Summary: A different story of Clark's stay in Metropolis.

Notes: Thanks to everyone who read this story over on LJ and gave me feedback and encouragement on it. You guys are the best! Special thanks to Corinna for thinking of the title, Meret for making me a perfectly scrumptious cover for it, and XniteLite for letting me borrow the title from her Fortune magazine Lex icon.

Warnings: Rated NC-17. m/m

For the Halloween Carnival, the usually elegant and glittering grand ballroom of the Metropolis Hotel had been transformed into someone's not-terribly-historical vision of a medieval dungeon. The lights were low, with candles scattered around the room to give it a moody sense of gloom. Faux spider webs hung from the ceiling, and there was fake dust everywhere. The main attraction, though, were the "torture devices" that giddy partygoers were happily trying out on one another. There were racks and screws, shackles, even an iron maiden, although without the sharp metal spikes for obvious safety reasons. Clearly, whoever had planned the event spent far too much time in Metropolis' sex clubs.

Clark took in the room with wide eyes. "Okay, so this isn't anything like Halloween back home."

Lex smiled. "Frankly, I'm relieved to hear it."

Clark returned the smile. "So what do you want to do?"

"Well, we could make a turn around the room, check out all the sights. There are also games in the rooms across the hall, if we decide we need more wholesome entertainment."

"Wholesome, huh?" Clark pulled him close. "I don't really think that's my favorite kind of fun." He nibbled along Lex's jaw, lined hot, wet kisses down his neck. Lex had a happy vision of the carnival being cut short in favor of a leisurely trip home, giving him plenty of time to fuck Clark in the back seat of the limo. Or maybe Clark would want to fuck him. Either way, it sounded a lot more recreational than apple-bobbing and funnel cakes.

They held hands and made their way slowly through the crowd, stopping to greet Lex's business acquaintances and a surprising number of people who seemed to be friends of Clark's.

"Sorry we missed you last week," one of the Jones brothers called to him.

The investment banking Joneses. The good-looking brother.

"He comes to Mitzi's for lunch sometimes," Clark explained.

Another man waved to him, someone Lex didn't recognize, who could have been a male model, but was probably a corporate lawyer or a management consultant. "Let's set up a game for next week."

"Adam Laighton," Clark told him. "Belongs to the tennis club. We play sometimes."

Suddenly, Lex was having that moment all over again when he'd come home to find that kid Brian salivating all over Clark. Only these weren't just guys in Clark's college prep class. They were wealthy and successful and connected, and they had just as much to offer as Lex did. He instinctively tightened his grip on Clark's hand, so tight in fact that Clark gave him an odd look.

"Are you all right?"

He took a deep breath and made himself loosen his hold a little. "Sure. Fine." He smiled, and it felt like the corners of his mouth were going to crack.

"Hey." Clark cupped his cheek and kissed him until he relaxed. "This is supposed to be fun, remember?" He stroked his thumb lightly in circles.

Lex nodded and pulled Clark into his arms, hugged him hard.

"That's better." He felt Clark's smile against the side of his face.

They finished making the grand tour, and Lex was just about to suggest a round of balloon darts when Bill Taylor came striding up, his face a brighter red than usual.

"What do you think you're trying to pull, Luthor?" he puffed angrily.

Lex regarded him coldly. "Perhaps you could be more specific?"

His eyes glittered. "We were guaranteed 10,000 units. We got 2,500. If you think I won't haul your ass into court--"

"Bill." Lex used his stern voice, the one that made his employees jump. "If you read the contract, you'll see that it calls for distribution by quarter. Next month, you'll get another 2,500, and so on, until the contract is complete."

"Bullshit! My people would never have negotiated that--"

"But they did. If you have a problem with it, I suggest you take it up with them."

"I'm taking it up with you!" He poked a finger into Lex's chest.

Clark stepped toward him. "Don't touch him!"

Taylor narrowed his eyes. "Need your little boyfriend to fight your battles, huh, Luthor? I guess a pansy-ass like you can't take care of himself like a real man."

Clark lunged, and Lex got his arm out just in time to catch him. "Why don't you go find Mitzi and see how she's enjoying the carnival?" Clark looked surprised, even hurt, and Lex squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "We shouldn't both get stuck talking business. Let me handle this, and then we'll go do whatever you want. Okay?"

Clark nodded, and Lex kissed him. "I'll make this quick. I promise."

"Okay. But call me if you need me." He glared at Taylor before heading off.

"Now about those contracts--"

"No," Lex said, his voice like ice. "About this bad habit you've developed of haranguing me at social functions. If there's some question about the terms of our contract, I'm happy to discuss it at the office. But I won't be ambushed at parties because you think it's your best shot to catch me off guard and realign the terms of our agreement in your favor. Because we both know that's what you're trying to do."

"How dare you--"

"Oh, please. How dare you. I don't live with my head in the sand, Bill. I know you've had an unexpected upsurge in demand in South America, and now you're trying to cover your ass by squeezing LexCorp. And it's not going to happen. So if you want to negotiate a rider to our original agreement, call my office on Monday." He started to turn away, but had one more thought. "Oh, and a word to the wise? I wouldn't antagonize Clark if I were you. He could break you in two with his little finger."

He turned his back on Bill Taylor's sputtered curses and walked away. He was really getting sick of this guy's bullshit. Perhaps instead of expanding the contract with his company, it was time to join forces with his competition instead. They'd been testing the waters lately, trying to see if LexCorp might be interested in switching sides. The snide way Bill Taylor had called Clark his "little boyfriend" practically guaranteed it.

That Clark had rushed to his defense, though, gave him a warm glow. He couldn't think of anyone else who'd ever had the least protective instinct toward him. It felt nice. He scanned the room for him. It struck him just how stupid he'd been before, worrying about those other men. He had no reason to doubt Clark. No reason to think--

He froze when he spotted him, stretched out on one of the make-believe racks. Another man, dark-haired, good-looking, sleekly dressed, one of the younger Howell sons if Lex wasn't mistaken, was leaning over him, buckling the straps around his wrists. Howell was saying something, and Clark was smiling up at him. And it looked so-- intimate. Lex couldn't stop staring.

"Your young friend seems to be having a good time." He jumped at the sound of his father's voice.

He didn't answer, hoping against hope this might dissuade his father from further conversation, but Lionel was never so easily put off. He moved closer, lowered his voice, spoke in an insidious whisper next to Lex's ear. "I wonder how many of them have had him. A whore does get around, after all. It could be every man in this room."

Lex, of course, had known that his father would investigate Clark, would find out about his past. He'd even been surprised he hadn't brought it up the other day at the penthouse. So he really should have been expecting this. Only he wasn't, not right now, and after seeing some other man touching Clark, the shock of it was physical, a hard slap to the face.

"Be honest, son. Don't you wonder, too? Wonder if maybe young Henry Howell over there is actually renewing an old business acquaintance?"

Lex flinched, and Lionel smiled like a shark.

"Did you really think I wouldn't find out? After you pulled that little stunt changing your will, of course I did some checking on your Mr.-- Smith, do you call him? Surely you could have come up with something more original than that, son? Or was his nom de plume your young trollop's idea?"

The moment had the same feeling, the same texture as every nightmare he'd ever had. Time seemed to move so slowly, and he could clearly see the danger ahead. But he just couldn't seem to change course, couldn't walk away, couldn't make it stop.

"What are you going to do?" He tried to keep the fear out of his voice, but his father knew him too well. He could find even the least weakness, and his feelings for Clark were a gaping vulnerability.

"What do you think I'm going to do? Get everyone's attention, announce to all of Metropolis society that my son is being made a fool of by a teenaged prostitute? That my heir just made a two-bit whore the ultimate beneficiary of everything I've worked so hard to build?"

Lex felt the blood rush to his face. "Don't call him that!"

Lionel stared, his eyes widening. "Oh, my God. You're really in love with him, aren't you?" He threw his head back and laughed. " First a con artist, then a homicidal maniac and now a male prostitute. You really know how to pick them, don't you, son?"

"Because you're such an expert on love."

His father shrugged. "Maybe not. But I am an expert on public opinion. Look at all these people." He gestured with his arm. "Do you honestly think they don't know the truth about your little slut? That they don't whisper about it behind your back?"

"If you don't shut up--"

"What? You'll hit me? Would that make you feel better? Go right ahead then. It's only natural to blame the messenger. But in your heart, you know I'm right, or it wouldn't bother you so much. You know you can't trust him, just like you couldn't trust Helen or Desiree or Victoria or any of the rest of them. You think I'm only trying to hurt you with what I'm saying, with some of the things I've done in the past, but I'm not. I'm only trying to save you, from them, from your own poor judgment."

