New fic: "Temptation", SV, C/L, NC-17
Here is the next part for the challenge. Enjoy.
Bev
Title: "Temptation"
Author: Bev
Rating: NC-17
Beta: Val (aka as danceswithgary), thank's, honey. You're the best.
Moment: #15 "Painting a picture"
Summary: Clark never knew Lex could paint ... until one day he finds out by accident
Warning: fluff, first time
A/N: The title was inspired by the song "Temptation" by Moby, and the line "I never met anyone quite like you before". I found this very fitting to the situation. The story was a great deal inspired by two pictures. One from the wonderful digitalwave, one from the amazing La petit Kiki. I post them at the end of this story and I bow before this two awesome artists. *bows*
Feedback: would be lovely. Like Red Kryptonite to Clark.
Clark didn't know that Lex could paint.
Okay, he'd never asked him. But only because it never occurred to him that his friend would have a hobby like that. And maybe because he had never been to his inner sanctum, as he liked to call the room behind Lex's bedroom. A room, which was normally locked. But not today. And an unlocked door was an invitation to someone who was as curious as Clark.
He hadn't snooped around; he had just been looking for his friend, when he had noticed that the door, which was usually closed, was slightly ajar. So he had pushed the door open, quietly calling out his friend's name, and had stepped in.
It was a room so different from the rest of the manor that Clark was a little irritated at first. The walls were painted in a light, pale yellow, the floor was a fair parquet floor, and on the windows were drapes in warm colors. Friendly colors.
There was a fireplace on the far side on the wall, and on the top of the fireplace were some framed paintings. The furniture in the room was sparse, only a little couch in front of the fireplace, with a small table standing nearby. A small, almost delicate, writing desk sat in a corner by a window.
But what mostly caught Clark's attention was the big easel in the middle of room, with the canvas turned to the window. Tubes of paints, brushes, and different containers were scattered on a nearby table. In the air, there hung the smell of oil paint and thinner.
Curious, Clark stepped closer to the easel, and lifted a corner of the cloth hiding it. Stunned, he pulled it away completely. It fell down to the floor, forgotten, covering the ground around Clark's feet.
The painting wasn't finished yet, but Clark could clearly see what it was supposed to look like when it was done.
It was him.
Clark.
The painting showed him laying on a bed of hay, with black pants and a half-pushed-up, black shirt, showing off his stomach, his face was turned to the spectator, seeming to look directly into his eyes. Seductive. Longingly.
Never ever had he posed for a painting like that in clothes like these. So where did it come from? And why was it here on that easel in a room that was so un-Lex-like?
"Snooping around, Clark? Now that's something I never really expected from you."
The voice from the door startled him, and he whirled around. Lex was resting casually against the door frame but Clark could see the tension in his posture. Could see the light frown on his forehead, Could hear his accelerated heartbeat.
And he could tell that Lex was deadly nervous.
"I was looking for you," he answered, as if that would explain why he was standing here, in front of the unfinished painting, the hiding cloth pulled away. He turned his gaze back to the easel. "Who..." he had to clear his throat before he could continue speaking as he pointed at the canvas, "...who painted this?"
Lex had his hands in his pockets as he walked closer. "I did," he said, his voice flat, "still am, to be precise. As you can see it isn't finished yet." When he reached Clark, he bowed down to pick up the cloth. With a motion that spoke of a long time practice, he covered the canvas again. Then he turned to Clark. His eyes were guarded. "You found me. What can I do for you?"
"What?" For a moment, Clark didn't know what Lex was talking about. His thoughts were still at the painting. He still could see the colors before his inner eyes, the smell of the paint still lingered in the air.
Lex's hands were back in his pockets as he made his way over to the door, asking Clark without words to follow him. He did.
"You said you were looking for me. Now you found me. Was there a reason that you came to the manor?"
It took Clark another three heartbeats until his mind was finally able to follow Lex's again. Right. His mother had sent him over. With an apple pie. A pie that was, at that moment, resting, almost forgotten, on Lex's desk in his office.
"Mom sent me."
Lex's eyes narrowed slightly. "Why?"
"The pie," Clark murmured.
"Clark, as much as I hate to admit it ... I can't quite follow you at the moment."
Clark took a deep breath, and tried to forget about the painting in the adjoining room. "My mom made some pie today, and asked me to come over and bring you an apple pie. It's on your writing desk in your office."
The words seemed to stumble over each other, but luckily, for him, Lex understood them nonetheless. He nodded, finally smiling. "Ah, yes. Your mother, and her attempts to fatten me up."
Clark's gaze ran over Lex's lean body for a moment, checking him out. He was tall and lean. Not an ounce of fat, just sinew and muscle, begging to be stroked, caressed, and licked, and where the hell did that thought come from? He closed his eyes and shook his head to get that image out again.
A hand on his arm startled him, and he flinched. Lex had stepped closer and was standing right in front of him now, looking at him with a worried expression. "Clark, are you all right?"
Hastily, Clark took a step back and nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks, Lex."
He took a deep breath and pointed at the desk. "The pie is there. I ... ah ... I have to go back. Mom's waiting. And I still have to do my chores."
He bolted. Nearly fled out of the manor at a very undignified haste. He couldn't explain to himself why the painting had disturbed him so much. He just knew that he desperately needed some time to think about it. About the why. About why Lex would paint something like that.
~*~
Lex watched Clark leave. No, escape would be a better word to describe it. He listened to him running down the stairs, and as he stepped to the window, he could see him fleeing the manor.
With a sigh, he pressed his forehead against the window, for a moment enjoying the cool glass on his heated skin. Then he started to thump his head repeatedly against the glass.
How could he have been so stupid? How could he NOT have locked the room with the painting? He KNEW that Clark always came without calling or announcing himself in any way. He goddamn knew it. He had opened the room because he'd wanted to continue his painting but before he even could remove the cloth, the ringing of his phone had distracted him. He had left the door open, thinking he would be back in a few minutes.
