Chapter 12: Fumbling Towards Ecstasy

Lex felt as if he were floating to the surface, waking up when all he wanted to do was swim back to the bottom, to drown in his sleep, a dead rest with no thoughts, no images, nothing but a happy warmth that wrapped around him tightly. He knew the instant he awoke it would all vanish, leaving his heart hefty with the emotional baggage that his consciousness forced him to bear. Unfortunately though, this knowledge was not enough to keep him from drifting buoyantly towards the top, and he struggled to remember the last dream that had graced his presence, the last dream before everything had melted away in a cloud of cotton-candy perfection: sticky, sweet and surprisingly cozy. That last dream had left something tugging at his memory even through his blissful haze, and he tried desperately to grasp at the meaning. He could feel that it hadn't been a horrible dream, but it hadn't been favorable in any way. More unsettling than anything.

…wetness…

Something to do with Clark, or the absence of him, and anything dealing with a outright lack of the boy just couldn't be good. Or maybe it wasn't necessarily an absence of Clark, but of something that made sense. An absence of reasoning, of logic. In any case, there was obviously something pestering him in the back of his subconscious, something very, very important that he had forgotten, that he had to remember and soon because, well, it was a problem. Not one that couldn't be solved- whatever it was, he was sure of that- but it was still a problem nonetheless.

…soreness, panic, fear? I'm never afraid so what the hell?…

And then it was gone. The feelings of the dream, the emptiness, the slight unease caused by something weighty he couldn't recollect… Completely and utterly evaporated. Not permanently, as the question had yet to be answered, the problem yet to be solved, but it was still… Gone.

…why? why had it just-…

Lex's mind quieted as he realized he felt at home for the first time in a very long time. The bliss that had been permeating his every square centimeter now completely enveloped him, leaving him warm and content and… Perfect. He felt perfect. No doubt, no questions, no emotional desolation. Everything just seemed to fit.

He was in someone's arms and they cared.

…clark…

"I'm so sorry, Lex." It was coming through a distorted tunnel, sounding vaguely bloated and echoed, but still he knew the voice. He would know that voice even if it said not a word and he were deaf to the rest of the mortal milieu.

…clark…

He felt something tickle his ear. "I'm sorry." The voice was regretful but still curiously happy and relaxed. Lex started to turn around, wanting to see the young man who held him, when an arm gripped him tight, not menacingly, but in a comforting, affectionate grip. He let out a mixture of a moan and a yawn.

"Lex?"

He opened his eyes halfway and scanned his brain, trying to remember why exactly Clark was in his bed. Then it hit him: he was still in dreamland.

…I actually thought this was real? yeesh…

He sighed, disappointed, but decided to make the best of it. Not turning around to see the boy behind him for he feared he'd wake himself, Lex recessed his eyelids and pushed himself back into the apparition, but the apparition didn't budge and his eyes popped back open, surprised.

…feels real…

The apparition used it's elbow to lock Lex in closer-

…feels strong…

-and he noticed that there was warm pressure on his chest.

…feels good…

He looked down to see a hand there, a familiar hand, one of the two that had previously wiped away his tears.  He grimaced thinking of the burden that he had unintentionally placed on his friend's shoulders.  The weight of those tears was an onerous responsibility that no one else would have had the courage or capacity to face, let alone the strength.  But Clark had taken on the task without question of his ability, without the doubt of his own dependability.

…just like kent…

"Hi."

His heart sputtered heavily. "Hi." He felt his lips move but he couldn't hear the word over the ringing in his ears.

Clark shifted a little against him, just a small movement made to allow more comfort for them both, movement desirous of a closeness that seemed impossible. He could feel Clark breathing, his chest adding sweet pressure on Lex's back on the inhale, then releasing as the boy exhaled, dolorously removing the taut proximity. He felt a cool foot rub against his, still annoyingly covered in gauze, leaving his skin feeling destitute for the lack of sensorial stimulation. Groggily, he looked down to glare at the gauze and saw the intricate twists and turns of the sheets, wondering briefly how they had become so snarled around his legs.

There was another inhale against his back-

…he's so real…

-and Clark sighed, leaving the hot breath to cascade up and down Lex's head and neck, a tingling sensation following the balmy air. His heart leapt again, respiration heavier than before.

"Calm down, Lex." The sweet reassurance was uttered with breathless articulation, and he could sense the ardor heavily lacing Clark's tone. "Everything's fine."

