Vision Thing III: Learn Braille

by Te

December 2001

Disclaimers: If they were mine, I'd have long since enrolled them in a nice outpatient program.

Spoilers: None. Pre-Smallville.

Summary: Lex goes on a social call.

Ratings Note: NC-17

Author's Note: Third and hopefully last in the _Vision Thing_ series. Takes place a few days after "See This" and "Don't Look." It's absolutely necessary to read those first, I think. Both are up at The Smallville Slash Archive:

http://smallville.slashdom.com

Acknowledgments: To my gorgeous Webrain, of course, for making me laugh at the most *bizarre* things, and to Molly for fostering this idea through e-mails, and to Iain, who doesn't even have to be *around* to tell me exactly what he wants to see. More thanks to Bas, who braved the beta-free writer. The title is Spike's, otherwise known as The Keeper of Themes.

Feedback is the next best thing to therapy, I swear. thete1@earthlink.net

It would be so much easier if he could just crawl right out of his skin.

Lex can imagine it, so easily. Not the Clive Barker version, just the thought of doing something, anything, that would take his mind that last little step away from. Here.

Metaphorically and literally, hopefully.

A nice, long rest in a room with padded walls and clean-shaven men who never, ever actually want to touch him.

He'd be bored in milliseconds, of course, but it might be that useful sort of boredom.

Life has been entirely too exciting lately.

Lex can sit down again, though.

He supposes that's a plus.

It had been unpleasant on a number of levels to have to bite back a wince at the family dinners he'd been forcing himself to attend. Not least of which the fact that, Christ, he shouldn't *have* to hide the fact that his father had hurt him.

In some world, in some universe marginally less fucked up than the world he lived in, Lex Luthor should be able to wince as publicly as he wished, turn to Lionel Luthor, and say, "Gee, Dad. You fucked me a little too hard, you know? Maybe ease up the next time?"

He can hear the imaginary clatter of silver on expensive china like applause.

He can watch his father's face purple with rage and smirk and smirk until those hands (on his face on his mouth) close around his throat and the help might be a little too shocked to move, and whatever guests they were fete-ing at the moment would gasp and stand and it might be something sweet, something downright *special* to die like that.

And drag Lionel down with him.

Lionel, it seems, has had no trouble erasing any of this.

Lex had watched the maid bundle his sheets up with his own. Undoubtedly both sets are clean and spring fresh in the linen pantry even now.

Lionel, his father, his ever beloved father hadn't looked at him once the day after, giving Lex just enough time to build up hope for... something.

He should've said something then.

No.

He should've known better.

The next morning found them on opposite ends of the breakfast table, silent and silent and silent until Lionel looked up and Lex realized he'd been staring. There'd been a flash of... something in the man's eyes, gone quickly enough that Lex has begun to believe he was fooling himself about it.

And then... "A Luthor doesn't have time to daydream, Lex. Do I need to find you something to do?"

Lex had blinked, incredulous and, God, yes, he can admit this to himself, *hurting*, and gotten control of himself as quickly as he could. "That won't be necessary... Father. I have some additional research I've been considering."

He wants to believe that he really hadn't been quick enough. That Lionel had just been giving him time to... recover.

He hates himself for that want.

He could find several things to hate himself for without much effort, really -- the sheer naiveté of believing he could somehow make a real relationship out of the mess of his family life is only the start -- but self-loathing just feels a little too typical at this point.

Too twelve year old girl, too Very Special Episode.

His father didn't rape him.

He came twice, hard enough to make the memory not entirely unpleasant.

Lex is not a victim.

Lex will never. Be a victim.

So.

And really, this isn't the sort of thing that scars a man for a life. Or, rather, it's precisely the sort of thing that could scar *any* man for life, but Lex isn't any man.

(A Luthor doesn't...)

In the end, Lex doesn't have time for childhood trauma. There's life, the Ivy League idiots he's looking forward to shocking the living shit out of when they figure out just precisely how smart he really is.

There's.

There are other things out there for Lex to focus on. He just has to find them.

After the third day of forcing himself to be noticeable, present, *there*, Lex lets himself fall into old habits. The home lab is, perhaps, the best present Lionel has actually given him, though he knows the main reason for it was to make sure Lex was steered in the right direction. His mother... his mother had always wished he'd used his imagination for more literary pursuits.

Sometimes he wishes he was more wired that way, or that he had been, then.

He'd been too young to think about making her happy. He could've done something with her gifts of fiction other than toss them to the side after a single, dutiful read. Lionel, of course, had his own impressive degrees.

Lionel held several vastly important agricultural patents, all of which had done their part to make their fortune years before Lex had been born. It could've been enough to drive Lex toward something as blissfully useless as nineteenth century French literature. Really should've been, considering all those well-thought plans toward teenaged rebellion, but...

Chemistry.

There's something absolutely godlike about it, the manipulation and study of compounds and elements, putting things too small for thought through their paces and making something *new*.

The physicists look down on chemists, but then, physicists never want to do anything but take things apart and put them back together again. Mechanics with degrees, and those are the ones he *likes*. The theoretical types never want to get their hands dirty. The mysteries of the universe on clean white sheets.

Lex doesn't want to think about sheets.

Paper, clean white paper.

Equations and theory and nothing he can put his hands on.

Boring beyond words.

The lab is in a sub-basement, stone and gleaming metal and flawless glass. Labcoat, goggles. Extra-strong latex gloves and the speakers blaring something alternative and forgettable. Raw emotion, guitar. He has an endless collection of the stuff, most of which he'd left at school. These aren't his favorites, but they'll do.

Sound and bitter scents and enough poison surrounding him to do some serious damage to the Gotham water table, were he in the mood.

Evil mastermind, here he comes.

This was his first lab, and it's still his favorite, despite being smaller and far less equipped than the one in Metropolis. It's... cozy down here.

Private.

Especially with the deadbolt that Lex decides, carefully, not to lock.

Something to prove, and he won't think to whom.

The CD has changed several times and Lex is just about to admit to himself that he won't reinvent the wheel today when a hand falls on his shoulder.

He does not scream.

He does not strike out.

He does, however, bite his tongue so hard his eyes water and if the person behind him can't tell how frozen he is, then they have no actual feeling in their limbs.

"Yes?" Lex doesn't turn.

"Lex?"

Darius. Lex lets out a sigh that makes him want to bite down again. Only Darius. "Can I help you with something?" He's not going to turn around until he can fix his face.

"Are you...?" Darius trails off and the rage that hits Lex is massive and terrifying.

"Is there a particular reason why you're checking on me?" And he knows that tone. It is, of course, his father's.

The hand is gone instantly and Darius sounds as stiff as Lex feels. "You have a phone call, Master Lex. It's Bruce Wayne."