When he had found Clark in front of the easel, he had felt his heart stop for a second. The look on the boy's face had been one of ... surprise. Then it had changed to one of deep concentration as if he was trying to remember where the photo could have been taken.
With a deep sigh, he turned around and walked over to the room that was normally hidden. He stepped in, and took a deep breath. This had been his mother's room. Her sanctuary. It explained the feminine touch to the room. He had discovered it a few days after his father had exiled him to the castle. It was his secret. Not even the staff knew that he used it. He cleaned it by himself, not wanting anybody to come in and disturb what little peace he could find nowadays.
Carefully, he pulled the cloth once more from the easel, gazing at the painting. He had started to paint it a few months ago. It hadn't been easy. He had taken many photographs of Clark - without his knowledge - before there had been one that he could use for what he had in mind.
He looked at the canvas. The painting would be good. No, better than good ... it would be great. Although he still wasn't sure if it would ever be hanging on a wall, he knew that he would love to look at it. Clark's green eyes seemed to be gazing directly at him, a promise of wonderful things to come hiding in their depths. He was proud of himself, proud of having been able to catch that promise. He took a step back, and sat down on the edge of a table.
If only ...
If only once ... just once, Clark would look at him with that expression in his eyes. With the same longing that Lex felt for him.
"Dream on, Luthor. That's never going to happen. And you know it," he said to himself. He pushed himself up from the table, and selected one of the brushes. He still had some time before the next meeting at the plant.
~*~
"A painting? Of you?"
Chloe's eyes were as big as saucers and the shrieking sound of her voice hurt Clark almost physically, while he tried to slip under the table of the Talon without being seen. "Could you yell a bit louder, Chloe? I don't think they heard you on the East Coast," he groaned.
"But ... but ... sorry, Clark. But, that really came as a surprise."
"No kidding," Clark huffed. "Imagine me ... I was looking for my friend and found a painting of myself."
Chloe leaned closer. Her eyes were shining with excitement. "So. How was it?"
Clark blushed. "What do you mean?"
Chloe rolled her eyes impatiently at her friend. "The painting. Was it good? What did it show? Was it a portrait?"
Clark tried to slide even deeper, though that was hardly possible. "It was a ... well, you know, don't you?"
She cocked her head slightly. "No, Clark. I don't know. Was it a pose?"
If he'd thought that it couldn't get any more embarrassing, she had just proven him wrong. It could. And it did.
"Notreallybutsortof," he muttered under his breath.
She moved a bit closer. "Pardon?"
He took a deep breath before he repeated, "Not really, but sort of."
"Okay. Describe it."
Clark blushed even more, while he tried to describe Chloe what he had seen in that few moments. She listened with sparkling eyes.
"You should talk to him," she said finally. Clark promptly dropped his spoon, which fell into his cup with a loud clatter. "WHAT? Why?"
She grinned her most infectious grin. "You should go and talk to him about it. Find out why he paints pictures of you."
Clark held up one finger. "One, Chloe. One painting. Not paintings."
Her smile grew even wider. "You sure about that? You saw only one. You don't how long he's been painting, right?"
Clark could feel himself pale. She was right. The fact that he had seen only one painting didn't mean that there weren't more.
"You're right. But what should I say? Hi Lex, nice day, huh? Oh, and by the way...care to explain why you're suddenly painting pictures of me?"
Chloe laughed. "Well, maybe not exactly like that. But essentially ... yes. Ask him. You're friends. I'm sure he'll tell you."
"You think?" Clark was still a little skeptical. She nodded, and raised her arm to signal Lana that she wanted to pay.
"Come on, I'll even give you a ride."
~*~
The knock on the door to his office pulled Lex out of his deep thoughts. He had spent the last two hours in front of the canvas, highly concentrated and unaware of his surroundings. He put the brush down, left the room - locking it on his way out - and walked into his office.
"Come in," he called.
And was extremely surprised when Clark came in. Now, that had to be a first. Clark Kent knocking.
"Clark." He did nothing to hide his surprise. "Why are you knocking? You know that you can come in whenever you want."
The young man blushed a little, something that Lex found endearing. "I ... ah ... I thought it would be better. After what happened the last time I simply walked in ..."
He broke off, blushing even more. Lex walked closer. "Clark. You saw a painting. It wasn't as if you were walking in on me having sex with someone."
Wow. He never thought someone could blush SO much without his head exploding. He took a step closer. "Clark. It's alright."
"Why?" the younger man suddenly blurted out. Lex frowned.
"Why what?"
Clark nervously pointed to the bedroom. "Why ... did you paint that painting?"
Okay. He should have known that the boy wouldn't let it rest so easily. He walked over to his bar, poured himself a Scotch, and grabbed a bottle of water for Clark. Stalling for time. Thinking about what to say.
He decided that the truth might be the best option in this case. There were two possibilities. Either Clark would run away without turning back.
Or he would accept the fact that his friend had feelings for him.
"I made it because I think you're beautiful, Clark. And you know that I admire beauty wherever I see it."
The way Clark blushed, Lex was surprised that there was any blood left in Clark's body to keep him standing.
"You do?"
Good. No freaking out then. More than a slight curiosity.
"Yes, I do."
"Did you ... are there ... I mean ... are there more?"
More? Oh! More paintings. Lex thought about the canvas he had finished a few weeks ago and that currently adorned a wall at his flat in Metropolis.
"No," he lied. No reason to embarrass him even more. But apparently, Clark was able to see right through him. His eyes narrowed slightly, and Lex knew from the expression on his farmboy's face that he somehow KNEW that Lex was lying.
"Where are they, Lex? And why don't you want to let me see them?"
With a sigh, Lex turned to his desk, and pressed a carefully hidden button. A panel on the wall behind him shifted quietly, and revealed a hidden space. There were several canvases, each one protected by a cotton cloth. Lex made a 'suit yourself' gesture, and walked over to the sofa where he sat down.
He watched Clark intently, as he slowly walked closer to the space and reached for the first canvas. It was a fairly small one, and Lex remembered that this was his first attempt at painting Clark.