"I know." He took a deep, melancholy breath-

…I just wish you were really here…

-and let it out slowly, trying to push himself impossibly closer and almost whimpering in failure.

…so goddamned needy…

He slipped one of his sore, gauze-clad feet in between Clark's calves, wincing a little at the pain caused by the blisters, but not removing it for a lack of the intimate touch would be far more painful. Walking around earlier that day, moving around at all with those sore feet, had not been wise. Marcy had warned him of how to get around, but did he listen? No. One chance at a moment with Clark and he threw all caution aside, no longer caring about consequences entailing somatic ailments.

…still- since when do your dreams have physical pain?…

Lex ignored this peculiar thought as Clark's other hand, painfully absent from his body for far too long, slipped between Lex and the bed, coming around to hold his waist. He smiled, his lips forming the outline as if it were natural to his multitude of facial expressions instead of the rare occurrence that it was.

…he's so close…

"Don't you want to know why I'm here? How I got-"

"Shhh…" He'd learned from experience that the moment you started talking to your dreams they disappeared. At least the good ones did, and this was a good one, a really, really good one that was worth never waking up from.

Clark cleared his throat. "Um…"

…for a dream he's not very obedient…

"Shush." But it was too late, Lex was finally breaking the surface of reality and he could feel the sanctified fog slipping away. With it he was sure Clark would go, but as he opened his eyes waiting for the pressure to cease it…

Didn't.

…he's still here…

He frowned as his awaking senses increased his awareness of the pressure of the forearm under his waist, of the sweater's rough knit-material rubbing into his back through the thinner material of his satin PJs, his foot throbbing with the pain of those damned irritating blisters, taking away from the otherwise unadulterated and  boundless moment.

He was waking up and, instead of slipping away, Clark's presence was becoming ever more prominent. "What the-"

"Lex?" Soft.  Sweet.  Still there.

He was wary to turn around, to answer the boy, to do anything but just sit there and listen to silence. Afraid to do anything but feel the chest rise and fall against his back, afraid to even breathe or blink.

"Listen, I-"

"Clark," he whispered, realizing that his throat was severely parched. In seconds it had gone from normal to void of all moisture.

"Yeah?"

"Are you-" he swallowed. "Are you really in my room? In my-".  Dare he say it? "Bed?"

The was a pause.

"Clark?" His voice was no stronger, but the need evident beneath was steadily intensifying.

"Yes."

He shut his eyes tightly.

…sure, whatever; what dream wouldn't say that?…

Lex had never, not once in his entire 23 years, had a problem distinguishing his waking moments from his dozing ones. Even with his nightmares, though they'd been horrible, he'd never once thought he'd awoken only to find himself still trapped within one.

…what about the field; that felt so real when it was happening…

Could this be another rendition? He didn't think he could take having the dream Clark promise him what the real Clark could not, and wondered how long it would take a fevered Luther brain to breach the sector of the insane. If this kind of thing kept happening, he might well find out and soon.

He took a deep breath, unsure of how to proceed. There were a million questions running around in his mind, but none of them seemed to matter to his heart. "Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure." Amusement painted the tone, the breath heating his ear.

Lex was more than confused. This couldn't be real. In the office, Clark was so- nervous, scared, unsure. Afraid of Lex, even. But the Clark here, the Clark holding him now, had the disposition of the one from his dream: confident, sure, with obvious affection swirling within the tones of his voice. This was the Clark from his dreams, no doubt, the one that could save him, that had already saved him once and would continue to do so. When would the real boy, the one that he loved-

…shit…

-become the one that could hold the responsibility of a pale, bald, lost little boy in his hands; could hold the love for a callus man who was working on becoming more in his heart? Lex wasn't sure, but hoped that it was before the duality of his dreams and his life drove him over the brink.

…love…

So he could admit it to himself, at least. It hadn't taken much on Clark's behalf to leave Lex befuddled and searching desperately for the tiny organ he referred to as his heart, searching for a reason for that organ's sudden vertical leap in production.

Clark genuinely cared, despite his own father's obvious objections. He smiled at Lex with no falsity, worried about his safety with no ulterior motives, joked with him and chose to speak to the Luther when they crossed paths in town. All in all, Clark acted as if he wanted the older boy's company and Lex, not used to this kind of treatment, had done the only thing his pint-sized heart could comprehend doing: he had fallen hard and hadn't even realized it until Clark had saved him from himself.

