svfic: somewhere i have never travelled, 21 (WAS mmm, brandy)

peach brandy. the reward of those who fulfill resolutions.

*grins*

*****


The first thing Clark notices is the fact only Mercy is shadowing them. He's getting used to the idea of it, but he's also getting used to the idea of not, well, *seeing* her.

"Clark?"

Clark shrugs as they arrive in the garage, stepping out into the warmth. Of course Lex would never allow a garage he owns to be cold. "Nothing. Just wondering where Hope is."

"She had a little accident," Lex answers, and Clark turns curious eyes on Lex as he unlocks the Aston Martin. "Nothing too serious, but Cassius wants to keep her for observation."

"Accident?" Clark rewinds, remembering watching them fight that day in Lex's building.

"She ate something that disagreed with her," Lex says, and Clark opens the passenger side door when Lex indicates. "Cassius is running some tests. So Mercy is--on edge."

Yes, he imagines so. With the amount of trouble Lex can get into just going to work--assassination attempts, disgruntled ex-employees, superheroes unhappy with his life's calling--Mercy's probably wishing Clark would keep Lex safe in the Penthouse, wrapped up in wool or something. Hiding his grin, Clark gets in, sighing a little as he sinks into the seat. "You know, Clark, I'd happily give you a car--"

Clark gives him a look.

"What?" Turning the ignition, Lex pulls out without such mundane concerns as whether there are any cars or people or, say, pillars behind him, flipping into drive in less than a breath. Clark wonders if closing his eyes would work for the denial thing. "It's a car. An actual necessary piece of equipment for the average working man in Metropolis."

It's not as if Clark's that attached to the bus, and his car…. "Lex--"

"Like, say, if you needed a pen, I'd give you one."

"Are you seriously comparing a car to a pen?" Lex might. Sometimes, Clark wonders if Lex inhabits the same plane of reality as he does when it comes to money. Then of course, Clark's aware of what Lex's pens cost, too. "Lex, can we leave that for another day? Like, far in the future?"

Lex gets a grin, not good. "Of course, Clark. I'd hate to make you uncomfortable."

Shaking his head, Clark watches Lex nod to the security guard before pulling out of the garage and into a cold Metropolis evening.

"So where are we going?" Clark asks as Lex adjusts the rearview mirror on the off-chance he might use it.

"It's a surprise," Lex says, giving a perfunctory look at the road around him before upshifting like he's trying to win the Indy 500, Billionaire's edition. It makes Clark wonder if Hope's actually in observation for heart problems. Being Lex's watchdog can't be at all easy. "Don't look like that."

"I'm trying not to look at your driving," Clark answers carefully, breathing out when they make a corner. "I can't believe you drive this way downtown."

"It takes practice," Lex says, like he's talking about a kind of esoteric skill, such as knitting or something. "Really, Clark, you need to relax. You're too young to be this tense."

"What with the worrying for my life? You're never too young for that." They're leaving the bright side of the city, and Clark watches the streets change. The other side of Metropolis, where Superman spent considerable time. "Are we--Lex, what on earth is over here, besides your less friendly associates?"

"They're not associates, they're--paid help." Lex flashes another grin, but his hands are tightening on the steering wheel. "Believe it or not, I do like to get away from the public eye once in awhile." With that, he executes what has to be an illegal maneuver, sliding inside a parking garage that Clark hadn't even seen was there. Clark gets a glimpse of security waving them past, but his life flashing rapidly before his eyes.

"So where are we going?"

"This little place I found while I was attending MetU," Lex answers, pulling into two parking spaces with a flip of the steering wheel. Clark shuts his eyes briefly when the wall comes at them, but the car comes to a picture-perfect stop. "You'll like it."

"Huh." Clark gets out, glancing around the parking garage. "You own it, don't you?"

"The more appropriate question might be, is there anything I don't own?" With a grin, Lex hits the alarm, tucking his keys into his pocket. Reaching for Clark's hand, he pulls him along behind him at Lex's usual brisk pace. "I used to--spend a lot of time in this part of town when I was a kid."