He knew he shouldn't listen to a word his father said, and yet he couldn't turn off the ugliness in his head. The afterimage of Clark spread out on the rack kept transforming into a picture of him naked and sprawled in bed, that other man leaning over him, that other man touching him. His grip tightened dangerously on the glass in his hand, and he almost wanted it to break. Physical pain was preferable to this.

"Be honest with yourself, Lex. Don't you have your doubts? Oh, I'm sure he says he loves you. But can a prostitute ever really love his employer? And even if by some stretch, he does actually care for you, do you honestly believe it's in his nature to be faithful? Look around this room. Just think of all the assignations he could be having. All the quick lunch-hour fucks while you're slaving away at LexCorp building that fortune you want to leave to him. How long do you think it's going to be before he decides, just like the others did, that it's easier with you of the picture?"

"Clark would never hurt me."

Lionel raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't you have said the same thing about Helen?"

"Shut the fuck up!"

"I just want you to be on your guard. I would have thought you'd have learned that lesson by now. How many lovers wielding shotguns is it going to take?"

Lex threw back the rest of his Scotch. "Fuck off." He headed off to the bar, intent on getting blindingly drunk, the only thing that could possibly make him feel better.

"Enjoy the party, son," his father called after him cheerfully.

Clark was off the rack now, but still talking to Henry Howell. Lex turned his back, so he didn't have to watch it. When he got to the bar, he asked the bartender for the largest glass he had filled with as much Scotch as it would hold. If it hadn't been gauche, he would have just taken the bottle.

The bartender poured, and Clark turned up at his side.

"Hey, Lex." He frowned when he saw the size of the drink. "Um-- Henry and I were going to go check out the arcade. You want to come?"

"No, thanks. I'm kind of busy right now."

"Is anything the matter?" Clark asked.

The bartender handed him the glass, and he threw back the Scotch. "Give me another," he told the bartender. "What could possibly be wrong, Clark? You don't need to watch over me like a mother hen. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"It's just-- I saw you talking to your father. And now you're--"

"What?" Lex's voice had a nasty edge to it. "What am I doing? Tell me. I'm really curious to know."

"You're drinking too much and acting like an asshole." Beneath the sharp note of anger, there was hurt.

Lex closed his eyes and let out his breath. "I'm sorry." The pounding in his temple felt like a jackhammer. "Go to the arcade with Henry. I'm fine here." He gave Clark a quick kiss. "Have fun."

Clark touched his face. "I'm a little worried about you."

"I'm okay. Everything's okay. Honestly. Go have fun. I want you to enjoy yourself."

"You're sure you'll be all right?"

"I promise."

"Okay. But I won't be long."

Lex ordered two more drinks, found himself a quiet corner and downed them one after the other. His head felt thick, like it was stuffed with cotton wool. The room was starting to spin, and his stomach wasn't quite as steady as it ought to be. All he really wanted right now was to be home, in bed, curled around Clark. He took a deep breath and let it out. God. Clark was right. He was acting like an asshole. If he weren't sulking, he could be with Clark right now, laughing over silly carnival games, or better yet, in the limo on the way back to the penthouse to make love. Anywhere had to be better than holed up in a corner, alone and drunk, feeling sorry for himself.

He ditched the Scotch glasses and took off after Clark, a little unsteady on his feet. He went into several game rooms before he finally found him, and then he really wished he hadn't. Clark and Henry Howell were standing by one of the SkeeBall machines, deep in conversation. Howell was intent on what he was saying, and Clark seemed to hang on every word. The expression on both their faces was soft and tender. It was not how anyone looked when they were having a polite conversation about the Sharks season or the upcoming presidential election.

A scene started to play in Lex's head, a clichéd movie of the week moment, but it made the blood pound in his head all the same. Clark and Henry were lying in bed together, naked on rumpled sheets, tangled around one another, stroking and kissing and whispering, their voices low and intimate.

"What if he finds out?" Henry asked.

"Don't worry. He doesn't suspect a thing." Clark grinned, the big, wide smile that always made Lex just a little weak in the knees, and the two of them started to laugh.

They laughed and laughed. Just the way his father and Victoria must have. Desiree. Helen.

He lurched off down the hall, toward the cloakroom. Clark could have his precious Henry bring him back to the penthouse when they'd finished-- whatever they were doing together. He was going home to watch the world spin from the comfort of his own bed and spend some quality time puking in the bathroom.

He rounded a corner of the lobby and ran headlong into someone, nearly falling on his ass in his inebriated state. His eyes weren't exactly focusing the way there were supposed to, and all he could make out at first were small feminine hands holding him up, a delicate waft of perfume.

"Alex. You are quite the worse for wear, aren't you?" an amused female voice said close to his ear.

"Oh, God."

With the exception of his father, Millicent Brubaker had to be the last person he needed to see right now. They'd gone to prep school together, one of the many Lex had attended, until he'd been thrown out of that one, too. He and Millicent had had their share of misadventures, almost all of which made Lex cringe to think of now.

"Is something wrong?" she asked. "You didn't have a fight with that perfectly scrumptious new boyfriend of yours, did you? Although he did seem rather friendly with Henry Howell. I wonder what they could have been talking about?"

"Fuck off," he said, although his slurred speech took some of the bite out of it.

Millicent only laughed. "Now, now, don't get testy with me. Old friends have to look out for one another."

It would have been more accurate to call them former fuckbuddies, but he was too tired and too miserable to debate it. "I have to get out of here."

"Let me help you." She took him by the arm. "You're not looking terribly steady on your feet." She walked him the rest of the way. The cloakroom was empty, the staff clearly not anticipating the guests would begin leaving this early.

"Kind of reminds you of old times, doesn't it?" Her voice was low and sultry. "You and me and an empty coatroom."

"I prefer not to take those trips down memory lane."

She pressed herself to his side. "Are you sure about that, Alex? Because the way I remember it we had a lot of good times together. Tell the truth. Couldn't you use a little consolation about now?"

"What do you want, Millicent?" he asked, tiredly. She always wanted something. Everyone did.

Warm lips brushed the side of his face. "Only to make you feel better," she said in her breathy voice, right against his ear. "I do know how to make you feel good. Don't you at least remember that?" She placed wet, sucking kisses along his jaw, down his throat. Her hand cupped his groin, stroking and squeezing.

He'd fucked her off and on for a good two years, and he had no idea how she took her coffee or if she even ate breakfast, much less what her favorite cereal was. And he didn't care. She could have had every man at the carnival bending her over the rack, doing her right there, and he wouldn't have given a shit. Because he didn't love her, and he never had. That he was getting hard in her hand was merely biology, stimulus and response, the simplest equation imaginable. Maybe his big mistake was ever deviating from that, ever letting things get more complicated. Maybe his father was right, and he was a washout at relationships. Maybe he really should have known better than to let himself want too much. To actually love someone. What had that ever gotten him in the past except royally fucked over?

He grabbed her wrist, holding too tightly, making her gasp. "You want to help? Fine." He pushed her back against the wall, worked his knee between her thighs, forced his tongue into her mouth.

She laughed, let her hands slide down his back to his ass. "Now that's the Alex I remember."

"Shut up!" He bit her lip.

"Angry sex. I always liked that with you."

He yanked the hem of her dress up, pushed her panties out of the way and sank two fingers into her pussy.

"Alex!"

She was already wet, and he could smell her. It wasn't the right smell, but it was sex. And he was hard and desperate and needed something, anything, to make the ache in his chest seem a little less like something that was going to kill him. Millicent was here, and she was willing. And she had no power to hurt him.

He pushed down the straps of her gown and kissed her breasts. She cupped his head in her palm and held him there, sighing as he licked and teased each nipple.

"Fuck me, Alex! Fuck me right here. Just like the old days."

If he'd been even remotely sober, he would have realized how easily they could be discovered. That they didn't have protection. That there were reasons why Millicent was relegated firmly to his past. Of course, if he'd been sober, he wouldn't have been fucking someone who wasn't Clark to begin with.

But he wasn't sober.

The first thrust into her pussy made him moan out loud. It didn't feel the way it did with Clark. But she was still tight and hot, and he plunged deeper inside her, instinct taking over, primal and uncomplicated. It was impossible to think and fuck at the same time, and that's exactly what Lex needed right now, to not think.

Millicent dug her fingernails into his jacket and made little sobbing sounds of pleasure. When he felt the tightening in his balls, he slid his hands between their bodies, stroked her clitoris until her eyes went wide and the sounds stopped altogether. Her pussy spasmed around his cock, squeezing the orgasm out of him too.

He pulled out of her and offered his handkerchief. The blurriness from the alcohol receded all at once, leaving him almost painfully clear-headed. Then the squalidness of what he'd just done hit him. This was all his bad old days reprised, and he was getting way too old for this. There was a reason, after all, why he'd given up the simplicity of freefalling sex. Because no matter how much he thought he wanted it, afterwards it always left a pall of humiliation.

