Title: The Hunter and the Alien
Author: Bev *too*
Beta: Keikokin
Fandoms/Pairings: Smallville/Supernatural, Sam/Clark, Clark/Lex, Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written for Wave 27 "X-Overs"
Summary: When Clark gets rescued by a young man in Stanford from a spirit, he didn't know that years later this man should change his life.
Warning: slight mentions of Wincest and Mpreg (but just at the end of story). Don't like it, don't read it.

Stanford, October 2004

Damn, that hurt!

That ... thing or whatever it was had really kicked him badly. Clark tried to get up, panting, holding his side which fucking hurt. All he had wanted to do was visit some old uncle of his who was a professor here at Stanford University but before he had been able to get to him he had been attacked.

Another blow ... this time smack in the middle of his back. He winced. He was invulnerable but that didn't mean that the right blow didn't hurt like hell. He wouldn't bruise, nothing would break, but yet ... it hurt.

He crawled a few feet away when he felt something grab his ankle, pulling him back, lifting him up. And then ... he got dropped.

An inhuman scream … words. Spoken ... no shouted in a foreign language. His attacker squirmed in place, screaming loudly, screams that made Clark's toes curl. He pressed his hands to his ears. This was definitely a moment where super hearing sucked. Painfully!

A big bang followed, and then ... silence.

He started slightly when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up into the face of a young man about his age, maybe one or two years older.

"Hey, you okay?" the man asked now, and Clark nodded. Yes. Yes, he was okay. His clothes were torn but there were no scratches, no blood, no marks on his skin. Just like always. Like it was supposed to be.

"Yeah, I'm ... hell, what was that thing?"

The man took his hand from his shoulder when Clark got up. "I'm not sure you would believe me," he said after a moment.

Clark looked at him through lowered lashes. Unfair, big time. He knew that. It was a look that made people's hearts melt and answer almost every question. But it didn't seem to work this time.

That was unusual.

The man turned around, away from him and began to pack a very thick, very old book back into his backpack.

"Try me," Clark said, curious now.

The man cast a glance over his shoulder, and murmured finally, "It was a ghost. The ghost of a young woman. She had lived here about ..."

The man stopped in his explanation, turned to Clark again and gazed at him intently. "Are you sure you wanna know?"

Clark nodded, and got a sly smile in return. A smile that made his heart beat faster and his knees week.

"There's a little diner down the road. Come on ... coffee's on me."

With these words, the man shouldered his backpack and started moving down the street. While walking he looked back at him and said, "I'm Sam, by the way. Sam Winchester."

"Clark Kent," Clark said, and hurried up to follow Sam.


Sam watched the man who was sitting in front of him. He had reacted instinctively when he had seen the ghost attack him. He'd been told all the ghost stories that surrounded Stanford Hall. He had tried to ignore them and up until tonight he had managed just fine. But then, he had watched that man being attacked by the vengeful spirit and had acted without thinking.

He had to admit it though: he was impressed that the other man didn't shake or even look considerably pale.

He seemed to be used to ... stuff like that.

He ordered coffee for them both, and they remained silent until the waitress brought it.

Clark took a tentative sip, and Sam could see him relaxing. He looked at him closer now. He seemed to be about his height which was unusual because most men were shorter than him – including his own big brother and damn, didn't that piss Dean off most of the time – with dark, almost black hair, and green eyes that reminded him of Dean's. He had broad shoulders and a narrow waist, and was exactly the type of man that made his mouth dry and his heart beat faster.

Now that the adrenaline of the hunt was slowly seeping out of his system again, he could look at Clark. *Really* look at him.

And he liked what he saw.

"So ..."

Clark's voice interrupted his thoughts which were rapidly going down into the gutter. He had to pull himself together. It had been months since he had reacted that strong to another man. Hell, sometimes it felt like years.

"That ghost," Sam replied and Clark nodded, the question obvious in his eyes.