So was Clark here to save him from something again? Loneliness perhaps?

"Lex?"

He swallowed. "I'm here." The hand over his heart began to move, massaging his chest in slow, soothing circles, a touch so real it was dizzying, causing quivers all over. Surely Clark felt this same electricity. Could the sensations mean that everything was really happening? It seemed so… surreal, but in a strangely authentic way.

…the cold and the warmth; they felt real, too…

He remembered both, doubting he'd ever forget the strange and emotionally exhausting mental trek that had accompanied them. But the touch, the amazingly tangible touch… It was still there, adding another level to the illusion of the moment, and he pushed the thoughts of his previous dream out of his mind.

It all felt so real and he was completely ready to fall, despondently fortunate, into that false reality when an idea came sprinting home, and Lex's mind reeled from the sudden insight.

…there's one thing that a dream can't duplicate, one thing that nothing on earth could compare to…

---so sweet, so passionate, so hot---

…Clark's kiss…

Of course. Clark's kiss was how he would be able to tell the moment from self-deception. Lex inured his courage, finding himself both the need to know if this was a dream and the need to let the moment just be. If he didn't actually know, he could stay there content, could always just wonder… At least until the urgency for truth became searing, and he knew it eventually would.

He really had no choice here. He didn't want to know, but, instead, had to.

Resolved, he started to turn in Clark's arms and at first they gripped him tighter on instinct-

…what a wonderful instinct…

-then released an amount of pressure large enough to allow him limited movement, but small enough that the boy's arms still maintained their possessive qualities in purchase, making Lex smile broadly. He was now a possession.  For once in his life he allowed this to be. The kind of possession he was to Clark was so unlike his father's in every aspect; it was the good kind, the only kind.

He took his aching foot from between Clark's calves, moving to face the boy, sliding around a little awkwardly, not wanting to break the embrace. It took him a moment to realize that Clark wouldn't let that happen, seeming to need the fond display as much as he did.

…can a manifestation need anything?…

Still not daring to look into those deep azure eyes that were level with his, he brought himself all the way around and placed his hands on the chest before him, damning the paws as they trembled.

…his heart; I can feel it and it's pounding, but the point is I can actually feel his heartbeat…

Clark's right hand slid slowly from Lex's waist where it had been holding him close, up the entire span of Lex's back, letting the fingers feel him out, then over his shoulder and down his arm. The satin was thin enough that he could feel the pressure as if the shirt had magically dissolved from the heat of Clark's caress, or possibly the frenzied hopelessness of his own imploration, leaving a path of happy body parts, and the rest of his form screaming out in jealousy for the same kind of sensual union.

Clark's rustic fingers grazed the back of Lex's left hand, stroking each finger slowly, calming the shakes. Lex couldn't stop himself from looking up into the boy's heated stare.

…jesus, kent…

Heat. Heat and lust and concern and so many other forthright emotions that Lex could hardly bare the cumbersome density of such and intense stare. His emotionally inefficient life had not prepared him for such a human, and he wasn't even sure he could identify every emotion swimming through the sea in Clark's eyes. The look did nothing to further Lex's convictions that this was a dream, nor did it convince him that it was real. There was assurance in those eyes, no anxiety or fear, the confidence he'd yet to see in the real Kent. But then again the endearing shyness that Lex had become accustomed to was more than evident, and so was the eroticism that had been absent from the reverie of the field.

That fusion of shyness and blatant desire was what gave Lex the strength to move on his test, the courage to attempt his method of descrying the truth.

…like a Band-Aid: the quicker, the better; less pain that way…

Instantly he found himself pressing against those familiar lips, unsure of whether the startled cry emitted was his own or belonged to the kid on the other end of the kiss. His eyes were clenched tight from both bliss and fear: the bliss of what could be and the fear of what might not. If this wasn't Clark, if this wasn't real… There was only one way to find out and, trembling, he parted his dry lips, chest heaving out a stale sob of worry and utter surrender. He forced down a second sob and moved his face in closer to Clark's, incidentally nuzzling noses, and he pulled at Clark's soft, lush bottom lip with both of his own.