Bruce. Making what could only be a purely social phone call. It's about as easy to imagine as his father dressing like Santa Claus and handing out gifts to needy children. Stops him for a minute, and he misses the first half of whatever Darius is saying.

"... call?"

"Hmm?"

"Where would you like to take the call?"

Of course. None of the cordless phones had enough range to reach down here. "Oh... in my rooms would be fine, Darius. I'll be up in a moment."

"Very good, sir."

Lex waits until he can hear the door close behind Darius and slumps, elbows buckling slightly under his weight. This is intolerable. If all it takes is getting fucked up the ass by his father to make him lose his composure...

Doesn't even try to hold in his laughter. Lets it bounce off the stone walls and back at him and if there's something of an edge to it, then... well, he's entitled, isn't he?

So long as it doesn't go too far.

*Bruce* is the basketcase in this friendship, after all.

And Bruce is waiting for him.

Lex thinks for a moment about trying to figure out what the conversation will be about, but gives up on the idea quickly. Bruce is... Bruce.

Whatever it is, he's bound to be surprised.

The cordless is waiting on his coffee table when he gets upstairs, and Lex settles on the couch with it.

"Bruce?"

"Lex." Less a simple statement of his name than something like an unasked question.

"That's me. Sorry about the wait, I was down in the lab."

There's a pause, then, and Lex is absolutely clueless about what it might be for. He's never asked Bruce how he is -- he's not at all sure he wants to know -- but he considers it now.

Briefly.

"Lex, I was wondering..." Strained sound to the man's voice, like the words had strangled themselves on their way out of his throat.

Lex really, really doesn't want to know. Closes his eyes. Asks anyway. "What is it Bruce? Is something..." Can't bring himself to finish the question and hopes to God Bruce won't answer anyway.

Bruce mutters something almost entirely unintelligible.

"What?"

"I said. I said, would you come over? I have... we can have dinner together. You've never seen my lab, have you?" All in a rush, but at least it makes sense.

"Wha... you have a lab?"

"I. Yeah. When you mentioned yours in class..."

Lex can practically *hear* Bruce sweat.

All because he wants Lex to come over. Could he be *horny*? And what was the proper etiquette for asking your best friend the nutcase if he was over that impotence problem yet?

Lex knows he's leaving Bruce hanging here, but... he's feeling more than a little mean. Thinks maybe that should be allowed, too.

"Well, I don't know, Bruce, I've been working on some things..." Trails off meaningfully. Waits.

Bruce takes a shuddering breath that makes something clench in Lex's chest. He might not be feeling *that* mean. Bruce obviously needs... something.

From him.

"Bruce?"

"Yes?"

"When do you want me to come over?"

"Oh. I. Now?"

Snorts a laugh a little helplessly. "Okay, Bruce. I'll have Chip bring me around. Should I bring anything?"

"No, um. No."

And Lex realizes that he sincerely does want to get out of here. He can let down his guard a little, maybe. He doesn't have anything to prove to *Bruce*. And whatever he wants is bound to be completely different than what he's getting here. God knows what the man has in his lab.

Knowing the Wayne fortune, he wouldn't be surprised to find a big, shiny particle accelerator.

"Okay, then. See you soon." Hangs up fast to avoid what will undoubtedly be another awkward silence followed by an equally more awkward good-bye.

Strange how his father just assumed Bruce wouldn't be taking over the family business when he got old enough. For all his lunacy, Lex can't imagine Bruce doing anything else. Except maybe taking up casual serial murder, or possibly taxidermy.

Or both.

Lex is still laughing quietly when the limo pulls out.

Wayne Manor suits Gotham City perfectly. Huge, dark, gloomy... and that was just from the outside. It may have even had gargoyles, but Lex has never looked close enough to be sure. He doesn't *want* to be sure.

Tycoon's castle. Great-grandfather Wayne had made the history books as just one of many reasons there were now powerful anti-trust laws.

Bruce is waiting for him outside with a steaming mug of something when Lex steps out of the car. Bruce is clearly working on his hosting skills. Or is maybe just feeling like freezing his ass off in the Gotham winter. His face is a study in stone. Handsome, broody stone.

Lex sends the driver off with a wave and tries on a smile. A sudden gust brings the smell of chocolate.

"Cocoa? For me? Why, Bruce, I'm charmed..."

Bruce's expression cracks at the edges. It would be a laugh from just about anyone else. Gives Lex a hint of... warmth.

Camaraderie at any cost?

Perhaps.

Everyone gets lonely sometimes.

Lex shivers and walks up the steps to Bruce, takes the cocoa in one gloved hand and sips. If he'd waited much longer it would be too cold, but now it's just right. Waits for Bruce to invite him in.

Bruce is watching him closely, not even remotely dressed for the elements in his simple sweater and slacks. Cheeks rosy with cold and he doesn't seem to know what to do with his hands. This close, Lex can see Bruce's expression changing. Almost melting, really. Starting with the cold-pale lips going a little slack, moving into eyes that are.

Heated.

Almost... wild.

Lex realizes he wasn't too far off the mark. Bruce *wants* him, and what should be amusing, flattering, and arousing just... isn't.

Something else he isn't entirely ready for.

Lex darts a glance down the private drive for the limo he *knows* is long gone before he knows what he's doing, but he doesn't have time to berate himself for freaking out before Bruce's hands close around his arms.

Hisses.

He still has bruises there.

"Bruce?"

"You don't have to worry, Lex. I... know now. I can fuck you."

Blinks. "Um... Bruce. That's. Nice?"

"Come inside with me? I know how easily you get cold..."

"I... okay, but Bruce... I think we need to talk."

Bruce nods slowly, rubs his hands up and down Lex's arms. Stares at him seriously. "You're right, of course."

And then lets go, gesturing Lex to go ahead.

Enter freely, and leave some of the happiness you bring. Right. Hysteria just a little too close to the surfaces of things and Lex takes a shaky breath. Walks in to find Alfred just slightly beyond the edge of winter cold in the foyer, tray ready for his mug.

"Alfred, hi." Is Bruce killing people yet?

"Master Lex. Always a pleasure to see you." He smiles like he means it, which, because it's Alfred, means that he smiles as though he's finally going to be allowed to die. For a man barely out of middle age, Alfred is remarkably elderly.

Maybe all proper British butlers were.

**************

Bruce takes his coat and, surprisingly, leads him into a dining room he hasn't seen yet. The table's almost person-sized, as opposed to something out of a particularly operatic nightmare. Bruce sees his expression -- it would be hard for him not to, he hasn't stopped *watching* Lex since he arrived -- and explains,

"It's the Children's Hall. I thought you might be more comfortable in here instead of the Main one. I don't know why I didn't think of it before..." Bruce trails off, looking almost comically troubled.

