It may be totally inappropriate, but Clark can't help but thinking about the women in his life right now. Reaching down, he adjusts the soft blanket that covers his hips, curling a little more, making things just a bit warmer.
Leading the pack, as she always does, is Lana. Something about her, even sans the meteor necklace, makes Clark ache. She's beautiful, kind when she thinks outside herself.
She'll live and die here happily. Or as happy as Lana is able to be.
Maybe that's why he keeps letting Whitney get the upper hand; he doesn't want to spend his entire life in this fishbowl.
His father wouldn't understand. Jonathan Kent will always be the Smallville High quarterback, even now, in his forties, underneath all that practical farmer flannel. His father knows Whitney, hell, his father IS Whitney, twenty years and hundreds of hard life lessons later. His father still has hopes that Clark can win Lana, even if it doesn't quite work in the High School order of social Darwinism that his father understands by rote, born and bred to it as he is.
Quarterback deserves cheerleader.
Clark smiles to himself and rubs his cheek against the soft surface it's pillowed on.
Chloe would kick his ass if he ever said anything like that aloud in her presence. Her own brand of feminism runs strong and deep, warring with the self-consciousness of being a young woman in high school. His mother adores Chloe, sees herself in her. Clark knows his mother would rather he be with Chloe than Lana.
But that isn't meant to be.
Clark sighs softly as the hand that had been petting his naked hip through the blanket slides under the fabric, stroking warm skin, still damp with sweat. He shivers -- his reaction and need almost painful.
He brushes his cheek against the soft skin of Lex's thigh, happy enough as fingers card through his hair. He wonders if his parents have a clue, if they know what he needs.
Whom he needs.
He knows his parents love him enough to draw the wrong conclusions, to hope for something... normal.
"What are you thinking about?"
"Women. Families."
"Oh?"
Clark instinctively knows Lex will understand. Mostly. He has his own women issues, a mother he has yet to let go of. Sexual chess playing companions with fathers who whore out their daughters as easily as Lionel whored out his son.
He turns, shifting around to face Lex, still resting his head on those soft, warm, familiar, thighs. For the moment, he ignores the partially erect cock resting against Lex's belly, focusing instead on those stormy eyes.
Sex with Lex. Something Clark is beginning to need as much as the general urge just to be around him. To know those secrets that captivate him just as much as Lex is enamored of finding out Clark's. Penetrated. Penetrating. Kisses that lead to so much more, something so much deeper...
... than pining after Lana ever did.
Oh, Clark knows that if he wants Lana, if he is willing to forgo mercy and love and respect, that Lex would have her delivered to him on a silver platter in a matter of days. She might not even know she had been ransomed. Or if he just wanted a woman, the highest priced whore in Metropolis would be his.
And maybe that, the cheapening of all intimate acts, in and of itself is reason enough to be honest enough all around that this is what he wants.
What he needs.
Screw normal.
© EAS, March, 2002
Disclaimer: All canon based Smallville characters belong to WB and/or DC Comics.
I am making no money, just enjoying playing in the sandbox.
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