It simply showed his face, with one of his blinding smiles. One of those smiles that always made his heart beat faster. It had taken him forever to catch that smile.
He could see a little glimpse of it now as Clark was looking at himself.
The next one was a bit larger. It showed Clark next to his, Lex's, red Ferrari. The same Ferrari he had borrowed so long ago, when he had his wild times, and had run off to Metropolis. It was an image that had burned itself into Lex's mind, and he had never managed to rid himself of it. So one day he had tried to paint it. And it was good.
Clark's face didn't display any reaction. He examined at one painting after the other. Took them out of their closet. Out into the light. Out into the open.
Suddenly Lex thought about the last painting. The really big one that was the last one in the hidden closet.
The one he had finished before the one that now hung in Metropolis.
The one that showed him and Clark together. Sleeping. Naked. Cuddled up together.
He'd been in a weird mood when he had painted it. In a mood of wishful thinking. Of what if. And it showed his deepest desire. And Clark was just about to reveal it.
He wanted to stop it. He thought his heart would jump out of his chest because it was beating so wildly. But before he could react, Clark reached for the painting, pulled away the cloth and looked at it.
Lex closed his eyes. He wanted to crawl into the nearest hole, and bury himself for at least a hundred years. He expected Clark to ask questions. To demand answers as to the where and why. But Clark remained silent. And finally, Lex dared to open his eyes again.
Clark hadn't moved a single muscle. He stood frozen to the spot, gazing at the painting. And said nothing.
~*~
Clark didn't know what he had expected when Lex had opened the hidden space beneath his desk. He had stared at the numerous canvases - seven, altogether - and hadn't known what to say. He had reached for one - the smallest one - and had pulled away the cover.
Lex was good.
REALLY good. The painting showed him, Clark. Smiling. With a sparkle in his eyes. Looking out at the viewer with love in his face.
And he swallowed hard. Was it really that obvious? Could everyone read the love he felt for Lex so openly in his face? He put it aside and reached for the next one. It was him, next to the red Ferrari. He smiled softly. God, he loved that car.
Picture number three showed him doing his chores at the farm. He was wearing one of his beloved flannel shirts and casual jeans. His hair was tousled, and he was turned away from the viewer.
Number four showed him all in black. He was standing before the skyline of Metropolis. Black trousers, a black button-down shirt, half open, and a dark long coat billowing in the wind.
The fifth showed him sleeping on the sofa here in this room. He looked relaxed and peaceful. Almost happy. How often had he fallen asleep like that? He had lost count.
He was standing in the rain in the sixth painting. The water poured down his body, plastered his clothes to his body. His head was thrown back, his eyes closed. He seemed to enjoy the rain.
As he reached for the last painting, he could sense a change in Lex's breathing. Could hear his heart beating faster all of a sudden. That only heightened his curiosity, because it meant that this painting was special.
And it was.
It was a masterpiece. It showed him and Lex, cuddled up together in bed. Clark's head rested on Lex's naked shoulder, the covers pulled up and covering half their bodies. Their eyes were closed, and they seemed to be asleep.
He looked up. Lex stared intently at him. It took him a while until he found his voice again. He had to clear his throat several times before he croaked, "Why did you paint this?"
Clark didn't wait for an answer. He took the painting, leaned it again the desk so Lex could see it, and then he walked over to Lex and sat down beside him.
Then he put one arm on the sofa behind Lex, and moved a little closer. "Why did you paint this?" he asked again, murmuring softly into Lex's ear.
He watched as a shiver ran over Lex's skin. Noticed the little hitch in his breathing. Recognized the widened pupils when Lex finally turned around to look at him.
"Because I wanted it to happen," Lex murmured so quietly that even Clark with his enhanced hearing had difficulties understanding him.
Clark skidded a little closer. "Why?" he breathed into his ear.
"Why?" Lex stalled for time, making Clark smile.
"Why do you want it to happen?"
~*~
"Why do you want it to happen?"
Lex could feel Clark's breath on his skin, could sense his warmth next to his body. Why did he want it? Because it was his deepest, darkest desire. It wasn't uncommon for him to want a man. He'd had his wild times in Metropolis and Gotham when he'd been in his late teens. And he'd had his fair share of man-on-man sex. But to want a man as innocent and as beautiful as Clark ... that was something completely different. Something to whisper at night into the emptiness of your bedroom. Something to think about when you were in the shower, imagining the hands gliding over your skin were his.
It was so wrong on so many levels that Clark's father and his always present shotgun were only the tip of the iceberg. The famous drop that caused the cask to overflow.
He tried to tell Clark all of this. Wanted to tell him that he wanted, no ... needed to protect him. Wanted him to keep the aura of innocence, that had drawn Lex to him in the first place, for a little while longer.
He couldn't.
It was hard, if not impossible, to talk, or even think coherently, with Clark so close that he could almost feel the beating of his heart. Suddenly, Clark took it all out of his hands. Lex could feel his hand on his shoulder, pulling him closer to the strong body of the farm boy, and a whisper in his ear. "Do you want this as much as I want it?"
He gazed at the painting again. Him. Clark. Together. Clark turned his head a little and followed his gaze. Smiling. "We look good together, don't you think?"
Lex could only nod.
Good. Beautiful. As if, they were MEANT to be together.
He shivered when a chaste little kiss was pressed right behind his ear. "I'll tell you a secret, Lex," murmured Clark with his lips gliding over his skin. "I want it, too. I never thought you could want me like that. But I'm glad you do."
Lex tried to concentrate on what Clark was saying, but it got harder and harder with every passing second. There was only the heat of Clark, his lips doing wonderful things to his neck, his hand that had started to caress his shoulder through the silk of his shirt. He closed his eyes, and stopped thinking. He only gasped lightly when he felt another hand on his top button, playing with it but doing nothing.
When he opened his eyes again, Clark looked at him. His eyes were dark and unreadable. There was almost nothing left of the wonderful, sparkling green that Lex loved so much. Though, he had to admit that this color suited Clark just as well.