The contrast between this and making love with Clark could not have been more stark.

"Regrets, Alex?" Millicent studied him. "Or maybe that's guilt I'm seeing?"

He set his jaw and didn't answer.

Her eyes sparkled with amusement, and she took a step closer. "You really have it bad for him, don't you?" She smiled in a way he knew to be wary of. "You shouldn't let it turn you into a jealous bore. I did actually hear what they were talking about, you know. In the game room. Henry and Clark. They were talking about how much in love they are."

The flash of pain Lex felt must have showed because she laughed.

"Oh, not with each other, Alex. You did know Henry Howell is getting married, didn't you? He's head over heels about her, from what I hear. And it seems, Clark has it pretty bad for you, too." She grinned with malicious enjoyment. "Or at least he did."

It was not possible to keep the shock off his face, as wise as that would have been. All the things he'd been imagining, all his suspicions, and this was the truth.

Millicent leaned in, lowered her voice. "You did ask what I wanted, Alex." She ran the back of one brightly lacquered fingernail across his cheek. "And the answer is to teach not to underestimate me." She tilted her head. "I think you've learned your lesson, don't you?"

Her smile was all triumph as she swept off in a tide of tulle. Lex feared for a moment that he might be physically sick. What he'd seen between Clark and Henry Howell had been perfectly innocent. Lex, on the other hand, had actually--

"Oh fuck!" he cursed loudly and ran back to the party.

The first thing he saw when he entered the ballroom was Millicent, standing with his father, rather cozily, his arm around her waist. When she noticed him in the doorway, she whispered in Lionel's ear. Then his father leaned in, and they shared a long, showy kiss.

And Lex understood just how big a fool he'd been

But that didn't matter. The only important thing was Clark. He walked up and down the long ballroom frantically searching for him. He asked everyone they knew, but no one had seen him. Finally, he spotted Mitzi and dragged her away from the conversation she was having with the Ukrainian ambassador.

"Have you seen Clark?" he asked, urgently.

"Yes, on his way out. Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, he seemed rather upset."

Lex's heart started to pound. "Shit!"

She narrowed her eyes. "What did you do?"

"I-- Fuck!"

"Well, don't just stand there." She waved her hand. "Go find him. Makes things right."

He didn't even bother with his coat. The limo was down the block. His driver was leaning against the hood, smoking a cigarette. He quickly put it out when he saw Lex hurrying down the sidewalk.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Luthor. I didn't realize you were ready to leave."

"Just get me home. Make it quick."

His driver touched the brim of his cap. "Right away, sir."

Lex hopped in, and they took off. He dialed the penthouse, but it rang and rang without answer. The streets were largely deserted. This was primarily a business district, and the only Halloween festivity in the area was the carnival. They pulled up outside the apartment building in less than ten minutes.

"Thanks," he said to the driver as he hurried inside.

In the elevator, he practiced what he would say. I was drunk or I'm so fucking stupid or maybe just an abject Please forgive me! Of course, he didn't know for a fact that Clark realized what he'd done. Maybe he'd just gotten tired or thought Lex had already gone or felt unwell or something, some other reason he'd left early. Lex could only hope. And make sure he played it cool. If he could get of this without his life being utterly ruined, he'd be a hell of a lot luckier than he deserved.

The penthouse was dark and silent when he came through the door. He stood for a moment absorbing the stillness, real fear starting to clench his chest.

"Clark?" he called out. "Clark!" His voice rang in the empty room.

He went through the entire apartment looking for him, even though he didn't actually expect to find him. It was just something to do. There was no sign of Clark anywhere, no evidence that he'd even stopped back after the party.

Lex finally gave up and headed for the bedroom. He could only hope that Clark would come home later, and they could talk this out. He took off his jacket and sat down heavily on the bed. How could everything have gone to hell so quickly? How could he have been so monumentally stupid?

He let out his breath and got up to undress. He took off his cufflinks and returned them to their box.

"Have a good time?" a voice asked from behind him.

He whirled around. "Clark?"

"You were expecting someone else?" He stepped out of the shadows near the door.

"No. Of course not." Lex's heart pounded, but he forced himself to hold it together, to keep his voice natural, to hopefully not give anything away. "I just-- I didn't realize you were home. You left the party without telling anyone."

"Yes, well--" He stood a step toward Lex. "I didn't really feel like waiting around while you finished fucking that slut."

"You--" Sweat broke out on his forehead.

"Oh, yes. I saw you. I saw everything."

"God." He was so desperate his hands were shaking. "Clark. I'm so sorry. Please. It's not what you think. It wasn't--"

"Shut up!" Clark's voice was loud enough that the walls seemed to shake. His eyes glittered in the dark like a wild animal's, like he didn't quite know what he was going to do next, and for the first time, Lex realized just how dangerous someone as strong as Clark could be.

"Let me explain," he begged. "Let me make it better."

Clark paced down the center of the room. "Why did you go to all the trouble to make me think you cared about me? Huh? Why did you have to do that? If this was just business, I could handle it. But I thought I was important to you."

"You are! God. You're the most important thing, Clark."

"Bullshit!" His whole body shook. "If you care about someone, you don't fuck around on them behind their back. You don't humiliate them in public."

It was a moment of staggering realization, and it burned away the last residue of his father's lies, his own doubts. There had always been a part of him, the part that remembered too well how good it felt to hold Desiree, how tender Helen could be, that had persisted in believing no one could really be as sweet as Clark. Now that it was too late, his eyes were wide eye open, and he could see Clark, the boy from Smallville, whose parents had taught him right from wrong, brought him up to believe in things like loyalty and faithfulness. Things that Clark naturally assumed were a given between the two of them, because he did truly love Lex. Or at least he had.

"I didn't mean--" But there was nowhere to go with that, because he might not have meant to, but the fact remained that he had. He'd played into his father's hands yet again and quite possibly destroyed the only chance at happiness he'd ever have. "I'm not going to try to make excuses, because there's no excuse for what I did. But, God! I am truly, truly sorry. Please! Let me try to make it up to you."

"Oh, you will, Lex. Don't worry. I know exactly how you can make it up to me, too."

The look in his eyes made Lex take a hasty step backward, but the bed was right there, hemming him in. There was nowhere to go, and Clark was too quick anyway, on him before he even knew what was happening. His clothes ripped like tissue paper in Clark's hands, and he was naked and on his back before he had time to think "no," much less say it.

Clark loomed, staring down at him. "You like owning things. Like owning me. Well, I've got news for you, Lex. This isn't a one-way street. I fucking own you, too. And I'm going to make sure you never forget it again." He tore his own pants open, his cock already hard.

Lex's heart lurched in his chest. "Come on, Clark. Not like this." He tried to sit up, but Clark pushed him roughly back down. "Please!"

"Is that what she said when you were fucking her? Huh, Lex? Please?"

Then Clark was on top of him, holding him down, grinding against him, kissing like a form of punishment, his mouth hard and unforgiving on Lex's.

Lex tried to push him away, starting to panic for real. "Clark. Clark, listen. Okay? I fucked up. Really, really bad. I know you're upset. And you have every right to hate me. But if you do this, you're going to hate yourself."

Clark bit him on the shoulder, much too hard. "Shut up!"

He manhandled Lex onto his side, using his weight to keep him there, holding Lex's flailing arms, his hands clenched so tightly around Lex's wrists there would definitely be bruises.

"Get off me!" Lex struggled as much as Clark's strong grip would allow.

"It's not that much fun being treated like a whore, is it, Lex?" He maneuvered their bodies so his erection pressed into the cleft of Lex's ass. "But that's what you get for acting like one."

The taunting tone of voice and the physical restraint and his own desperate fear brought a sick flash of memory, all the rough, dangerous, demeaning sex he'd ever had in his life. But, God, this was Clark. And it wasn't supposed to be this way. He couldn't let it be like this.

He kicked and bit and actually managed to wrench one wrist free, but Clark just grabbed him again, holding on more tightly this time. Much too tightly, in fact. Searing pain shot up Lex's arm, and he screamed in agony. Clark froze and then quickly let him go. Lex rolled onto his back, cradling his injured wrist against his chest, the pain so intense and stabbing it left him gasping for breath.

"Oh, my God." Clark stared, his face sickly white, eyes huge and filled with a shocked kind of misery.

"It's okay. Okay," he struggled to say. This was his fault, and he wanted so much to give Clark some small measure of comfort. But, God, it hurt so badly and he couldn't catch his breath to speak.

Clark sprang off the bed.

"Clark!" Lex managed to call out. "Don't."

