want

Whitney’s breath came out in small puffs as he jogged along an empty path in Smallville Park. His sneakers tapping the pavement in even steps were the only sounds in the cool, November air. Whitney liked doing his running early in the morning, hitting the park entrance by 5am. Few others were out at this time, and he enjoyed the 30 minutes of peace. For those 30 minutes, he wasn’t Whitney Fordman, town jock and football hero. He wasn’t Lana Lang’s boyfriend. He wasn’t Jack Fordman’s son.

He could be himself.

Of course, no one knew the real Whitney Fordman. He kept that side completely hidden. The side that didn’t really want to play football, didn’t even like it. The side that wasn’t in love with Lana, but wanted to explore what else was out there in the world, outside of the sometimes smothering atmosphere of Smallville.

He came to the west edge of the park, the side that bordered the Luthor estate. He was stopped by the heavy 10 foot high iron fencing, as he was every morning. This was where he turned around and headed back to the park entrance. He placed his hands on the bars and leaned against it, breathing slowly.

He stared up at the Luthor mansion, taking in the huge brick structure and marveling at the castle out here in Kansas. A flash of movement from one of the ornate side doors caught his eye. He figured it was a servant, until he saw a familiar bald head, followed by another equally familiar mop of shiny black hair. Whitney leaned closer to the fence, squinting.

What was Clark Kent doing at Lex Luthor’s this early in the morning?

As he was mulling this over, he watched Lex wrap his arms around Clark’s waist, pulling him closer. They kissed, and Whitney’s eyes widened.

It wasn’t a friendly peck, but a full on passionate lip lock with some major groping.

“Holy shit,” Whitney whispered.

He watched them break apart, saw the look of complete happiness on Clark’s face, the absolute lust on Lex’s, and felt frozen to the spot. Then Clark turned and jogged away from the house, ducking behind some trees. Lex went back inside.

A rustle of dry leaves came from Whitney’s left, and he jumped back when Clark emerged from a space in the fence. Clark came to an abrupt halt when he saw Whitney, his eyes huge.

“Whitney, what are you doing here?”

Whitney stepped away from the fence, and studied the younger man’s expression. It was a face of fear.

“I could ask you the same thing, Kent,” he said.

Clark shoved his hands in his pockets. “Lex wanted to talk. That’s all.”

“You guys have an interesting way of talking.”

A slight redness began creeping up Clark’s neck. “You. . .saw us?”

“Just the goodbye kiss.”

“Whitney, I-”

Whitney held up a hand. “I’m not going to say anything.”

“You’re not?”

Whitney shook his head. “I won’t say a word. Yet,” he added, almost enjoying the stiffening of Clark’s body.

“What do you mean? What do you want?” Clark asked.

Whitney pretended to pick dirt from his sneakers. “I’ll let you know. See you at school, Kent.”

Then he took off running. The air felt different around him now. It was practically crackling with energy, and Whitney realized he could finally have something he’d wanted for years, if he was brave enough to take it.

~*~*~*~

Whitney grabbed his chemistry book from the top shelf of his locker, then slammed the door shut. His heart leapt into his throat when he saw Clark standing on the other side. He was dressed in jeans and a blue T-shirt, different clothes than this morning.

“Jesus. Are you trying to scare the hell out of me?”

“What is it that you want, Whitney?”

Whitney just smirked. “It’s driving you nuts, isn’t it?”

“Just tell me what you want.”

“Thing is, I haven’t quite decided yet,” he lied. “I’ll get back to you.” He gave a slight nod and walked away.

He slowed after a few steps and glanced back over his shoulder. Clark was still standing at the locker, backpack slung over his left shoulder, as always. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed heavily, leaning against the lockers. For a split second, Whitney felt bad, but he quickly brushed away the feeling.

It was hard for Whitney to concentrate during his classes that day. His mind kept replaying the morning’s event over and over. Each time he thought about it, new details emerged, as if he were zooming in on the moment with a high-powered lens.

Clark’s hair had been more ruffled than usual, his blue and white flannel shirt untucked. His left sneaker had been untied. And when Clark had appeared in front of him, his lips had been slightly swollen, pink and plump.

Everything made sense, the more Whitney thought about it. Clark always acted differently whenever Lex was around. He smiled more, and now Whitney knew why. Lex seemed to have an unusual affection for Clark; it wasn’t surprising anymore to catch the two of them at The Talon, heads bent over a cup of coffee, laughing at their own private joke. And judging by the obvious dislike that Jonathan Kent held for Lex, Whitney was sure their relationship was not known.

But the strangest thing about this whole situation was the feeling of envy that Whitney held in his chest towards Lex. Lex knew what it was like to kiss Clark, to hold him, to wake up to him in the morning and just stare at his beauty.

Whitney wanted to know that, too.