"That ghost was what we call a vengeful spirit. I heard about her but never thought that I might come across her. To be honest," he added a bit quieter and more to himself, "I *hoped* I wouldn't come across her."

"You hoped? And who do you mean when you say 'what *we* call'?" Clark asked.

"How come you're not bleeding?" Sam asked back, changing the topic of their discussion so completely that it threw Clark almost off.

Almost ... because he seemed to get his composure back pretty soon. "Just got lucky, I guess. She must have missed me. So…who are you and those other people? From what you said I assume there are more than you. Or are you honestly trying to tell me that it was just a lucky coincidence that you carried that old book with you?"

Sam sighed deeply. Damn, this man was good. And determined like a bull terrier. He leaned back, and asked, "Do you believe in ghosts?"


Did he believe in ghosts?

Well, growing up in Smallville as the resident unknown alien made him believe in a lot of things other people might call nonsense. But those other people didn't know about the Kryptonite Mutants that decided to attack his best friend on a regular basis. So he simply nodded. And caught Sam's surprised glance.

Then it was him who was surprised when Sam started to talk. He told him about his childhood, about how his mother died when he was still a baby. Sam talked about his father, about hunts, about his older brother who taught him to shoot all kinds of guns and crossbows, who taught him how to throw knives and how to read Latin. Clark could feel his eyes go wide when Sam continued to talk about ghosts, ghouls, restless souls, vengeful spirits, werewolves, demons, vampires and all the time his heartbeat stayed steady. Meaning, the other man was either saying the truth or he was *believing* he was saying the truth.

But after getting close up and personal with that ... lady about half an hour earlier, Clark was more than willing to believe the first.

After Sam had finished, Clark leaned back, looking at him. "Wow," he said finally.

"I ... I don't know why I told you all of that," Sam mumbled, suddenly looking shy. "I never told anyone before." He tried to hide behind his coffee cup.

And Clark could sympathize with him. He knew him less than two hours yet he felt closeness to him that he couldn't understand or describe. For the first time he felt *understood*. Maybe it was because they were both different. Outsiders. Always standing on the outside looking in. And in his, Clark's case, it came delivered with a big crush on his best male friend which made him if not completely gay then at least most definitely bisexual.

He sighed and then he took a deep breath, and blurted out, "I'm an alien."

Stunned silence hung in the air. Sam cocked his head slightly and Clark could feel himself grew pale. "Excuse me?"

Sam's voice sounded surprisingly calm, when Clark repeated, a bit quieter this time, "I ... you told me something you never told anyone before. So I told *you* something *I* never told anyone before. I am an alien. I come from a planet called Krypton and came down to earth in the meteor shower about 14 years ago. I was found by my parents ... well, they're *now* my parents, they weren't before. Their name is Kent. They took me in, gave me a home and they always told me to never tell anyone about my ... abilities. So I didn't. I lost my best friend because of it. He found out by accident and couldn't handle it. And it seems that I'm about to lose the man I love more than anything else on the world because he is rich, has influence and my parents are afraid he might drag me away into some underground lab to do gruesome experiments on me. And why are you grinning like that?"

Sam laughed out loud and Clark felt insulted. He leaned back, crossed his arms before his chest ... and pouted.

He would have called it a manly sulk but he wasn't very good at that. It simply was a pout. Sam - who had been sitting opposite of him – quickly got up, and sat down next to him.

"I'm sorry," he said, reaching out for Clark's hand, opening his self-embrace. "I wasn't laughing about you. I was amazed that someone could put so many words into one sentence without breathing."

Clark let his hands get dragged down again and smiled. "I don't exactly need to breathe," he whispered, feeling himself blush. Never before had he been so open with someone. What the hell was going on here?


An alien, huh?

Sam smiled at Clark, who was pouting like a little child; a little like his brother Dean when Dad had forbidden him to join a hunt or told him that he had to stay behind to watch out for Sammy.

Sam could feel his smile slip. Watch out for Sammy. In the end, this had been one of the many reasons he had left for college. To see the expression on his brother's face every time their father told him to 'stay behind and watch out for Sammy' had been in the end more than he could bear.

