Clark's German prof had decided to welcome his students back with a midterm the next day, so Clark spent his evening alone in the apartment curled up with his textbook and a stack of flashcards.  Actually, Clark had a feeling that he could speak and understand German perfectly well by now -- thanks to a Kryptonian gift for languages, not so easily displayed as his facility with math -- but Clark had never been good at spelling in any language and he was desperately trying to teach himself about umlauts and capitalization.  Kryptonian didn't use umlauts, and on this small but vital point, Clark had to concur with Jor-El that his was a superior species.

"Diese Jacke gefallt mir," wrote Clark in his notebook, then said the phrase out loud, trying to decide where the stupid umlaut went.  Lex chose this moment to walk in.  Clark looked up and said the phrase again.

"Always glad to hear your opinions on my Jacke," Lex said, dropping his keys and bending down to untie his shoes.

"Guh-felt," Clark repeated, trying to make his brain grasp the vowel sounds rather than the meaning.  "Guh fehhhlt."

"Umlaut on the 'a'," Lex said, shrugging out of the garment Clark had inadvertently admired.

"Why?" Clark groaned, dropping his head into one palm.  He'd just about decided that the word was umlaut-less, and Lex was ruining everything.

"It's an irregular conjugation.  By definition, there's no real reason," Lex replied, though Clark's question had been rhetorical and mostly for drama-queen purposes.  "It's the third person singular, present tense, of the verb 'gefallen' -- to like."

Clark moved his hand lower, allowing himself room to gaze balefully at Lex.  "You know, being a smarty-pants isn't as attractive as you might hope," he said.

Lex didn't smile, as Clark had expected.  In fact, Lex looked tired, now Clark took a moment to notice.  His shoulders were tense and there were circles under his eyes.  "Who says I'm trying to be attractive?" Lex returned, his voice losing some of its buoyancy as he walked into the kitchen.

"I made stew, there's a serving in a microwave dish for you.  Fresh buns in the breadbox," Clark announced, feeling a little guilty.  "And I picked up some of that blue water."

"Ty Nant," Lex supplied, then turned to smile at Clark as he opened the fridge.  "Thanks."

"Bitte schon," Clark said automatically.  "Umlaut on the 'o'?"

"Du hast Recht," Lex agreed, popping the dish in the microwave.  "Is this the stew with the carrots and the potatoes that your mom made last week?"

"Ja," Clark nodded, busily making a note about the latest umlaut success.  "Guten Appetit."

"Danke," Lex laughed.  "You have a good accent."

Clark flushed a little, worried that this might be strange, and opted for a swift subject change.  "When did you learn German?"

"I went to a Swiss boarding school for five years.  French, German, Italian, and English."

"You speak French and Italian, too?" Clark asked, impressed.

Lex twisted off the cap of his water bottle and shrugged.  "I've forgotten most of my French, to be honest.  I still have enough Italian to buy shoes and coffee.  German's the one that stuck."

"Why's that?" Clark asked, enjoying the way Lex's preoccupied tiredness was gradually falling away.

Lex smirked, turning to retrieve the heated food.  "A few reasons ... the principal one being that both Freud and Goethe wrote in German."

Clark narrowed his eyes.  "And?"

Lex was extracting a fork from the cutlery drawer, but Clark suspected he was stalling.  "And ... my German teacher was ... inspiring," Lex said finally, walking over to where Clark was sitting cross-legged on the couch.  "He had the best lips I'd ever seen on a man.  I used to just sit in class and watch him talk.  Guess I picked up a lot without even trying."

As interesting as it was to watch Lex talk about something he found sexy, Clark didn't particularly care to hear anymore about the lips of the inspiring German teacher.  "Here," Clark indicated, pointing to the floor at his feet.  "Pull up the coffee table for the food and I'll give you a back rub."

"I don't need a--"

"Sit," Clark ordered.

Lex raised one brow -- which was the Lex Luthor version of an eye roll -- but he dropped to the floor and leaned his shoulders back against the couch, within Clark's reach.  "Should I be quizzing you on your German while you do this?" Lex asked, shrugging a little as Clark settled his hands on Lex's shoulders.

"Unless you're saying, 'Ach, Clark, du bist ein Gott,' I don't wanna hear it," Clark said grimly, digging his thumbs in gently and flicking into x-ray to see where Lex was most tense.

Lex's head immediately rolled down onto his chest.  "Ach," he exhaled, his dinner lying forgotten on the table before him.