Lex thinks about it, then decides it's reasonably safe to clap the man on the shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. You were just giving me the full Wayne Manor experience." Grins and almost means it.

Bruce just looks solemnly grateful. Loneliness palpable, even at a distance, and for long moments Lex can't control his own face. Doesn't know what's showing there, but Bruce takes a step toward him, reaching without moving his hands.

And if he's going to do this, *commit* in some way to being a friend to Bruce Wayne, then... then what?

Then fucking *deal*.

"Bruce, what happened? What's... wrong?"

Freezes him where he stands. Look in his eyes gone desperate in a heartbeat and Lex does his best to sound gentle. Fucked up kid, yeah, but weren't they both?

He can do this.

"You can tell me, Bruce, it's okay. I promise."

But then Alfred is there, all covered silver trays and funereal cheer. Lex wonders, abruptly, just how many casual visitors Bruce actually gets. Thinks maybe he could count them in decimals. Instead of taking his spot at the head of the table, Bruce sits at one of the middle places, so Lex takes the seat across from him.

Another grateful look and Lex is starting to worry a little.

Turns on the charm as consciously as possible, asking Bruce about sports and stocks, sharing gossip on their classmates, everything he can think of.

The answers he gets just get more and more terse, though, and Lex is about to start prodding the man hard when he notices that Bruce has just been... *staring* at him for the last several minutes, silent and strange as ever.

"Bruce?"

Lex watches Bruce's jaw clench and work. He looks like he's trying to swallow a brick, and for a moment Lex wonders if he's actually choking. Do English butlers come equipped with the power to administer the Heimlich maneuver to exceedingly well-muscled teenagers? Is that animage he really wants in his head?

God, he *has* to get a grip. "Are you okay? Do I need --"

"I don't want to do this with you, Lex."

"God, I thought you were choking, Bruce, Jesus, don't *do* that. And do what with me?"

"I. Pretend. That everything's..." Bleak little smile on his face. "That everything's normal."

And Lex is cold, all the way through. Manages not to shove his plate away from himself and run. Barely. He doesn't know he doesn't know get a fucking grip he doesn't -- "I'm not sure I know what you mean, Bruce."

"You do. You know everything, don't you?"

Slaps on the world's least believable smirk. "Well, as much as I'd like to *think* I'm God --"

"Don't. Just. Please, don't do this, Lex." And Bruce is reaching across the table, making Lex hyperaware of his hand in Bruce's path. Clutches the tablecloth convulsively and Bruce pauses. God, thank God he pauses.

"Bruce --"

"I saw you, Lex. With. With your father."

Pure bright pain that makes Lex wonder what things like strokes and heart attacks feel like. Some part of him still struggling against.

*This*.

Because Bruce *couldn't* know, there was no way, he'd left the party --

"I came back."

"But you. How. Oh, Christ, Bruce." Bites his lip so hard he tastes iron. No. *No*. He has. Control. He's not some. Some. "Tell me what, exactly, you think you saw."

"He. Lionel. He... made love to you. And you... you..."

And Lex doesn't know why Bruce trailed off until he realizes that he's laughing. Laughing and laughing and yeah, there's that hysteria.

*Right* there.

Because no, this really isn't about Bruce pitying him at all, is it? No, no pity for him, and fuck him if that makes him relieved and angry and so fucking scared.

No escape.

Lets his silverware clatter to the table and launches himself at the door. Bruce is there ahead of him. So fast for someone so fucking big.

Fast and strong and no, no, no, please no --

Looking at him and now *Bruce* is scared. Pale and dark and red and blue. Somebody else's Snow White. What kind of innocence is here, anyway?

Hands on his shoulders and Lex shudders. Stills. Realizes he was struggling.

Oh, God.

Knowledge like endless tidal waves, pocket apocalypse behind his own eyes. He gets Bruce now, oh yes. Watching, somehow *watching* what Lionel did to him --

*No*

Watching what he'd done with his father and deciding in that fucked-up brain of his that, ah, yes, this sex thing. I get it now. Hold the boy down and make him like it.

Send him away after and and and and --

Chokes on something he won't admit is a sob and Bruce is pulling him close. Holding Lex close, arms wrapped around him like the awkward bundle of possibly dangerous psychoses he probably is. Stroking in a way that is probably meant to be soothing, stiff-handed and heavy. Better for being so painfully, *obviously* alien to the both of them andBruce's sweater is warm and scratchy on his face. Some sort of wool that Lex is, of course, allergic to.

Laughing again and Bruce holds him a little tighter.

Bruce is hard.

Lex forces himself not to stiffen, not to push away. Isn't entirely sure Bruce would let him, isn't sure Bruce's motivations are clear even to the man himself. Fleeting wonder about just what, if anything, Alfred would do if Lex screamed.

Takes a deep, shuddering breath. He can't possibly cry one more tear. He won't let himself. "Bruce." Muffled against Bruce's sweater (Lionel's hand) and Lex *has* to push.

Thankfully, Bruce gives him a little space. Staring into Lex's eyes very seriously.

Tries again. "Bruce. What you saw. That wasn't... that wasn't. Love." Swallows the acid bubble of laughter before it can get out.

And Bruce looks... confused. "But he's your father."

Which clearly makes some kind of sense to Bruce that Lex can't fathom. Except... that's not really true, is it?

Isn't he supposed to be owning his... what happened? His father had *fucked* him. He hadn't asked him to, but he hadn't said no more than once or twice, either. It had had it's own visceral enjoyment. And hadn't he gone to the man himself? Hadn't he provoked (can't stop pushing)?

Throwing his mother's wedding ring like he didn't care. His mother's *wedding* ring, the reason he exists and. And.

Something wrong in there, deeply, horribly, wrong, but it's all so fucking true and it isn't.

"It wasn't. I didn't want. God, *Bruce*, it was *wrong*. We. Made a mistake." Juddering his way through the words. Control, control.

Bruce nods slowly. "You haven't... done it again?"

"No! I mean, no..." Focuses on his breathing. Bruce is... really screwed up right now and Lex is stuck with him at least until he can get to a phone. Has to make him *understand* this. "Fuck, I wouldn't *want* to. It would be like... like you having sex with *Alfred*."

Lex tries on a smile that dies a painful death at the look on Bruce's face.

"Bruce... you haven't... have you?"

"I. Wondered if I should."

Lex wants to bang his head against a wall, and Bruce's chest would do, but he isn't sure about what message that might send. "I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that would probably be a bad idea."

"He wouldn't. Hurt me."

"No. No, I'm sure he wouldn't, but... Jesus, Bruce. You watch people as much as I do. You *know* this isn't how it's supposed to go."

"Do I?" And Bruce scrubs a hand through his hair, mussing it into dark spikes. For once, he looks exactly like what he is -- a teenager.

