CHAPTER NINETEEN: Adrenaline, I guess
Oh, God. Clark.
"Yeah," moaned Shawn, eyes closed in orgasmic bliss, hands around a struggling the farmboy's throat. Clark's hands were stretched upward grabbing hold of Shawn's jersey. They were frozen there. His face was pale and his eyes were open staring unbelievably at the white-haired murdered stealing his life away slowly, painfully.
Lex had been there. It hurt. He swayed on his feet, realizing that he couldn't just outright attack the boy. He'd lose again, doing Clark no good at all. He didn't dare lose. He couldn't. Everything he loved was at stake between Shawn's cold, steel fingers.
Clark panted and the sound pierced the shroud of fear clouding Lex's heart and senses. He needed a weapon. Something big and heavy.
"God!" Shawn moaned again, a growling noise swelling in the back of his throat. Lex saw the hands around Clark's neck, the ones missing the last three colored digits, start to turn a lighter shade of black-blue, almost reaching deep navy.
He's heating up. Shouldn't he melt?
What would happen when he heated up? Would he lose or gain strength?
Lex didn't want to wait to find out. He had to think fast, before Shawn opened his eyes or finished Clark off.
He whipped his upper torso around, looking for anything helpful, and felt fire in his stomach. It took everything he had to keep from crying out. He turned to look down at his abdomen, eyes wide with memory.
---Sharp metal pressing hard enough to break the skin; fear of the pain, the long painful death---
Right in the middle of his abs was a crude circle of cut and bleeding flesh, not dug too deeply within the skin, but deep enough to need stitches here and there.
"Heat!!" Shawn groaned.
Lips parting in surprise and relief. He remembered.
The pipe. The broken pipe from the generator.
It was heavy, broken and torn, ravaged on both ends so it would be hard to hold, but…
It would cause all the more damage.
Tearing off his cashmere sweater and undershirt, he looked around for the pipe.
Where is the fucking thing?
Lex looked back to Clark and Shawn and panicked. Not only were Shawn's hands now navy, but the heat was starting to move up his forearm.
Clark has that much heat in his body?
He shifted to his left as something glinted behind the football player. The pipe was lying three feet away. On the other side of the killer teen.
Ah, shit.
He started forward, leg burning brightly above the rest of the pain in his body. He was moving around Shawn lightly but quickly, knowing that he had to be quiet to get there period, but he also had to be fast to get there in time.
He passed Shawn, looking at Clark. His lover's eyes were on him, pleading with him to just run. He watched as Clark's lips formed words and it took them a moment to register.
*Run, Lex. Go now.*
He shook his head. *No fucking way.*
*Lex*
*I love you. You die, I die with you*
Lex watched as Clark closed his eyes and a tear rolled down halfway from one eye before freezing.
I'm coming, Clark. Just hold on.
He bent down on his left leg and almost fell. His right leg was causing balance problems, unstable, wobbly. It still felt detached, like it wasn't his own leg, but something added on after birth and 21 years.
Pushing through and steadying himself, he grabbed the middle of the pipe and wrapped his shirts around one end, creating a grip around the mangled metal.
Tiptoeing hastily to stand behind Shawn, he then wound up.
"Psst," he whispered.
Shawn's head whipped around to stare at him. "Fuck," he grunted.
Grinning, Lex gave Shawn a wink. "Looks like the bald girlfriend woke up, huh?"
He
swung the pipe.
TBC Tomorrow...