A hand on his arm startled him out of his dark thoughts. He looked up into Clark's eyes. Green. So much like Dean's. Without thinking too clearly or to closely, he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to those pouting lips.

"Thank you," he murmured against the mouth. "Thank you for trusting me with such an incredible secret. It will always be safe with me."

"I know," Clark whispered, and then he kissed Sam back.

It was electrifying. Sam could feel a fire running through his veins, igniting every cell in his body, and involuntarily, he moaned deeply.

It took him a lot of effort to pull back, to try and be reasonable. With a deep breath, close to a pant, he rested his forehead against Clark's. "Clark, wait ... ," he mumbled. "Please ... wait."

A little sigh, almost sounding like a sob, escaped Clark. He pulled back. "Don't you ... I mean ... did I ... do you find me ... disgusting? Now that you know?"

For a whole minute – or so it seemed ... it might have been longer – Sam simply stared at Clark, trying to figure out if he honestly *meant* what he had just said. This man was almost too beautiful for words and he was afraid that Sam might find him not attractive?

"No," he finally got out, reaching out with one hand to stroke away a tear that had escaped, "god, no, Clark. What makes you think that? It's just ... we barely know each other."

And I normally don't do one-night-stands. I'm not Dean, who has a girl in every second town we pass through, he added silently. But then he gazed into those green, pleading eyes again. And he felt his resistance melt. He leaned closer again, kissing those soft – alien – lips gently, feeling the mouth open up under his and he smiled. Maybe he could make an exception. He felt Clark's hand in his hair and suddenly he realized that his last human contact – outside of his family – had been so long ago that he couldn't even remember it. With a moan, he pressed closer to Clark almost pressing the man against the wall, when the sound of someone loudly clearing his throat behind him let him drive apart.

Sam turned around and found himself under the friendly gaze of the waitress who stood next to their table. "Don't mind me, guys," she said, shoving her gum from one side of her mouth to the other, "I like to watch some hot action between two handsome guys. But not everyone in here is as open minded as me. So maybe the two of you would prefer to get a room, huh?"

She winked at them and Sam noticed with a smile that the man in his arms had blushed deeply. He nudged him gently with an elbow and whispered in his ear, "Let's find some place private, okay?"

Clark nodded. Sam pulled some dollar notes out of his back pocket, grabbed the other man by the hand and almost pulled him out of the diner, the wolf whistle of the waitress the last thing he heard before the door closed behind them.


They were barely through the door of Sam's dorm room, when Clark found himself pressed up against said door. This was new to him. Not only the fact that Sam was male – oh, so wonderfully male – but also the fact that he was as tall as Clark! For the first time he didn't have to be careful. At least not as careful as he had to be when he was with a woman.

He wound his arms around Sam's neck, for once able to do this without having to bow down. The face with those amazing green eyes – so different from Lex's eyes – was level with his, and he leaned closer, breathing him in, taking in his presence with all of his senses. Sam's lips were soft, and his kisses tender. His tongue played gently with his and Clark could feel his knees grow weak. Strong arms held him tight, tried to lift him up and he heard the slightly surprised gasp when Sam realized ... he couldn't. Clark decided that this could be *really* fun.

Within a heartbeat, he managed to undress them both and throw Sam on the bed. He grinned smugly when he saw Sam's wide opened eyes and heard the light hitch in his breathing. Then an impossible wide grin spread over Sam's face and with a growl he turned them both around, now hovering over Clark.

"Wanna fight a little?" he grumbled close against Clark's lips and Clark could feel a shudder running through his body.

He gazed up into the green eyes of the man above him and for a moment he wasn't sure if Sam was serious. But then his fingers tightened involuntarily over Sam's biceps and he felt the power. Felt the strength. And he realized that a little fight might be fun; for Sam and for himself. He pushed against the broad chest, reining in his strength so that he didn't send his lover crashing through the next wall. There was just a little shove so Sam toppled over and Clark quickly moved over him again, bending down, kissing Sam fiercely, passionately. And he moaned deep in his throat, pressing closer to Clark, murmuring something unintelligible.