Clark moved his hands slightly farther apart, gently squeezing the points of Lex's shoulders.  "Tell me if I'm too rough," Clark requested, but he wasn't seriously worried.  He used to give Chloe backrubs all the time and he'd never so much as bruised her.

"Mmm," Lex purred, breathing deeply.

"Bad day?" Clark asked, beginning to work on the column of Lex's neck.

Lex nodded.  "Bad day," he repeated, but didn't elaborate.  Clark wondered if the bad day had anything to do with whatever Lionel had said the previous night.  Or maybe Lois Lane had been on his trail again.  Clark disliked thinking of Lois, however, and shrugged off the thought.

"See the papers?" Clark asked, trying to distract himself with a tangential line of questioning.

Lex laughed softly.  "Yes.  You're all over the news.  Half the city's in love with you."

Clark snorted.  "Sure."

"I'd argue with you, but half your charm is how completely unaware you are of your own beauty," Lex murmured, shifting back into Clark's palms as he began to press Lex's shoulderblades.  "Shit, yeah, right there."  He said it in this deep growly sex voice that made Clark half-hard almost instantly.

Clark cleared his throat, but couldn't think of anything to say.  He was busy concentrating on the feeling of Lex's muscles under his fingers, the warm flex and slide of Lex's skin under the soft purple shirt.  "My mom called to yell at me about the jeans," he spoke finally, but his voice seemed to have left for the day and it came out as a hoarse whisper.

Lex's laugh was slow and it vibrated under Clark's touch.  "Probably didn't like you showing off your hot ass to all of Kansas," he speculated, and his voice was almost a whisper too.

Clark's eyes were suddenly fixated by the smooth pale curve of Lex's neck, the soft glide of skin covering his skull, the little knob of bone that protruded, all too fragile, from the back of his head.  Clark could smell Lex, a slight scent of their laundry detergent and some darker cologne and a trace of salt-sweat from a long day's work.  <i>If Lois could see him like this</i>, thought Clark absurdly, <i>she'd know he couldn't be doing the things she thinks he's doing.  She'd just ... know.</i>

"Clark?" Lex said, and Clark realized that his hands had stilled of their own accord.

Clark tried to answer and found that his tongue and jaw had gone on strike along with his larynx.

Lex twisted around, looking back at Clark with concern.  His eyes caught on Clark's transfixed gaze and stayed there.  "Clark?" he repeated, with less trepidation.

Clark bent down and pressed his lips to Lex's, not with the hesitancy he'd used before at the mansion, or with the casualness he'd employed the previous night, but with a racing pulse and a sense of falling from a very great distance.  Lex tensed and drew back almost immediately, but even this motion didn't shake Clark's sense of inner stillness.

Lex's eyes immediately shuttered and he was drawing away.  "I have to --"

Clark held Lex still by tightening his grip slightly.  "Lex," he said, softly.  "I can tell when you kiss me," Clark asserted.  "I can tell you want this."

Lex stopped his motion, halted by Clark's words.  "I'm paying you," he said, a little abruptly.

"Spousal allowance," Clark agreed, still falling into Lex's blue gaze.

"And you said you weren't ready," Lex added hastily.

"I'm ready now."  Clark leaned in again, so his lips almost brushed Lex's.

"Your parents --" Lex attempted, a little desperately.

"-- Don't get to decide this for me," Clark concluded.  "You do.  We do."  With those words, Clark kissed Lex again, feeling Lex's lips soft and unresponsive under his, the slight worried parting of his teeth that Clark licked away.  Lex sank back into the couch, Clark slipping down to the floor next to him, opening his mouth and tasting Lex, feeling Lex under his palms, hearing Lex's pulse begin to race even faster.

Then Lex was kissing back, fiercely, unlike any kiss Clark had ever received, like he was trying to prove something, obliterate something, conquer something.  Clark moved again as Lex advanced, feeling Lex's legs straddling his hips.  There wasn't enough air in the room, not enough air between them, and Clark couldn't care less, moaning quietly as Lex shifted closer and he felt the pressure of Lex's inner thigh against his hard cock.

"Take this off," Lex ordered, breaking away abruptly and tugging at Clark's t-shirt.

Clark obediently removed the shirt.  It was incredible to watch Lex's face, to see him devour Clark with the same rapt attention he gave his work, more attention, like Clark's bare chest was some work of art, some fascinating volume.