"You don't say," Clark murmurs, irrationally pleased at Lex's touch, the easy, natural way the gloved fingers fit between his. It's the stupidest thing, that it turns him on when Lex just holds his hand or touches him--the little, casual things that really don't mean anything except they mean everything.

"You know, you take my reputation far too seriously," Lex answers with a low laugh, and their shoulders brush as Clark picks up his pace.

"I was actually thinking of your juvenile record," Clark answers, catching the quick glance Lex gives him. "I won't even ask."

"I fell into the wrong crowd."

"You *led* them, Lex. Please."

They come out into the brisk, chilly wind of the night, and Clark glances around briefly. It's a new thing, to wonder about the people around in more than a 'are they in trouble' capacity. Mercy's trailing them, though he can't see her, and that's uncomfortably comforting.

He's still human male normal, even if he isn't superpowered anymore.

Shaking his head, he lets Lex lead them around the corner, glancing at the sign above a small, hole in the wall place that the CEO of LexCorp could not possibly ever have entered.

"You're kidding."

Lex snickers. "Don't judge by appearances, Clark. Really, you should know better."

Well, yeah. But. The rundown buildings on either side--and Clark would swear that one has a 'condemned' sign on the front--don't exactly inspire confidence. Nor does the door Lex pushes through, into a room that's dark even by a Metropolitan night standards. The smell of smoke wafts over them--obviously a place that doesn't pay attention to city ordinances regarding no smoking in restaurants--and it takes several seconds for Clark's eyes to adjust.

Lex leads him to a booth in the back--soft, dark vinyl, years of wear, but as comfortable as Lex's bed, and Clark sits down, running curious fingers over the surface of the table. Very clean. So far so good.

"Tell me why we're here?"

Lex smiles at him, peeling off one glove to reach across the table to catch his hand. "Because you wouldn't have believed me if I told you this is my favorite restaurant."

Huh. A waitress interrupts, and Clark automatically starts to pull away, but the slim fingers hold on, and Lex takes both menus with a charming smile, asking for water. The woman obviously knows him--a quick half-smile, tilted head, and short, approving glance at Clark before disappearing, a blur of soft green blouse and jeans. Very informal. The silverware is wrapped in napkins on the table already. Butter in tiny plastic convenience containers.

So very not Lex Luthor that Clark only gives Lex a look when he takes the one page menu.

"Okay, you're waiting for me to ask. Why?"

Lex studies the menu briefly, but it's pretty obvious he already knows what he wants.

"Well, for one? I actually do like to eat once in awhile outside my home without photographers snapping pictures." Lex runs his still gloved finger down the menu again, then nods, almost to himself. "Two, I'd like you to myself for awhile."

"You have me to yourself at the penthouse. Or my apartment. Or--"

Lex makes a sound that borders suspiciously on a snort. "I'm never going to try and be romantic again."

Clark laughs and catches at the fingers that try to pull away. "I'm sorry. It's just--different."

"I told you, Clark. You don't know everything." Grinning, Lex pulls off his other glove with his teeth, slow and easy. Clark feels the shiver run down his back just watching, and Lex lets the glove fall from his mouth and into his lap like it's the most normal thing ever.

"You're so sexy," Clark hears himself say, and Lex gives him a slow, sleepy smile that reaches into his eyes. Clark takes a deep breath, forcing himself to stare at the table, but that does nothing about the way his pants tighten and God, he wants to be at the penthouse right *now*.

"You know, Clark--"

"Here you go." Two glasses of water drop on the table between then, and Clark shakily reaches for one. Taking a drink, he looks over the rim at Lex, who's pretending he has no idea why Clark needs something iced right now, stroking his glass with a thoughtful look. "What can I get you?"

He's--got to go to the bathroom.

"I'll--be right back," Clark says, putting down the glass.

"Do you know what you want to eat?" Lex asks, like he has no idea what on earth could make Clark feel so hunted.