But there was something else lurking on those dark depths. Something primal, something that made Lex shiver in anticipation.
"Lex," a soft breathing of his name. "Lex, I want to kiss you. May I kiss you? Please, say yes, please say ..."
He interrupted Clark's whispered pleading by pulling him close and pressing his mouth to those lips that had tempted him for so long.
The kiss was shy and a little clumsy at first. It told Lex that Clark definitely wasn't as experienced as he had wanted him to believe. But after a few moments, he also had to admit that Clark was a damned quick study. He moaned as the taller man slowly began to take control over the kiss. And then he could feel a hand on his top button again, this time opening it. Then the next. And the next.
After a few heartbeats, his shirt was open, and a big, strong hand stroked gently over his skin. He sighed, and moaned, not caring how needy he sounded. Sounded? Hell, he WAS needy. How long had he dreamed of this, never daring to hope that one day it might come true?
And now here he was ... on his sofa, with his shirt open, with Clark in his arms, his hands on his skin ... he was in heaven.
In a heaven that was suddenly gone, leaving him cold and empty. His breath sounded harsh even in his own ears, and it took him a moment or two before he was able to open his eyes. Clark sat next to him. His dark hair was tousled where he had run his hands through it, his lips were slightly swollen from the passionate kissing, and yet ...
Yet, there was something vulnerable about him. Almost sweet and innocent. He gazed at Lex with a longing that made something inside Lex melt. Something he hadn't known had been frozen. He reached out and touched Clark's face. Without hesitating, Clark nestled his face in his hand.
"Clark, what's wrong? Are we going too fast?" he said quietly. Clark shook his head no. Then he blushed. Blushed deeply.
And suddenly Lex understood. "You've never done that before, have you, Clark?" he asked.
The blush deepened to an almost impossible red. Clark moved away, looked down at the floor and shook his head once more.
~*~
Great. Just great.
He was the biggest fool of all. An idiot. And to top it all ... an inexperienced virgin. He groaned inwardly at the sound of that. How could Lex ever want to be with someone like him. Now that he had practically outed himself as virgin, Lex would send him home. He would find some nice, sweet words for him, and then he would tell him to come back later. Say ... in about five years ...
He turned away from Lex. Too fast? God, no. They were not going too fast. But he was afraid. Afraid of what might happen when he was making love to Lex. What if he accidentally set the room on fire? Or crushed some of the smaller man's bones? Lex was strong, yet so delicate compared to Clark. He had no experience at how his body would react when he was making love with another man, and not just his own right - or occasionally left - hand.
God, he felt so embarrassed. He wanted to jump up and run away. But, just as he was about to do exactly that, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Could feel Lex moving closer, until his naked chest - the silken skin had felt so good under his fingers - touched his ever-present flannel shirt.
Then he could feel Lex's chin on his shoulder, and a soft murmur. "Look at the painting, Clark."
He did. How could he not obey that gentle demand? They looked so beautiful together. Totally at ease.
"That's how it's supposed to be with us, Clark. You and me. Together. I don't care if you've never done this before. We'll go as slow or as fast as you want us to go. You dictate the rules." A little chuckle followed. "At least in the beginning. Later ... well ... we'll see. But now? Today? You call the shots. I'll do whatever you want me to do, Clark. I'm all yours. As you are mine."
Clark's desire to simply take what Lex offered grew stronger with every sentence the man whispered into his ears. With every promise he made, the wish to grab him and do everything he ever dreamed of became more urgent.
And finally, he gave in. Because, hey ... he might be an alien, but even with all his powers, he was unable to resist the sweet seduction of a Lex Luthor. With a sound that was half moan, half growl, he grabbed Lex by his open shirt and pushed him back onto the sofa, kissing the laughing mouth like a starving man.
~*~
He didn't set anything on fire. They somehow managed to make it to the bedroom, and when Clark felt Lex's body covering his own, he came with a hoarse shout, spilling his seed over his stomach. A few drops hit Lex, but he didn't seem to mind.
Panting, Clark lay beneath Lex who was still hard and wanting. He was a little embarrassed at coming so fast, but when he wanted to say something, Lex seemed to know what it was. A finger was placed on his mouth, shutting him up very effectively. "Don't you dare to apologize, Clark. That was awesome. And an incredible ego-boost for me." He smiled before he lowered himself down on Clark, and began to move against him.
He moved like an animal, Clark thought. All strong, slender muscles and delicate bones ... Lex reminded Clark of a leopard. Or a cheetah. He moved over his body, played with him, made him hard again in what seemed no time, but was in reality almost an hour. He murmured unknown words in a foreign language in his ear, told him stories of lovers and destinies, painted him visions before his inner eye until Clark couldn't tell anymore which was real, and which was fantasy. Lex took his mind to strange places deep inside his imagination, and when Clark came again, Lex was there right behind him, following him over the edge with a deep moan, and a mumbled "God, Clark, yes ..."
It took a while until Clark could form a coherent sentence again. And even then, it was only, "Wow, Lex, that was amazing."
Lex simply smiled, and gave the younger man a kiss. But unlike than those before, which had been urgent, possessive and passionate, this kiss was short and sweet. He moved a little aside, and pulled Clark close again. Without thinking, Clark followed Lex's gentle, unspoken command, and rested his head on the other man's naked shoulder. With a deep, contented sigh, Lex pulled the covers up until they were at their waists. He closed his eyes, pressed one kiss to Clark's temple, and a few heartbeats later, he was asleep.
Clark couldn't fall asleep so easily.
His whole world had been turned upside down that afternoon. He cast a quick glance at the clock on the nightstand, and relaxed. His parents wouldn't expect him to be home for at least another two hours.
He put his head again on Lex's shoulder. Funny how it seemed to be so natural to lay like that. Almost as if, he belonged there. Then he thought about how their position mimicked the one on the painting.
Because I want it to happen.
With a little sigh, he closed his eyes, too. And lulled by the strong and steady beating of his lover's heart, he fell asleep.
