I saw him. He doesn’t know it, of course, but I saw him. The first time, I didn’t know what to do, I watched with the kind of morbid fascination that makes normal people stare at car wrecks. It was sick, but in some really, really twisted way, it was beautiful.
Beautiful because it was Lex, and Lex… he’s just this unreal, surreal thing. He doesn’t seem like he’s human, maybe that’s why I’m drawn to him. Beautiful, otherworldly, delicate looking, even though I know the strength he hides under the expensive clothes. It’s not all he hides though. I didn’t do anything the first time, or the second time. There was such a big gap between them, in fact I’d almost forgotten the first time, when he did it again… almost, it’s not really the sort of thing you forget. The trouble is it’s happening far too often now. And it tears me apart to watch it, but I don’t know what to do. He did it tonight. As soon as I saw the bag I knew. I watched, I always do. I try to tell myself it’s in case he goes too far, but that’s only part of it. Part of me yearns to stop him, but a part of me I try not to think about wants to help, wants to join in. Pictures so vivid in my mind I can’t ever erase them and the terrible thing is, I’m not sure I want to. Lex kneeling, naked in his room, alabaster skin shining in the soft light from huge white church candles. The black silk sheet he covers the floor with, the white silk on the table. Everything black and white. Until the box, until the knife, until the cutting and then red; vibrant, vital red, staining the whiteness of his skin, the whiteness of the cloth. And God, the sight, the contrast of colour, the oh so straight, perfect lines trailing his skin, I couldn’t help it, I was so hard and so disgusted with myself, with him. But mostly I was furious, furious with whatever drove Lex to hurt himself like that, to need that kind of relief and I want to stop it, somehow, or change it. I don’t know how, but I have to do something, I *need* to do something. @>*~ In his office, he keeps a knife on display. I wonder why. He snapped at me once for touching it, now I know why. “Hey, Lex,” I say quietly, the knife in my hand. He looks startled, then his eyes narrow, “Put that down, Clark, you could hurt yourself.” His voice is mostly controlled, in fact I doubt if anyone else would pick up on the undercurrent of tension and well, honestly, panic. “A little strange to keep an ornament sharp enough to cut, Lex,” I comment. He looks at me oddly. “It’s not an ornament.” “Oh, you use it then?” I ask, aiming for innocence. His gaze has narrowed and intensified, suspicion falls on me for the first time I can ever remember that wasn’t connected with my secret. “It’s for protection,” he replies. “That’s what they call it, is it?” I murmur. He gets up quickly and walks over, snatching the knife from my hands. “Did you want something, Clark, I’m a little busy right now,” he’s almost glaring at me. “Yeah, I was wondering if you wanted to come out, play a little basketball or something. Hey,” I startle him, “Aren’t you hot in that shirt?” His nostrils flare and he swallows hard and he’s staring at me like I’m the anti-Christ or something. I feel bad, but I can’t help it. “Not really,” he replies quietly, “Not having any body hair means I don’t retain heat all that well. Listen, Clark, I really am busy.” He raises an eyebrow at me and I take the hint. “Sure, okay,” I stare at him hard, my X-ray sight kicking in just enough to see the long lines he cut into his forearms last night. He actually looks uncomfortable. It’s funny, I’ve noticed how I seem to be the one person who elicits real emotion from him, or at least emotion that he finds less easy to hide. I like that. So, I smile at him and turn to leave. “Clark…” he starts and I turn back to him hopefully. “Never mind,” he shakes his head, “I’ll see you, okay?” “Okay, Lex.” @>*~ I still don’t know what to do. It’s patently obvious to me that I want him, and I’m accepting more and more that I want to be a part of his pain somehow, although I still don’t know why. Maybe sharing the burden would lessen it for him somehow. What was meant to be a warning to him, and I know he’ll be suspicious about what I know, just seems to have intensified this terrible need to feel… to taste… Jesus, to, to do it, *to* him. Oh God, what kind of monster am I? Ironic really that if it was anyone else, Lex would be the one I’d turn to, the one who would help me with this, this… God, I can’t even describe all the feelings inside me. A combination of shivering, craving desire and sheer and complete disgust with myself. I can’t quite understand why Lex wants to do this to himself, but I feel it, and I can’t explain it, not even really to myself. I feel this need that I can’t stop, I’m going to have to do something, talk to someone or something, this is driving me crazy. @>*~ After two more sleepless nights, I find myself standing under the balcony leading to Lex’s bedroom. I don’t even remember the getting there, just being here, staring up, scanning the room, then the castle for him. He’s downstairs still, drinking brandy slowly from a huge glass, just staring at it between sips. I don’t