Clark turned and staggered into the bathroom. There was a sharp noise as the toilet seat was thrown up, and then Lex could hear the unmistakable sound of retching. He closed his eyes and wished to God there was something he could do, that he'd never gotten them into this fucked up mess in the first place. All the truly horrendous things he'd done in his life, all the hideous things that had been done to him, and this was by far the worst night of his life.

The vomiting stopped, and Lex waited for Clark to come back. But the minutes ticked by, and he didn't hear any stirring in the bathroom.

"Clark!" he called out. "Clark, are you okay?"

He managed to pick himself up from the bed. The pain was so intense it made him light-headed and unsteady on his feet. He stumbled his way across the room and peered into the bathroom. There was no other way out than through the bedroom, but Clark was nowhere to be seen. The window was open, though, cool air gusting in, billowing the curtains. Lex stared. All that was out there was gravity and the unforgiving sidewalk forty stories down.

"Oh my God!" Lex's heart hammered. His stomach turned over, and he thought he was going to be sick too. All his life, he'd despised his father for destroying what he was supposed to love, but Lex was just like him, the same kind of poison. He lurched over to the window, horror and grief and physical pain making it impossible to breathe.

He leaned as far out as he could and looked, and thank God! There was nothing. No flashing lights, no commotion, no morbid crowd of onlookers, no beautiful boy broken on the hard pavement below.

He slid down the wall, too weak to stand. He couldn't imagine how Clark had gotten out that way, but then, he did have his secrets. And it didn't matter just as long as he was okay.

Lex sat there for-- He didn't even know how long. The pain and the shock of what might have been overpowered him, and it took some time to pull himself back together. When he did finally manage to get up from the cold bathroom tile, he made a beeline for the phone. He debated a moment about who to call first, but the horrible throbbing in his wrist made the decision for him.

"Toby, I need you over here right now."

"Lex?" the man asked, groggily.

"Yes," he snapped. "I think I might have broken my wrist. Bring stuff for that. And pain pills. Don't forget the pain pills."

Toby's examination of Lex's wrist consisted primarily of poking at his injury, finding the most tender spot and pressing way too hard on it.

Lex jerked his arm back. "Fucking stop that already!"

Toby sighed. "I'm trying to make sure it's not broken. If you'd go to the hospital like a normal person, I wouldn't have to do this."

"No hospital."

"Well then be quiet and let me work." He took Lex's wrist back and started prodding at it once more. An excruciatingly long time later, he finally finished. "It doesn't seem to be broken. My best guess is that the bone is bruised. But like I said, you'd really need an x-ray to make sure."

"Just wrap it up for me. I'm sure it will be fine."

Toby sighed heavily. "Have I ever mentioned what a bad patient you are?" Lex glared at him, and he held up his hands. "Fine, fine. I'm wrapping it up." He opened his bag, pulled out supplies and started to work. "How'd you say you got this again?"

"Fell."

"Mmm."

"What?"

"It's just that this a compression injury, Lex. You don't get one of these from falling down. Someone had to squeeze and squeeze and squeeze, hard enough to bruise the bone." Toby gave him an appraising look. "I've seen pictures of you with that new boyfriend of yours. He's pretty strong, huh?"

"If the next thing you're planning to say is that love's not supposed to hurt, please don't."

Toby let out his breath impatiently. "Fine if this is how you want to live--"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I've seen what other people have done to you."

Lex glared. "I don't pay you for your memory." Some of his post-Helen misadventures had gotten rather messy. It wasn't something he enjoyed thinking about. "And this isn't like that. He's not like that."

"I guess that's why I'm bandaging your wrist, huh?"

"It wasn't--" He was going to say it wasn't Clark's fault, but why the hell was he explaining himself to Toby? "Just finish it."

"There." Toby pulled back and admired his handiwork. "This will immobilize the wrist, help it heal and keep it from being reinjured. Assuming it's not actually broken, of course. You should still get that x-ray to make sure."

"It's fine," Lex said, pulling the sleeve of his shirt down over the bandage. "I trust you."

Toby arched an eyebrow. "You sure you didn't hit your head too?"

Lex shot him a nasty look. "Just give me some stuff for the pain and get out already."

Toby rolled his eyes. "You're welcome, naturally." He pulled a white medicine bottle out of his pocket. "Take two at a time, no more than every four hours, and absolutely no booze with it." Lex reached for the bottle, but Toby wouldn't let it go. "I'm serious, Lex."

Lex snatched it away. "I'm not an imbecile."

"No, just insanely reckless." He pulled his coat on. "If you have any problems, call me. Or better yet, go to the hospital like you have some sense."

"I'll be fine."

Toby gave him an assessing look. "Take care of yourself, Lex." And he left.

Lex took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Heartache and physical pain were a one-two punch, and he felt like an impossible weight was pressing down on him, making his limbs heavy, every muscle in his body aching. God, he needed some sleep. He'd start looking for Clark tomorrow. He'd put Phelan on it-- Or no. Maybe he'd handle it himself. In any event, he would find Clark. He'd come up with a way to explain, make amends, win him back. He had to.

He poured himself a glass of Scotch, washed down the pain pills with it and headed off to bed. What Toby didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

Clark didn't return the next day or the day after that, and Lex finally had to admit that he probably wasn't ever coming back, not unless Lex could find him and convince him. He desperately combed through Clark's things at the apartment, looking for anything that might give him a clue where he'd gone. The only thing he'd found out of the ordinary was a crumpled ball of cashiers checks, uncashed, all the money he'd paid Clark while it was still supposedly a business arrangement. That was like being pierced through the heart.

He called Tucker immediately and put him on it

"It's not the kind of thing I usually handle," he said somewhat skeptically.

"It's important, and you're the only one I trust. And I'm willing to pay whatever you want."

"I'll see what I can do."

Their investigation, however, failed to turn up any leads. Clark had a runaway's talent for disappearing and staying hidden, and Tucker's people had their finger on the pulse of corporate America, not the flesh districts of Metropolis. Some instinct warned Lex against calling Phelan, although he would certainly have better contacts for the job. Finally, Lex just decided to go out looking himself. Clark had left without money, without clothes, without anything, and the idea of him cold and destitute was killing him.

It seemed logical to start where everything had begun.

"Why are you looking for him?" the bartender down at the club asked a little warily when he inquired whether he'd seen "Jerry" lately.

"It's just very important that I speak with him."

The man gave him an appraising look. "Hasn't been around. Sorry. Can't help you." He turned around and went back to stocking the bar.

"Please." He let his desperation show, something his pride ordinarily would not have permitted, but he got the feeling this man knew more than he was saying and this was his only real lead. "Something happened and-- I just really need to find him. Tell him--" God, just how sorry he was.

The man sighed and stopped what he was doing. "He's a good kid. Not like some of them that come through here."

"I know that. It's why I'm here."

His expression was reluctant, but he finally said, "You got a pen?" Lex quickly fished his out of his pocket, and the bartender wrote an address on a cocktail napkin. "I heard through the grapevine he's got a place over there."

"Thank you." Lex tucked the napkin into his pocket with great care, as if it were the most valuable thing he had. "I can't even tell you how much I appreciate this."

"Yeah, well. I didn't do it for you. I did it for the kid. He deserves better than this kind of life."

Lex swallowed hard. "Yes, yes, he does."

He drove to the address the bartender had given him, parked and got out. To call Clark's building a tenement would actually have been a compliment. The ramshackle frame structure was covered in grime and graffiti. There were broken windows boarded up with cardboard, and the front steps sagged rather precariously. Lex waited for someone to come out and darted in while the door was still open. The interior was just as shabby, most of the light bulbs burned out, giving the hallway an unnatural sense of twilight. Dusty footprints tracked up the steps, and the walls were smeared with grease. Maintenance, apparently, wasn't much of a priority.

Lex climbed the steps two at a time and stopped on the fourth floor. He could feel his heart pounding in his throat as he knocked. The door opened, and then Clark was standing right there, blinking, startled to see him.

"Lex--" He shuffled his feet nervously. "I wasn't expecting--" He trailed off, and his eyes dropped to the floor.

"Can I come in?"

"Well--"

"Please? Just for a minute. I only want to talk."

"I guess," Clark finally relented and let him in.

A young man came out of the bedroom, pulling on his shirt. "Clark, I'm going to take off now." He stopped in surprise when he saw Lex.

Lex had no moral ground to stand on. He'd slept with someone else when they were still together, which was far worse than this. And yet, he was blindsided by rage. Someone else had been with Clark, touched him, maybe been inside him, gotten to see and hear and feel him at his most intimate, and that was supposed to belong only to him. He felt a new wave of guilt about what Clark must have gone through that night at the carnival. Because right now Lex felt like he was being stabbed in the chest, and all he could think about was murdering the bastard who'd had the temerity to fuck the man he loved.