"You're ..." Lex began, then trailed off, running his hands over Clark's skin and making him shiver.  "You're sure?" Lex asked, suddenly grave again, meeting Clark's eyes.  "Clark, this changes everything."

Clark studied Lex for a moment, trying to make himself comprehend what Lex was saying, the truth of his words.  If this kept going, 'bisexual' wouldn't remain an abstract construct in Clark's mind.  Lex would no longer be a distant object of desire, but a real, attainable person who shared a bed, a home, a life with Clark.  All that intensity, all that ferocity that Lex gave to his work, all that would be turned on Clark, full force, Clark had no doubt.  It would be scary as hell and completely outside of Clark's realm of experience.

Clark also suspected that it would be incredible. 

Emboldened by this thought, he reached up to unbutton Lex's shirt.  "I'm sure," Clark answered, leaning back in to kiss Lex's neck.  Lex was pulling away again, though, and Clark made a sound of protest.

"Bedroom," Lex said, getting to his feet and holding out a hand to pull Clark up.

Lex might as well have been speaking entirely in umlauts, however, for all the sense this made to Clark.  Stumbling to his feet, he tugged Lex close again, unable to accept that this was real, that this was happening now.  But it was real, that was Lex's mouth under his, those were Lex's hands running over his back, Lex's ass in his palms, Lex's -- *god*, yes -- that was Lex's cock, long and hard against Clark's leg.  The shocking reality of that last sensation drove Clark past the point of tenderness, into a kind of frenzied rush of touching and smelling and tasting.

"Come on, Clark, bedroom," Lex repeated, amusement mixed in with the heady lust of his tone.

Clark forced himself to draw back and let Lex take his hands and tow him towards the bedroom.  It was all Clark could do to keep from x-raying Lex, because he wanted to see Lex naked *now*, he wanted to take it all in.  Lex scarcely had time to flick the bedside lamp on before Clark tackled him onto the bed.

"You're much more aggressive than I thought you'd be," Lex laughed, but made no objection, just watching as Clark straddled him and went to work on the remaining buttons of Lex's shirt.

"What do you expect?" Clark asked, meeting Lex's eyes and dipping down to taste Lex's ear.  "You've been making me crazy every day for seven months now."  To illustrate his point, Clark rocked forward, pushing his erection into Lex, grinding into him mercilessly.  The motion extracted a sharp gasp from Lex.

"Look who's talking," Lex replied, baring his teeth in a half-grimace, half-grin.  His hands slipped across Clark's chest and stopped to brush across Clark's nipples.  "You made it necessary for me to take tranquillizers so I didn't molest you in your sleep."

Clark was too absorbed in disrobing Lex to respond to this revelation, however.  "I want to see you," he growled, pushing back the halves of Lex's shirt, "see you, god, all of you."

Lex laughed again, a happy abandon seeping into the sound, the likes of which Clark had never heard from Lex.  "I had no idea you'd be like this," he said again, reaching up and grasping Clark's head, then pulling him down for a bruising kiss.  "I thought you'd be so shy and scared, I'd have to be the pervy old man showing you what to -- oh, *fuck*, yes," Lex gasped, as Clark's hand moved to cup his groin.  Lex's hips shifted up into Clark's touch, his mouth falling open just a little.

Clark laughed, just as surprised as Lex.  He hadn't expected that Lex would be so compliant, so eager, so hot and real under his touch.  He hadn't expected that he himself would be trembling with the overwhelming urge to make Lex feel good, to make Lex gasp like *that* and look at him with *those* eyes, fuck, yeah.

"Take them off," Lex requested.  "I want to feel your hand on me, right on me."

Clark forgot all about being inexperienced and awkward and too strong and too big.  He took a moment to unbutton Lex's pants, tug down on the zipper, then spread the fly apart to see that, yes, Lex was wearing some of that skimpy underwear and it was outlining the situation in a really aesthetically pleasing kind of way.

If someone had told Clark a year ago that his mouth would literally water at the sight of Lex Luthor's erection, outlined through thin cotton, he would have suspected that he was dealing with yet another delusional victim of the Smallville meteor strike.  Now, he was just concentrating on not actually drooling, because that would be incredibly embarrassing.