like to see Lex like this. Normally it’s too soon for him to hurt himself again, but the way he looks… God, it’s so hard. Normally he’s so self-confidant, self-assured, but when he looks like this, he’s losing it… I think that’s part of why he cuts himself, hurts himself because he's not what he wants to be. I have to be there tonight, I have to. While I watch him start towards the stairs leading to his room, scratching at his arm, I climb up to his window and slip inside. Moving quickly, I set up his ‘tools’ and strip, kneeling on the black silk that covers the floor. When he comes in, he stops, mouth dropping open in shock and he’s utterly speechless for a long time. Long enough for me to become worried. So, I get up and walk over to him, trying not to flush as he stares at me. I draw him further into the room, wrapping my hand tightly round the wounds on his forearm that have started to bleed again. He winces, “Clark, what?” “Shh, “ I whisper, “Come, be with me.” I strip his clothes off and he doesn’t resist, letting me lead him to the cloth where he kneels down opposite me. “Lex.” He looks at me, still stunned. “What can I do?” He frowns at me, “Clark? What do you mean?” His hand reaches out and strokes up my arm, I think unconsciously, but it makes me shiver and I can feel the rush of my blood towards my groin. “To stop this,” I pause when he flinches, “Or to help.” His gaze is sharp and yet shocked. “It makes me feel,” he whispers. “Feel what?” I ask, very quietly. “Feel better, feel real, feel good; all of the above, none of the above, I don’t know,” Lex shakes his head and looks away, but I don’t let him. I catch his chin and make him look up. “I want to help,” I whisper, “What can I do?” I take his arm and gently unwrap the bandage. It sticks a little and he winces as scabs open and some of the lines start to bleed. I trace one of them with my finger and this time it’s Lex who shivers. Meeting his eyes, I suck off the blood on the tip of my finger. “Clark!” he breathes. The scent of the room changes noticeably and I realise that I’m not the only one becoming aroused. So, I lift his arm up and lick up the blood, one line at a time. “Oh God, Clark!” He sounds like he’s about to hyperventilate, and I look up. His eyes are dark and stormy, lips parted, light flush across his cheeks. “Lex, I want to help,” I repeat quietly. “Hurt me.” The whispered demand startles me and I swallow, my groin tightens painfully. “Lex?” “Hurt me, I want you too,” Lex looks up at me properly again, “I trust you, Clark.” I clear my throat. “Lex,” I start, not quite hesitantly. His eyes narrow again. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you come up here and interfere and then back out because it’s too hard. You want to help, then hurt me.” “Lex,” I try again, because I’m not backing out, God I want to help, I want to do what he asks and somehow it doesn’t even bother me anymore that I could want to do something like this. But I can’t go on without telling him first just how seriously I could hurt him. “Why do you do this to me, Clark?” he whispers hoarsely. “Do you know how long I’ve been doing this and no one has ever known? Do you know how hard it was for me to ask you just now, to trust you?” “Lex!” I snap louder, slapping my hand over his mouth, “Shut up. I know, of course I know, I’m not backing out, okay?” I wait as he stares at me, “Okay?” I ask again. Finally he nods and I take away my hand. “How long have you been doing this?” I ask. “Years.” “How long?” I ask again. “Since the meteor shower,” he admits, looking away from me again. I don’t let him, gripping his chin to force him to look at me, “I’m sorry.” He looks startled, “Why?” “Because that was my fault,” I say quietly. “I came to Earth in the meteor shower. I’m not human, Lex, and you need to know before I agree to this, just how much I could hurt you if I lost control.” He gapes, then shuts his mouth with an audible snap. “Lex?” I’m more than a little worried by his silence. “I trust you.” I have to shake my head a little, “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?” “What do you want me to say? Blame you? Shout at you? You were a child, hardly responsible for a meteor shower. You lied to me, yes, but I understand now why. If you’d have been another meteor mutant and lied to me, then I’d be pissed off, but this is huge. So yes, you’re my best friend, I love you, and I trust you, okay?” he shouts glaring at me. I have to suck in a deep breath of shock. He loves me? “You love me?” He sighs and pulls away again. “Yes, I love you. You think I’d trust anyone else with something like this. Anyone else and I’d have probably had them silenced.” “Lex!” His words are brutal, but I know why he’s saying them. He’s making sure that I know what he’s like. But I already know, and I don’t care. I know that he’s not nearly as ruthless as his father wants him to be, or that he would like to pretend to be. He’s not that much older than me, and he has feelings, problems just the same as me. Worse even, after all he hurts himself on purpose. But I obviously have real problems. After all, I want to do it to him, hurt him, taste his pain. So much it almost