The guy shot Clark a look of concern. "Hey, is everything okay--" He reached for Clark's arm.

Before Lex could stop himself he was pushing him away. "Get your fucking hands off him!"

"Lex! No!" Clark's arm swung out, holding him back. "He's just my roommate, Lex. My roommate."

The roommate's face went bright red with anger. "Tell your goddamned boyfriend to back off, man."

"Sorry about that, Trey. He's not going to make any more trouble, are you, Lex?" he asked, pointedly.

Lex shook his head and took a deep breath, trying to collect himself.

Trey rolled his eyes. "Later, man." He slammed the door.

"Nice guy," Lex said, dryly.

"Well, he is when he's not being attacked. What was that about, anyway?"

"I--" He couldn't meet Clark's eyes. "I thought--"

"I don't do that kind of work anymore. I have a job over at the supermarket. And besides, I'm not like you, Lex. I don't move on that fast."

If Clark had hit him, it wouldn't have hurt so much. "I'm sorry--"

"But if I had been fucking him, that would have been my business, not yours. Why did you even come here?"

His throat was so dry it was hard to speak. "I want another chance."

Clark stared at him incredulously. "Why? You're obviously tired of me. Ready to take up with some--" He clenched his jaw. "Somebody else."

"That not true. I--"

"I can't just be the whore you fuck when it's convenient, Lex. Not anymore, not when I--" He broke off.

"You're not! God. You're--" He struggled to find the right word. "You're everything, Clark. Do you understand that? Everything."

Clark shook his head, his eyes shining. "If I was, you wouldn't have-- Why did you do that, Lex? Why couldn't you just tell me you wanted to end it?" His voice was desperate, his eyes searching Lex's face for some explanation.

"I didn't want to end it. I don't. I swear to God." Lex closed his eyes. "I just-- I was jealous."

Clark didn't react for a moment. "What?"

He swallowed hard. "I thought you were having an affair. With Henry Howell."

Clark looked even more confused. "Because he talked to me? Because we played a game of Skeeball?" Clark stared at him in bewilderment. "And anyway, he's getting married."

"Yes, well, I know that now."

Clark shook his head. "You really don't get it, do you? I mean, besides the obvious that I just wouldn't ever, ever do that. Do you think any of those people in your circle give a shit about me? Except maybe Mitzi. Henry for sure doesn't. He was just being nice to me to suck up to you. All those people who were so eager to talk to me at the party? It's only because I'm with you. You're-- everyone wants to know you. And that's the only reason they get to know me. If I weren't with you, they wouldn't give me the time of day. No matter how nice they ever are, I never forget that."

"Clark, that's not--"

"It is true, Lex. You just don't see it because you--" He swallowed painfully. "Or at least you used to." His voice was choked. "Did you arrange to meet her there?"

"No! God, no. Clark." He grabbed his arm. "I didn't. I wouldn't. I just-- I saw you with Henry and I thought-- I was going to get my coat and leave. And she was there. I was drunk and angry and--" His throat hurt so much. "It just happened. I swear."

"I don't understand how you could think I'd cheat on you. After I told you how much I love you."

"People say that, Clark. They don't always mean it. People play games. They--"

"I don't," he said, with a flash of anger.

"I realize that now. I do. I should have understood it before."

Clark frowned. "It was your father, wasn't it? He made you believe things about me."

"My father-- He thinks happiness makes people soft, and it's his mission in life to see that I'm not soft. But I'm the one who-- did what I did. I take responsibility for it. It was my fault and nobody else's."

Clark's expression was thoughtful "That's how I found you. Your father. He told me where you were. Said you needed help. Needed me."

He probably shouldn't have been surprised by any cold-blooded thing his father did, but this viciousness had been directed at Clark and that made it different, made it worse. "I'm sorry you got caught up in this mess between me and my father. I'm so sorry you were hurt."

"Tell me you didn't want her," Clark said, a little desperately.

"I didn't. I swear to God. She's just somebody from the past. We don't even like each other. I just-- I wasn't thinking. And afterwards-- I can't even tell you how much I regretted it." He squeezed his eyes shut. "That's when she told me what she'd heard you and Henry talking about and-- I hated myself even more."

Clark's eyes widened. "She was part of it, too?"

Lex sighed. "I'm a complete fucking idiot."

"No, you're not. But you should have believed in me."

"I know. I was wrong, Clark. Very, very wrong." He moved closer, touched Clark's arm. "Please give me another chance. Let me make it up to you somehow. I'll do anything. I'll find a way. I promise. Just come home. Please. Come home where you belong."

Clark looked away. "I can't do that, Lex. I'm sorry. I just-- can't."

It's not like he'd expected Clark to agree right away, but the firmness of the rejection cut him. "Look, I know you don't trust me anymore. And for good reason. But if you'd just let me--"

"It's me I don't trust." He glanced down at Lex's wrist. "Is it broken?"

Lex was startled. "Um. No. Just a bruise."

"You went to the hospital and had it checked out?"

"I had a doctor I know take a look."

Clark frowned. "Did you have it x-rayed?"

"No. But it's fine, Clark. Really."

"Jesus, Lex. You could be walking around with a broken wrist." He reached for Lex's arm but then froze. "Is this all right?" Lex nodded, and Clark took his wrist gingerly in his hand and stared at it for a moment. "It's not broken," he said with relief.

Lex smiled crookedly. "Told you."

Clark actually smiled, too. For a moment, it was almost as if nothing had happened. But that was only for a moment.

"I still can't go home with you," Clark said, stubbornly.

"But why?"

"Because I did that, and I'm dangerous." Lex had never seen a more heart-breaking look on anyone's face.

"Clark, everyone loses their temper sometime. Everyone does things they wish--"

"I'm not everyone!" His face was filled with misery. "I can't afford to lose control, Lex. I can't get carried away. I could-- I could have done serious damage." His voice dropped to an almost inaudible whisper. "I could have killed you."

"Clark--"

"I hurt the people I care about. I don't mean to. But I do." He shook his head. "And I can't do that to you. I won't."

"You were hurt. Upset. You can't condemn yourself for one--"

"It's not just one time. You don't know everything about me. The things I've done." He looked down at the floor. "When I first got to Metropolis I was really messed up and-- scary." His voice shook. "I wanted to believe that wasn't me. That it was only because I wasn't in my right mind. But it's a part of me, that dark, ugly place. And it always will be."

"Everyone has darkness inside them. God knows I do, more than my fair share, I'm sure. And everyone has to fight that aspect of their nature. That's part of being human. Maybe it's true that you're not like everyone else, that it's more important for you to win your battle. But I know you will, because you're the kindest, most decent person I've ever known. Even though it probably doesn't seem like it, I do honestly trust you, Clark. More than I've ever trusted anyone in my whole life."

Clark looked almost hopeful, like he wanted to believe, but wasn't quite certain if he dared. "Are you sure you're not afraid of me?"

"The only thing I'm afraid of is losing you."

There was still hesitation in Clark's eyes, but he finally said, "Things would have to be different."

Hoped leaped wildly in Lex's chest. "Anything."

"I need you to tell me when something's bothering you, not keep it all bottled up inside. I knew something was wrong, that it had been for weeks, but I didn't know what and you always said everything was fine. If you'd talked to me, maybe I could have helped, shown you that you don't have anything to worry about. Maybe things would have been different."

Lex nodded. "You're right. I know you're right. I should have told you."

Clark's voice softened. "I know things have happened, and you have your reasons why you do things the way you do. But just try to remember I'm me, not them. Okay?"

"Okay."

Clark stroked his fingers along Lex's sleeve, just above the bandage. "And I won't ever, ever do this again. I swear to God."

"I know you won't. Is there anything else?"

"Just one more thing. I'm going to keep my job and apply for scholarships and go to school part-time if that's all I can afford. I'm going to buy my own books and my own clothes and any other stuff I need. I'm not going to let you pay for everything anymore."

"Clark, I really don't mind--"

"But I do." He sighed. "I need to stand on my own two feet, Lex. Be my own man. That's the way real relationships are. Between equals. And--" He hesitated. "If you always think I'm up for grabs to the highest bidder, you'll never really trust me."

"I don't think that!" Lex said, vehemently. Clark gave him a doubting look. "I really don't."

"I'm still going to pay for myself," Clark said, resolutely.

Lex let out his breath. "If that's really what you want." If worse came to worse, he could find ways to help Clark without him realizing it, phantom scholarships, mysterious stipends, a "sweepstakes" he'd luckily win. Clark would have the life he deserved, no matter what.

"Don't," Clark said.

"What?"

Clark rested his hand on the curve of Lex's head, lightly rubbed his thumb in circles over his temple. "Whatever devious plans you're spinning to pay for stuff behind my back."