End
And here are the pictures/manips:
Number one: The unfinished one that Clark found:
And the last one in the hidden space:
Bev
Title: "Temptation"
Author: Bev
Rating: NC-17
Beta: Val (aka as danceswithgary), thank's, honey. You're the best.
Moment: #15 "Painting a picture"
Summary: Clark never knew Lex could paint ... until one day he finds out by accident
Warning: fluff, first time
A/N: The title was inspired by the song "Temptation" by Moby, and the line "I never met anyone quite like you before". I found this very fitting to the situation. The story was a great deal inspired by two pictures. One from the wonderful digitalwave, one from the amazing La petit Kiki. I post them at the end of this story and I bow before this two awesome artists. *bows*
Feedback: would be lovely. Like Red Kryptonite to Clark.
Clark didn't know that Lex could paint.
Okay, he'd never asked him. But only because it never occurred to him that his friend would have a hobby like that. And maybe because he had never been to his inner sanctum, as he liked to call the room behind Lex's bedroom. A room, which was normally locked. But not today. And an unlocked door was an invitation to someone who was as curious as Clark.
He hadn't snooped around; he had just been looking for his friend, when he had noticed that the door, which was usually closed, was slightly ajar. So he had pushed the door open, quietly calling out his friend's name, and had stepped in.
It was a room so different from the rest of the manor that Clark was a little irritated at first. The walls were painted in a light, pale yellow, the floor was a fair parquet floor, and on the windows were drapes in warm colors. Friendly colors.
There was a fireplace on the far side on the wall, and on the top of the fireplace were some framed paintings. The furniture in the room was sparse, only a little couch in front of the fireplace, with a small table standing nearby. A small, almost delicate, writing desk sat in a corner by a window.
But what mostly caught Clark's attention was the big easel in the middle of room, with the canvas turned to the window. Tubes of paints, brushes, and different containers were scattered on a nearby table. In the air, there hung the smell of oil paint and thinner.
Curious, Clark stepped closer to the easel, and lifted a corner of the cloth hiding it. Stunned, he pulled it away completely. It fell down to the floor, forgotten, covering the ground around Clark's feet.
The painting wasn't finished yet, but Clark could clearly see what it was supposed to look like when it was done.
It was him.
Clark.
The painting showed him laying on a bed of hay, with black pants and a half-pushed-up, black shirt, showing off his stomach, his face was turned to the spectator, seeming to look directly into his eyes. Seductive. Longingly.
Never ever had he posed for a painting like that in clothes like these. So where did it come from? And why was it here on that easel in a room that was so un-Lex-like?
"Snooping around, Clark? Now that's something I never really expected from you."
The voice from the door startled him, and he whirled around. Lex was resting casually against the door frame but Clark could see the tension in his posture. Could see the light frown on his forehead, Could hear his accelerated heartbeat.
And he could tell that Lex was deadly nervous.
"I was looking for you," he answered, as if that would explain why he was standing here, in front of the unfinished painting, the hiding cloth pulled away. He turned his gaze back to the easel. "Who..." he had to clear his throat before he could continue speaking as he pointed at the canvas, "...who painted this?"
Lex had his hands in his pockets as he walked closer. "I did," he said, his voice flat, "still am, to be precise. As you can see it isn't finished yet." When he reached Clark, he bowed down to pick up the cloth. With a motion that spoke of a long time practice, he covered the canvas again. Then he turned to Clark. His eyes were guarded. "You found me. What can I do for you?"
"What?" For a moment, Clark didn't know what Lex was talking about. His thoughts were still at the painting. He still could see the colors before his inner eyes, the smell of the paint still lingered in the air.
Lex's hands were back in his pockets as he made his way over to the door, asking Clark without words to follow him. He did.
"You said you were looking for me. Now you found me. Was there a reason that you came to the manor?"
It took Clark another three heartbeats until his mind was finally able to follow Lex's again. Right. His mother had sent him over. With an apple pie. A pie that was, at that moment, resting, almost forgotten, on Lex's desk in his office.
"Mom sent me."
Lex's eyes narrowed slightly. "Why?"
"The pie," Clark murmured.
"Clark, as much as I hate to admit it ... I can't quite follow you at the moment."
Clark took a deep breath, and tried to forget about the painting in the adjoining room. "My mom made some pie today, and asked me to come over and bring you an apple pie. It's on your writing desk in your office."
The words seemed to stumble over each other, but luckily, for him, Lex understood them nonetheless. He nodded, finally smiling. "Ah, yes. Your mother, and her attempts to fatten me up."
Clark's gaze ran over Lex's lean body for a moment, checking him out. He was tall and lean. Not an ounce of fat, just sinew and muscle, begging to be stroked, caressed, and licked, and where the hell did that thought come from? He closed his eyes and shook his head to get that image out again.
A hand on his arm startled him, and he flinched. Lex had stepped closer and was standing right in front of him now, looking at him with a worried expression. "Clark, are you all right?"
Hastily, Clark took a step back and nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks, Lex."
He took a deep breath and pointed at the desk. "The pie is there. I ... ah ... I have to go back. Mom's waiting. And I still have to do my chores."
He bolted. Nearly fled out of the manor at a very undignified haste. He couldn't explain to himself why the painting had disturbed him so much. He just knew that he desperately needed some time to think about it. About the why. About why Lex would paint something like that.
~*~
Lex watched Clark leave. No, escape would be a better word to describe it. He listened to him running down the stairs, and as he stepped to the window, he could see him fleeing the manor.
With a sigh, he pressed his forehead against the window, for a moment enjoying the cool glass on his heated skin. Then he started to thump his head repeatedly against the glass.
How could he have been so stupid? How could he NOT have locked the room with the painting? He KNEW that Clark always came without calling or announcing himself in any way. He goddamn knew it. He had opened the room because he'd wanted to continue his painting but before he even could remove the cloth, the ringing of his phone had distracted him. He had left the door open, thinking he would be back in a few minutes.
When he had found Clark in front of the easel, he had felt his heart stop for a second. The look on the boy's face had been one of ... surprise. Then it had changed to one of deep concentration as if he was trying to remember where the photo could have been taken.