"Order me something." Cold water. Reminding himself he doesn't have superspeed, so can't rush them back to the penthouse and get Lex on his back right now. This is supposed to be a date. There's food to eat. A nice, quiet restaurant, just the two of them. Stepping around the woman, who smiles as if she knows what's going on--does it show on his face?--Clark glances around casually.

"To the left," the woman says, then turns back to Lex. He's not flushing. He's--going to the bathroom. Like any other normal person who's being teased by Lex Luthor at dinner.

It's a short walk--door just behind some huge, glass-covered movie poster from the fifties with Marilyn Monroe on the front--and down the short hall, men on the left. No one's in here, but it's dark even with the lights on. Comforting in some way.

Turning on the water, Clark splashes a little on his face, then dries his hands, adjusting himself in the pants.

Looking in the mirror, Clark studies his reflection for the first time since he changed. The same face stares back that's been looking at him since around fifteen--different hair, longer, but the green eyes don't scare him anymore, and he remembers how good it felt, how right, to wake up with Lex.

No matter what's happening or will happen in the Arctic, they can get through this. Grinning a little, Clark imagines what Lex will do when Clark still digs in his heels about moving. The penthouse--isn't right, not for them to live together. They could get something else. Something they pick out together. Something--

Clark hears himself laugh. He's really thinking of permanence now. Lois had been right. He can handle Lex, he can handle work, he can do *anything*, and he can do it all as Clark Kent.

The bathroom door opens, and Clark watches Lex looking at him from the doorway. Lex lets the door close behind him without a word, then reaches down, casually turning the lock.

Turning around and leaning against the sink, Clark grins, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What if someone needs to use the bathroom?"

"There's a perfectly acceptable bathroom across the hall. I ordered you a cheeseburger." Lex comes close enough to touch, but his hands are in his pockets, head cocked. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah." Really great. Reaching out, Clark catches Lex's belt, pulling him between his knees. "Just thinking."

"Thinking?" Lex's head tilts back, giving Clark a little grin that reaches into his eyes. "About what?"

"Nothing." They can get something closer to the Planet, so Clark can walk to work in the mornings. "Maybe you."

"Maybe?" Lex takes the final step, bringing them together, and Clark can feel him hard against his hip, making him catch his breath. Warm breath against his jaw, and it makes him shiver again, just the feel of Lex breathing on him. "Let's fix that."

Teeth graze his jaw, warm lips like an afterthought that skim his skin, before sliding down his throat, resting on the side of his neck before Lex lets his teeth rest on Clark's skin. Just a second of dizzying anticipation, then the pressure, slow and careful, bright pain creeping up through every nerve, and Clark bucks against Lex, a hard thigh sliding between his.

"Lex." His voice is shaking. "I--I'm way too old for a hickey." And that is going to show. Unless he wears turtlenecks for the next week. But he can't even begin to want to pull away, leaning in, one hand finding it's way up to the back of Lex's neck as a warm tongue eases over Clark's skin.

"Let me fuck you." It's murmured into his ear, followed by Lex's tongue in a slow sweep. "I want you."

"God." He's not even sure he can think after that. Not when Lex insinuates a hand between them, cupping his cock through his pants, other hand tangling in his hair and pulling him down for a hard kiss. His mouth feels raw, lips bruised, and Lex seems to want to consume him completely, turning on every nerve until Clark's bucking into his hand and shaking with the need to just--

"Please, Clark." Whispered against his lips, and the hand closes tight over his cock. "Do this for me."

No way to get control of his voice back now--Clark nods, and Lex hand closes around his throat, kissing him hard, once, before stepping back.

"Turn around."

It's--not easy to remember how to balance, but Clark turns, bracing both hands on the cool porcelain of the sink, shutting his eyes at the touch of Lex's hands on his waist. Unfastening his pants, letting them fall, then kicking his feet apart, making him gasp. An open mouth kiss to the back of his neck as the hard hand slips into his boxers, stroking his cock briefly before pulling away, and Clark moans, bucking futilely at the withdrawal. "Shh. I'll make this good, Clark."

