what about clark

Lex stood at the window of his library, gazing out across the wide expanse of lawn. At the young boy making his way from the gate to the front door.

Boy? He resembled one, Lex thought, taking in the slightly baggy jeans, red button-down shirt and navy blue jacket. The sneakers tied haphazardly, caked with mud. Or cow shit.

But then there was the man. The broad shouldered muscular being that Lex couldn’t stop staring at. Long limbs, smooth and sturdy. Tapered fingers and strong hands. The startling eyes, the shock of dark hair that was tousled by the breeze.

Clark Kent was a beautiful person. Lex just wasn’t sure if he was man or boy. He was sixteen, but with a quick mind. He was clumsy and shy, with the ability to blush at any given moment. But he was fiercely loyal, generous, and sometimes annoyingly polite. He was like two different people rolled into one, and Lex wasn’t sure which person he liked most.

What about Clark drew Lex to him? What made Lex dream about him, and not so innocently? What made him touch Clark when it wasn’t entirely necessary, and more importantly, what made Clark touch back?

These thoughts were interrupted as Clark stepped into the library. Lex drank in the sight of him, feeling a sense of great pride in his chest that Clark visited so often and considered him, Lex Luthor, to be such a close friend.

What about Clark made Lex think of love?

And what could he do to stop it?

~end