Like him.

"I don't know... I mean, sometimes I think I understand how things go, for other people, but I'm. I'm never there."

Lex wonders what it says about him that that actually makes sense. "Bruce..."

"And then when I saw... that. It was like I'd been wrong all along. You wanted to. Get close. And so you... you..."

Sick. So goddamned sick. "Yeah, Bruce. I tried to... heh. I tried to talk to him. It went... badly."

Bruce just looking more and more disturbed, and yeah, it's pretty obvious he's getting it. Whatever it is he didn't get before, or didn't want to get -- no.

Bruce isn't the type to hide things from himself, Lex thinks. It would be too easy. Lex squeezes him a little. "Hey."

Disturbed leading right into panicked, and is it better or worse that he's not the most screwed up person in the room?

Certainly gives him something else to think about. "Bruce, what --"

"Oh, God. Lex. I. I'm so *sorry*." Hands back on his arms and it's pretty obvious that the only reason Bruce isn't breaking and running is that he.

Doesn't want to hurt him. Oh, shit. He can't have this. He *can't*."

"Don't you fucking dare apologize for what my father... for what happened. It's not. Your. Right."

Bruce reels back like Lex has slapped him and it just makes Lex push closer. There wasn't much room between them to begin with and now the only thing keeping them apart is their clothes. Shivers uncontrollably and it just makes him angrier.

"Stay out of it, Bruce."

"But... if he... if you didn't..."

"It was a *mistake* and it's not ever going to happen again and you just can't *tell* me you're sorry --" Cuts himself off with a hiss. Not even close to making sense.

"But you don't understand, Lex --"

"Don't say it. Don't you fucking say it or I'll. Leave."

And Bruce is clutching him again, right over the bruises. Like he can fucking *feel* them through Lex's clothes. And yeah, that was pretty much the biggest threat he could come up with and probably the only one that counts because,

"Don't."

Guilt like a sickness. Jesus. Jesus. Lex lets his head fall on Bruce's shoulder. "Ow."

"Sorry --"

"Shut up, it's not your fault you have a shoulders like fucking barn beams. It's just. It's not your fault, okay?"

"I could have. Stopped it."

"Oh, *Christ*."

"I shouldn't have. I. Lex, it turned me on so *much*." Bruce breathless and somewhere close to *tears* and Lex isn't going to
scream he isn't going to scream because if he screams it means all the wrong things, all the bad things he can't let it mean and he's stronger than this.

So much fucking stronger and Bruce's hands are shaking on his arms, fingers flexing and releasing and flexing and releasing and oh, God, oh,God *please*.

"Can I apologize now?"

And it's just so *Bruce* that Lex has to laugh some more. "Sure, go ahead. Apologize at will. My apology es su apology. Apology uber *fucking* alles. We're *all* sorry here."

Bruce shifts, tilts Lex's head up by the chin. Strong callused fingers and it's not his imagination that they. pet him. A little. "I'm sorry." Solemn voice, but there's a light in his eyes. Bruce maybe considering joining him for a ride on the mood swings.

Lex wonders what would happen if he dropped acid with Bruce.

It would undoubtedly make the history books.

And Bruce is waiting. "You didn't know, so. I. Forgive you." Harder to say than he wants to think about.

Because.

Because if Bruce knew then, really, who else did?

Darius, unrepentant gambler who only still had a job because he knew where all of Lionel's bodies were buried? Curls his lip at the memory of that oh-so-brotherly hand on his shoulder. Everybody had a price, right? Thinks maybe that Bruce has gotten just about all the forgiveness he has in him.

Well and good. He deserves it for giving Lex an excuse to get out of that damned house.

And God, he'd give just about anything not to have to think about this for one more second.

"Bruce."

"Hmm?"

Still holding Lex's chin up, free arm loose at his side. More focused on him than anyone he's ever seen. Lex grins. He knows how to get out his head. "Find me."

"Wha.?"

But he's already broken away and running full out.

Up the stairs and down the hall in the dark, and yeah, he knows a lot of this place from their games. Enough to know that the halls are wide and clear, that *this* turn will take him to the servant's stairs and down, down, down past a closed door with light seeping out under the wood. Alfred's.

He can't hear Bruce behind him, but he knows enough not to expect to.

Keeps running. Back up one flight and left left right and up again and again, and one more time.

Bedrooms up here, most shut up and sheeted and Lex picks one at random, flies in and pulls the door *just* to, not wanting to risk either the clack of the door shutting or the obviousness of having it be wide open.

Runs headlong into what feels like a sofa and goes flying over onto the carpet. He's laughing silently, gets up immediately and feels his way around only marginally more carefully.

Floor suddenly slick beneath his feet and he realizes he's in a bathroom, cool and cool around him. Too much, so he keeps going forward, not really surprised to find a door at the other end.

Walks through and realizes through the utter blackness that he's actually in *Bruce's* bedroom. No white sheets to catch the few stray bits of light that make it into this place. Thinks about running some more.

Grins.

Bruce really won't expect to find him *here*.

Crawls onto the huge black-on-black firmness of the bed and settles against the headboard.

Waits.

Something impossibly soothing about it. Warm, almost entirely empty house. No one here but the apotheosis of home service and his friend, the lunatic. The friend part more important than the lunatic part for perhaps the first time ever.

He. trusts Bruce. Knows the man wouldn't do anything to hurt him on purpose. Knows that, in the end, they're probably both looking for something like the same thing.

Connection. Safety.

Something to count on when, like now, absolutely nothing else makes any kind of sense. An ally in this. whatever it is.

Knows that just by coming here, just by being honest with Bruce, he's gained something immeasurable. Bruce's almost entirely unfocused need for him like a drug. Lonely. Yeah. He can admit that. He's a teenager. He's supposed to be lonely, right?

Lex is just smart enough to know it.

Pulls his knees up and wraps his arms around them. Breathes in all the darkness and lets out the same.

He can't see a fucking thing and that's. fine.

Though maybe he can manage just a *little* more finesse the next time he feels like making a connection.

Sometime in his twenties, maybe. Yeah, that would do.

Tilts his head back against the headboard and nearly chokes on his own heart when the bed dips with someone's -- Bruce's -- weight.

Smirks. "Caught me again." Feels Bruce settle somewhere in front of him and can just about make out what could be his hands. Still.

"You're too pale to hide in the dark."

"You shouldn't tell me all your secrets, Bruce."

"I won't."

Has to snort at the blatant certainty in the words. "I'll remember that when I'm thinking about trusting you."

"No, I didn't mean. you can trust me. I won't."

"Hurt me?" Everything Lex isn't thinking about just behind a treacherously thin skim of. Ice.

"I won't."