Boxers next, and Clark finds himself staring into the mirror, trying to blink focus back. He can just see Lex behind him--oh God, feel Lex behind him, and of course Lex carries lube everywhere, if he didn't actually plan this, which Clark's beginning to wonder. Slick fingers push inside, hard and fast, and Clark tenses shuddering at the start of heat in his cock, pushing back against them. "Good, Clark." Lex's voice is thick, almost heavy, slicking him like the fingers inside him. "That's it. Open up for me"

"Fuck." He looks drugged--swollen mouth, wrecked collar, the dark red glare of Lex's teethmarks in his throat. Another finger pushes inside, and Clark shudders, making a sound that he's never heard before. "Now. God, Lex, now. Please--"

"Shh." Another kiss, pressed between his shoulder blades, then the fingers pull away and Clark almost groans. "Just--wait a second." The rustle of foil--right, condom. Easier clean-up. Then Lex steps closer and Clark feels Lex's hands on his ass, the brief brush of his cock, almost a tease, and Clark tries to push back against it. "That's--hold still. Don't want to hurt you--"

"Won't." He's panting, and God, even he thinks he looks sexy, the mirror reflecting open mouth and ruffled hair and Clark begging. "Won't, just--just please--"

Lex grabs his hips, and suddenly--

"Oh God--" Cut off with the hand over his mouth, and maybe he started screaming, but he's not sure. God, yes, it hurts, and God, it's good, and he wants it again and again, the slow burn of Lex's cock opening him wide, Lex whispering to him in that low, jagged voice that sounds like sex feels. Like *nothing* else, ever, and Clark sucks on the fingers that slide over his tongue, moaning around them as Lex pulls back, then thrusts again, seating himself so deeply that Clark wonders if he'll feel this in his throat.

"I love seeing you like this," Lex whispers, hand skimming up his hips, pulling his shirt up, careless of wrinkles. "I love to watch you when I fuck you. When you fuck me." Mouth on his back, tongue licking his spine with another thrust, and Clark swallows a moan, pushing his cock into the sink to get some relief. Every stroke makes him shudder, twisting, trying to get more, wanting Lex to go faster and never stop. His hands are locked on the sink, holding himself steady, bucking against Lex.

"Harder." He chokes out the word around Lex's fingers, almost going to his elbows at the shock of the next thrust. Lex removes his hand, making Clark moan again, and the slick fingers trail over his shirt, down the revealed expanse of his stomach, closing on his cock. "Oh God--"

"Never want to stop." A sharp bite to his back, and then Lex is--is *fucking* him, no time for words or thought or anything but feeling everything, taking it with rocks of his hips and breathless sounds like he's dying and it's never, never been this good.

He comes with a shock--voice caught helplessly in his throat, back arched, Lex's cock buried inside him, his cock in Lex's hand. Vision black, no sound, nothing but standing here, taking this, feeling it all, almost falling but for Lex's arm around his waist, pressing him to the sink, almost bent over it.

"God, Clark." Reverent, like he's praying, and Clark's still shuddering when Lex just *stops*, hands clenching on his flesh hard enough to bruise, and Clark forces his eyes open to watch, see his face, wide blue eyes and bitten lip. Incredible, forcing an aftershock through him as Lex rests against his back, soft and pliable, hands loosing to pet gently.

Long, long seconds before Lex pulls away, and Clark hates it, hates losing the feel of Lex's cock, the warmth of him against his back, and Lex turns him around, leaning him on the sink and stepping between his legs, face pressed into his throat. Warm and shivering and all his--Clark wraps shaky arms around him and breathes in the smell of them both.

No one who sees them *isn't* going to know what they just did.

Lex's fingers are in his hair again, and then that hot mouth brushes his lips before pulling back. Clark grins, wondering if he looks like an idiot, before opening his eyes to see Lex watching him with a little smile and something lighting the blue like fire.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs, then draws back, the smile widening, becoming a smirk that makes Clark grin back. "Ready to eat now?"

Clark looks down at stained pants and rumpled shirt and starts to laugh.