Then he pushed upwards, throwing Clark off, taking him by surprise and Clark laughed; loud and happy and carefree.

They wrestled like that for a while, enjoying the strength and the power of their opponent: the play of steel-like muscles under silken skin.

But suddenly – when Clark had Sam on his stomach underneath him, with one hand on the other man's wrist – he could feel his cock sliding against Sam's ass and he froze for a second. He was hard. *So* hard it almost hurt. And he wanted nothing more than to push. Push into the heat and the tightness of Sam. He released his grip on his wrists, suddenly unsure.

Would Sam allow it? Would he allow to be topped or did he expect Clark to bottom just because he was invulnerable?

Sam answered this question for him by simply spreading his legs a little wider, whispering with a suddenly hoarse voice, "I'm clean, Clark."

A mighty shiver ran over Clark's back by these husky words. Clean. Clean meant he didn't have to go fishing for a condom. Clean, meant a trust so instinctive that he could barely wrap his head around it. And clean meant that he *could* simply push forward. Sam looked back over his shoulder, his eyes dark and unreadable. "Do you need lube?"

A question concerning Clark's ... difference and it showed Clark that Sam in fact had no problem with him being an alien. Wordless, Clark shook his head. Lube had never been an issue. He practically *leaked* precome like a faucet. He spread it over his cock, smiling a little when he noticed that his hand was shaking. Then he turned back to Sam who was now kneeling on all fours in front of him and ... oh God. Clark had to close his eyes for a moment or he'd come right then and there. Sam had two fingers inside himself, working himself open, whimpering and moaning. Almost begging for Clark to oh god, please, please fuck me already, take me, and make me scream.

There was no way Clark could deny him this. Carefully, slowly, he moved forward, entering the man who knelt in front of him. A deep groan, followed by a harsh, "Deeper, Clark, harder," made him jerk forward, burying himself up to the root in the tight heat of his lover.

For a moment he remained still, breathing heavily, almost panting. Sam was so tight. So good. It felt incredible.

"Move, goddammit, Clark," growled Sam through clenched teeth and pushed back against him.

Clark saw white lights exploding behind his eyes when he pulled out slowly and plunged back in, steadily fucking the man underneath him who begged and cursed and groaned and spilled the sweetest filth Clark had ever heard.

Being an alien had one big advantage. If he really wanted ... Clark could go for hours. He took his time, fucking Sam long and deep. Sometimes just short, little movements, barely moving an inch, more a slow rotating of his hips. Then again deep, powerful thrusts, pushing Sam up on the bed until the other man almost bumped his head on the headboard.

Sam came twice before Clark finally let go, and came too. With one last deep push inside he filled his lover up. Gasping and panting, he broke down over Sam, resting his forehead between Sam's sweaty shoulder blades, kissing softly every patch of skin he could reach before pulling out.

Sam hissed quietly, and Clark was instantly worried that he might have hurt the other man during their love making (and when had it turned from the simple act of fucking to love making in his head?). But Sam simply turned around, put one hand in his neck and pulled him down to kiss him deeply.

"Thanks," he murmured sleepily – what for Clark didn't quite know – and yawned. Clark smiled gently, watching as Sam closed his eyes, ready to go to sleep. He knew that he should get dressed now and go home but before he could sit up completely – his limbs still heavy from all the ... exercise – Sam grabbed his arm and pulled him down next to him, cuddling close to him, resting his head on his shoulder. "Stay," he simply said.

And Clark did.


Metropolis, today

"I can't believe I got it!" Clark was still more or less bouncing with excitement, and Lex was glad that he chose this ... simple Diner for their celebration.

