Summary: Lex learns about trust and love from an unlikely source.
Notes/Warnings: AU, so very AU
Fair warning, dear readers—the mistakes here are all my own. Thanks to danceswithgary for her encouragement and of course, the lovely cover!
*kicks story out into the cold* Fly, you little bastard, fly!
The informal dining room was pretty much as he remembered, twice as big as his apartment—he looked around and snorted—three times as big, one wall all windows, framed by heavy drapes and rope. In the mornings and the afternoon, they were filled with a view of the carefully maintained rose gardens and the wrought iron gazebo that had been one of his mother's favorite spots in the garden. Tonight, they were black and full of reflected candlelight, and the golden glitter of the chandeliers. Roses from the bouquet on the sideboard scented the air, and competed with the smell of fresh rolls and leek soup, his favorite. Every item on the menu was his favorite, or what had been his favorite at sixteen….
The table was almost as long as the formal one, long enough that if they were fighting, there was plenty of space between seats and you wouldn’t have to hear the stutter of angry breath and feel hot eyes… tonight they sat close, bathing in warmth, love. Jules smiled so hard it almost hurt Alex. His blue eyes danced, in the candlelight they looked even bluer and his red hair blazed, exactly the shade his own had been when he…was younger. He glanced at his father and his father was staring at Jules and when Alex caught his eyes, he was sure they'd been thinking same thought. Lionel smiled at him and he felt comfortable enough to smile back.
The servants brought in the first course, and Alex was grateful to be able to concentrate on his soup, on the creamy feel of the linen under his fingertips. The spoon clinked gently against his teeth, and the edge was smooth, no trace of roughness, no slight bite of the burrs cheap flatware sometimes had. He had no idea why that seemed so…large a thing, or why it made him a little sad. He sipped his excellent soup and listened to his dad and Jules converse, the talk fluttered between work, school, hobbies…Alex listened without adding anything to the conversation. He just couldn’t see talking about the Al-Kazar, or Walt and Chloe getting married, or how they'd canned the new Piano who was talented but a hop-head, and how Clark was out looking for Pete, to tell him to come back home, all was safe again because everyone who might hold a grudge was dead or in jail …so, yeah. Not conducive to a relaxed dinner conversation. This—dressing for dinner, servants, crystal and silver, all of this--was as foreign now as if he'd never experienced it.
"…and we're going up against Princeton Academy next week, I hope you can make it—it's early evening so it shouldn’t interfere with your band…"
Damn. He had no idea what his brother had just asked—"Lex, I do believe Jules has overtaken you in your enthusiasm for fencing. I know you'd enjoy seeing him."
Alex cast his dad a grateful look and smiled at Jules. "Wild horses couldn’t keep me away, squirt. I'll be there."
"Do you think your friend can come? I'd like to get to know him better. He…I want to thank him."
For a moment Alex thought he meant Beebs—Bruce Wayne--but he realized he'd meant Clark, the other half of his heroic rescue. "I can ask him kid, something tells me he'd get a bang out of seeing you fence."
Jules nodded, pink with pleasure. They finished the main course, and after the dessert, it was Jules' bedtime. Alex was about to offer to walk him back with him to his room when the door opened, and in walked an older man, a servant familiar to Alex, carrying a tray with a decanter and two tumblers on it, and behind him, a young woman he'd never seen before.
The man set the tray down, and placed the decanter and glasses in from of Lionel, and smiled at Alex. He placed a crystal ashtray and a cigarette box in front of him, and said, "Master Lex, good to see you home, sir."
It felt weird to have Alfred address him as sir…"It's good to be here, Alfred."
He nodded, bid them good evening and left. Jules came to his feet and threw his arms around Alex's neck. "Are you staying tonight? Don’t leave without telling me good night if you aren't."
"I'm not staying, but I'll be in to say good-bye, even if I have to wake you up. Promise," he said, and Jules kissed his cheek, ran over and kissed his dad good night.
The young woman waiting for Jules was tall, dark and severe. Her face was clean of makeup; her black hair was pulled back into a painfully tight bun. She seemed expressionless, but her eyes were warm as she watched Jules, a warmth that quickly frosted when she caught Alex watching her. She held her hand out to Jules who brushed past it rather haughtily, Alex thought, and she followed him out with a faint hint of an approving smile.
After Jules had left, he raised an eyebrow at his dad. "So who was that? New help? A…nanny?" His expression must have shown just how bewildered he was by the idea, so much so that Lionel choked out a laugh.
"No, no, God no—" Lionel poured out drinks between them. "She's his body guard." He shrugged at Alex's startled 'hunh'. "She's very well trained—very well. And it helps Jules to relax. He's been…rather tense since the. The kidnapping. Very…he needs so much reassurance—touches…it's as if he's regressed to a younger age."
Alex nodded. "Sure, I understand that, I do..." Alex felt a sharp stab of grief for Jules. He was waking up in the middle of the night himself, to the feel of that gun drilling in under his chin and God, those eyes…
"Mercedes is worth her weight in gold if she helps Jules to feel safe. I'm sorry that it has to be, but we do what we must…what about yourself, son? How are you, after…after…?"