With a deep sigh, he turned around and walked over to the room that was normally hidden. He stepped in, and took a deep breath. This had been his mother's room. Her sanctuary. It explained the feminine touch to the room. He had discovered it a few days after his father had exiled him to the castle. It was his secret. Not even the staff knew that he used it. He cleaned it by himself, not wanting anybody to come in and disturb what little peace he could find nowadays.
Carefully, he pulled the cloth once more from the easel, gazing at the painting. He had started to paint it a few months ago. It hadn't been easy. He had taken many photographs of Clark - without his knowledge - before there had been one that he could use for what he had in mind.
He looked at the canvas. The painting would be good. No, better than good ... it would be great. Although he still wasn't sure if it would ever be hanging on a wall, he knew that he would love to look at it. Clark's green eyes seemed to be gazing directly at him, a promise of wonderful things to come hiding in their depths. He was proud of himself, proud of having been able to catch that promise. He took a step back, and sat down on the edge of a table.
If only ...
If only once ... just once, Clark would look at him with that expression in his eyes. With the same longing that Lex felt for him.
"Dream on, Luthor. That's never going to happen. And you know it," he said to himself. He pushed himself up from the table, and selected one of the brushes. He still had some time before the next meeting at the plant.
~*~
"A painting? Of you?"
Chloe's eyes were as big as saucers and the shrieking sound of her voice hurt Clark almost physically, while he tried to slip under the table of the Talon without being seen. "Could you yell a bit louder, Chloe? I don't think they heard you on the East Coast," he groaned.
"But ... but ... sorry, Clark. But, that really came as a surprise."
"No kidding," Clark huffed. "Imagine me ... I was looking for my friend and found a painting of myself."
Chloe leaned closer. Her eyes were shining with excitement. "So. How was it?"
Clark blushed. "What do you mean?"
Chloe rolled her eyes impatiently at her friend. "The painting. Was it good? What did it show? Was it a portrait?"
Clark tried to slide even deeper, though that was hardly possible. "It was a ... well, you know, don't you?"
She cocked her head slightly. "No, Clark. I don't know. Was it a pose?"
If he'd thought that it couldn't get any more embarrassing, she had just proven him wrong. It could. And it did.
"Notreallybutsortof," he muttered under his breath.
She moved a bit closer. "Pardon?"
He took a deep breath before he repeated, "Not really, but sort of."
"Okay. Describe it."
Clark blushed even more, while he tried to describe Chloe what he had seen in that few moments. She listened with sparkling eyes.
"You should talk to him," she said finally. Clark promptly dropped his spoon, which fell into his cup with a loud clatter. "WHAT? Why?"
She grinned her most infectious grin. "You should go and talk to him about it. Find out why he paints pictures of you."
Clark held up one finger. "One, Chloe. One painting. Not paintings."
Her smile grew even wider. "You sure about that? You saw only one. You don't how long he's been painting, right?"
Clark could feel himself pale. She was right. The fact that he had seen only one painting didn't mean that there weren't more.
"You're right. But what should I say? Hi Lex, nice day, huh? Oh, and by the way...care to explain why you're suddenly painting pictures of me?"
Chloe laughed. "Well, maybe not exactly like that. But essentially ... yes. Ask him. You're friends. I'm sure he'll tell you."
"You think?" Clark was still a little skeptical. She nodded, and raised her arm to signal Lana that she wanted to pay.
"Come on, I'll even give you a ride."
~*~
The knock on the door to his office pulled Lex out of his deep thoughts. He had spent the last two hours in front of the canvas, highly concentrated and unaware of his surroundings. He put the brush down, left the room - locking it on his way out - and walked into his office.
"Come in," he called.
And was extremely surprised when Clark came in. Now, that had to be a first. Clark Kent knocking.
"Clark." He did nothing to hide his surprise. "Why are you knocking? You know that you can come in whenever you want."
The young man blushed a little, something that Lex found endearing. "I ... ah ... I thought it would be better. After what happened the last time I simply walked in ..."
He broke off, blushing even more. Lex walked closer. "Clark. You saw a painting. It wasn't as if you were walking in on me having sex with someone."
Wow. He never thought someone could blush SO much without his head exploding. He took a step closer. "Clark. It's alright."
"Why?" the younger man suddenly blurted out. Lex frowned.
"Why what?"
Clark nervously pointed to the bedroom. "Why ... did you paint that painting?"
Okay. He should have known that the boy wouldn't let it rest so easily. He walked over to his bar, poured himself a Scotch, and grabbed a bottle of water for Clark. Stalling for time. Thinking about what to say.
He decided that the truth might be the best option in this case. There were two possibilities. Either Clark would run away without turning back.
Or he would accept the fact that his friend had feelings for him.
"I made it because I think you're beautiful, Clark. And you know that I admire beauty wherever I see it."
The way Clark blushed, Lex was surprised that there was any blood left in Clark's body to keep him standing.
"You do?"
Good. No freaking out then. More than a slight curiosity.
"Yes, I do."
"Did you ... are there ... I mean ... are there more?"
More? Oh! More paintings. Lex thought about the canvas he had finished a few weeks ago and that currently adorned a wall at his flat in Metropolis.
"No," he lied. No reason to embarrass him even more. But apparently, Clark was able to see right through him. His eyes narrowed slightly, and Lex knew from the expression on his farmboy's face that he somehow KNEW that Lex was lying.
"Where are they, Lex? And why don't you want to let me see them?"
With a sigh, Lex turned to his desk, and pressed a carefully hidden button. A panel on the wall behind him shifted quietly, and revealed a hidden space. There were several canvases, each one protected by a cotton cloth. Lex made a 'suit yourself' gesture, and walked over to the sofa where he sat down.
He watched Clark intently, as he slowly walked closer to the space and reached for the first canvas. It was a fairly small one, and Lex remembered that this was his first attempt at painting Clark.