…let it be clark, please…

The lips parted beneath his silent request and Lex felt the heat burst through his torso as Clark entered his mouth, hot and sweet and fierce in a beautiful way that let the Luther know that he was not alone, that he could give in to the moment because-

…oh, clark…

-yes, this was the Clark that could save him, but it was also the real Clark. They were the same, they were one, and they, no he, he was in Lex's bed, intensely claiming ownership of the mouth that had only wanted to know if he was true, if he was bona fide. How he got here, why, when… None of it mattered and yet it all did. Inquiries exploded through Lex's mind, worries and pleasures, things he wanted to do and things that he needed to do. Questions that needed to be asked and answered by both of them…

He laughed, noticing that sometime in between his thoughts Clark's hand had moved to the back of his head, firmly holding him into the kiss. The laugh didn't stop Clark's passionate display, and Lex realized that the eager boy felt he had to prove to his companion that there was something between the two of them, that the hurtful words spoken earlier in the day had been untrue, a phonetically mendacious assertion.

Clark's abysmal growl caught Lex's attention by virtue of it being distinguishable as one not of passion but of frustration; he didn't think he was getting his point across.

…oh, is he ever…

Lex's hands, still in contact with the athletic chest, gently pushed against Clark, but the farmboy let out another deeper growl, clearly stating 'no, not yet', and pulled him closer, his tongue thrusting deeper and harder. Lex could do nothing but try to take the kiss in, try and let the fervid and flustered young man know that he understood, that he got it, but there was an impassioned desperation within Clark. This was his apology, the only way he knew how to communicate his feelings for Lex and his anguish over what he had said-

---"I'm sorry, Lex. I just... don't feel the same."---

-and done.

…he won't walk out on me again; that's what he's trying to tell me…

Lex broke away abruptly, gasping for air and looked at the tired, raven-haired beauty in front of him, the blue eyes of his home, of his haven, sad and longing. The kid still didn't realize how clear he'd been.

Clark looked to Lex's lips and made a move to pull him closer, to kiss him again, but Lex put a hand to the boy's mouth, covering it. "It's okay," he whispered. "I understand. It's okay."

Clark winced and his breath hitched. "You can't understand, Lex," he whispered vehemently, and Lex's heart felt pained at the solitude he thought he saw shining in those eyes, made prominent by the starlight.

"I do." He traced the outline of Clark's mouth slowly with a shaky thumb. "You were afraid. You didn't know what to do."

The lonely eyes looked down. "I shouldn't have left y-"

"It happens to everyone. Even you, hero."

Lex's heart felt a little happier as Clark's lips turned slightly upward underneath his fingertips.

"Lex, I-"

"I know." His hand traversed to feel the soft cheek of his angel. "I know."

Clark sighed and ducked his head under Lex's chin, his hand behind Lex's head skimming back down to hold his waist. "Thank you."

"Are you kidding me? Thank you."

The farmboy's arm tightened and he snuggled into Lex's neck, leaving the Luther surprised at how a mere moment ago, he had been the weak one craving solace. Now it was Clark who was nestling into him, the obvious neediness making Lex feel a little stronger, a little more competent. To see that Clark found him as essential as he discovered the boy to be…

Lex felt his eyelids once again growing heavy and he felt a contentedly despairing sigh coming on. He just wanted to lie here awake and watch the boy slumbering peacefully and amazingly within his grasp.  He was no longer afraid that this was not real, no longer afraid that Clark would suddenly disappear.  The kiss had dispelled him of two worries: one, that this was his imagination torturing him and two, that Clark would run again.

No, he just wanted to watch that face, to feel that body. To see the unattainable living in possibility.

"But can I?" he whispered sarcastically, his words blurring together a little. "No. My body needs rest."

Clark mumbled something, the sleepy reply rendered mostly obscure by Lex's shirt covering his mouth and Lex laughed at the incomprehensible mesh of words, the only thing coherent being his name.

…this is my sadness now? not being able to watch Kent fall to sleep in my arms?…

His heart swelled in exhilaration as he figured that he could learn to deal with that kind of suffering.

Smiling sleepily, he let his hand roam through the silky, black hair beneath his fingertips just as he'd wanted to do so desperately in his office.

…this is nice…

He felt his mind stirring up questions, questions that would leave a bad taste in his mouth, or a scared flutter to his stomach, and he knew the inquiry, the problem that he had been dreaming about… He knew it was lurking somewhere very close.

He ran his hand through the hair again and Clark's appreciative croon drove any and all quandary out of his mind. He tightened his arms around Clark's broad back and inhaled the farmboy's clean scent.

Questions were for tomorrow, for the morning. Tonight was simple, was just for them without dispute or inquisition.

…just for this…