INDEPENDENT LOVE SONG

Chapter Three:  Caught in the Sun

It had taken only five minutes to calm and reassure Clark, which surprised Lex.  The boy believed him fully when he said that Linda could be trusted and, no, she would not be fired.  It was just more embarrassing than anything else.

To her and Clark more than me, he thought with a bitter smile.  He'd been interrupted on a number of occasions by many different characters including his own father. The man currently held the gold metal for 'Interrupting at the Worst Possible Moments'.

The very first time Lionel had barged in had been horribly embarrassing for Lex, though through subsequent times Lex had just grown pissed then livid when he realized his father disturbed him each time on purpose.  A way to not so subtly get across to his son that nothing was ever truly a secret no matter how hard you worked to keep it.

Fourteen, screwing the music teacher.

That had been the first time Lionel had ever barged in, his second time with the woman.  Dear old dad-si-do walks in.  A week later, she was back.  Lex had become curious upon learning that she hadn't been fired and discovered that his father had begun paying her more than three times her original salary.  Something about not only keeping her quiet but giving Lex lessons in how to please women.

When he had confronted his father about this, the man had calmly explained that many business deals now were being handled by women and that, in the very near future, there were likely to be more.

"Women are weak.  Emotionally, physically, morally."  His father spoke calmly, assured and confident.  "You can get anything you want out of them.  Rita's the perfect example.  Money and here she is, continuing a sexual affair with a minor at my request. You just have to know how to control women, and sex is one of those 'hows'."  He stroked his then burnt-shit colored beared.  "The opposite sex likes to be worshipped under the sheets. Revered and adored, Lex.  Revered and adored.  You know how to make them feel that way in and out of bed, and you've got yourself a willing servant."

Lex smiled darkly.  How very wrong his father had been.  Woman were just as hard and easy to play as men.  Not equal in all things, but perhaps better in many.  Sure they had their own average weaknesses, so so did men.

Lex had understood his father's meaning and had been disgusted as well as intrigued, but at fourteen, he was horny and not willing to let a sex teacher get away.  He had continued to see the woman for both lessons and lessons until he turned sixteen, became contemplative, then fired her himself.

He rubbed the back of his neck, more in memory of Clark's touches than in any attempt to rid himself of new tensions.

Clark, he thought.

"Why don't I just stay?  Didn't I hear that your father has a penthouse here?  Top floor?"

Lex nodded.  "Top floor."

Clark smiled sweetly holding out his hand.  "Give then."

Lex sighed at the memory.  Sweet, innocent Clark.

If his father didn't have the place bugged and camera-captured at the very first sign of body heat, then Lex was Mother Teresa in disguise.

However, even if Lionel didn't keep one eye constantly on the place, Lex would never want to take Clark to his father's bed. God knows he'd done it before, the proverbial 'spitting in the old man's face', but Clark…  Clark he loved.  Clark he needed.  Clark was his best friend.  Screwing in his father's office was highly amusing and incredible fun, but making love, being intimate in his father's penthouse was just disgusting, even by Lex's standards.  It would be a blasphemy to his relationship with Clark and their physicality, a sacrilege in order of convenience that Lex could just not deem germane.  It would taint him in too many ways and possibly taint Clark as well, and that he absolutely would not do.

Clark didn't understand really, didn't know fully the relationship that existed between father and son, but Lex would make sure that he did, and soon.  The last thing he needed was Clark pissing off his father or stepping in the older man's path in any way, shape or form.

Speaking of pissing the old man off…

His father was not going to be pleased with Lex's conduct expressing heavy disrespect towards his board, and Lex had no doubt that Lionel would be hearing about it from quite a few of the members.  Surprisingly, though he knew he should, he really didn't care.

Besides, I could always pass it off as a business discussion.  No proof, but I could lie pretty terrifically.

By the time he'd gotten back, more than forty minutes late, the group had gone through the motions.  They'd been pissed, infuriated, on the verge of strike, ready to shoot Lex with a rocket launcher, pensive, then calming.  They'd decided to handle what arguments they could while Junior was off doing other business.

'Doing' indeed, Lex thought with a small smile.  More like 'almost being done'.

It was the 'almost' that kept the smile sad and regretful.  He still ached to feel Clark shoved clear to the hilt inside of him, in and in and in with no out and no stopping.  He longed to have Clark come forcefully inside of him, and smiled at the thought of Clark at the suite.  Was he still awake?

