. Slides his arms around Clark's neck again and allows himself to be lifted into an embrace; wraps his legs around Clark's waist and pushes his tongue into Clark's mouth.
This is as good a time as any to move from their standing position in the middle of the room, which is probably not the best place to have sex. That’s what they’re going to do. Clark knows this now and he’s made his peace with it. He wants it more than he’s wanted anything or anyone in as long as he can remember.
He carries Lex over to the couch and lays him down, untying Lex’s shoelaces and pulling off his shoes, discarding them behind him. “What if Lana walks in?” Lex asks Clark, revealing that he’s as incapable of resisting this as Clark is, as incapable of making the right decision.
“Where is she?” Clark says, sincerely concerned about it, while he undoes Lex’s belt. Why the fuck can’t he stop? He doesn’t want Lana to see this and neither does Lex.
“She’s asleep in her room,” Lex replies, his voice full of torment and longing.
“Is she likely to come down?”
Lex shakes his head, lifting his hips so Clark can pull off his trousers.
“We could go to another room?” Lex asks, so bizarrely submissive, which Clark finds frighteningly hot.
“You’d have to get dressed again,” Clark says, kneeling on the floor next to Lex and bending over his lap to press a soft kiss on the swollen pink head of Lex’s cock.
Lex groans and bucks up. “I wanna fuck you,” he whispers, quiet and breathy, eyes shut, smiling dreamily; he’s speaking more to himself than to Clark, but Clark hears it. Loud and clear.
He stands up and kicks off his shoes, then shucks his jeans and boxer shorts. Lex opens his eyes and his mouth falls open.
“God,” Lex murmurs, eyes travelling all over Clark’s body in miserable awe.
Clark steps towards the other end of the couch and climbs onto it, on his knees, facing away from Lex, gripping the arm of the couch in his fists. He looks back over his shoulder.
“Do it,” he whispers, and Lex is up in a flash, his arms around Clark, curled under his armpits, hands gripping Clark’s shoulders, naked body pressed against his back, teeth digging into his neck.
“Scoot back a little,” Lex says, moving back himself and pulling Clark with him until he’s bent over. “That’s good. Oh Jesus.” Lex sounds like he’s barely holding it together. Clark knows how he feels.
He watches Lex spreading him open and looking at him, and he should probably feel shy, but he doesn’t. Lex bends his head down and spits saliva into the crack of Clark’s ass. He keeps doing it and then he starts fucking Clark with his fingers; occasionally he licks him there, which makes Clark groan loudly.
Lex’s cock is so different from his fingers. Thicker, longer, a million times more intense.
Being fucked by Lex is different from every other kind of sex he’s had, which hasn’t been a lot, admittedly, but none of it even came close to this helpless bliss.
The fact that they’re not supposed to care about each other anymore makes it feel even better somehow. Is this an acknowledgment of something Clark’s been keeping buried, or is it just another way to say goodbye?
Their bodies are wet with sweat and Lex slides over Clark, slides into Clark, in a rhythm that Clark knows is theirs and theirs alone.
He jerks himself off while Lex fucks him and his orgasm hits first. It’s a roar of thunder, a bolt of lighting, a deadly storm. The intensity of it is causing him to sob a little, shake a lot. All with Lex still thrusting into him faster and faster, harder and deeper, chanting Clark’s name, splashing Clark’s back with the sweat from his face.
Lex comes with a groan, and he holds himself inside Clark through all the aftershocks, as his breathing slowly calms down, until his cock is too sensitive to remain imprisoned. He collapses back onto the couch and Clark turns around to look at him.
They are both in a lot of trouble now, and Clark has no idea what he’s going to do. Does Lex?
By the expression on Lex’s face, which is an alarming mixture of confusion and vulnerability, Clark guesses not.
“That was…” Clark starts, but he has no idea how to finish the sentence.
“You should go,” Lex says distantly. “Lana could walk in.”
Clark nods and begins to gather his clothes together and put them on. He tries to make eye contact with Lex a few times, but he’s just staring off into the distance numbly, not moving an inch. There on the couch, naked and flushed and glistening, sweat not yet dry, body not yet cool.
Does he kiss Lex goodbye? And if he does, will it be goodbye forever or just for now?
“I’m gonna go now,” he says quietly, and Lex looks up at him, finally.
“Will I or won’t I see you at the wedding?” Lex asks bleakly.
Clark gazes at him unhappily, a lump in his throat. That’s his cue…
He shakes his head. “No,” he says, his voice breaking on the word.
He walks out.