Clark isn't touching himself. Not yet. One hand slung over his head, resting against the headboard, and the other palm down, low on his belly, inches away. Wait.

When he was thirteen it had taken a full year of nearly constant masturbation before Clark stopped feeling incredibly guilty every time. In health class, they said it was normal, healthy and natural and everything, but it didn't *feel* that way. It felt ... dirty. Sneaky. Dangerous.

*Dangerous*. Clark closes his eyes and moves his hand, stroking his stomach.

Especially the times he got together enough nerve to move beyond imagining just general girls, unspecified mouths and breasts and skin, and let himself think about people. People like ... Lana. That always felt wrong. Good, definitely, but wrong. Like he was making her dirty, too.

Clark's not thirteen anymore. He's older now, more mature and with more life experience, and yeah, he knows. Everybody does it. And he's got things going on in his life, more important stuff to worry about than jerking off.

But lately he's been going at it like there's a record at stake or something, and he *doesn't* feel bad. Even though it's Lex he's seeing every time.

It doesn't feel dirty at all, fantasizing about Lex, and damned if Clark knows why, but seeing Lex (Lex's hands Lex's skin Lex's mouth Lex's cock) feels *right*. Feels pretty great, to tell the truth.

He slides his hand down his belly slowly and lets his fingertips brush over his cock, so lightly.

Maybe it's because he doesn't think Lex would mind if he knew. Lex wouldn't be disgusted. Lex ... Lex would maybe even be pleased, Clark thinks.

In the room, standing at the foot of the bed, eyebrow raised, *watching*. Clark jerks; his breath is coming faster now.

Unless Clark's just that much more clueless, dorky, lame, but he doesn't think so. He doesn't think he could be getting this wrong.

He *has* to be right.

Still just the barest scrape of his fingers, but his hips are moving steadily now, and he bites his lip and clenches his other fist above his head.

But Lex doesn't seem like he's ever going to make the first move, and that's really frustrating, because it means *Clark* has to. And he knows Lex wants this too, except he's not *totally* sure, and it's not like he's ever done this before.

He's come close a few times. Sometimes Lex stands really near and his eyes are wide and open and he looks almost approachable, and it could be so easy to just lean over and do it, just let it start, just kiss him.

But Clark chickens out every time.

Almost aching now, and he -- finally -- starts stroking slowly and evenly.

It's just ... he wants it to be special. Perfect.

He squeezes his eyes more tightly shut. Another villain, maybe, after Lex, and Clark'll be there to save him again. Earlier this time, though, before the guy has a chance to give Lex another concussion or sprained rib.

Rescue Lex, and then they're alone in the castle, in his office, and Lex will walk over to the bar to pour himself a drink, and just stop. Freeze, and Clark will walk over to him, and say "Lex?", just gentle questioning, close, hand on his shoulder, and Lex will turn and look up at him with the eyes that look almost bruised, will smile crookedly at him in the way that just makes Clark hurt. Lex'll start to say something, but before he can, Clark will do it. Leaning in and kissing him, and when he pulls away Lex'll be smiling, laughing, and Clark will have fixed it, fixed him, saved him. It'll be everything.

God, he's such a girl. Clark laughs breathlessly, and adjusts his hand to get a tighter grip on his cock. Faster now, and he can hear himself panting and grunting.

Maybe he'll just get up the nerve and do it. Walking down some hallway together, and suddenly stop. Let Lex keep moving before he notices Clark's not following, and turns around. "Clark?"

Just a few steps forward to enter Lex's space, and this time no hesitation. Just there: tiny sweet taste of Lex's lips, and he'll step back again and smile innocently.

And Lex -- oh, Lex will ... Lex will just *gleam* at him and do it. Clark'll let him -- Clark *wants* him to grab his wrists, pin him against the wall. It won't matter that Clark could get away without any effort, because he won't, and Lex will be right there.

God, Clark can almost smell him. Lex's scent so ... clean, and Clark would laugh at that too if he had the brain cells to spare.

Lex holding him there, leg rubbing up between Clark's, hands under the shirt, and his mouth -- mouth everywhere, mouth against his ear, whispering. Whispering how much he wants Clark, everything he wants to do with him, to him, laughing quietly at all of his little moans and cries, until Clark catches his breath enough to push him away and reverse their positions, so Lex is against the wall. Ignore Lex's surprise and just drop to his knees, and oh *god* he wants to see the look on Lex's face, in his eyes when Clark starts to suck his cock.

"Oh. Oh. Oh," Clark mumbles as softly as he can, and he comes, twisting up and up and up before he slams back down onto the bed.

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