Every sense screaming at him that Bruce is about to do. *something*, but he never actually moves. Lex blinks. Shakes it off internally. "Okay. You won't hurt me. What will you do?" Suddenly, viscerally aware of his own. seductiveness. Power he has over Bruce like something vast and dangerous to everyone in a ten-block radius, including himself.

Hears Bruce take a shuddering breath. "Anything you want me to, Lex. I want. I want to touch you again. Your skin."

Hisses his own breath and god, yeah. Lex is hard. Doesn't know whether or not he should be disturbed by that fact, but has to decide on 'not.' He didn't especially *want* to join Bruce in impotence land, after all, but...

But. Feels like maybe he should wait.

Doesn't want to, though.

"What about my skin?"

"God, Lex."

Swallows a groan. Just this sudden rush of feeling, raw exhilaration that they're going to play it *this* way. Lex has, he *knows*, absolutely all the power here, and he's. Gonna use it. "Tell me, Bruce."

"I want to touch you. I. Can't get enough of that. You must've noticed."

Sense memory of big, strong hands in the dark, moving over and over him until Lex had had to *force* them down to his cock, his balls. Show them what to do. "Yeah. Yeah, I have. You like the way I feel."

"Yeah." And Bruce sounds hoarse. Thick-tongued.

Lex nods, slips his sweater over his head. He's fast enough to hear Bruce gasp, even though he's not exposing anything more than a pullover. Tosses the sweater somewhere into the black. "What else do you like?"

"What.?"

"About me. What do you like?"

"You always know what I. Need."

************

Throws Lex for a moment. Not even remotely what he was expecting to hear. A little too heavy for this moment. Maybe just heavy enough. No, he doesn't feel like thinking about that, either. "Why won't you let me touch you?" And okay, maybe thinking a *little* would be a good idea, because he sure as fuck didn't mean to ask that.

Silence.

Silence, and he's about to take the question back, pull things back on track, but,

"Because I'm afraid."

Swallows hard. Tries to get his brain functioning for something other than tease-Bruce-into-losing-control and why did he need Bruce to lose control, anyway? How fucked up is he? How fucking *needy*?

Pulls his shirt off, but he's breathing too hard to hear what reaction, if any, Bruce has to this. "What are you afraid of?"

"I don't. no. I'm afraid of. Breaking. Inside. If I lose control."

"You won't."

"How do you *know*?" And Bruce *feels* closer, even though the mattress hasn't shifted at all.

Because you're already broken. Lex breathes. Runs a hand over his chest. "Because I won't let you."

Pause. "All right."

Lex grins, brushes a hand over his nipple. Already hard for this.

"Let me do that. Please."

Oh, Bruce. "Not yet."

"When?"

"I have more questions."

"I'm not at all surprised." Dry, dry tone.

"Why do you spend so much time on the roof of the dorm?"

"I can see the whole campus from there. Everything."

"You like to watch, Bruce?"

"You know I do."

And Lex takes his shoes off. Socks, too. He's feeling generous.

He's feeling pretty fucking giddy, actually.

Digs his toes into the coverlet. Spreads his legs a little. He can smell himself. Wonders if Bruce can, too.

"Now, Lex?"

"No."

"I. I don't know if I can take this." Low, strained voice. Almost close enough to touch.

"You can. We're almost there, Bruce."

The bed dips, shifts, and Bruce *is* closer. At his side now, only a thin cushion of air separating them. "God, Lex. I didn't think I could *be* this turned on."

And Jesus, in some ways Bruce feels terrifyingly *younger* than him, as though he'd just been physically aged in a vat somewhere miles away from anything like the real world. Something young and bizarre and. precious. All for him. Lex turns to face him, the vague shape of Bruce visible through the shadows. He thinks Bruce's eyes might be closed.

Hears him take a long, slow breath and realizes he's being. sniffed.

Scented on the air like an animal, and God, okay, yeah, that's pretty fucking hot. "You're turning me on so much, Bruce."

"I'm not actually doing anything."

"You don't have to."

"Oh. Oh, God. Lex, please."

"How long do you watch me when we play your little version of hide-and-seek, Bruce? Before you let me know you're there?"

"It varies."

Well, of *course* it does. "How long tonight?"

"Four minutes."

"Jesus. Didn't you give me any kind of head-start?"

"Was I supposed to?"

Lex laughs. "Remind me to explain certain basic childhood games to you at some point, Bruce."

"All right. Are you going to."

"Take off my pants? Yeah. Yeah, I am. Right now." Unbuttons his jeans and has to sigh in relief. Game or no game, it was starting to get painful. Lifts his hips and slides them down his legs, wondering what Bruce is seeing now. In him.

The air is cool on his shorts where he's leaked a little, and Lex runs a thumb over the wet-spot. Bruce's gasp makes him do it again.

And again.

"Lex, *please* --"

"Do you want to see me do myself, Bruce? Would that turn you on?"

"Yes. But not now. Take them off."

"Done." And God, it's enough that it's dark. That he can't actually see what he's doing beyond the impressions of movement that Lex isn't convinced aren't just what he wants to *believe* he's seeing.

Moves to toss the boxers in the vague general direction of the rest of his clothes, but Bruce clutches at them before he can. "Let me."

Lex lets go and fuck, yes, Bruce is sniffing them, all right. Fuck, fuck, *fuck*. Tiny wet sound like maybe he's found something he just has to taste. "Bruce?"

"Yes?"

"Now."

And Bruce is on him before he can take a breath, fully clothed to his nakedness. Growling against his throat and --

"ah --"

-- biting him there. Just hard enough to make his point.

Lex wraps his arms around him, gets his hands on the damned sweater and yanks, dragging it up over Bruce's body with the t-shirt beneath. Hot skin against his own, pressing hard and Bruce is licking him now.

Over his throat and down along his collarbone and -- Jesus -- up over his scalp.

Tasting him. Wants to taste him oh fuck oh fuck --

Lex scrabbles at Bruce's fly, getting it open more through sheer dumb luck than anything else. Bruce is hard, hot in his hand. Drooling pre-come and making these hot, tiny *sounds*.

Want sounds. Need sounds. Whimpering against Lex's throat.

"Yeah, Bruce, fuck. that's it. God, c'mon, kiss me --"

Mouth on his own, inexpert and desperate. Feeding on Lex, sucking his tongue into that hot mouth and half-begging to be fucked with it. Lex gets his free hand in Bruce's hair and obliges. Slowing the kiss down even as he starts to jack Bruce faster.

Harder.

Swallowing every moan and Bruce's hands are on him, hot and branding, restlessly stroking and caressing him, lingering nowhere.

Loves his skin. Loves it.

"Gonna come for me, Bruce?"

And Bruce shoots all over his hand before either of them can say another word, shuddering and silent.