At lunch, Lana was babbling on and on about something, and Whitney didn’t really care. When she noticed how distracted he was, she pursed her lips and pouted. Whitney soothed her with a kiss, and she was back to babbling. Across the cafeteria, Clark was carrying his backpack and a tray full of food. He was sandwiched between Chloe and Pete, who were involved in an animated conversation. Clark, however, was obviously thinking of other things.

Whitney caught his eye and winked. Clark’s jaw clenched and his grip on his lunch tray tightened, giving Whitney a nice view of muscled forearm. Whitney licked his lips.

~*~*~*~

The final bell rang, and Whitney was waiting at Clark’s locker when he arrived. Clark glared at him and busied himself with gathering his things together. Whitney took the opportunity to study Clark’s profile. He took in the sharp nose, strong jaw line, full lips. Clark had incredibly broad shoulders, a narrow waist and long legs. He looked like a born athlete, and Whitney wondered again why he didn’t go out for sports. He’d make a name for himself in no time.

“Will you stop staring at me?”

Whitney jerked, startled by the harshness of Clark’s voice.

“I assume you’re here to tell me what it is you want,” Clark said, crossing his arms.

“Yeah. Will you be home later tonight?”

Clark looked at him with suspicion. “Yes.”

“I’ll stop by around nine. Meet me in the loft.”

That’s all Whitney said. He turned and walked away, quickly, before he did something stupid.

~*~*~*~

“Okay, this is stupid,” Whitney muttered, pulling his truck behind the Kent barn. He killed the headlights and turned off the truck, but left the keys in the ignition. It was eerily quiet out here, and Whitney was losing his nerve.

Could he really go through with this? Did he really want to? What the hell was wrong with him?

The last question had been plaguing him for years. Just what the hell was wrong with him? He was Smallville’s golden boy, and yet he wanted to hide from everyone.

When he was 10, he knew he was different from the other boys. Instead of chasing after the girls, trying to steal kisses, he found himself wanting to chase the boys. He knew it was best to keep these feelings a secret, especially from his father, who was already grooming him for a life of sports.

Whitney was 15 when he really started noticing Clark. There was just something about him, in the way he carried himself and acted around others. He was polite, charming, a real goody goody. But underneath that, Whitney suspected was something else. Maybe Clark had a secret, too.

Whitney took a deep breath and got out of the truck. He glanced towards the big yellow house and saw lights on inside. Mr. and Mrs. Kent were home. Whitney hadn’t even thought about that. Damn, he wasn’t thinking clearly.

Even though he was nervous and excited, he slowly made his way to the entrance of the barn. He could hear music playing from the loft. He took the steps one at a time, flinching when one creaked, announcing his presence.

“Whitney?”

“Uh, yeah. It’s me.”

Clark peered over the railing at him, the light casting a soft glow around him. Whitney sucked in his breath.

“Well, come on up so we can get this settled.”

“Your parents?” Whitney asked when he found his voice.

“They don’t usually come out here this late.”

Clark moved to sit on the edge of his desk, turning down the volume on the stereo. He looked at Whitney carefully, his body tense. Whitney stood by the stairs, hands in his pockets. He suddenly wondered just what the hell he was doing there.

“So?” Clark prompted, his voice impatient.

“What’s going on with you and Lex Luthor? What exactly is going on? I thought you were after my girlfriend.”

“Lex and I have a special relationship. You don’t really have to worry too much about Lana. But that’s not why you’re here,” Clark said. “You want something to keep my secret, so what is it?”

“What kind of relationship?” Whitney asked.

Clark glared. “You want details?”

Whitney removed his jacket and sat down on the couch, resting his arms on the back. “Yes. I want details. Are you doing him?”

Clark’s eyes were cold. “Yes.”

“Who initiated it?”

“It was mutual.”

“You enjoy it?”

“Fuck you, Whitney.”

Whitney chuckled a little, but inside, his stomach was flipping. His palms were sweating.

“What do you want?” Clark demanded.

Whitney stopped laughing and focused on Clark’s face. “I want to know what Lex knows.”

There. He’d said it. A huge weight was lifted from Whitney’s chest as he finally voiced his deepest desire. He wanted to know Clark intimately.

Clark didn’t say anything. He simply stared. After a full minute of silence, he spoke.

“What?”

Whitney almost laughed again. “What’s so hard to understand?”

“You want to have sex with me?”

Whitney nodded.

“Why? What about-”

“Lana?“ Whitney shrugged. “She’s a nice girl, but she’s not what I want.”

“And I am?”

“It’s always been you, Clark.”

Another minute of silence passed, then Whitney rose from the couch and went to stand beside Clark, who was still sitting on the desk. Whitney placed a hand on Clark’s thigh.

“Take off your clothes.”