It simply showed his face, with one of his blinding smiles. One of those smiles that always made his heart beat faster. It had taken him forever to catch that smile.
He could see a little glimpse of it now as Clark was looking at himself.
The next one was a bit larger. It showed Clark next to his, Lex's, red Ferrari. The same Ferrari he had borrowed so long ago, when he had his wild times, and had run off to Metropolis. It was an image that had burned itself into Lex's mind, and he had never managed to rid himself of it. So one day he had tried to paint it. And it was good.
Clark's face didn't display any reaction. He examined at one painting after the other. Took them out of their closet. Out into the light. Out into the open.
Suddenly Lex thought about the last painting. The really big one that was the last one in the hidden closet.
The one he had finished before the one that now hung in Metropolis.
The one that showed him and Clark together. Sleeping. Naked. Cuddled up together.
He'd been in a weird mood when he had painted it. In a mood of wishful thinking. Of what if. And it showed his deepest desire. And Clark was just about to reveal it.
He wanted to stop it. He thought his heart would jump out of his chest because it was beating so wildly. But before he could react, Clark reached for the painting, pulled away the cloth and looked at it.
Lex closed his eyes. He wanted to crawl into the nearest hole, and bury himself for at least a hundred years. He expected Clark to ask questions. To demand answers as to the where and why. But Clark remained silent. And finally, Lex dared to open his eyes again.
Clark hadn't moved a single muscle. He stood frozen to the spot, gazing at the painting. And said nothing.
~*~
Clark didn't know what he had expected when Lex had opened the hidden space beneath his desk. He had stared at the numerous canvases - seven, altogether - and hadn't known what to say. He had reached for one - the smallest one - and had pulled away the cover.
Lex was good.
REALLY good. The painting showed him, Clark. Smiling. With a sparkle in his eyes. Looking out at the viewer with love in his face.
And he swallowed hard. Was it really that obvious? Could everyone read the love he felt for Lex so openly in his face? He put it aside and reached for the next one. It was him, next to the red Ferrari. He smiled softly. God, he loved that car.
Picture number three showed him doing his chores at the farm. He was wearing one of his beloved flannel shirts and casual jeans. His hair was tousled, and he was turned away from the viewer.
Number four showed him all in black. He was standing before the skyline of Metropolis. Black trousers, a black button-down shirt, half open, and a dark long coat billowing in the wind.
The fifth showed him sleeping on the sofa here in this room. He looked relaxed and peaceful. Almost happy. How often had he fallen asleep like that? He had lost count.
He was standing in the rain in the sixth painting. The water poured down his body, plastered his clothes to his body. His head was thrown back, his eyes closed. He seemed to enjoy the rain.
As he reached for the last painting, he could sense a change in Lex's breathing. Could hear his heart beating faster all of a sudden. That only heightened his curiosity, because it meant that this painting was special.
And it was.
It was a masterpiece. It showed him and Lex, cuddled up together in bed. Clark's head rested on Lex's naked shoulder, the covers pulled up and covering half their bodies. Their eyes were closed, and they seemed to be asleep.
He looked up. Lex stared intently at him. It took him a while until he found his voice again. He had to clear his throat several times before he croaked, "Why did you paint this?"
Clark didn't wait for an answer. He took the painting, leaned it again the desk so Lex could see it, and then he walked over to Lex and sat down beside him.
Then he put one arm on the sofa behind Lex, and moved a little closer. "Why did you paint this?" he asked again, murmuring softly into Lex's ear.
He watched as a shiver ran over Lex's skin. Noticed the little hitch in his breathing. Recognized the widened pupils when Lex finally turned around to look at him.
"Because I wanted it to happen," Lex murmured so quietly that even Clark with his enhanced hearing had difficulties understanding him.
Clark skidded a little closer. "Why?" he breathed into his ear.
"Why?" Lex stalled for time, making Clark smile.
"Why do you want it to happen?"
~*~
"Why do you want it to happen?"
Lex could feel Clark's breath on his skin, could sense his warmth next to his body. Why did he want it? Because it was his deepest, darkest desire. It wasn't uncommon for him to want a man. He'd had his wild times in Metropolis and Gotham when he'd been in his late teens. And he'd had his fair share of man-on-man sex. But to want a man as innocent and as beautiful as Clark ... that was something completely different. Something to whisper at night into the emptiness of your bedroom. Something to think about when you were in the shower, imagining the hands gliding over your skin were his.
It was so wrong on so many levels that Clark's father and his always present shotgun were only the tip of the iceberg. The famous drop that caused the cask to overflow.
He tried to tell Clark all of this. Wanted to tell him that he wanted, no ... needed to protect him. Wanted him to keep the aura of innocence, that had drawn Lex to him in the first place, for a little while longer.
He couldn't.
It was hard, if not impossible, to talk, or even think coherently, with Clark so close that he could almost feel the beating of his heart. Suddenly, Clark took it all out of his hands. Lex could feel his hand on his shoulder, pulling him closer to the strong body of the farm boy, and a whisper in his ear. "Do you want this as much as I want it?"
He gazed at the painting again. Him. Clark. Together. Clark turned his head a little and followed his gaze. Smiling. "We look good together, don't you think?"
Lex could only nod.
Good. Beautiful. As if, they were MEANT to be together.
He shivered when a chaste little kiss was pressed right behind his ear. "I'll tell you a secret, Lex," murmured Clark with his lips gliding over his skin. "I want it, too. I never thought you could want me like that. But I'm glad you do."
Lex tried to concentrate on what Clark was saying, but it got harder and harder with every passing second. There was only the heat of Clark, his lips doing wonderful things to his neck, his hand that had started to caress his shoulder through the silk of his shirt. He closed his eyes, and stopped thinking. He only gasped lightly when he felt another hand on his top button, playing with it but doing nothing.
When he opened his eyes again, Clark looked at him. His eyes were dark and unreadable. There was almost nothing left of the wonderful, sparkling green that Lex loved so much. Though, he had to admit that this color suited Clark just as well.
But there was something else lurking on those dark depths. Something primal, something that made Lex shiver in anticipation.