But Lex was getting impatient, he was shifting under Clark and then he was pushing Clark away and pulling off his own pants, taking the skimpy underwear with them, so that suddenly it was just Lex, slim and bare, Lex clambering over to lie beside Clark.  "Touch me," he asked, and Clark obeyed mindlessly, his hand moving to grip Lex, and god, either Lex was bigger than Clark or things just felt different from this angle.

Lex was kissing Clark again, his mouth making little lazy trails over Clark's face and down onto his chest, Lex's breath catching when Clark began to stroke, slowly and gently.  "Is it okay?" Clark asked, succumbing to a moment of insecurity.

Lex nodded after a considerable delay, which Clark chose to interpret as the result of extreme arousal rather than any actual hesitation in the choice of an answer.  Clark threw one leg over Lex's thighs and hauled himself closer, wanting to get as close as possible to the source of those soft panting sounds.

Should he keep going?  Lex certainly seemed to be enjoying himself, only periodically opening his eyes and diving over to kiss Clark, but Clark couldn't help but worry that this might seem juvenile, preliminary.  Was he supposed to be making Lex come?

Then Lex's hands were at his waist and Lex was pulling at his jeans.  Clark took the hint, releasing Lex and scooting up onto his knees to remove his jeans and socks.  He was about to pouce back on Lex when he glanced up and realized that their blinds were raised all the way.  Granted, they were on the fifth floor, but ...

"Where are you going?" Lex asked as Clark bounded for the window.  "Not that I don't appreciate the view."

Clark answered by tugging at the cord and lowering the blinds.  He turned back around and had to reach for his cock and squeeze it at the sight Lex presented.  He was on his back, propped up on his elbows, cheeks flushed and legs slightly spread to accomodate -- oh, god, that was for *Clark*.  That ... Clark couldn't quite convince himself that this was happening at last.

"Get over here.  I want to blow you," Lex said, his gaze predatory.

It turned out to be a really good thing Clark's hand was still on his cock, because that grip was suddenly even more vital.  Good thing too it was a Kryptonian hand on Kryptonian cock, because if Clark had been holding Lex's right then, the party would most definitely already be over, in a not-even-remotely-pleasant sort of way.  With that thought to steady him more, Clark made his way back to the bed.

"Have you ...?" Lex asked, getting on hands and knees and prodding Clark until he was sitting up against the headboard.

"Have I ...?" Clark repeated stupidly.

Lex settled back against his heels and from somewhere, managed to produce some calm disinterest.  "What have you done, sexually, before?"

It wasn't fair, that Clark could muster the blood to blush this spectacularly when his cock was this hard.  Stupid alien biology.  "I ... I'm not a virgin," he managed, though he was certain he looked like one.  "I mean, Chl--"

Lex put a finger to Clark's lips.  "Don't ... don't talk about her, okay?"  Clark nodded, kissing the finger, then licking it as a reminder of what Lex had suggested doing.  But Lex wouldn't be deterred.  "So you've fucked, I get it.  Has anyone ever gone down on you?"

Clark nodded.

"But you haven't ..."

Clark shook his head.  "On ... girls.  Never with a guy."

Lex grinned.  "Well, pay attention.  I'm going to show you exactly how it's done well."  And with that, Lex dove headfirst for Clark's crotch.

And with Chloe it had always been this unstated contest, this running joke of who could make the other person come harder, faster, more noisily.  Who could giggle the most and still keep to the work at hand -- or mouth -- and who could be more outrageously inappropriate about choosing the time and place.  (Chloe always won that last bit.)  But now ... now with Lex ...

God, this was serious.  This was adult.  Lex went down on Clark like he was addressing congress, or maybe going through airport security.  No joking here, no messing around, and certainly nothing but what mattered, and what mattered was making Clark's whole body arch in ecstasy, making the muscles of Clark's stomach jump and pant, making Clark's world contract to the infinitely tiny and yet monumentally important world of Lex's motions.

It was all going to be over just as soon as it ever was with Chloe under the bleachers, though, unless Lex ... and then there it was, an easing up at just the critical moment, a chance for Clark to catch his breath.  Lex licked delicately at the ridge between head and shaft of Clark's cock, running two fingers lightly back and forth along the skin behind his balls.

Lex's eyes, blue and intense, were fixed on Clark, gauging his readiness, then when he saw some sign that Clark was back under control, he went back to work

Lex's stance broke.  He didn't retreat from Clark's advances, but he shifted his weight a little, showing a breath of discomfort.  "Yes.  Like that."

(It was just too much, too soon, and so it was relegated to the editing room floor.)