Lex looked back to the building he'd been staring at, eyes freezing on a solitaire window, his own darkened and reserved condo living room.  The bedroom light was on, but the curtains were drawn shut, so he could see nothing.  He wondered if Clark had strolled out to the balcony yet.  As enchanted by the cosmos as he was, Lex didn't doubt it and felt a pang of remorse.  He had wanted to be the one to show Clark the view of both the heavens and the city.  The lights really obscured the truth of the firmament, but a tenth of it's glory was still visible from Lex's building.

At least he probably didn't find the telescope, I brought, he thought, a small amount of triumph filling his stomach.  What would he be looking under the bed for anyway?

The thought of Clark on that bed...  They had yet to do anything when it came to bedrooms other than the teasing and comfort in Clark's.

I'm coming, Lex thought, unconsciously rubbing the spot on his throat with starved fingertips where Clark had bitten down.  It had been more of a 'clamp and warning' deal; like if Lex had bothered to even breathe he would have become Clark-meal.  And the truth?  That sounded so incredibly tempting.  If he had to die, being eaten up by Clark Kent was not a bad way to go.  Not at all.

God, that was such a turn on.  So animal and rough.

He sighed, his mind running back over the events of the day, making sure he hadn't really forgotten anything.

Once Lex had returned to the gathering, everything, for the most part, had been settled.  The matters that couldn't be settled in absentia were taken care off through painstaking patience from Lex's part.  He knew not everyone had been happy with the results, but the ones that were had been in the vast majority and had left practically beaming.  At least they wouldn't be giving his father any level of complaints about his tardiness.

The fax machine beeped, signaling the end of it's transmission and he sighed again, this time in relief.

He had returned to his office more than ready to leave for his farmboy lover, when he noticed a fax sitting in the tray.  It had been from his father in Hawaii, demanding reports of every bit of business.  He typed up the reports and sent them waiting like a good little lapdog for corrections he knew one of his father's assistants would make.  These were the 'before the eyes of God-Luthor sees this' corrections.  Then, after Lex had made the corrections, Lionel would go over them in his own precious time.  He had been waiting for the first fucking corrections for almost two hours.  It had then taken him more than an hour to fix the papers and send them off.

Now the transfer was finished, liberating Lex from the office and setting the stage for the rest of the weekend.  He would be taking no calls, not even from his father or God himself.  The only name allowed on the line was Kent, in case Martha called.  Other than that, it was voicemail and 'leave-a-message' city.

It was going to be just him and Clark, completely alone in the bustling Metropolis.  No friends, no family, no business…

"No interruptions," he whispered, glancing down at his watch.  12:47 AM.  Was his lover still awake?  Still waiting for him?

He pondered that thought, really sick and tired of asking the same thing over and over.  He put the half-full sifter back in the bar and grabbed his overcoat.  He didn't really feel like tidying up and knew that the clean-up crew would be coming in about another five hours.  He looked at the mess on the floor next to his father's desk and smiled.  Nothing that Clark had swept to the floor had been picked up.  It was all still there.

After he and Clark had changed clothes, trying to keep down on the kisses and touches, grazes and petting, he had tossed their clothes into the translucent, plastic cover that his suit from Burnman's had come in, zipping it up and placing it in the black store bag for Clark to take to the condo.  Clark had been reluctant to leave and even more reluctant to call O'Brian to pick him up, but Lex had finally convinced him to go.  He had then sent Linda home for the next three days, thinking twice about the flowers he had been contemplating giving her.  Now it would seem too much like a bribe, like he was offering to kiss her ass to keep her quiet.  He respected Linda far too much for that and would have to wait a few months to give her his thanks.  He wanted to make sure it seemed as genuine as it was because genuine from him was rare.  He cherished the times he found he could be just that, which was what made his time with Clark so special.

+_+_+_+_+

So much for the light on being a good sign, he thought sadly, opening the bedroom door quietly.  He shut it just the same and breathed in deeply, leaning up against the thick wood and just staring at the king-sized bed’s single occupant.

He couldn't help but smile.  The boy was gorgeous even when asleep.  Lex almost wished Clark snored, just lightly.  Either that or maybe let a tiny bit of drool escape onto the pillow.  It was the only thing that would have dented the bubble of perfection and made him look more cherubic, more child-like.  As it was Kent just looked pure masculinity, pure muscle and sex and…

Yeesh, Lex thought, pushing himself off of the door and closer to the bed.  This is getting pretty pathetic, Luthor.

It was clear to Lex from Clark's position- above the still-made fluffy covers with a paperback rising and falling on his chest- and the light that he had tried to wait up for Lex.  His head was against two overstuffed pillows and one more was shoved under his back to keep him in a comfortable, semi-sitting position.

Lex read the cover of the book.  Strangers.  Lex hadn't ever read anything by Dean Koontz and just raised his eyebrows in surprise.  Mainstream fiction was not out of what he would have guessed Clark to be into, it was just a surprise to see it.

He allowed his eyes to roam over his lover's body- gray sweatpants, familiar tight brown tee, completely bare feet- before approaching the sleeping form.  Brushing his fingers over Clark's forehead, he admired the strong, noble features, soft skin and softer hair.

Amazing. He smiled and leaned down to lightly press his lips to the full ones below, marveling in the newness that remained at each contact, despite his avid and clear memory of previous occasions.  Clark's lips were flawless.

The perfect representation of the whole Kent.

Pulling away, he was about to turn off the bedside light when the Color Gameboy next to Clark's left hand glinted, catching his attention.  He smiled a little and, wondering if the boy had beaten any of his scores, picked it up, flipping the on switch.  As the screen loaded, he placed his keys on the nightstand and walked to the closet, taking off his overcoat and his suit jacket, placing them on hangers.

He shed his shoes and approached the bed, loosening his purple silk tie.  He sat on the edge next to Clark's bare feet, feet he remembered previously thinking of as magnificent.  He smiled finding that his previous assessment had been correct.  Muscular, long and lean.  Not scrawny or bony.  The nails were kept short and clean, the bottom callused, but not abhorrently.

Lex shook his head, looking back to the Gameboy's screen with a self-depreciating smirk.  He picked Clark's username.

Thinking that the kid's feet, farmer's feet, are sexy.  You've got it bad, there, Lex.  He sighed.  Very bad indeed.

He ran through the scores and found that the closest Clark had come to beating him was still roughly one-hundred and eighty thousand less.  He laughed to himself happily.  His 319,452 score wasn't even his all-time highest.  He had yet to meet someone better at Tetris than him.

He flipped the system off and held in in his left hand.  He began climbing onto the bed, crawling slowly and carefully, gauging his weight perfectly, knowing just how his knees would sink here and there in the mattress and how deep the copious and plush comforter was in certain places.  He'd been here countless times over the past year and a half.  When he was a child he used to stay in his father's penthouse in the LuthorCorp building, but now he refused.  It was his father's place, so he searched for somewhere close enough, but still something to call his own.  His father approved and paid out generally because most of the time Lex was visiting Metropolis, so was Lionel, and the two did their best to avoid any and all unnecessary communication.

Placing the toy on the nightstand next to his keys, he reached back for the book on Clark's chest, wincing as the boy stirred a little.  He waited and then, when he was sure that Clark wasn't going to wake up, he pulled the book away.

"hmmm…"

Damn.

"lex?"

Barely audible and thick with sleep.

"Yes?"  He whispered as lightly as he could in case the boy was still, for the most part, asleep.

"glad you're here," Clark mouthed with just the smallest hint of a voice.  He breathed in deeply and evenly.

Lex smiled.  "Me too, Sexy."

"mom said… thanks for the flowers."

He frowned then almost laughed.  That was so…  So…  Kent-esque.

"Clark?"

No answer.

He was about to wake the boy, but thought better of it, wanting to gvie Clark his rest.  He had tried to wait up after all.

Lex put the book next to the Gameboy and keys, then moved onto his back and unbuttoned his cuffs, rolling up the sleeves.

There really was a lot to think about.  His father was sure to call him into action on the next production mergers with both the highly successful McWilliams Bath and Tile and virtual future gold-mine, Enigma Communications.  He knew that for the Enigma merger, he'd be leaving for Paris with a sideline to London where he would no doubt be forced check up on relations with Sir Harry Hardwick.

He grimaced.  That was going to be a big pain in the ass.  Not to mention he hadn't seen Sir Harry's daughter, Victoria, in, what was it?  Three years now?  He was going to have to tell Clark about being engaged and that was going to be the real bitch.  How could he explain that he had never felt this same connection with Vicky that he did now, even though he was willing to spend the rest of his life with her?  How could he explain to Clark that he was a different person than he used to be?  Once so consumed with greed, lust and a need to spite his father at every turn...

Am I really so damn different, he wondered with a painful start.  Those were still things that controlled him now.  Not as much as Clark did, not as much as Clark could, but…

But it's still there, still in my nature as a Luthor.

He rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to mutter foul curses to his father, Paris, the Harwicks and business life in general.  Discussions, paperwork, meetings, covert business operations, payoffs, traveling…

Traveling.

Then again, that last part might not be too bad with Clark.  He leaned back against the headboard, looking at the handsome farmboy lying next to him.  The handsome farmboy with the wholesome aura, warm disposition, honey-hued skin, spring leaf eyes…

…candy-coated tongue.

Paris.

He smiled lazily at those pink lips, imagining them under the nightlights of the Eiffel Tower, in the rain on a Paris Thursday morning, in one of the many French danceclubs where they could touch, could hold, could kiss and grind and bump with no worries of being spotted by a familiar face and subjected to societies even more familiar stigmas.  And unlike American clubs like The Pioneer, Zie C'ja Zie, Club Zero and La Coit, the French had romantic settings, lighting and music.  It wasn't all about kinky sex with them.  It was about the romance, the mystery, the sensual emotions.

His relationship with Clark was more like France than America.  Erotic, romantic and sexual without the dirty connotations that relationships between two men usually receive.

He let the palm of his right hand flatten softly against Clark's abs, slowly pressing down until he could comfortably rest there.  He really didn't want to think right now, knowing where his thoughts were going, but he couldn't stop his mind.

Everything between them had gone so fast.  In the span of just over one week they had gone from best friends to unmitigated lovers.  Lex remembered the first time Clark expressed his love for him.  He still dreamed about it and the second…

He had been lying in bed in his own private Gotham penthouse, his hard-on withered since the sound of Jonathon Kent's impatient voice had violently shattered the glorious, amorous haze Clark and he had created.  He knew that the man was only calling out for Clark, but the shout had sounded far too close to anger for Lex to be comfortable.  In those tiny milla-seconds, he'd pictured Jonathon Kent angered and shouting at him, finding that his son had been seduced, touched, fondled, licked and sucked by a Luthor.  It had affected him in a way that his own father's voice could never have and he realized that Jonathon Kent's knowledge of their relationship was something that would have to come about when, and only when, Lex was on a one-way interstellar trip to Mars.  Preferably with his lover in toe.

Then Clark had uttered those three little words and had thoughtfully hung up, not wishing to make Lex uncomfortable.  The conversation had stayed in his mind as complete and whole, perfect in every way, including the aftermath.  Clark's words had made Lex so hard and needy that he could not have waited, could not have gone without pleasing himself, at least just tiding himself over.  He'd come with Clark's name whispered weakly on his lips, the longing so full and overwhelming that the orgasm had merely brought him more desire for Clark.

In some ways Lex was sure the relationship was going a little too fast, but he hoped they could work their way past any rough times in the future.  Clark was worth that, was worth wading through anything.  He couldn't wait until their affinity slowed somewhat, leaving the attraction without the desperateness.

Right, he thought with a sad smile and moved closer to Clark. Like I could ever be not desperate for him.

Sometimes he figured that maybe everything he felt, Clark felt too.  Like when he had been under Clark and the boy had told him that he really wasn't worried about Martha figuring out about their relationship.  That…  That had almost completely blown him away.  He would have never guessed that Clark would feel that free about his decisions and sexuality with his mother.  He would have dismissed it as childish and youthful abandon, the teeny-weeny rebel in Clark coming out.  Only he had seen his young lover's green eyes, sober and solid.  The earnest and obvious fact was that Clark was completely understanding of the situation.  It had made Lex sedate and thoughtful; more so than he had ever been in his post-mother life, and he knew then, right then and there, that not only did he love Clark with his whole soul- it frustrated him to no fucking end that he couldn't voice this sentiment- but that he would follow the boy to any future and world he wanted.  He believed in destiny, not fate, and there was a slender line of difference, diluted possibly, but not completely inadequate to the world.

Lex let his free hand touch Clark's hair lightly, recalling his past conversations with Martha- an incredible woman; giving all souls an equal chance to make their own impressions for her personal archives of faith- and Clark.  They had a amazing relationship, so fully of trust and honesty and fondness.  Lex imagined his own kinship with Ruri, his long lost mother, being the same.

The obvious love between a boy and his mother…

"You are such a mama's boy, Clark," he whispered.  "-and I-  I love you for that."  He breathed in deeply.  He'd said with Clark close, but right now it wasn't even on his mind.  "I would give anything but you up for that.  I want that."

Tears filled his eyes and he removed his hands from Clark's body, lying down flat and staring at the ceiling.  He would will the god damn tears away.  His father always warned him about his emotions, his being prone to tears and he abso-fucking-lutely hated it when his father was right.  He was tired, though, and sometimes…  Sometimes he just got lonely.  Lonely and petty and jealous.

Ruri, he thought, recalling his mother's odd name with a small, melancholy smile, reminiscent of the fourteen year old Lex who had run away from home just to visit his mother's grave two states away.  When his father had found him…

Dad.

It had been the only time in Lex's life that Lionel had ever grasped him close and wept.  Genuine.  Two sobs, a handful of tears and… that was it.  If it was possible, Lex hated the man even more after that.  It was like he'd seen the possibility of what he could have- he'd no doubt done something right in running away- but he could never touch that part of his father again, could never reach even the old man’s eyes much less his heart- did that damn thing even fucking exist?

So he'd just stopped trying.  He could never make his father feel anything but cool resentment and a condescending glow.  It was truly not worth the pain and the exhaustion.

Japanese, he thought numbly.  Her name was Japanese.

It was actually a nickname.  His mother had told him the story of her name about a million times when he was little.  He had like it at first, then quickly grew tired of it.  He hadn’t known that she was losing her memory, that she had been forgetting things.  The early case of Alzheimer’s had stripped away so much, but she never forgot her little Lex, or the fact that, when he was little, he had loved to hear the tale of her name.

He realized shortly after her death that she had only been trying to connect with a son that she was quickly losing.  She had been grasping at millions of old rainbow-colored memories, shot from the prism of her fractured and ailing brain.  She loved her son more than life, more than her husband or anything, anyone that had ever stepped into her little world.  She hadn’t been able to stand the thought of losing him so she told him a story she remembered he loved.

The tears spilled from Lex’s cheeks as he remembered the pain in her beautiful eyes, big brown ones that showed every emotion, every emotion like Clark’s.

He had caused her terrible pain.  He had always loved her, but he had been a spoiled child, ungrateful and unaware of the world around him.  He and his parents were immortal, his whole world, unbreakable.  What did he, a ten year old child, have to worry about?

Lex had rolled his eyes at her corny jokes and motherly words, chose to play with his games and toys or read over her company.  Worse than anything else that he could remember, though, was how she would come in at night to tuck him in and he would pretend to be already asleep.  He didn’t know why he did it, he just had.

Now… he only wished she could come down from Heaven and tell him, just once more, how she got her name or how Lex was her little big boy.

I promise, mom, I wouldn’t interrupt you once.  You could tell it with the voices and explanations.  We could spend the rest of forever on just that one song.  Please…

He was so lost in this world with only Clark as his navigation towards the future, the right future.  Sometimes it was so hard.  If Clark were to ever leave him, he knew it would be too hard to live through.

He shook himself from those thoughts trying to clear himself from his funk.

Clark.  Focus on the good things, the plans for Clark.  College.  The future.  Anything Clark wants.

His plans of course, would rest on just how willing all the Kents, including Clark, were to except his help.  He knew they were a proud family and, had Clark been any less influential in the way that Lex's personality was morphing, Lex would work to find someway to sneak in the extra money in the form of some sort of scholarship or grant.  Clark would not have that though, and he would not deceive him, nor cheat the independent-streak that was more than evident in the younger man.

Lex knew that he wanted to help for many reasons.  He wanted to give Clark everything in the world, always see him happy and maybe protect him from the worse elements in life.  He wanted Clark to never gain the bitterness of rejection, of dismissal, or the calousness that came with life.  He wanted Clark to stay the way his was now, to never change for the darker, for the worse or sadder.  He also truly cared for Clark's family- even Jonathon- and only wanted to see nothing but the best happen for them.  He wanted to be a cause of the happiness that having nothing but the best would instill and…  He wanted Jonathon and Martha's blessing, specifically Jonathon's.