"Oh. Oh *fuck* that was so hot, Bruce." Bruce's head on his shoulder, hands still moving. Lex pets his hair a little. "You know there's more, right?"

"I have to say, I was hoping."

Lex snorts. "Optimism pays."

"Not. quite the response I was expecting to hear from you, Lex."

Lex can feel the smile against his shoulder. "Just call me an idealist." Catches one roving hand and slides it down his belly. Lower.

"Oh. You're so *hard*."

Gasps at the feel of Bruce's fist around his cock, abruptly unable to think of anything better to do right now than let Bruce have his. Heh. Head.

But Bruce pulls away, and Lex has just enough time to wonder if they're due for Bruce's long-delayed freak-out before hands close around his ankles and *pull*.

"Jesus!"

"Just have to get you. Mm. Stretched out." Muttered against his thigh.

"God, okay, anything you want, Bruce."

Answered by sharp, sucking kisses on his thighs, down to the backs of his knees and Bruce hands are gentle on his legs, shifting and moving them and Lex has the distinct impression that he's being made love to, though for the life of him he isn't sure if Bruce is aware of the difference.

Isn't sure if he wants him to be.

Just as long as he doesn't stop.

Relentless hands so warm on him, the best possible chafe. Calluses making Lex *aware* of his skin for the first time as a function of pure sex. It had always been just a source of mild, bemused, self-loathing. He really had hoped to grow *some* hair when puberty hit, but.

Bruce is making him feel impossibly exotic.

Desirable beyond anything he can consciously do to help things along.

It's terrifying, somehow right on the edge of all the things he's trying not to think about, but it's also Bruce.

Mouth on his inner thighs, softer now. Wetter. Bruce just. all over him. Only not, and Lex's upper body is cold in his absence.

Has to get his hands in that short, dark hair, tease his palms with the sweat-damp spikes of it. So good. Needs it to be better. "Please, Bruce."

Shuddering moan against his balls and Bruce is mouthing them, sucking them into his mouth. Tongue slick over thin skin and Lex moans, helpless and loud. Bruce's thumbs digging against the joins of torso to thigh, rubbing and rubbing him there until Lex has to buck into nothing but air and God, yeah, he's hard now.

Close to aching. Never been any good at denying himself satisfaction.

"Touch me --"

Nearly comes right there when Bruce uses his mouth instead of his hands, sliding off his balls and licking up the shaft of Lex's cock. Licking away all the pre-come, shifting to get it off his belly, too and --

"Oh *Christ* --"

Low chuckle, hot breath against him. "Just me."

"Bastard --"

"Orphan." And Bruce is taking Lex in his mouth, just the head. Wild licks and those hands on his hips now, rubbing and rubbing before slipping under his ass.

Holding him there, squeezing and *lifting* Lex up into his mouth. Most incredible thing he's ever felt and Bruce is.

Going down.

And down.

Sucking Lex hard, sucking his *cock* and oh Jesus yes, yes, yes and he might even be saying this out loud. No clue. None.

Blunt finger slipping back behind his balls and it's like being rubbed in the best possible wrong way. Can't keep himself from fucking Bruce's mouth, Bruce's wonderful, invisible, tight hot wet mouth.

Surrounding him and just *taking* him in.

So fucking good he's forgotten that finger until it starts circling his hole.

Tiny little motions, unmistakable and teasing.

Bruce feeling him *there*. Learning him and it's so different, it's good, it's okay, oh please please *please* --

Bruce pushes *in* and --

"Oh *fuck* --"

Lex comes, jerking and shuddering at the feel of Bruce's mouth working around him. Swallowing him down. Bruce doesn't let up until Lex pushes him away, breathless enough to wonder if it had been wise to flush *all* of his inhalers.

"Lex. You. you."

"Fuck. Yeah, Bruce. God. C'mere."

Bruce slides up over him, nuzzles his throat wetly before allowing himself to be pulled into a kiss. Lex tastes himself in Bruce's mouth and has to wrap an arm around him. Pull him closer, even though they're already skin to skin.

So good.

Gets their legs twined together, not at all surprised that Bruce is getting hard again. Kissing him like he's just learning how -- slow, methodical, and determined with moments of pure inspiration.

Licking Lex's palate, sucking his lips, first one then the other. Holding one of Lex's arms out to the side and stroking it with his whole hand, fingertips to heel.

In the pauses he can feel Bruce watching him, and it's a little frustrating not to be able to find his eyes.

"Do you want the lights on, Lex?"

"I." And he isn't sure. Naked and post-orgasmic Bruce is a sight worth seeing, but.

He'd have to see himself, too. Shifts under Bruce's weight, which immediately eases. Not what he wants, and Lex rolls to press close again.

"Leave them off."

"Thank you."

Easy enough to leave it there, a favor, but. "It's for me, too."

Hand stroking his cheek, cupping the back of his skull. Lex tilts in what he thinks might be the right direction for a kiss, but, "I don't understand."

"I'm. learning to appreciate the dark."

Thumb over the knob of his spine, pressing there for a moment that makes Lex tilt his head back.

"Mm, Bruce."

Mouth on his throat. Half-mauling him and even though Lex wouldn't mind if Bruce was gentler, he wants, very badly, for him to leave marks.

Less a matter of ownership than erasure. Bruce's marks don't come with a price.

Holds Bruce's head close to him and earns a thrust against his hip, a sucking bite that goes straight to his cock. It's not going to take long for him to be ready again. Not with Bruce so obviously *hungry*.

Moving down his body to bite and lick at his nipples. Suck them into tight little points, electric waves of not-quite-pain warming Lex all over. Twists until he can draw one leg up, curl it over Bruce's waist and *pull*.

"*Lex* --"

"Is this what you would've done if I was all tied up, Bruce? Bite me?"

"Lick you suck you fuck -- oh *God*, Lex, can I?"

Erasure. Yeah. "Yeah, Bruce. Do it. I want you to."

"How should I. I mean. Do you want me to go slow?"

The constant stroking is starting to get disturbingly. comforting. Doesn't want Bruce to be conscious of comforting him. Thinks he knows exactly how fucked up that is. "I'll let you know when you're in me --"

Cut off with a bruising kiss, Bruce's tongue in his mouth suggestive and helpless at once and Bruce is holding him *tight*. Half-crushing Lex to him and Lex catches one hand and brings it to his ass. Twines their fingers together a little and makes Bruce squeeze with him and then Bruce is thrusting against him, desperate and hard.

Lex's cock is still a little sensitive and it's almost excruciating. Doesn't want it to stop but he wants Bruce fucking him *more*.

Breaks the kiss with some effort. "C'mon, Bruce, ease off a little."

Freezes. "Sorry --"

Bites his lip. "Want you in me before we come."

