Furious Angels
            by Nymph Du Pave
 

            CHAPTER TWEVLE:  Heaven's Nullification

            Clark... loved me? He loves me??

            With that realization there was a final tug.  It felt like he was coming to a complete stop after riding horribly fast, but not that he was jerked out of anything.  He felt like he'd just gotten off of a roller coaster whose whole purpose in going up was to drop him down as fast as possible.  The sensation was that, plus the suckage from a fifty foot tall, pissed off vacuum cleaner.

            All in all it was very disorienting, but at least Lex could feel things like his limbs which, oddly enough, he hadn't noticed were missing.

            This must be… heaven? he thought tentatively.

            Then he felt something yummy and oh, so scrumptious.

            Heaven, indeed.

            He felt familiar lips, big and lush, pressing tightly to his.  He knew the contact as those pliant folds of silken, springy flesh had done this one other time, bringing life to his dying body by the side of some creek in a various hick town that had slowly begun to grow on him.

            Only once.

            They'd only touched him once and yet he knew them as if he'd kissed them everyday for the past twenty-one years of his existence.

            They were meant to be mine.

            How long had he waited for this?  Seemed like forever and then some, but in a sense, not quite long enough.

            Fuck this.  They're here, it's fate and…

            Lex paused, remembering something vaguely.  Something about a void and memories and being Clark.

            I dreamed I was Clark and that I was in love with me.

            Yet there was that queer, secluded feeling where one's body doesn't seem to sync up with itself and the world feels like it might be spinning too fast.  Or too slow.

           Or is it not at all?

            It didn't matter.  All that mattered was somehow he had the guts to try and take possession of the tongue hidden by those pink, bee-stung babies and he was going to do it.

            But first he had to breathe.

            He tried but found the atmosphere cold and harsh and bitter.  It was cutting into his mouth, throat and tender ventilating organs as if it were water that he had drowned on.

            I'd know that feeling anywhere.

            As if he'd been drowned.

            Drowned.

            Drowned or just stopped breathing.

            SHAWN.

            Shocked, he opened his eyes, blurry and unseeing.  There was a familiar amicable mop of black hair and indistinct features; features that caused a sudden rush of tears to well up, making the already hazy view completely indistinguishable.  He blinked, allowing the tears to fall and then tried to speak.  His lips moved, there was no sound and now…  Now he really needed to be able to breathe.

            Clark.

            As more tears sprung up, eager to replace the spent ones, he clutched blindly for the figure above him.  He was trying to gasp.

            "Clark," he mouthed.

            There was a heavy and loud sob, then the lips were on his again, pushing a much needed mixture of oxygen, carbon dioxide and whatnots into his lungs.  He sucked in a lungful of Clark-air and relief washed over him as the pain of working lungs forced shudders to temporarily wreak throughout his limbs.

            The body above his started to move away but he tightened his hold and breathed in again, forcing Clark to feed him life-giving wind.  He no longer needed Clark's breath to survive; they both knew he could technically breathe fine on his own.

            But that wasn't the point.  Clark's lips were the point and Lex wanted nothing more that the moment.  He tightened his grip on the coat beneath his fingertips, iron in their determination, and reveled in the warmth that was his farmboy.  The two of them just stayed there, still, not moving but to breathe together.

            After a minute there was an unspoken but obvious change in the mood.  It got heavier, more dusky and erotic.  A hand, warm in what must have been a cold environment- damned if he wasn't all cozied up and toasty, though- cupped his head and pulled him closer.  He felt a hesitant tongue peek through and graze his own.  He could tell Clark was holding his breath and an instant later he realized so was he.

            The dream.

            Clark loved him in the… the… dream.

            Yes.  He would keep calling it a dream.  It was a gift from the angels above, furious at his lack of inaction and his almost untimely demise.

            They're giving me a chance.

            Clark was one of these furious protectors, an Earth-bound angel but no doubt just as intoxicating as- if not more than- those wrapped in the satiny sheets of the clouds above.

            Clark loves me.

            A warmth began to fill his stomach, like hot chocolate over a ice-cream Sunday.  Only this warmth would never harden into a shell; its only purpose in life was to complete him, fulfill his need for a Reason to Live.

            Clark was his Reason.

            God, I love him.

            The tongue left his mouth quickly and the big body was pulling away.  Lex suddenly realized he had been still for too long.  Clark had asked permission to kiss his best friend and not received it.

            Good going.

            Lex planned on giving him that authorization right away.
 
 
 
 
 

            TBC Tomorrow...