Revelation

by a campbell

Clark/Lana, implied Clark/Lex NC-17

Spoilers for "Mortal"

Thanks to fajrdrako for the beta and for the title.

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Lex switched the camera to "on." Increased the brightness control and turned the "focus" button a hair to the right. Murky shadows and pinpoints of light stabilized on the screen to become the interior of the second-floor Talon apartment.

He poured himself another drink, not even bothering with ice this time, glanced, calm and dispassionate, at the picture that continued to sharpen on the screen. As familiar as his former manager and present tenant might be with the Talon building, she wasn’t sharp enough to know about the cameras. Which didn’t surprise him a bit.

Sophisticated visual surveillance equipment, state-of-the-art, that captured all angles of the Talon apartment, and whatever its owner might want to observe. At any time, day or night. Usually he took the machinery’s quality for granted, but this evening he appreciated having purchased the best.

Lex had been the audience for numerous intimate interactions over the past couple of years: Lana with Whitney, Lana with Adam, Lana with Jason Teague…all oddly PG-13, and all viewed in the interest of keeping Lana safe and secure, or at least of protecting his property. But perhaps the most interesting was on the boards for this evening.

Lana with Clark Kent.

Clark, who appeared oddly subdued as he sank down on the sofa, bleeding and dazed from their recent encounter. Lana, solicitous and concerned, dabbing gingerly at his bleeding mouth, so slim and slight in comparison to Clark’s big, strong frame.

Lex settled back in his chair with his extra-tall scotch. He swiped at his still bleeding nose with the cuff of his sleeve and thinned his sore lips before raising the glass to his mouth.

It didn’t surprise him a bit that Clark had gone running off to her as soon as Lex had drawn blood. He’d been half-hard when he stumbled from the room, gasping and driven, his erection straining against the zipper of his jeans. Clark was always desperate for release once aroused, and time was when they both would have well and easily taken care of that before he left the mansion. But those days were gone. Tonight, Clark sought comfort elsewhere. Lana had his attention now, and his heart.

Lex thinned his lips as he stared at the screen.

It didn’t surprise him that Clark’s bitterness over his own lies had finally gotten to him. And, when it had, he reacted as he always did. Blaming, not himself, but his former best friend. Former. Clark’s first words to Lana had made that beyond clear. And so be it. Any lingering pretense of friendship between Clark and him was finished, as of about half an hour ago.

Finally, it didn’t surprise him that, at the Talon apartment, lit with more candles than were advisable for fire safety regulations, Lana was welcoming him. Despite not giving Clark Kent the time of day for the better part of three years, she’d been all over him lately, ever since the disappearance of Jason Teague. She was clearly hot for him now, tending his wounds, comforting him, sympathizing, drawing him to kneel on the floor with her. Coaxing, no, forcing him out of his shirt before he’d gotten out more than two or three dazed sentences, peeling the flannel slowly, deliberately from his frame. And, again, Lex couldn’t blame her a bit. Though he wondered: could she see the tears welling in Clark’s eyes as clearly as he could, even with the barrier of the camera between them? And the look of resignation that settled on Clark’s features as she trailed delicate fingers down his chest to his waist.

Lex adjusted the focus, enough to see more clearly still, the corners of his mouth tightening as Clark’s eyes darkened at Lana’s touch. Clark moved closer, spanned her small waist with cradling, grasping hands. Leaned in to kiss her mouth with open lips, slow and long, then bent her back to the floor.

Lex’s tongue coasted over his own lips in spite of himself as he watched. How well he remembered the taste, the feel of that mouth.

Clark sprawled over Lana, golden limbs lit by the flickering firelight. Lex groped for the bottle of scotch, nearly upsetting it but scrambling to catch just in time, with a muttered oath. He tipped it with trembling hands to filled his glass again.

Christ, they were a beautiful pair.

Lana melted into the kiss, and then further into the next. After a few moments, she pushed Clark gently back. Lana, laughing, looking absurdly like a twelve-year-old girl, giddy, eager. Looking disturbingly young, almost obscene, really. Like a child, but behaving surprisingly like a woman, sleek and seductive. She pressed her body against Clark’s, drew his head close again, letting one slim leg wind around his thigh and a small hand creep down the front of his jeans to the zipper. Clark, his brow pressed to hers, looked down with a knowing smile and put a palm over her hand, fumbling for the closure himself.

Lex thought back to the damp winter night, in another time, another life, it seemed now, when he’d finally succeeded in coaxing young, blushing Clark to unbutton his shirt and unzip his jeans, and, God, if that hadn’t taken forever. Worth the wait, though. And now, three years later, it was Lana’s turn to have a first sight of Clark unclothed.

The reaction was much what he expected. Her eyes widened, and she smiled, a nervous gleam of excitement in her dark eyes. Apprehensive but aroused.