"I'm not."

"I know you. And we were going to be more straightforward with each other, remember?"

Lex sighed. "You're life doesn't have to be hard."

"But it does have to be mine," Clark said, with quiet conviction. He pulled Lex closer, one arm around his shoulder in a light embrace. "It'll be better this way. You'll see. It'll just be about us, not money or other people or anything else."

Lex wrapped his arms around Clark's waist and held on tightly. "Does this mean you're coming home?"

"Yes." He pulled back. "But if you ever cheat on me again, it's over."

Lex swallowed hard. "I understand."

He gently lifted Lex's injured wrist. "And if I ever do anything like this again, you have to walk away from me. Promise?"

"But you won't."

"No. I won't. But promise anyway."

"All right." His voice went soft. "I'm really am sorry I hurt you, Clark."

"I'm sorry I hurt you, too."

Clark insisted on bringing the few pieces of rather beaten-up clothing he'd managed to acquire since he'd been gone back to the penthouse with him. They packed it into the Ferrari and headed off.

If Lex had expected the homecoming to be jubilant, to make everything right again, he was sadly disappointed. They didn't say much on the ride across town, and the silence only grew more pronounced as they rode the elevator up to the apartment. They carried Clark's things inside and stalled in the hallway between Lex's bedroom and the guest room in a moment of rather painful indecision.

"If you'd feel more comfortable--" he started to say.

At the same time, Clark volunteered, "If you want--"

They ended up leaving his stuff in the guest room, although frankly it was not what Lex wanted. Of course, he didn't expect Clark to feel like making love with him any time soon. But if he could just have him in his bed again, it would be so much easier to believe things were ultimately going to work out between them.

Still, it was hardly unreasonable that Clark would want some distance. Lex was just lucky he'd agreed to come back at all. He could be patient. He could wait. Give Clark space or time or whatever he needed.

"Um. I have some studying to do," Clark said awkwardly. "I guess I'll get to it."

Lex smothered his disappointment. "Of course. I have some business to take care of. I'll--see you later."

He left Clark and headed to his study. There was, in fact, a mountain of work that had piled up while he was focused on finding Clark. Still, he would happily have ignored it to spend time just sitting on the couch watching DVDs if that's what Clark wanted. He sighed unhappily and dug into the stack of papers.

Lex warmed up a meal the cook had left in the refrigerator, and dinner was as quiet as the rest of the afternoon had been. They cleaned up the kitchen, and Clark went back to his room for more studying. Lex returned to his desk and tried to concentrate on work, but his attention kept drifting to the spare room, to Clark, to how fucked up things were between them. Finally, he just gave up and went to knock at the door.

"Yeah?"

He peeked his head inside. "I think I'm going to turn in now."

Clark glanced at the clock. "It's kind of early. Is everything okay?"

"Sure. I just-- I'm a little tired."

"Oh." Clark's expression was very serious. "Well, okay. I'll see you in the morning then."

"Goodnight."

"'Nite, Lex."

He plodded down the hall to his room, closed the door and took off his clothes. His arms and legs felt so heavy just changing seemed like a chore. He pulled on his pajama bottoms, slid into bed and lay there, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling.

He was too tired to really think, and there wasn't much new ground to cover anyway. He couldn't go back and undo anything, so it was useless desperately wishing that he could. Besides, it had turned out far better than he could have expected, certainly better than he deserved. Clark had at least come home. If there was a feeling in Lex's chest like he was being ripped open, then he'd just have to learn to live with it. After all, he'd earned it.

He had no idea how long he lay there. He didn't really want to know and didn't look at the clock. The room grew gradually darker, and he figured it must be late by now. He wasn't going to be able to sleep, and he just wished this night would be over. Maybe things would seem a little better in the morning.

The last thing he expected was for Clark to appear in his room. He hovered in the doorway, dressed in the pajamas he didn't usually wear.

"Lex?" he whispered. "Are you awake?"

"Yeah. Is everything okay?"

He took a few steps toward the bed. "Not really." His expression was a mystery in the dim light, but he sounded sad and lost. "Would it be all right if I sat down?"

Lex nodded. He felt like someone had him by the throat, squeezing hard. If Clark had come to tell him it wasn't going to work after all, he'd have to accept it. He just couldn't imagine how he'd manage it.

"I need you to be straight with me the way we promised. Okay?" Lex nodded, and Clark asked, "Do you really want me to stay in the guest room?"

He closed his eyes. "No."

"I don't want to stay there, either," he said, in a rush. "I just-- I didn't know what to do before. It felt weird, and I'm not used to that with us. And I didn't know what you wanted."

"I just thought you might need some space after everything that's happened."

"And I thought maybe you didn't want me close after what I--" His voice dropped. "Tried to do."

"I want you close, Clark. I'll always want that."

"Can I stay then?"

He wanted to scream for sheer, fucking joy, but he said simply, "Sure."

He scooted over, and Clark slipped under the covers.

"Is it all right if I touch you? I don't mean-- I just want to hold you."

Lex nodded, and Clark curved up against his back, draped one arm over his waist.

"I didn't think you'd want this anymore," he admitted.

"Aw, Lex." He snuggled closer, pressed a kiss to Lex's shoulder. "Don't you know how much I missed you?"

"I missed you too, Clark." His voice felt like it had been scraped raw. "So much."

"I'm sorry I left you here alone when you were hurt. But after what I'd done--" He hesitated. "And what I tried to do, I just had to-- I couldn't stay. I'm sorry." He gently touched Lex's arm, just above the bandage. "I wouldn't have blamed you if you didn't want me touching you anymore."

"Clark, I'm just so fucking grateful you're here with me right now. You have no idea."

"Does your wrist hurt?"

He shook his head. "No, not really--"

Clark exhaled heavily against the back of his neck. "Lex."

He closed his eyes. "The doctor I told you I saw? He gave me pills for the pain, but there's this dull ache that never quite goes away."

"Is that why you can't sleep?"

"It's hard to sleep when you've fucked up the best thing you've ever had."

Clark held him tighter. "I know what you mean." He rested his cheek against Lex's shoulder. "Maybe it can't really be fucked up, though, if we don't let it?"

"I hope so. I don't want it to be."

"Me either." Clark's fingers drifted to the puckered scar on his side and stroked lightly, as if to soothe it away. "I didn't want to be like them. I wanted to be the one who never hurt you."

"Clark." He reached for Clark's hand, pressed it to his chest and held it there. "It's not the same. You've never hurt me when I didn't have it coming."

"Don't say that. Just because you do something I don't like doesn't give me the right to try to--" The pause was painful. "Or to break your arm."

"It's not broken, remember?"

"You know what I mean." Soft lips brushed his scalp. "You don't deserve to be hurt. I don't want you thinking that you do. You know, Lex, I do honestly believe you would never have done anything like this if it weren't for your father. That doesn't make it okay, but it does make a difference."

His throat clenched so tightly it was hard to speak. "Thank you."

"I forgive you, Lex. Just so you know. And I still love you. And I always will."

"Clark." He'd started to shake, and it felt like he might never stop, like he might fly apart. His own words of love cut him inside, but it felt as if he'd lost the right to say them, that he'd have to earn it back somehow. All he could do was clutch Clark's hand like a lifeline.

"Ssshh. It's okay." Soft kisses brushed the back of his neck. "I've got you, Lex."

In movies, people talked about starting over, pretending to meet again for the first time, trying to sweep away all the old history and move forward once more, hopefully not to repeat the same mistakes that had sent them back to the beginning in the first place. Lex had always smiled at these stories, the naïve hopefulness of it, the well-trodden romanticism. In his experience, ruined was ruined, and nothing was going to change that.

But this was Clark now, and ruin just wasn't an option.

Maybe starting over was inevitable for them anyway given how they'd begun. No prelude, no courtship, unless the way they'd watched and fantasized about one another back at the club counted, and Lex was pretty sure it didn't. He'd never had to win Clark, never wooed him. Maybe it was true that the most important things in life could never be bought. They had to be earned.

Clark certainly seemed to think so. He remained insistent about paying his own way, working at the grocery store four days a week. Tonight, Lex had actually beaten him home. Deliveries came in on Wednesdays, and Clark's shift tended to run late. Lex had picked up Chinese on his way and a couple of DVDs from the first season of Clark's favorite show, a soapy drama about a bunch of really pretty gay boys. He ignored the irrational prickle of jealousy he always felt about Clark's obsession with it. They were just actors. It was only a show. And besides, he'd learned his lesson.

He got plates and silverware from the kitchen, set out the food on the coffee table in the living room. Clark usually came home hungry. He poured himself a Scotch, and it wasn't long before Clark walked through the door.

He smiled when he saw Lex. "Hey."

"Hey." Lex went to kiss him.