"I can't believe you ever doubted it," he replied with a smile. God, this man was still as sweet and cuddly as a puppy. Even at 23, Lex still had the feeling that he had to scratch Clark behind an ear when he had done something right. Or pat his belly. Or ... god, he had stop this line of thought or otherwise he would not be able to stand up. The pants he wore were soft and expensive and *definitely* not designed to hide a hard-on. So he simply smiled and raised his coffee cup of a toast.

"To the Planet's new Star Reporter," he said.

Three – two – one ... and yep ... there it was ... the blush. Sometimes he wondered if he spent too much time with Clark when the other man was so predictable to him.

And then he wondered if he was as predictable to Clark, as the other way around.

"We should celebrate," he suggested after Clark's blush died down a little. "You know ... throw a big party ... invite all your friends."

Friends. Lex's friends list could be written on a stamp. Oh sure ... he had associates. Mostly business associates. But friends? Well ... his whole friends list was sitting in front of him, glancing at him with sparkling eyes, eager to celebrate his new job at the Daily Planet.

But Clark had lots of friends. Tons of friends. Making friends came easy to him. He was nice, open and friendly. Everything Lex wasn't.

"You think?"

Lex smiled. "Of course, Clark. Now give it to me."

Clark cocked his head slightly. "I ... what?"

Lex tried his best not to outright laugh at the next blush that covered his friend's face. It hadn't been by accident that he'd made it sound like an innuendo.

"Your address book; you know ... your little black book with all your addresses, telephone numbers, cell phone numbers and e-mail addresses. Give it to me."

Clark leaned back, crossed his arms before his chest and gazed a little suspiciously at him. "What for?"

Lex rolled his eyes. "So I can invite all your latest crushes and embarrass you in front of all your friends, of course."

Clark didn't react, so Lex continued with a little sigh. "I'll give it to Enrique and he can take care of the invitations. We just have to figure out a place and a time."

"What do you mean ... place?"

Lex took a sip of his coffee. "Do you wanna have the party here in Metropolis? At the penthouse maybe? Or would you prefer Smallville? Your parent's place? The mansion?"

Clark nibbled on his lower lip; a sure sign that the wheels in his beautiful head were working on overdrive. Then he looked up. "I like the idea," he finally said. "Could we ... could we have the party at the mansion? If it's not too much ..."

Lex raised a hand to interrupt Clark before he could even begin to fall back into one of his father's guilt-trips. "The mansion is yours for the party. So now .... the book, please."

Slowly, Clark pulled the book out of his backpack and handed it to Lex who put it in the pocket of his jacket and smiled. "Enrique will wait until he has a date and then he'll start on the invitations."


The punch wasn't as hard as many others he had caught in his life but it hit him unexpectedly and so the little yelp might have been undignified but it was most certainly righteous.

"Hey! What was that for?" Sam rubbed the spot on his arm while glaring at his brother who sat next to him on the King Size in their current motel. They were 'between jobs' as Dean liked to call it and Sam was busy checking his e-mails and – just for once - *not* doing research.

Until his brother had punched him. And damn ... that'd hurt.

"I've been talking to you for the last five fucking minutes and you just sit there with a stupid grin on your face. So come. Spill. What made little Sammy so happy that he ignores his big brother?"

Sam shook his head with a little smile. "Nothing. Really ... it's nothing. Just ... an invitation."

He could feel his brother's presence behind him as Dean skidded closer. "Invitation?"

"An old ... friend of mine is celebrating his new job. And he's throwing a big party."

"Awesome!" Sam practically *heard* the big grin in his brother's voice.

Sam turned around, glancing at his brother. "I never said I'd go, Dean."

"Why not? Come on, Sammy ... we don't have a job right now and we really could use a little distraction. So where is this friend of yours living?"

Sam read the invitation again and mumbled, "Kansas." There was the usual place and time, the inevitable "Answer is required" but there was also the line "It's been a long time and I would be really glad to see you again."

Sam read this line again and again. Should he go? He still could remember Clark Kent. All long limbs, silken skin, hidden power, and a heart of gold. Strong like nobody else he ever met and yet gentle as a kitten at the same time.

