Pairing(s): Lex/Clark; Clark/Chloe (implied); Lex/Lena (implied)
Summary: Clark changes everything.
Rec Expl.: Change is the centrepiece in this story. It all revolves around change. Clark realizes that not everything will go the way he wants it to, not everything turns out the way he imagined it, and sometimes he can only be grateful that he can’t predict the future. Change, for better or worse.
It’s a surprisingly honest piece of work, where baseline Lex and Clark are revealed to themselves and each other. This one aches in a very attractive manner.
It’s all about possessiveness, confusion, rage, heartbreaking, honesty, hurting, pleasure winning and losing.
Be sure to give this fic the attention and respect it deserves.
"This is such a fucking *cliché*, Clark!" Little strained laugh that could almost hurt to hear, and Clark can't help it, has to go over to him, touch him, hands on his face and tilting it up and Lex is just--probably still a little drunk, but mostly sober and mostly aware and mostly here and looking down, mostly aroused, and Clark kisses him. Hard, fast, possessive, and right, Lena and Chloe at the airport, fuck them and fuck the flight, and Lex was held up in Smallville and Clark overslept, and would Chloe expect him to come the day after a break-up anyway?
"Come back to bed." Nips gently on Lex's lower lip and Lex isn't fighting him, not really, not when he pulls and Lex follows him back out, vivid dark stains on his skin that Clark's aching to touch and trace and mouth for at least a few hours, wonders if Lex will just lie there on the bed and let him.
Lex pulls away, but he doesn't retreat--more a gathering of himself together, licking his mouth and looking at Clark.
"Take off the rest of your clothes."
He should have considered Lex probably wouldn't be passive very long. Clark's fingers are on the button, peeling down the khakis and his boxers, and he sits on the foot of the bed, leaning back to watch Lex strip with quick, violent movements.
Pushed down onto the mattress and *held* down, and Lex kisses like he's trying to crawl inside Clark through his mouth, one hand on Clark's cock, ruthless stroking that's making him arch and beg and whimper and grab for something, anything to brace him, ground him, but there's nothing but soft comforter for him to touch, bury his fingers in, scratch into. No possible rhythm to follow, and Lex's mouth is against his ear.
"This what you want, Clark?" Thrust against his hip, and no, not until this moment, this second, not until the feel of Lex's cock sends a shocked heat through his body, little spurt of pre-come into Lex's hand, probably all the answer Lex will need if he's paying attention. "This kind of experiment?"
Clark reaches up, finally, pulling Lex down, closer, riding the erratic rhythm and looking for air, and he kisses Lex, tastes blood and sweat and anger and *want*.