"Lex," a soft breathing of his name. "Lex, I want to kiss you. May I kiss you? Please, say yes, please say ..."
He interrupted Clark's whispered pleading by pulling him close and pressing his mouth to those lips that had tempted him for so long.
The kiss was shy and a little clumsy at first. It told Lex that Clark definitely wasn't as experienced as he had wanted him to believe. But after a few moments, he also had to admit that Clark was a damned quick study. He moaned as the taller man slowly began to take control over the kiss. And then he could feel a hand on his top button again, this time opening it. Then the next. And the next.
After a few heartbeats, his shirt was open, and a big, strong hand stroked gently over his skin. He sighed, and moaned, not caring how needy he sounded. Sounded? Hell, he WAS needy. How long had he dreamed of this, never daring to hope that one day it might come true?
And now here he was ... on his sofa, with his shirt open, with Clark in his arms, his hands on his skin ... he was in heaven.
In a heaven that was suddenly gone, leaving him cold and empty. His breath sounded harsh even in his own ears, and it took him a moment or two before he was able to open his eyes. Clark sat next to him. His dark hair was tousled where he had run his hands through it, his lips were slightly swollen from the passionate kissing, and yet ...
Yet, there was something vulnerable about him. Almost sweet and innocent. He gazed at Lex with a longing that made something inside Lex melt. Something he hadn't known had been frozen. He reached out and touched Clark's face. Without hesitating, Clark nestled his face in his hand.
"Clark, what's wrong? Are we going too fast?" he said quietly. Clark shook his head no. Then he blushed. Blushed deeply.
And suddenly Lex understood. "You've never done that before, have you, Clark?" he asked.
The blush deepened to an almost impossible red. Clark moved away, looked down at the floor and shook his head once more.
~*~
Great. Just great.
He was the biggest fool of all. An idiot. And to top it all ... an inexperienced virgin. He groaned inwardly at the sound of that. How could Lex ever want to be with someone like him. Now that he had practically outed himself as virgin, Lex would send him home. He would find some nice, sweet words for him, and then he would tell him to come back later. Say ... in about five years ...
He turned away from Lex. Too fast? God, no. They were not going too fast. But he was afraid. Afraid of what might happen when he was making love to Lex. What if he accidentally set the room on fire? Or crushed some of the smaller man's bones? Lex was strong, yet so delicate compared to Clark. He had no experience at how his body would react when he was making love with another man, and not just his own right - or occasionally left - hand.
God, he felt so embarrassed. He wanted to jump up and run away. But, just as he was about to do exactly that, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Could feel Lex moving closer, until his naked chest - the silken skin had felt so good under his fingers - touched his ever-present flannel shirt.
Then he could feel Lex's chin on his shoulder, and a soft murmur. "Look at the painting, Clark."
He did. How could he not obey that gentle demand? They looked so beautiful together. Totally at ease.
"That's how it's supposed to be with us, Clark. You and me. Together. I don't care if you've never done this before. We'll go as slow or as fast as you want us to go. You dictate the rules." A little chuckle followed. "At least in the beginning. Later ... well ... we'll see. But now? Today? You call the shots. I'll do whatever you want me to do, Clark. I'm all yours. As you are mine."
Clark's desire to simply take what Lex offered grew stronger with every sentence the man whispered into his ears. With every promise he made, the wish to grab him and do everything he ever dreamed of became more urgent.
And finally, he gave in. Because, hey ... he might be an alien, but even with all his powers, he was unable to resist the sweet seduction of a Lex Luthor. With a sound that was half moan, half growl, he grabbed Lex by his open shirt and pushed him back onto the sofa, kissing the laughing mouth like a starving man.
~*~
He didn't set anything on fire. They somehow managed to make it to the bedroom, and when Clark felt Lex's body covering his own, he came with a hoarse shout, spilling his seed over his stomach. A few drops hit Lex, but he didn't seem to mind.
Panting, Clark lay beneath Lex who was still hard and wanting. He was a little embarrassed at coming so fast, but when he wanted to say something, Lex seemed to know what it was. A finger was placed on his mouth, shutting him up very effectively. "Don't you dare to apologize, Clark. That was awesome. And an incredible ego-boost for me." He smiled before he lowered himself down on Clark, and began to move against him.
He moved like an animal, Clark thought. All strong, slender muscles and delicate bones ... Lex reminded Clark of a leopard. Or a cheetah. He moved over his body, played with him, made him hard again in what seemed no time, but was in reality almost an hour. He murmured unknown words in a foreign language in his ear, told him stories of lovers and destinies, painted him visions before his inner eye until Clark couldn't tell anymore which was real, and which was fantasy. Lex took his mind to strange places deep inside his imagination, and when Clark came again, Lex was there right behind him, following him over the edge with a deep moan, and a mumbled "God, Clark, yes ..."
It took a while until Clark could form a coherent sentence again. And even then, it was only, "Wow, Lex, that was amazing."
Lex simply smiled, and gave the younger man a kiss. But unlike than those before, which had been urgent, possessive and passionate, this kiss was short and sweet. He moved a little aside, and pulled Clark close again. Without thinking, Clark followed Lex's gentle, unspoken command, and rested his head on the other man's naked shoulder. With a deep, contented sigh, Lex pulled the covers up until they were at their waists. He closed his eyes, pressed one kiss to Clark's temple, and a few heartbeats later, he was asleep.
Clark couldn't fall asleep so easily.
His whole world had been turned upside down that afternoon. He cast a quick glance at the clock on the nightstand, and relaxed. His parents wouldn't expect him to be home for at least another two hours.
He put his head again on Lex's shoulder. Funny how it seemed to be so natural to lay like that. Almost as if, he belonged there. Then he thought about how their position mimicked the one on the painting.
Because I want it to happen.
With a little sigh, he closed his eyes, too. And lulled by the strong and steady beating of his lover's heart, he fell asleep.
End
And here are the pictures/manips:
Number one: The unfinished one that Clark found:
And the last one in the hidden space: