Yoga Zone – Music for Meditation
            by Nymph Du Pave

            Chapter One: Control

           "There he goes!" shouted the Grunt on the television screen.  "Did you see him?!"
           Clark moved the Master Chief from behind the wall and into plain view so that all the Grunts could see him.
           "GET HIM!!" they shouted in semi-unison.
           He pulled the trigger and let lose, bullets from his assault rifle splattering green alien blood everywhere.
           "AHHHH!!"
           "Run away!"
           "He's everywhere!"
           He pulled the other trigger and sent a plasma grenade to land right on the red armor of one of the Grunts, sending him running.  Unfortunately for his kind, he went with his group and three seconds later they were oozing wallpaper for the Truth and Reconciliation.
           Clark paused the game, sighing and popping his neck.  It cracked in several different places and he slumped against the couch.
           This was really getting boring.  He liked video games and Halo was easily the best he'd ever played- with the exception of Metal Gear Solid and followed closely by Dino Crisis and DC 2, but…
           He sighed again, frustrated, and stood, crossing the room to turn off the X-Box.  He didn't need to save.  He'd already played that one level at least a dozen times.  It was his favorite- Lex liked the levels with the sniper rifle better and Clark couldn't for the life of him understand why- and he liked going back to play it, but…
           But what, Kent? he asked himself, curious if he could be truthful with himself.
           The pinball machines were great, too, but…
           But?
           But he really preferred hanging out with Lex.
           There we go then.
           He walked over to the pool table and picked up Lex's ebony cue stick, emblazoned with ivory colored flames, and twirled it in his hand.  He brought it to his nose but was disappointed.  Chalk.  Wood.  Oil.
           No Lex.
           He put down Lex's stick-
           Hee hee.
           -and picked up the one that had been made especially for him.  A deep rich cobalt with crimson red flames that stood out against the dark of the blue.  His first name was embossed in flowing cursive on the base of the handle in a quiet shade of yellow.
           He'd told Lex not to make one for him, that he'd just use the ones that Lex had sitting around but the older boy had ignored his request completely, not at all surprising Clark.
           He ran his hands down the length of the wooden cue stick.  Pool was also a lot more fun with two people.  Specifically him and Lex.  He grinned.  Specifically when Lex thought he couldn't play and devoted time to giving him tips.
           Clark gazed wistfully at the table and sighed.
           "Yoga," he muttered petulantly.  The first time his friend had been tied up with something personal that he hadn't stopped for Clark.  He knew he was spoiled, having Lex drop everything but business matters everytime Clark bothered to appear, but he didn't care.  He wanted to play with his friend.  Possibly pool.
           Lex had decided after Clark's initial trip to the gameroom that a few times a week after school and homework Clark was to come over and they'd play pool.  Clark, never one to turn down a Luthor demand for attention, smiled, embarrassed, and explained he didn't know how.
           And, at the time, he honestly hadn't.  Sure, it was a country thing, pretty popular around town, but he'd just never gotten into that whole scene.  But for Lex?
           Why not?
           That little admission had merely solidified the plans in Lex's mind, the older boy jumping at the chance to teach Clark about the game and Clark happily agreed.  Now he had an excuse to come over pretty much whatever weekday he wanted.
           Now I just gotta get an excuse on the weekends, he thought digging out the balls from under the table.
           The first hour that Lex had given him the stick, Clark had been frustrated to no end.  He kept hitting the balls with the cue far too hard or far too light.  Lex attributed it to stress and not holding the cue correctly.
           So he had walked to stand behind Clark.
           The instant Lex's arms wrapped around Clark's back, he had tensed.  Long desired off-white hands with slender, sexy fingers and manicured nails grabbed Clark's hands moving them back on the stick showing Clark how to hold it properly.  To Clark's lusty gratitude and common-sense dismay, they didn't leave once Clark had the proper form.  Instead Lex had leaned into him and told him to bend over.
           He closed his eyes, remembering the sexual frustration he'd felt with Lex's waist and groin pressing into his lower backside.
           He'd pulled back when Lex told him to, made his shot and sent the ball clear into the hallway through the thankfully already open door.  He didn't want to have to explain how he managed to shoot a pool ball straight through a large oak door.
           Lex had held perfectly still in the silence of the moment, then let go of Clark, backing away and muttering that posture was definitely not the problem.
           Clark smiled and began racking the balls.  They'd only had nine sessions- Lex had been fairly busy with two mergers and something to do with a science experiment in his downstairs labs- and they'd only been playing for a little over a month.  Clark had actually caught on to the game right away and Lex had been impressed in their first three sessions, but Clark realized that winning was just going to be far too easy and that, more than anything, he just wanted the closeness of Lex that his clumsiness brought forth.
           Lex was smart and Clark knew that an abrupt change in his newly aquired pool knowledge would be conspicuous.  So, he began to let himself drift slowly from good form and gameplay.  By the seventh he was almost as bad as during the first, hitting the balls too hard, but this time controlling it.  Now, instead of sending the balls too far, he just seemed like an incredibly bad player with hands far too big and clumsy for pool.
           He didn't have to worry about Lex giving up on him.  If there was anything he'd learned, it was that Lex was damned deteremined when he set him mind, and Clark had never seen him so set.  To his amusement, though, Lex had become flustered with Clark's degredation in ability.
           One lesson in particular came to mind.