They were still careful with one another, even after Clark had come to him that first night. They kissed, slept in the same bed, but they hadn't made love yet. Lex missed it, missed Clark's body, his skin, the closeness of sex. But it did give him a chance to appreciate the small moments. Sometimes just holding Clark's hand filled him with such an intense rush of feeling it made his chest hurt.

"How was your day?" Clark asked.

"Good. Yours?"

"An order of artichokes came in. That's a big day down at the market." He grinned. "Do I have time to grab a shower before dinner?"

"Sure. And, hey, I picked up two episodes of your show at the video store. I thought we could watch them."

"That's so nice. Thank you." He kissed Lex before heading off to the bathroom.

He came back a little while later dressed in sweats, hair still damp, and they settled down to sesame chicken and moo-shu vegetables. After they ate, Clark popped in the DVD and curled up beside Lex on the sofa, resting his head on his shoulder. It didn't really matter that Lex wasn't a big fan of the show. They could have been staring at a blank screen for all he cared, just as long as he got to hold Clark.

He drank his Scotch and pressed an occasional kiss to the top of Clark's head and paid little attention to the story. He could never remember the characters' names or keep straight who had the drug problem and which one's mother committed suicide. Clark watched, completely engrossed, and Lex watched him, trying not to be too obvious.

The show took one of its predictably steamy turns, and two boys tumbled into bed together, laughing and kissing and fumbling with each other's clothes. Lex felt Clark tense against him, and his own attention was suddenly riveted to the screen. The boys were soon naked, moaning and moving against each other, and Lex was instantly, painfully hard. Clark was so near and he smelled so good, and Lex wanted him so much.

Clark shot him a hesitant look. Lex stroked his thumb along his cheek, tilted his chin and kissed him, lightly at first, sweetly. This was how they'd touched each other since Clark had come back, safely, affectionately, skirting around the passion that still simmered between them. But the sounds coming from the boys on screen were remarkably true to life, and it could have been the two of them doing those things to each other. Lex leaned into Clark, tangled his fingers in his hair, and the kiss caught fire, lighting all the reserves of hunger they'd been carefully holding back.

Lex devoured Clark's mouth, and Clark kisses were just as frenzied, leaving them both shuddering and breathless. There was a silent, fearful part of Lex that had wondered if he'd ever have this again, and now that he finally did, he couldn't get close enough, couldn't kiss or touch Clark enough.

Clark shifted his body, and Lex could feel the heat of his hard-on against his thigh. He sighed softly against his mouth and stroked his hands over his back. That Clark still wanted him made him almost weak with relief. Clark rubbed his hand in circles up the inside of his thigh. He let his legs fall open in encouragement. When Clark finally touched his cock through his pants, he gasped out loud, because, God, it felt so good and he'd missed this so much.

Clark, though, reacted as if he'd been slapped. He jumped back, scrambled away to the other end of the sofa. "I'm sorry," he said, eyes downcast.

"It's all right. It's--"

It was hard to find the right words when he ached for Clark so badly he didn't know how he'd stand it. But Clark clearly wasn't ready, and he had to respect that.

Clark got to his feet. "I'm just--" He waved his hand. "I think I'll go get ready for bed." He practically ran from the room.

Lex let out his breath and flopped back against the sofa. The scene on television had changed. There were different boys, in a club now, dancing, kissing. Lex's erection strained painfully against his zipper. He undid his pants, eased his cock out, but made sure to flip off the set first. Leaving it on would have felt too much like cheating. He squeezed his eyes shut and thought of Clark and jacked himself off, coming in his handkerchief to avoid a mess, hardly how he'd envisioned the evening ending.

He cleaned up the remains of dinner, and by the time he headed into the bedroom Clark was pretending to sleep. Lex changed into his pajamas and washed up in the bathroom. He slid into bed beside Clark, who was lying on his side, turned away from him, body tense. Lex stared up at the ceiling, wondering if they were ever really going to get past this.

Finally, he reached out and touched Clark's shoulder. "You okay?"

"I'm sorry, Lex." Clark sounded miserable.

Lex rubbed his hand in circles. "We're just at different places with this. There's nothing to be sorry for."

"You're not mad at me?"

"Of course not." He pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

Clark turned to face him. Lex folded him into his arms, stroked his hair.

"It's going to be okay," he said, as much to convince himself as Clark.

At least Lex was making progress at work. The next week, he got the call he'd been waiting for from Mason Tucker.

"We found the leak."

Lex gripped the phone tighter. "Who?"

"I'd rather discuss it in person. How's your afternoon look?"

"Be here in ten minutes."

He spent the time pacing up and down his office like some dangerous, caged thing. Payback was something he took seriously under any circumstances. He'd endured enough betrayal in his life that it had left a permanent bitter taste. But this bastard had sold him out to his father. Recent events had made that an even graver affront than usual. He planned to see that this traitor was very, very sorry. And he was going to enjoy doing it, too.

Tucker and his associates arrived and were sent directly in.

"Well?" Lex demanded the minute the door was closed.

Tucker took a seat, opened his briefcase, pulled out some papers. "You might want to sit down."

"Just show me."

Tucker handed him the report, and his mouth fell open. "You've got to be kidding."

"I'm afraid not."

"That little--" Lex lunged, halfway to the door before Tucker stopped him.

"We can't tip him off."

"Why the hell not? I want the police here. I want that spying son of a bitch in jail. Right now!"

"So do I. But we need evidence we can actually present in court. The surveillance we did on your competitors to break the case-- Well, let's just say it can't bear that kind of scrutiny."

Lex curled his hands into fists. "If he gets away with this--"

"He won't. Trust me."

Lex sighed impatiently. "So what do we do now?"

"Set a trap. Get proof we can use. The law is on our side when it comes to workplace surveillance. We'll rig this whole place with cameras tonight. Put a tap on the phone at his desk and in every common area on the floor. Monitor his email and Internet. We'll plant some information, tipping him off that something big is up. Tomorrow, you'll get a special delivery, couriered by my people, top-secret research from Cadmus. Then you'll suddenly be called away. And when he makes his move, we'll have him."

"What if he doesn't go for it?"

"He will. If he weren't waiting for another score, he wouldn't still be here."

Lex thought it over. "Do it," he said. "I want him behind bars. I want this over."

Tucker nodded. "We'll get started as soon as the subject has cleared the building."

"Good. I want that bastard out of my company, out of my building, out of my goddamned sight."

"You got it." Tucker gave his team the sign, and they headed for the door. "By the end of the day tomorrow, he'll be on his way to jail. I guarantee it."

They left, and Lex flopped down on his chair. It was one kind of insult to get played by his father. It was another that the instrument of his father's victory turned out to be the village idiot.

He sighed. There was only one thing that would make him feel better. He picked up the phone.

"Hello?" Clark answered.

"Hey."

"Lex." Even after everything that had happened, Clark still sounded as if it was the best kind of treat when Lex called, and that still made Lex feel like the luckiest man alive.

"How's the studying going?"

"Good. I think I'll be ready for the test by Saturday."

"You're going to do great."

"How's your day?"

He sighed. "What if I told you I'd been outwitted by a moron?"

Clark laughed softly. "I'd say that was pretty hard to believe."

He smiled, despite himself. "It's sad but true, I'm afraid."

"Then whoever it was must have just gotten lucky."

He cleared his throat. "Clark, would you like to go out to dinner with me tonight?" He felt almost nervous asking. They'd kept things very low key since Clark's return, and this would be the first time they'd actually gone out in public together.

"I'd love to, Lex," Clark's voice pulsed warmly over the line, and no matter how good it had been before, this was still better, because Clark wasn't paid to say yes. He might not even let Lex buy him dinner. It wasn't about money or connections or anything but the two of them. Lex really did believe that now.

"I'll see you soon," he said, smiling like a man who wasn't quite so afraid to be in love anymore.

They were late for their dinner reservation. Not because they didn't make it to the restaurant on time, but because Lex kept Clark outside a good ten minutes just saying hello.

Clark smiled softly as Lex explored a sensitive spot behind his ear. "So I'm guessing you're glad to see me?"

"Mmm." He kissed along Clark's jaw.

"Bad days have an interesting effect on you."

"They give me a renewed appreciation for the good things."

Clark pressed close, and Lex could feel the heat of his body. "Do you want to just skip dinner and go home?"

"Yes." He took Clark's hand and led him into the restaurant. "But I invited you out, and never let it be said that I welsh on a date."

Clark smiled, his eyes warm. "A date, huh?"

Lex kissed him. "Yes."

The maitre' d seated them. They took a look at the menu and ordered.

Lex sipped his wine, leaned back in his chair and studied Clark. "So tell me about your ambitions."

"What do you mean?"