hurts me. To know that he loves and trusts me enough, even after admitting that I lied to him, makes me feel so strangely helpless. He’s staring at me defiantly, waiting for me to react beyond the exclamation of his name. “I love you, Lex,” I say quietly. He gasps, almost collapsing, in what looks like relief. I only just realise that he was really scared. Scared that I was going to leave, leave him, be disgusted. I lean in and grasp his chin, pulling him close to kiss him brutally hard. To emphasise the fact that I’m staying, that he’s mine now. He responds with a whimper. He grasps my shoulders, pulling at me, urging me down on top of him, but I resist for now. Instead I move closer, parting my legs so that he’s kneeling in between them, and drag him harder into the kiss. He’s still whimpering just a little, the smell of arousal overpowering. God, he’s so beautiful, so intoxicating. Amazing how much I need him, how much the thought of hurting him actually makes me need him more. I think he knows that while I hold the physical strength in what we’re about to start, he holds the mental strength. Emotionally I’d guess that we’re equal. We both need each other. I bite down on his lip, over the scar, until I can taste the sweetness of his blood and he shudders in my arms, making a tiny whining noise. God, he tastes so good, the tiny trickle of coppery fluid sends a painful jolt to my groin. “Please, please,” he whispers into my mouth. I pull back and hold up his arm. Meeting his eyes, I drag my nail down one of the cuts, opening it up more effectively than any knife. He swallows hard as his breathing speeds up again and I can hear his heart pounding. I want him so bad I’m almost shaking. My eyes are still locked with his and I lift his arm to my mouth to suck at the free flowing wound. “Clark,” he gasps, “God, Clark.” Pulling back again, I can’t help smiling. He’s so beautiful; naked, flushed, panting, blood trickling over his lips, reddening them further. His cock hard and needy between his legs, pre-come leaking profusely. Out of curiosity, I reach out to stroke the tip of his cock to gather a little of the milky fluid. I can’t help but wonder if it tastes as good as the rest of him. He gasps again, the need in the sound intoxicating. I suck his pre-come off my finger. It reminds me a little of his blood except that it’s bitter, not sweet. It tastes so good though. “Do you want me, Lex?” I ask him quietly. He nods and I stare at him, “Pardon?” “Yes, Clark,” he whispers. “What do you want?” I continue. “I want you to…” he stops, swallowing hard. “What do you want I?” I ask a little more forcefully this time, squeezing my hand round his arm. He gasps in pain and wriggles, half trying to get away, half trying to get closer, “Clark, please, just…” “Do you want me to take you, is that it?” I lean forward to whisper in his ear. At his nod, I bite down hard on his earlobe. He gasps and tries to pull at me again. “Beg me,” I whisper. He whimpers again. I understood immediately when he asked me to hurt him that it wasn’t just about physical pain, it’s about him giving up control. I may be young but I understand, and I’m in control here. I wonder if he has any idea what it does to me that he loves and trusts me enough to ask me for this. He shudders, almost falling forward into my lap. “Please, Clark, please I want you.” He manages to get back upright and meets my eyes briefly. The lust, need, hope and just a hint of fear in the steely blue takes my breath away. All too soon though, he ducks his eyes. “Clark, please fuck me.” My cock jumps painfully, the choked, needy quality of his voice could almost make me come I think. I want him so much, God, I want to fuck him, hurt him, love him. It makes my chest constrict, I’m still worried that I could go too far, I need it so much. “Oh, I’m going to fuck you,” I whisper, dragging him to his feet. I catch him round the throat, squeezing ever so slightly. His eyes widen but I feel his cock jump where it’s pressed against my thigh, “I’m going to fuck you till you bleed,” he whimpers again and I squeeze a little tighter, “I’m going to make you mine forever, do you understand?” “Yes,” he gasps hoarsely, “Yours. Clark, please.” I throw him onto the bed and stalk over, “Lex, if I go too far…” He swallows, rubbing at his throat. “ I don’t think you will,” he whispers. His trust in me makes my heart and groin tighten simultaneously. “Lex,” I snap, “I could kill you, you know.” “I know,” he nods, making me frown. “You… Lex, that’s not even an option in this, do you get me?!” I yell angrily. That’s going just a little too far. I couldn’t survive without him, and I definitely couldn’t survive if it was me who killed him. “If I go too far, you have to let me know.” He flinches away from me and I crawl onto the bed, reaching out to grip his chin and force him to look at me. “You’re mine and you’ll do as I tell you. I want you to promise me you’ll let me know.” He just stares at me and I’m horribly tempted to hit him. For some reason, that would seem wrong. I won’t hit him, ever. “Promise me,” I growl. Finally he nods, “I promise. If you go too far I’ll say my father’s name.” “Good.” TBC.