Clark’s face was barely discernable at that angle in the dim light. Lana stood still, watching as he slipped his jeans the rest of the way off and tossed them in a heap on the floor. Then taking both his hands, holding his gaze with her own, she led him over to the bed. She sat down on the edge, then lay back, and down, smiling up at him. “Come on,” she beckoned in a whisper.

A nervous chuckle from Clark, face flushing with embarrassment as he dropped to one knee on the mattress, and…

Hmm. Lex waited, viewing with interest, breathing slowing nearly to a stop. Months had faded into years as he taught Clark about sex, but would he know what to do, with a woman?

It appeared that Clark had taken an internet crash course or two, or at least was employing some pretty strong and spot-on instincts. His broad, hesitant hand fingered a lock of Lana’s hair, then stroked; he eased himself down between her legs and slid down still further. Clark’s dusky head bobbed between slender thighs; Lana’s bare arms gliding over his shoulders, hands reaching up to hold his head steady. Lips curving into a blissful smile, forming soft moans of pleasure as he nuzzled, licked and sucked.

After a few moments, Clark raised himself to look up at her. "Okay?" he said softly, with a searching expression of tender concern.

She smiled and nodded. "Yeah…that’s fantastic." She opened her arms and pulled him down, and, writhing, they kissed again.

"Now," she begged breathlessly when the kiss broke. "Please. I need you."

And Clark settled between her hips, then reached down between his body and hers to position and aim and… and…

Lana gasped, then groaned as Clark sank down and in, and it almost looked to Lex as though she tried to push Clark back, or up and off her. Clark shifted, but otherwise didn’t budge.

Lex shifted in his chair and leaned in closer to the screen. Yes, he could well imagine it hurt, being penetrated by Clark for the first time, slim and small as Lana was, and a virgin besides. And being Lana Lang, with all her hang-ups and her persecution complex. Good as it was, it had certainly pained him, and he’d been far from a virgin the first time Clark fucked him. But it had been worth it, and it would be worth it for her, too.

The sound-connection was so good he could even hear the occasional hitch of Clark’s nervous breathing, the love words murmured under his breath, the squeak and slap of skin on skin, and the creaking of Lana’s mattress. That bed is none too strong, Lex reminded himself with a snort. They may well find themselves back on the floor before this is over.

He came supremely close to maintaining the clinical detachment for which he aimed as he watched. To staying entirely calm as Clark thrust into her over and over, Lana lying unusually still as he did so, quiet save for the occasional whimper, the palm he could see curling into a fist at her side. Almost, he was able to banish memories of those big, surprisingly deft hands stroking his own skin, the warmth of skin and breath, and ignore the gathering of blood in his own groin. Almost, he could tune out the gentle, moist smack of lips as they kissed, the soft pants and groans from Clark that sparked countless memories of countless sensations past.

A gigantic tremble, then a shudder that rippled over Clark’s quivering shoulder blades like a quake, just before his pumping hips slowed to a stop. Drops of perspiration cruised down his back and into the hollows above his buttocks.

Panting, then an immense exhale, and Lex sighed, too, though he still quivered with his own arousal. But no, he wouldn’t let himself come, not from watching this. Perhaps later, when the cameras were off and there was nothing left to see.

Clark drew back, beads of sweat glistening on his skin as his breathing slowed. He raised himself gently from her body and eased down beside her, drawing the bed cover over them both.

"I’m so glad I was your first," Lana murmured with a faint smile as she shifted on the mattress and nestled into his side. "And that you were mine."

Clark fumbled for her hand with a smile, but didn’t answer.

Lex gradually noticed how his own fingers had tightened, white-knuckled, on the arm of the chair. He released his grip and flexed his hand, then exhaled on a long breath.

He wasn’t fooled. Lana’s sigh, despite the appeal of her partner, was one of relief that it was finally over, the rite of passage that assumed such exaggerated importance for still-virgin college freshmen these days.

One, then another, of the burning candles sputtered and went out, and the Talon apartment was in near-darkness. Still, Lex didn’t turn off the camera, but remained immovable in his chair, gaze still fixed on the screen.

When Clark freed himself carefully from Lana’s arms and turned over on his side, away from her and toward the camera, Lex drained the last drops of his drink, not taking his eyes from the screen. Lana couldn’t see Clark’s eyes, illumined by the light of a still-burning taper, darken with tears once again, a trail of blood creeping down his chin from the split in his lip. But Lex did. He just kept watching until Lana’s stillness and soft, regular breathing told him she slept.

And slept, undisturbed, and too deeply to hear the whispered name that escaped from Clark’s bruised lips. "Lex."

But Lex did, eyes darkening, lips curling into a satisfied smile. Then a snort and a chuckle. He stroked his own cut lip slowly, savoring the pain as though it were a kiss.

Mine, he thought. You’re still mine, Clark, whatever you do with her. And however hard you try to forget. What we had together, and who you are.

What you are. Human, or something else…

But how to explain the blood. He still wasn’t sure…that bore further investigation.

Because there was no such thing as too much information.

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