           "No, Clark," Lex muttered, crossing around the table and over to his side.  "I swear, as brilliant as you are in everything else…"
          He trailed, off no doubt noticing Clark's fast burning cheeks.
          ~ Brilliant? ~
          Lex nodded, deciding something to himself.  "Fine.  That's not how you hold your stick, Clark."
          Clark smiled trying not to laugh, but failing miserably.
          Lex just glared.  Clark knew the older boy was finding this humorous because if he wasn't he would have told Clark, very plainly, to go home.  Maybe he would have just switched games.  Or he would have told the boy to shut up.
          Either way, he wouldn't have just stood there.
          "Oh, you're incredibly mature, Clark.  Starting to act more like the other seventeen year olds I know."
          Clark rolled his eyes, knowing that Lex only knew Lana, Whitney and Chloe.  He hadn't really even met Pete, and Pete was the pinnacle of teenaged immaturity when it came to 'cue sticks' and 'side pockets'.
          "You sound like my dad, Lex."
          Lex smirked.  "I'm sure."
           Clark's sexy smirk alert was going off, bells and whistles abounding.
          ~ You don't, however, look like him. ~
           Clark decided that that was probably a good thing.
          Lex walked around behind him and stood up on his toes looking over Clark's shoulders at the table beneath him.
          "I could move," Clark said amused.
          "Hmmm," Lex nodded, basically ignoring Clark and thinking.  Clark had come to know the thoughtful countenance well and stood patiently.
          He only had to wait a few moments.
          "Here.  Give me your sti-" Lex caught himself with a smile and pointed to the cue stick.  "Give me the damn thing."
          Clark obliged, grinning, and started to move away.
          "Oh, no you don't."  Lex jerked a thumb over his own shoulder.  "Get behind me."
          Clark swallowed and moved slowly behind Lex.  He glanced up at the vaulted, Italian church-style ceiling, willing himself not to notice the narrow but muscular shoulders, the strong back, the slim waist and the oh-so-scrumptious Lex-booty near his own frontal vicinity.  He'd allowed himself hundreds, if not thousands of glances before, but never one so close and so…  well, never one where he'd had such damned easy access.
          “Clark, I want you to-“  Lex cut himself off as he turned to see Clark staring up at the ceiling.  Clark watched him look up as well.  “Got bats?”  Clark frowned and looked down at his friend.
           “What?”
          “Exactly.  Now pay attention, Kent.  We’ve got your whole career as a professional hall player on the line and you’re staring at my ceiling.”
          He grinned broadly.  “Professional hall player?“
          Lex turned back around and began got into position, which meant he leaned forward, exposing his rear, and backed into Clark’s crotch.  Clark jumped back a little, but Lex didn’t seem to notice.
          Clark, on the other hand, was doing more than enough noticing for the both of them, realizing that the back view was a better, fuller view than catching little snippets of Lex’s naked chest from behind the partially unbuttoned workshirts.
          ~ Don’t think about how sexy he is.  Don’t think about how sexy he is.  Think about how sexy… ~
          His mantra was not working at all.
          “Okay, now... watch my form.”
          He swallowed.  “No problem.”
          “I’m serious, Kent.”
          ~ So am I. ~
          “Form is everything.”
          Clark was finished with trying to keep his eyes from traversing Lex's healthy frame. “Indeed.”
          “Eight ball, corner pocket.”
          At the same time that Clark realized the impossibility of the shot, he knew Lex was going to make it, and something in his stomach stirred.  After all, there was something undeniably sexy about Lex when he beat the odds concerning feats that went unstated as possitively unattainable.
          ~ Phalen.  Think of Phalen.  There we go.  It’s working. ~
          Lex eyed his possibilities, moving his derriere none to subtely to the right, then the left, then right again.
          ~ Think of… of Phalen in… in a bathing suit.  No!  A SPEEDO!! ~
          He made a face.  Now that was just wrong.
          “You always have to gauge the outcome of every potential shot, Clark."
          ~ Principal Kwan in a bathing suit.  Uh…  No.  Definitely not going there. ~
          “You can’t expect to win unless you’ve got complete control over the situation.”
          ~ Um…  Lex in a bathing suit.  Ahhh…  MUCH better.  WAIT!  No, damn it!  Not better.  Just making it worse! ~
          “That’s all pool is.  It’s control.  Control over the stick-”
          ~ I’d like control over your stick. ~
          “-control over the balls.”
          ~ Those, too. ~
          “-and control over your form.”
          ~ Oh, God, Lex. ~
          “Sometimes, if you’re really very good and your partner isn’t, you can maintain control over his form.”
          ~ …………………………… ~
          Clark could easily imagine having control over Lex’s form.  Did often, actually.
          Lex smoothly slid his arm back, then pushed it forward, the tip of the stick knocking the cue ball with an audible crack.  Clark watched the white orb slice it’s way across the green felt, heading directly for the twelve ball.  It connected, sending the twelve to the far end of the table and sending the cue ball diagonally backwards and towards a dark blue ball near the edge.  Clark couldn’t see the number, hadn’t been playing long enough to know them by color and didn’t really care.  He watched as the cue ball, slowing some, grazed the side of the dark blue ball, sending it up towards the eight ball.  Expending the last of it’s energy, it tapped the eight ball, giving the black orb forward motion of it’s own.
          The eight ball sunk into the corner pocket Lex had designated.
          He stood up, lightly bumping up against Clark’s chest, and surveyed his tiny dominion, then turned around and leaned suavely up against the table.  He crossed his arms, not at all awkward even with the cue stick still in hand, and smiled proudly.  “See Clark?”
          Clark nodded dumbly.
          “All you need is control.”
 
 
 
 
 
 

            To be continued...