Bruce rests his forehead against Lex's own and they just breathe together for a little while, shifting and moving.

It's good.

Wants to stay here all night.

Lets himself stay right there for several long moments before easing out of Bruce's grip. Crawls over the massive bed in the vague direction of 'top' and 'left' and nearly smacks a lamp over onto the floor before he finds the top drawer.

He knows enough about this room to know where *that* is, even if Bruce has only ever used it to make jerking Lex off last a little longer. Or. well, whatever he'd used it for before Lex had seduced him.

Turns over directly into a kiss and Bruce is petting him, smoothing him, just drinking him down with hands and mouth.

Familiar sounds and a slick hand around his cock, twisting little strokes Lex can't help but fuck into. Good hands, wonderful hands.

"Lex, I can't wait to be inside you."

"Then get me ready. Slick your fingers a little more."

Biting kisses along his jawline and Lex spreads his legs. Slick over the base of his cock, his belly, his balls. Thin strip of skin behind them that's always been so damned sensitive and when Bruce presses up Lex groans aloud.

"Been doing some reading, Bruce?"

"Yes."

Laughs and spreads even wider and Bruce's fingers are right there. Circling and not so much teasing as just. making sure he's slick all over, and yeah, Lex can get into that. *Is* getting into that and is just about to beg Bruce to *hurry* when he slips the first finger in all the way to the second knuckle in one slow push.

Lex breathes out a moan and pushes back on it.

**************

Hadn't needed much practice in the privacy of his own bed to figure out how much he liked this. Bruce *in* him and his invisible gaze like a weight, oppressive and necessary.

Starts a slow fuck with his finger that makes Lex want more really, really quickly. Electric brush against his prostate on exactly every other thrust and Bruce's other hand caressing his slick, tight balls.

"God, faster, Bruce."

Gets his wish and has to groan because now it's *really* not enough, some part of his mind just *ready* for this, and his body has definitely gotten the message.

Bruce crooks his finger a little and starts hitting his prostate *every* time, and it shouldn't make as much of a difference as it does. Lex plants his feet and starts pushing up into it, digging his fingers into the sheets to keep from grabbing for his cock.

Really doesn't want to come until Bruce is inside him, and he knows he won't last if he doesn't use a little control now.

Knows he sounds absolutely strangled when Bruce adds a second finger, but the burn of it is a little heavier than he'd expected, the fullness more than he was ready for. Bruce's hands are exactly as big as they should be for a man his size, which means they're pretty much huge compared to Lex's own.

But Bruce has slowed down again, and it's good. Knowing what's to come. Knowing how much they both want it and, yeah, even maybe knowing what it's costing Bruce to *go* so slow.

"You feel so good, Bruce."

"You're hurting."

"Only a little. It's okay."

"I don't want to --"

"If you stop, I will castrate you."

Low chuckle that hits Lex somewhere low in the belly, makes him roll his hips into the next thrust of Bruce's fingers and there's that *breaking* feeling.

Like something tight and hard and vastly important just doesn't exist anymore. Remembers this feeling from the first time and wonders if Bruce knew about what he'd done with that nameless gardener, if he was watching then, too.

Doesn't matter, or maybe just makes it hotter. Bruce fucking him in earnest, in and in and in and the stretch is absolutely necessary. Vital to his existence, but not as important as getting Bruce's cock in him *now*.

"Ah. ah fuck Jesus do me, Bruce --"

"Now?"

"*Please*."

And Bruce doesn't make him wait. Pulls Lex's thighs up over his own and slides in, slow and implacable. Makes Lex wail a little, try to make it go faster, but Bruce has his hips. Taking his time. Giving Lex this and making him accept it, inch by inch.

Body feels so right that Lex has this brief, mindless fantasy of somehow being *made* for this, fuckable and ready for it and when Bruce lets his hips free to stroke his chest and belly, strip his cock for a few short bursts of feeling, Lex keeps still.

He's shaking with it, though, and Bruce doesn't pause for too long, slipping out just enough to be noticeable and pushing back in with a sharp little thrust that drives a sound out of Lex he doesn't even try to classify.

"Fuck, Bruce, do it --"

Hands back on his hips, ghostly pressure and Bruce pulls out a little further. Lex can feel those hands shaking and holds them with his own. Squeezes and tries to get across just how badly he wants this, because he doesn't think he can actually manage coherency at this point.

*In* and Lex realizes it's going to be *just* like this.

Bruce fucking him crazy by increments, for just as long as they can both stand it. Lets his head fall back against the pillow and groans.

Leaves himself open to it.

Bruce's rhythm like the world's most rigidly controlled stutter. Out in in out out in so hard and fast suddenly that Lex cries out.

Wonders how well sound carries in this mausoleum.

Wonders if perfect British butlers are allowed to get turned on by the sound of their employer/guardian fucking the hell out of his friend.

Doesn't give a shit about either. They could be the only ones here, and that's perfect.

Perfect.

"Bruce."

"Tell me. God. Tell me how you want it, Lex."

"You're incredible, just. just don't stop."

Makes Bruce lean over and kiss him, shifting the angle to something he thinks might just kill him and he's *still* doing the stutter routine.

A little awkwardly, but fuck, the man's flexible as all hell.

"I. I think I'll keep you."

Lex can feel the smile against his mouth and kisses it hard, works his hips a little in encouragement.

"More, Bruce, please --"

"God, you're so beautiful."

(Beautiful boy)

"*Fuck* --" Clenches hard and it just drives the feeling back up into his body, all over his body his father's hands oh God his father had --

Bruce is moaning and Lex feels the pillow dip to either side of him. Bracing himself. Gonna fuck him hard now just like

Just like --

(I will not have you waking the servants)

"*No*!"

Not even aware that he's fighting until Bruce catches his wrists and even *knowing* it's Bruce --

Can't stop struggling and it's just getting him fucked and Bruce is making those hopeless, helpless sounds or maybe it's him and oh god oh god oh god he won't he's not --

"Let *go*!"

"Please don't hit me, Lex, I can't. I can't."

Holding his wrists in one hand now and petting him with the other. Stroking his arms and trying so hard and still so deep inside. "I. I won't fight. Just. Please, let go." Can barely recognize the breathy *thing* that his voice has become. "Please."

Bruce releases him and Lex clenches his hands into fists but doesn't do anything else.

Every breath just reminding him of the cock inside him.

Still so fucking hard. Both of them.

Moans aloud and Bruce is moving --

"Don't --"

-- and turns on the bedside lamp. Wash of color and light that blinds Lex for long moments of blinking and wincing. When his eyes stop tearing he can see that Bruce has his eyes closed.

Rigidly still and not touching Lex anywhere but where their bodies are. Joined.

"Bruce."

And those eyes snap open, blue and serious and scared and. Starving. "Just me, Lex."