He remembered their time together, how they met, their first kiss, their first night together, the morning after. A shiver ran down his spine when he thought about that morning after. When he thought about how he'd woken up with a warm mouth on his cock, sucking and licking him to full hardness, before said cock was ridden by this beautiful alien man who had brought him to climax in an embarrassingly short time.

He remembered Clark's soft laughter when he had lifted up, letting Sam slip out of his body, only to turn him around, and sink deep into Sam's relaxed body, fucking him sweet and long until Sam had been hard again, begging him to take him harder, deeper and oh god, yes, just like that.

With a little shock, he realized that his pants suddenly seemed to be several numbers too tight. He moved carefully, hoping – praying – that his brother wouldn't notice. Of course the hope was in vain. Of course Dean noticed that he was shifting on the bed, trying to hide something big in his pants that wasn't exactly a weapon. Of course, he had to smile that big, sly smile of his. And of course, he had to say, "Thinkin' of something nice, Sammy?"

Nice? Oh yes. Suddenly, everything they'd done in those few days they had spent together came rushing back to him in color and Dolby Digital Surround. He heard himself again whimper, begging, praying and cursing. Could hear every single gasp and moan and groan and shout from Clark when he had driven himself deep into his tight heat.

He jumped up with something between an apology and a curse and headed for the bathroom, locking the door firmly behind him, ignoring the roaring laughter of his older brother. In no time his pants were around his ankles, his hand wrapped tightly around his cock and with a shudder he came a few moments later to the images of Clark in his head and with his name on his lips.

With a sigh, he leaned back against the door, hearing soft whispered words of adoration in the back of his head. "God, Sam ... so perfect ... so beautiful. I could look at you forever." Clark had loved to talk to him. Had loved to describe in every single detail what he planned on doing to him, driving Sam almost crazy with lust.

A loud banging on the door made him jump, and with horror he heard his brother yell, "You ready 'Strangling the snake? 'Cause, seriously dude ... I really need to release this morning's coffee."

Hastily, Sam cleaned himself up, pulled his pants back up and opened the door, knowing that he was beet red in his face. Dean only grinned from ear-to-ear when he pushed himself past Sam into the bathroom.

After watching the closed door for a few long moments, Sam returned to his laptop, hit 'reply' and started to write, "Hi Clark, long time no see, huh? ... "


Clark watched Lex delegating the people from the catering service. He would have felt bad for all the work his party caused his friend but he knew that Lex secretly enjoyed ordering people around.

Someone clearing his throat behind him caused him to turn around and he found himself face to face with Enrique.

"Enrique, hi," he stuttered nervously. Lex's servant simply smiled and handed him a list. "May I give you the list of the people that have agreed to come to tomorrow's party, Master Kent?"

Master Kent. Gosh. He was sure he'd never get used to hearing that. But he'd given up trying to correct the servant. His usual reply to Clark's "Please, call me Clark," was a smile and a "Of course, Master Clark." And the next time it was back to Master Kent. So yeah, he had given up.

With a smile Clark took the list from Enrique who bowed slightly, and left. Clark's eyes scanned the list.


Enrique really had invited everybody: Lana, Chloe and Pete ... of course, Toby, Josh and Brian from college, Andy ... his first serious boyfriend. They had parted as friends, and still wrote each other Christmas Cards. From Met U Sally, Susan, Michael ... he smiled as he read the list.


Clark nearly tripped over this name.

Sam Winchester. E-mail address: SWinchester@aol.com.

Memories flooded his mind. God, it had been *years* since he had last heard of Sam. Slowly, he walked over to the window, sat down on the window sill and stared out into nothingness. Sam Winchester. Sweet, strong, good-hearted Sam. They had spent every night together back when he had been in Stanford to visit his uncle. They had met by accident ... more or less stumbled over each other and had been inseparable - at least for six days.