That's gonna happen, he thought, rolling his eyes.  Jonathon will never give you his blessing to fuck Clark.  Or even be fucked by Clark.  He took a deep breath, holding it.  And those aren't the only reasons you want to help either.

Letting out the deep and painful air, he finally admitted to himself that, yes, he wanted to own Clark.  Not just be with the boy, but wanted to actually own him.

Lex hated himself for it, but by paying for something that Clark wanted, he knew that the Kents, especially his lover, would feel obligated to him.  He despised the part that felt resorting to that kind of tactic was necessary, but…  He was a Luthor after all.

His hand reached over, fingers whispering against the light brown hair on Clark's left arm.

By owning him I can keep him from leaving me.  He'll be mine. Mine.  Then he could never chose anyone over me.

All the emotions moving within him hurt and sweetened and hardened him.  He sometimes felt drunk or high, and other times he felt too sober and aware to live, to saty breathing.

Is this one of those times?  He ripped his hand away from Clark's arm, looking at it in fear.  Nothing is making sense and I'm just gonna end up hurting him and hurting him terribly.  I...  I can't change.  Can I?  He can't save me like this, can he?

Lex sat up in the bed and turned away from Clark, his body tense and his soul felt like jewelry wire, twisted and bent by his father to fit whatever molded form worked best.

"I can't do this," he thought, whispering and running his hand down his pale face.  "I just want to own you, Clark.  That can't be love, can it?"

But I do love him.

He stood up, but still refused to look at the peaceful form in his bed.  "Maybe I just think that.  Maybe it's not like that at all and I-"

I want to own, Mom.

He shut his eyes before the tears could spill again, not remembering them welling up, or being so close to the edge.

I want to bring her back.  I want to keep her with me and... with me and Clark.  Safe forever and away from my father who would just break her heart again.  I want her for me and me alone.  That doesn't mean I want to own her.

Clark loved him, trusted him, but the rest of the world?  Lex wanted to take it slower, wanted to be able to move at a more comfortable rate, but everything was going so fast and work was getting tougher and more hectic.  His father and everything with the problem in Hawaii, Clark's parents-

Jesus, that's a big one.  They'll never accept this.  Not as love.  And maybe they shouldn't.  I don't know what I'm doing.  I'm…  I'm ruining Clark's life.  I just want him to myself.  Christ.  I wanted to fucking buy him.

He wanted to ram his fist into a wall but was too tired, to exhausted.

I need a drink.  Bad.

He stumbled to the mini-fridge he had in his bedroom, kneeled and opened the door.  There was plenty of alcohol.  Vodka, Brandy, Wine...  Jack Daniels, 151 proof....

Lex sighed knowing that he did need a drink but he couldn't do that to Clark.  He just couldn't bring himself to taint himself further.  If he were to drink anything, he would drink too much and he'd... he'd wake up hung over.  He would not do that to Clark.

Clark.

The love and need in Clark’s eyes…  God, the time he spent with the boy in his room at the farmhouse- being under Clark had been so sweet, so perfect and genuine.  Clark’s taking care of him in his father’s office, the massage, the fact that he hadn’t wanted Lex to please him but instead wanted it all to be about Lex...

Clark was perfect but everything else, even their lovemaking, was dirty, tainted.  All by him.

All I can think about when I’m with him is myself.

“That’s not true,” he whispered vehemently but with no real heart or conviction.  It certainly felt true.  He could only think about what he was getting out of the relationship, about his problems.  Just because he had planned to take Clark a couple of places that he knew the boy would enjoy... it didn't mean he loved the kid.  It didn't mean he wasn't selfish.

"Shit," he whispered.  He had to be awake for tomorrow.  Awake and happy.  He was still determined to make the day a great one for Clark.  He would have to rethink the borders and angles of their relationship later.

He moved back to lie on the bed, wanting to touch Clark, needing to wake him, to take comfort in that body, in those arms, in Clark's eyes and voice.  He wanted to hear that Clark loved him, and he wanted to see if the farmboy could possibly knock some sense into him.

Why can't you just wake up?

He reached out to touch Clark's face, but his fingertips never made it.  He just couldn't bring himself to wake the boy up so that he could sooth a rich, spoiled brat's insecurities.
 
 
 
 
 
 

To be continued...