"Clark helps." He smiled at his dad. "He helps a lot."
Lionel glanced away and back. After a moment he said, "I'm glad."
They were silent for a bit, sipping scotch, being civilized, restrained, being…Luthors. Alex lit a cigarette, watched the smoke drift before speaking. Trying to figure out what to say—how to say it. "So…I'm here because you wanted to talk to me?"
"Son, I need someone to help me overhaul the company, to excise the contaminated parts, make it whole. I want you to join me in the business. I want you to come home. " He stopped and Alex exhaled quietly. It was pretty much what he'd expected his dad to say.
"I love you—anything I did was out of love even if it didn’t feel like it or look like it. I knew you could do it, I knew you'd survive, thrive even. You're a winner son, I made you a winner." He said again, "I love you Alex."
Alex nodded thoughtfully. "I know. I know you love me. Thing is Dad, my life is full of people who loved me, and then hurt me for 'my own good'. For a long time I thought the best way to protect myself was not ever to love, and I thought I was happy—safe anyway. And then I found it might be possible to love and not be hurt." He grinned wryly at his dad. "I'm hoping for that anyway. The mere fact I'm willing to risk being hurt for him, I'd say was a step in the right direction. As for working for you? I don’t know Dad, I'm not sure if that is the right direction. That's something I'll have to think about."
He expected harsh words, dismissal, but Dad surprised him. "All right, my boy. You take your time thinking about my offer. It will stand." He stood, and walked around the table. He took Alex's hand. "I'm not trying to make up for what happened, Lex. I'm trying to start something new between us. I hope that you'll give me a chance one day."
Alex shrugged. "You've done a good job with Jules. He's a terrific kid. He seems happy. Even now, with everything that happened, it's plain to see he's sure that he's loved."
Lionel dropped Alex's hand. "I've tried my best."
All the way home, Alex thought of his father's offer, and wondered if it was the right thing to do. Bruce had told Clark he envied Alex his freedom, that it had been a gift from his dad. It was an expensive gift for the both of them…maybe Bruce was right. Maybe what he had now was a freedom too important to throw away….
He took a cab to the Luxor and from there he walked to Clark's apartment. He ran up the stairs, and down his hallway, he planned to kick the door until he opened it…before he could touch it the door flew open; Clark grabbed him by the lapels and pulled him inside.
His eyes were huge and dark with fear—"What? What is it? What's wro--uh!"
Alex crushed his mouth against Clark's like he was trying to inhale him, in seconds he was moaning, twisting against him—he yanked Clark's suspenders down, tore his shirt and ripped his fly open—he waited for Clark to push him away, instead, Clark whirled him around and dumped him on the bed so hard the springs shrieked. Alex lay on his back, blinking. "Clark…"
He didn’t answer; he was busy shedding what was left of his clothes. Alex licked his lips, couldn't look away…he was so hard. Clark stroked himself, his palm curving over his erection, but his eyes were a million miles away, and then—he focused on Alex again.
"Okay," Clark said. He looked like he'd been confronted with some difficult puzzle, one he was going to work out, no matter what it took. "Okay," he repeated, and pulled Alex's shoes off, and Alex toed off his socks, grinned when Clark made a show of carefully unbuttoning his trousers, tossing Alex an annoyed look. Alex bit his cheek to keep from smiling--he'd pretty much destroyed Clark's. It was okay, he'd buy him another pair. Clark pulled the pants off, pointedly folded them—and tossed them somewhere in the vicinity of the table.
He pulled Alex's shirt off, and gave a pleased little huff at the expected lack of undershirt, and stroked Alex from neck to hip. "You're so beautiful. You're like velvet, like satin and velvet." Sliding lower, he kissed Alex's calves, one after the other, licked around his kneecaps until Alex snorted and jerked away. Clark snickered. He unbuttoned and pulled the underwear down, his hands curving over Alex's hips as he did, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin. Alex groaned—it was so small a thing but it sent waves of warmth through him, arousal, and more…he was so much in love it made him dizzy. Clark mouthed his dick, licked loops around his head, nipped the inside of his thigh. Alex shivered, a low moan rolled out of his throat and Clark grinned—Alex felt it against his skin. He didn't protest when Clark stopped, moved lower and pushed his nose into his balls, and moaned himself.
"Love the way you smell, the way you taste…" the wet warm feel of Clark's tongue pressing against him, the barest touch of teeth, just enough to make him suck in a startled breath…Clark pushed his thighs back, pulled him open. Alex shuddered, "don’t, you don’t have to do that—"
"Shhhh…" Clark slid his tongue along his cleft and stopped where he was most sensitive, right over the tight whorl of muscle, right where he couldn't stop his hips from bucking up, a whine bursting free. Clark chuckled again and that sharp burst of air against his sensitive skin did crazy things to him—
"Oh God, maybe you should stop, I—fuck…"
"Nope, not going to, you always say that—" and twirled his tongue over his hole, nudged inward, pushed in—fucked him, until Alex was wet and open and almost screaming.