A hand on his shoulder brought him back from Stanford to Smallville. He turned around and looked into the sparkling blue eyes of his friend. Yup ... Lex was having a field day in delegating the catering service.

"We have about twenty people staying here in the mansion. The first ones should arrive in about one hour. You ready?"

Clark tried to get rid of the image of hazel green eyes and deep dimples and nodded. "Yeah. As ready as I'll ever be."

It was that moment that a car, slowly rolling through the gates and stopping in front of the mansion, caught his eyes - a black Impala.

And on the passenger side he could see Sam.

Dean whistled softly when he stopped the Impala in front of the Luthor Mansion. "Your friend lives here?" he asked Sam without looking at him.

Sam gazed once more down at the invitation. "Well ... not him exactly, a friend of his said he can have the party here."

"Seems that friend is pretty loaded. You think he has a nice sister?"

Dean startled slightly when the driver's door of the Impala was opened and a servant bowed slightly. "May I help the gentleman with the luggage?"

Dean grinned broadly at Sam, before he turned back to the servant. "You damn well might," he said with a happy grin.

The servant snipped with his fingers and another man in uniform came running. He was a little younger and the older one pointed to the trunk of the Impala that Dean had meanwhile opened. It wasn't much that the young man had to carry; just the two duffle bags. But then the older one reached out his hand again. Dean gazed at him, the 'What the fuck?' obvious in his eyes. The older servant smiled.

"The keys, if you please, sir. I'll park your car for you."

Sam winced. Ouch. Big mistake. No one ... absolutely no one ever drove the Impala – apart from Dean and – on occasion – Sam. Dean's hand went behind his back, almost on its own accord. "No way, dude. No way you ever gonna lay hands on my girl. Show me where I can park her."

Sam held his breath for a moment, watching his brother and the servant indulge in a little staring contest and then the servant caved first. Of course he did. He bowed his head a little and murmured, "If you would follow me, sir."

Dean's grin was back in place and he winked at Sam when he got back behind the wheel, put the keys in the ignition and brought the car with a rumbling purr back to life. Slowly, he followed the servant over to the garage and Sam found himself suddenly alone in front of the mansion. He put his hands in his pockets and looked around. The mansion was impressive; a large, castle-like building, surrounded by what seemed to be a huge park.

And then he was there, suddenly standing next to him. Looking at him with that big, infectious grin on his face, his black hair tousled, his green eyes sparkling.


Without saying a word, he reached out and pulled him close. It felt good to have the other man close, to breathe him in again after such a long time. Sure, they'd met just once but in that short time they had confided more in each other than they had in many people they knew for longer.

Sam could feel Clark's breath on his neck and pulled him even closer, not caring who might see him. That was ... until someone *loudly* cleared his throat behind him and almost a little guilty, Sam immediately released Clark from his embrace.

He turned around, expecting to look into the well known green eyes of his brother. But he didn't. Instead he looked into two ice cold blue eyes that held as much warmth as a December morning in Canada.

A pale hand reached out, came to rest on Clark's arm and gently but insistently pulled him back until the tall man stood beside him.

Clark grinned, not in the slightest uncomfortable. It seemed he was used to this weird behavior. "Sam, may I introduce you to Lex Luthor? To him belongs this extraordinary mansion we're celebrating in tomorrow. Lex, this is Sam Winchester. We met years ago when I was in Stanford, visiting Uncle Ralph."

Those blue eyes narrowed slightly. "You never mentioned him, Clark."

It sounded almost disinterested but Sam got the message loud and clear. Lex was jealous, protecting what was his. He tried to hide his grin that threatened to split his face in two. As serious as it was possible, he took the proffered hand, and shook it. "Pleasure to meet you, Lex. Clark told me a lot about you."

Of course this was a flat out lie. Clark had never even mentioned Lex Luthor. In those days they had spent together they had talked about everything and nothing but never about the men they were secretly in love with.