Clark’s head shot up.

“You heard me,” Whitney continued. “All I’m asking for is one night, and then I’ll leave you alone. Your secret will be safe with me.”

“Why should I trust you? We haven’t exactly been friends.”

“You can trust me, because I’m exposing my secret to you. It’s a fair trade.”

Clark swallowed hard, and Whitney thought his heart would explode, it was beating so fast. When Clark stood up and guided him to the couch, Whitney couldn’t believe it was actually happening. He sat again, leaving Clark standing.

His jaw set, and his eyes glittering with something Whitney couldn’t make out, Clark began unbuttoning the flannel shirt he wore. He tossed it to the floor. Then he tugged his t-shirt from the waistband of his jeans and lifted it over his head.

Whitney gulped. Even though this wasn’t the first time he’d seen Clark’s bare chest, it never ceased to render him speechless. The first time had been that night in the cornfield. Whitney had been mesmerized at the smoothness and firmness of the younger boy. Clark’s outward image of a klutz belied the muscular build he kept hidden underneath. Whitney had helped in stripping him, had enjoyed the feel of him beneath his fingers, but he hadn’t painted the S on his chest. He knew he couldn’t be the one to mar that perfect skin.

“Like what you see?” Clark whispered, breaking into his thoughts.

“Does Lex?” Whitney countered.

“He does.”

The t-shirt hit the floor as well. Clark kicked off his shoes and removed his socks. His clothes were piling up. He unbuttoned his jeans, and suddenly Whitney jumped up.

“Stop,” he said. “I want to touch you.”

His fingers were trembling as he came in contact with Clark’s chest. He explored the warm skin, the rippled muscle. Whitney walked around Clark, his hands still roving. Shoulders, neck, back. He noticed Clark’s breathing had quickened, and he smiled.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he asked, his voice barely audible. “God, you’re amazing.”

Clark turned around to face Whitney. He placed his own hands on Whitney’s waist, pulling him closer. He bent his head and before Whitney knew it, their lips met.

It was better than he’d ever dreamed. Clark was an expert kisser, and briefly, Whitney wondered if Lex had taught him a few things on the subject. Whitney wound his fingers in Clark’s hair; Clark’s fingers began working on the buttons of Whitney’s shirt.

There was no mistaking the hard bulge pressing against Whitney’s leg. Clark was just as excited as he was.

Shit, this is really going to happen, Whitney thought.

Clark’s mouth moved down, onto Whitney’s neck, his collarbone. He sucked there for a moment before continuing. Whitney’s shirt was now open, and Clark’s mouth was taking in the exposed skin, inch by inch.

“Couch,” Clark murmured. They stumbled over to the worn piece of furniture, Whitney landing under Clark’s body. Clark paused in his kissing and raised himself up on his hands to look at Whitney.

“Have you ever been with a guy before?”

Whitney shook his head.

“Are you sure you want to do it like this?”

Something inside Whitney faltered at this question. He did, didn’t he? He wanted to feel Clark inside him. He wanted to know what it was like to experience pure and true sex with someone he wanted, and who wanted him.

But Clark didn’t want him, a tiny voice said. Not really.

“Oh God,” Whitney breathed.

“Whitney?”

Whitney pushed Clark away, got up from the couch and jumped to the other side of the loft, closer to the stairs. “I’m sorry, Clark. I-I can’t.” He hurried down the steps.

“Whitney, wait,” Clark called after him.

“I won’t tell anyone your secret. I’m sorry.”

He left the Kent farm and drove home, feeling more confused and dejected than ever before. It wasn’t until he reached his own house did he realize he’d left his jacket in the loft.

~*~*~*~

Whitney was successful in avoiding Clark the next day at school, even though it took everything he had to do it. He ducked into doorways, bathrooms, stairwells, whenever he spotted Clark. He even turned tail and ran at one point. He felt different without his Smallville High jacket, and he wondered how he would get it back.

After humiliating himself the night before, Whitney just wasn’t ready to face Clark. He didn’t want to see the pity in Clark’s eyes.

He was crossing the field, on his way to football practice when Clark ambushed him.

“We need to talk.”

“No we don’t.”

“Whitney, what happened last night-”

“Was a huge fucking mistake. So let’s just forget it ever happened.“ He tried to walk past Clark, but couldn’t. Damn, but the boy was quick.

“You stopped because you thought I didn’t want you,” Clark said.

Whitney just glared, not speaking. Clark leaned closer, as if he were moving in for a kiss.

“You thought I didn’t want you, but you were wrong,” he said.

Whitney let out a breath and stared.

“So if you’re willing to try again, I’ll be home tonight,” Clark said.

Then he walked away. Whitney’s knees nearly gave out. Clark had just invited him over. Clark wanted him. Football practice couldn’t end fast enough.

~end