Releases a breath he hadn't known he was holding and wants to cover his face. Wants to just. *Hide*. "God, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry, I just --"

"You were remembering." Gently. Not a question.

Lex throws his arm over his eyes. "I. yeah. I'm guessing it was pretty obvious."

Bruce's hand gentle, incredibly gentle on his forearm. Tugging. "You don't have to hide from me."

Laughs a little brokenly. "I thought you liked that."

Tugs harder and Lex lets him pull his arm away. Staring down at him and there's a touch of anger there, now. Just enough to make Lex horribly aware of how vulnerable his position is. "You know that's not what I meant."

Hisses a breath. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"It's only me, Lex and I. Need you."

"Need to fuck me, you mean." Can't quite keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"That, too." Still watching him.

Lex snorts. "Don't you ever lie?"

"You don't have any more clothes to take off." Hint of a smile, if only in his voice.

Laughs outright. "I've got. hmm. Jesus, I'm not even wearing a watch." Makes him shiver a little and Bruce is there, touching
him.

So warm.

Hands on him like Bruce wants to pat and press him into exactly the same shape he's in now, and they're both spending a lot of time staring into each other's eyes.

Searching.

"I like the way you touch me, Bruce."

"Good."

Stronger touches now, harder. More obvious intent, and Lex can see the strain in Bruce now. That impossible control that's just not going to last much longer.

And if he agrees to this, is it any better than having agreed to. that?

His father had never asked him. Grits his teeth against the thought and then just. Doesn't.

Lionel never *asked* for anything, including the rights to his son's ass.

There'd been nothing to agree to and no way to do it. No way he would have if he hadn't been so. needy.

Needy for what he had a right to have, in some other universe. That marginally less fucked up one, way the hell over there.

Bruce's hand on his forehead, thumb just smoothing there, then down over his nose. To his mouth.

Lex kisses it. Slowly, consciously.

Denial. That myth of agreement could've coasted him right through life with a minimum of pain and gut-deep illness.

With a minimum of. Connection.

"Bruce."

"Yes." So low. Hoarse with it.

This, right here, doesn't have to have anything to do with what Lionel had done. And Lex won't let it. "Fuck me."

"No."

"*No*?! Jesus, Bruce, now is so not the time for you to. do whatever the fuck it is you do. *Jesus*, make up your fucking mind!"

"I have. And I'm going to. Make love to you."

"Oh, *Christ* --"

"Please, Lex. Let me."

"Fuck, *Bruce*. What are you gonna do? *Heal* me with the magical power of love? We hardly fucking know each other!"

"Magical power. Lex, I'm pretty sure my dick doesn't have any special powers."

Half-strangles on a laugh. "Jesus, would you please stop making me *laugh*? I'm trying to have a breakdown here!"

"Oh, were we having a serious moment? I hadn't noticed."

Throws a weak punch that hits Bruce somewhere in the middle of his chest. "Bastard, bastard, *bastard* and don't you fucking *dare* correct me!"

Bruce flat-out grins. Rocks his hips.

Just a little reminder of what's going on. Just a straight-shot to his cock. "Oh, God."

Bruce's hands on his face, and the grin is gone. "I know I can't fix you. I know you can't fix me. But I think. I think I can make it better, Lex. Let me."

And the only response he can come up with is to turn into Bruce's palm and kiss him. Lick him there when he starts.

Close his eyes.

"I. turn the lights back off, Bruce."

"Yes."

And he does.

Slow, hard kisses in the dark, bruising-hot and wet, and Bruce's hips have suddenly become Lex's favorite thing in the world. Things. Whatever.

Nowhere near enough control to finish the way he started, but it's all so *smooth*. Lex wraps his arms around Bruce's neck and tries to remember how to breathe, how to do anything but fall into this, his own hips rocking up and up into Bruce's liquid fuck.

"Need you."

And it's close enough to what he was thinking that it takes a minute for Lex to realize that Bruce had said it. Just makes it better. Sweat and sex between them and so much skin to touch.

Broad shoulders leading into Bruce's back and every muscle is sharp, defined. Slick and hard under his hands and his cock is in love with Bruce's six-pack. Almost enough friction. Makes Lex beg for more, faster than he would've thought he'd be ready for.

Harder now, driving thrusts that lift them both and those hands are back on either side of his head. Bruce breaks the kiss to rub his cheek against Lex's. Nuzzling him and panting and it's like Bruce just can't stop touching him even now that they're this close.

Some terrifying, incredible way to measure just what this actually means to the man and Lex kisses everything he can reach, bites Bruce's earlobe and earns a groan that just underscores how *silent* Bruce is in this.

In everything.

"Jesus yes, make noise, Bruce, you sound so good --"

"*Lex* --"

"Oh, oh fuck *harder* --"

Digs his heels into Bruce's back and pulls him in and they're surging together, rocking the bed and Bruce won't stop calling Lex's name. Maybe can't stop.

And Lex just wants to beg for it, knowing that he doesn't have to and clawing a little at Bruce's back and needing and needing and --

"*Fuck* --"

Comes all over them both and Bruce is kissing him again, apparently holding himself up on one hand because the other is on his face. Holding him still and petting him and fucking him harder and harder.

"So good Lex oh God --"

"Come in me, Bruce --"

Another hard kiss and the next thrust makes Lex see stars and Bruce is coming, moaning into his mouth and just *shaking* with it.

Lex holds him through it, pulling a little to urge Bruce down off his arm.

"Don't want. to crush you."

"You're not *that* big."

"Can you. not say that when we're naked? Ever again?"

Laughs so hard he starts coughing and Bruce laughs with him finally, pulling out slowly and resting half on top of him.

Warm and solid. Moving with his breath.

So good.

They calm down after a while and it's just. comfortable. Quiet and kind of sweet.

"Bruce, that was pretty fucking amazing."

"Mm. I. I'd like to do it again. Some time."

Lex smiles in the gloom. "I think that could be arranged."

Bruce strokes his face in a way Lex can only define as thoughtful. "Can you. stay here tonight?"

"I. yeah. I could have Chip bring some things for me in the morning."

"Good. Thank you." Solemn and serious again. Humor doesn't stay with Bruce very long, Lex is learning.

"You're welcome." Means it.

Eventually they roll over to the other side of the bed, Bruce managing some act of contortion to get them both under the covers, Lex toward the inside. Bruce has one arm thrown over Lex's waist in the least casual hold in the world.

Lex doesn't mind.

Starts to drift on the surface of things and realizes he's been dozing when he feels Bruce kiss the back of his neck.

"If he ever touches you again, I will kill him with my bare hands."

And he knows Bruce just well enough to know that he's absolutely serious, which pretty much wakes him up completely. But.

Not for very long.

End