Clark reached out over him, swiped his hand over the crate that held his books, his lamp, opened a little wicker box and pulled out—
"Rubbers? Were you that certain?" Alex snapped, annoyed, aroused, and annoyed with himself for bring so aroused, for not being able to hide the fact that he really, really wanted Clark to fuck him…
"I got them for you to, you know…when you, if you…wanted to fu—fuck me."
No one who had their tongue that deep inside you should be able to blush that hard, Alex thought. Clark pulled back, head down, his hair falling over his eyes. "I'm sorry; I thought…I mean…I thought it might change things for you. Stupid, I know."
"Clark, don’t—I'm just--God, yes it’s the best idea in the world--" He was on the verge of babbling, because it occurred to him—it *was* perfect. This was a way to wipe away everything, or—or—some of it, and then he stopped thinking. Clark was over him again, and asking, "Are you sure?" and there was so much in his eyes, so much--"I love you, I want to help you, to make it…better…"
Alex reached up, grabbed handfuls of Clark's hair and pulled him down into a bruising kiss that left Clark gasping in surprise. He felt the hot weight of him twitch on his stomach, was unbearably aware of how smooth and soft his own skin was. Clark groaned and jerked again. "You feel…"
Clark's hips surged upwards and his dick swiped a long, hot streak across Alex's belly, it made him want so much. "Clark—just. Fuck me, okay? No more waiting, now, please."
Clark bit his lip and shook his head. He rolled a rubber down over himself; big hands making it look like delicate work, watching himself smooth it down, plump lower lip caught between his teeth—
Alex trembled from head to toe. Oh my God this—this *being*, this angel, this boy, I swear, he's going to be the death of me… He grinned. "But what a way to go…"
"What?" Clark smiled uncertainly, Alex shook his head. Clark licked his lips, "Should I, now?"
Clark reached between them and lined himself up with Alex, nerves making his hand twitch and every twitch rubbed the broad hot head across his hole and it felt like warm electricity. "Tell me if I hurt you," Clark whispered.
"Oh, no worry there," Alex said, "I'm not that into pain—oh--" He gasped, his eyes rolled back when the head of Clark's dick popped inside—it took his breath away. Clark stopped immediately.
"Oh God, I knew it—I hurt you!"
Alex kicked a heel into Clark's back, "No you goof, it felt…God, so good…" He arched and moaned low in his throat as Clark pushed in and in and in…"fuck me."
Clark began to move, so carefully at first, then deeper, faster as his confidence, his need grew, and Alex felt shock after shock of pleasure—Clark slid his hands under him, cupped his ass and tilted his hips, instinct or just, "really, really good at this," Alex babbled to himself, and the shocks turned into stars exploding and showering through his body. His dick was aching for touch and Clark wrapped one hand around him and Alex pushed up into the circle of his hand.
"Oh. Sorry Lex, not going to last much longer…"
"It's okay, just keep doing what you're doing, it's—oh God. Just like that--"
Clark's face screwed up in concentration, Alex watched his eyes grow darker; the blush on his cheeks spread down his neck and flooded his chest, a single drop of salt fell on Alex's lip. He felt Clark twitch inside him, begged, "Clark not yet, not yet."
"Sorry, trying, sorry, oh—oh!" He looked shocked—mouth open in astonishment as he came. The look, the feel of Clark coming inside him, the rough-gentle tug of his hand sent Alex over the edge. He felt like he was flying apart over and over and every bit of him was filled with pleasure so deep it was almost pain. Every muscle tightened--Clark yowled, shook; he arched and his hips stuttered against him….
Alex was stunned—"You can’t—that's not—did you just come again?"
Clark was leaning on his elbows, his head right above Alex's. His eyes were closed, sweat drenched him, and he was panting, all he could do was nod, too short of breath to speak.
Alex tried to press his lips together but it didn't help-- what he assured himself was a manly chuckle and not a self satisfied giggle at all still managed to leak out….
Clark gasped a little laugh. "Cheshire—cat—you—" he pulled out gently as he could, looked briefly alarmed when Alex gasped but smiled when he let out a long breathy sigh of satisfaction. They both collapsed into the tangle of damp sheets, wrapped around each other.
"Ugh. Wet." Alex complained. "And this bed is horribly small Clark—how do you manage it?
Clark kissed Alex's nose, his chin, and flicked his tongue over his mouth. "Bed I can't help, wet I can do something about," Clark said, rolling to his feet.
Alex bit back a smile as Clark removed the rubber just as carefully as he'd applied it, tossing it with a little moue of distaste. Alex beamed as he watched him—he was so unselfconscious…he turned and stared intently at a bowl of water on the little porcelain hotplate, and Alex wondered just what he was staring at so hard when the bowl began steaming…"Oh…"
Clark looked over his shoulder, tense for a moment until Alex smiled. "Convenient".
He dipped a towel into the hot water, and used it to clean Alex, who stretched like a cat under the smooth warm strokes. "I think I could spend my whole life spoiling you rotten."
"You could try," Alex smirked.