"Just-- What do you want to be when you grow up?"

"Oh." Clark's eyes twinkled. "Well-- You're probably not going to like it."

Lex smiled. "Try me."

"I always kind of thought I'd like to be a reporter."

"Ah, a muckraker," Lex said, playfully.

Clark arched an eyebrow. "Don't you mean investigative journalist?"

"So you like to write?"

"I do," Clark said, almost as if it were a revelation. "I used to work on the school paper back home. Really just because a friend of mine strong-armed me into it. But the more I got involved with it, the more I could see spending my life doing that."

"I'd like to read something you've written sometime."

Clark's face lit up. "Really?"

"Of course."

Clark leaned forward. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure. Anything."

"Did you always know you wanted to run your own company?"

He nodded. "I grew up with the assumption that I'd take over LuthorCorp someday. I never really considered any other possibilities."

"Do you like your job?"

"You know, I do. I like-- Well, I like being in charge, needless to say." Clark grinned at that. "I like the mental challenge of it. Business is a lot like playing chess, anticipating your competitors' moves and countering them. And, of course, when you work for yourself you're actually taking a risk. And I like that best of all. Not playing it safe."

Clark was smiling softly.

"What?" Lex asked.

He shook his head. "It's just-- nice. We've never really talked like this before."

"No, I guess we haven't."

"Why now?" Clark regarded him curiously.

"Because starting over isn't just a plot device."

Clark blinked. "Um. What?"

"Things shouldn't just be different. They should be better."

Clark reached for his hand. "I want that, too."

Dinner arrived, and their conversation ranged all over the place. Lex confessed his embarrassingly geeky devotion to Warrior Angel. Clark shyly described how it had been for him in high school, feeling like a stranger, a guy who didn't play sports and blended into the woodwork, who had a crush on the prettiest girl but oddly didn't want to sleep with her and couldn't quite figure out why.

There was so much more that Lex wanted to know, wanted to tell. And he had to wonder why he'd never done this before, not just with Clark, but with anyone, why he'd always rushed past these important getting-to-know-you moments. He'd married Desiree after knowing her barely two weeks. Even if that was largely due to the brain-sapping spell she'd put on him, his head had been perfectly clear with Helen, and he'd known her only two months before asking her to move in. He could imagine the field day a therapist would have with all this. Are you trying to make up for the family you never really had? Do you think people will leave if you truly let them get to know you?

It was no wonder, frankly, that Lex didn't have a therapist.

They finished eating, and the check came. Lex reached for it, and Clark pulled out his wallet.

"I've got it," Lex told him.

"You know our agreement."

"Yes, and I also know that I invited you out. So it's only customary that I treat you." He plunked down a credit card and handed it to their waiter before Clark could argue further.

"What if I asked you out?" Clark challenged.

The waiter returned with the credit card receipt. Lex signed it, and they rose to go.

"Then I'd expect you to be a gentleman."

Clark smiled and took his hand as they headed for the coat check. "So are you busy on Saturday night? I'd like to take you out to celebrate. I get my first paycheck and hopefully I will have passed my test. I probably can't afford anything as fancy as this, but--"

He pulled Clark in for a kiss. "I'd love to."

Clark's face practically glowed with pleasure, and there was almost nothing that could have ruined Lex's mood right then. Unfortunately, running into Millicent Brubaker outside the cloakroom was one of them.

"Alex!" She made a big, gushing display of kissing him on the cheek. "It's so good to see you." Her glance traveled over to Clark. "And-- Carl, is it?" She smiled like the viper she was.

If Lex's jaw tightened any more his teeth would have cracked. "What do you want?"

"Only to say hello," she said innocently. And then pointedly looked over at the coatroom. "Brings back memories, huh, Alex?" She winked.

Clark stepped between them. "From what Lex tells me, I'd say it's more like nightmares."

Her mouth dropped open. "You little--"

Clark turned and laid a kiss on Lex that he felt down to his knees. Who knew a territorial Clark would be such a turn on?

"I'm afraid you're out of luck-- Melanie, was it?" Clark's voice was icy. "Lex doesn't do pity fucks anymore." He looked her up and down. "And haven't you heard? The FDA says silicone is bad for your health."

Millicent's face turned bright red. It was not the way she was used to being spoken to, and she seemed at a loss for words. Frankly, Lex was rather taken by surprise himself. Millicent shot them a poisonous look, turned on her heel and stalked away. Lex pressed his face into Clark neck and started to shake.

"Are you laughing at me?" Clark demanded, sounding hurt.

Lex shook his head. "No, no, with you." He wiped his eyes. "I haven't seen her speechless since-- Well, ever." He started laughing again.

"You really don't like her, do you?"

"Not even a little bit."

"Good," Clark said, with obvious satisfaction. "Because she can't have you."

He stroked his thumb along Clark's cheek. "No, she really can't."

Clark's smile was the brightest Lex had ever seen it.

They got their coats and went home. Back at the apartment, they headed into the bedroom to change. Clark sat down on the edge of the bed to take off his shoes. Lex put his cufflinks away and watched Clark in the mirror. They'd made progress. He could feel it. And yet, he still couldn't guess how Clark felt about going to bed with him. He'd thought he'd understood Clark's reticence the other night, but now he wasn't so sure. He was beginning to see the wisdom in Clark's insistence that they be more straightforward with each other.

He turned around. "I'd really like to have sex with you." Clark froze mid-shoelace. "I miss it. Miss being close to you that way. But I understand if you're not ready, and I can wait."

Clark darted a worried look at him. "I-- I didn't think--"

"Like I said, if you're not ready--"

Clark let out breath. "It's not that."

Lex sat down beside him. "Then what?"

"I just didn't expect that you'd want to-- after what I did." His eyes dropped to the floor.

"We both made mistakes, and we're both sorry. And, hey--" He tilted Clark's chin up. "We're both forgiven."

"What if I don't forgive myself?"

"Clark--"

He shook his head. "No, Lex. Don't try to say that what you did is the same, because it's not. You didn't almost--" His voice broke. "Rape the person you love. I don't know how I could have done that." His eyes locked desperately with Lex's. "And I'm afraid. What if something happens and I lose control again?"

"Clark." His voice was firm. "It's not going to happen again. You know why? Because you feel this bad about it. It's the same way you know I'll never cheat on you again."

"But I don't understand why, Lex. And I need to. Or I can't--" He shook his head. "Can't trust myself."

Lex had never really allowed himself to think about things that might have happened to Clark before they met, because just the idea of other men touching him was enough to drive him crazy. But Clark had said a lot of ugly things that night when he'd gotten angry, and those ideas had to have come from somewhere. Lex felt certain Clark's inner landscape was natively sunny. Dark and twisted things had to be transplants.

"It must have been pretty hard out on the streets, huh?"

"It wasn't fun."

"And the men you were with weren't always particularly nice to you, I'm guessing?"

Clark wouldn't answer, wouldn't even look at him.

"Did they hurt you?"

He shook his head. "They couldn't. I'm too strong."

"Hurt isn't always physical, Clark."

"Some of them called me names." His voice got very quiet. "Whore and bitch and stuff like that. And some of them-- liked to come in my face. They always got a big laugh out of that. And it made me feel so--" He didn't finish, but then he didn't have to.

Lex closed his eyes. "I'm sorry that happened to you."

"That's the first thing I noticed about you. That you weren't like that. Even the way you looked at me, like you actually saw me and not just some anonymous piece of ass. It was always different with you. I never felt dirty. Never felt like a whore."

"Until that night when you saw me with Millicent. Then it wasn't different anymore. Then it felt like you were back in your old life. Oh, Clark." He slipped his arm around Clark's shoulders and hugged him.

Clark whispered, "I would have hated myself if I'd actually--"

"But you didn't." He gathered Clark's face in his hands and looked into his eyes. "And you know what? I still love you. And I should have said that before."

Clark's face lit with a cautious kind of hope. "You do?" He sounded like a child who wanted something too much, and it was almost painful for Lex to hear. "I kind of thought, but you never said. I just hoped--"

Lex kissed him. "I do. I always have. I'm just kind of an idiot sometimes."

"No, you're not." Clark's hands couldn't seem to stay still. They rubbed at Lex's shoulders, thumbs traced the hollows under his collarbone, fingers splayed across the back of his neck. "You're just careful. And I like that about you. I really like you, Lex. Even if we weren't--" He pressed his warm palm flat against Lex's chest, right over his heart. "I'd still want to be your friend."

It was, without doubt or comparison, the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him, and the best part was that Clark actually meant it.

Lex rested his forehead against Clark's. "Can I make love to you?"

"Yes." Clark licked his lips. "Please. I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you, too. And I love you. More than I've ever loved anyone."

He spent the rest of the night showing Clark just how much he meant it.