Well ... at least Sam hadn't. Couldn't ... to be honest. Because despite everything he had told Clark and despite the fact that there was barely a secret that could compete with being an alien ... Sam was sure that it would've rattled Clark's world a bit too much if he'd told him that he was having feelings for his brother.

In this moment, a hand closed around his bicep, unknowingly mirroring Lex's possessive gesture.

"Hey yo Sammy ... wanna introduce me to your friends?"


The fingers on his arm burned, and Sam wished the touch would never end, dreading the moment it would. It was his turn to clear his throat and he gestured across his shoulder. "Clark, Lex, this is my ... Dean."

He bit back the brother in the last second, not exactly knowing why. But nobody seemed to notice. Well ... almost nobody. Dean's eyes widened for a little moment then he grinned while taking the hand Clark reached out to him. "Pleasure to meet you, Dean," Clark said.

Dean shook the hand firmly, never removing his hand from Sam's bicep. Something he was childishly happy about. The greeting between Lex and Dean was even a few degrees cooler. Wow. Sam was involuntarily shivering.

But then he looked at Clark, looked right into his beaming smile and he got warm again. It was still as blinding as he had remembered it. He got his hands in his pockets and bounced slightly. Sam laughed softly. Clark really hadn't changed a bit. He was looking forward to talking to him, catching up with everything that had happened over the last few years. 'And maybe share a kiss or two,' the little voice in his head whispered. He silenced it immediately. He got the feeling that Lex was a threat he shouldn't underestimate.

"Come on," Clark's voice broke through his thoughts, "I'll show you your room."

Smiling, Sam shouldered his duffle bag and followed his old friend into the mansion.


Lex didn't like Sam.

From the moment he had come out to find his ... friend in such an intimate embrace with that man, he had decided that he didn't like Sam Winchester.

Who was he to hug his Clark so tight? And when the hell had Clark become *his* Clark? Well, he didn't want to think too closely about that now. All he thought about now was that this Sam had no right to touch Clark like that. So he put a hand on Clark's arm and pulled him back - back to his side. Back to where he belonged. Clark didn't seem to notice but Sam did. That little shit was smiling at him with such a knowing look in his eyes that Lex had to take a few deep breaths or otherwise he simply would have given in to the impulse to smash his fist right into that dimpled grin. It didn't matter that Sam easily outweighed him. It didn't matter that he was taller than him – almost as tall a Clark. The only thing that mattered was that bastard had to take his fucking hands off of Clark.

Then fate threw a new number into the equation.


Dean who belonged to Sam. Or vice versa.

He looked at Clark. He was walking close to Sam who seemed to have trouble to keep his hands to himself. He gritted his teeth. Seemed he had to teach the twit to keep his hands from his property.


Dinner that night at the mansion was a strange thing, Dean thought. About one dozen other guests had arrived during the afternoon and the mood had been happy and frolicking. And yet ... there was something going on between that bald guy and the Kent kid.

Kent ... Clark was what Dean usually called a sunny boy. He had the personality of a Golden Retriever. This meant he had a smile for everyone, exchanged hugs and touched almost everyone within his immediate reach.

Unfortunately ... this included Sam. Sam who had *not* told Clark that Dean was his brother. And Dean hadn't mentioned it either. He was curious why Sam had been silent about this little part of information. He would question him about this later.

After the dinner they mingled a little. Dean though kept a close watch on Clark. He saw him laughing with a beautiful brunette, hug a feisty blonde with a mischievous sparkle in her blue eyes and nudge shoulders with a black guy. A tall man – roughly Sam's age – put a hand on Clark's shoulder, moving very close and whispered something in his ear. Something that made the kid blush at first before he gently pushed his elbow in the tall man's stomach. And then Dean could see the smile he gave the blond man. It was ... almost tender. Definitely loving and filled with emotion.

Ah! So that Clark bats for the home team, huh? Dean's eyes searched for the bald guy ... Luthor. And found him pretty quick. He was sauntering closer to where Clark was standing. He looked for all the world cool, calm and relaxed. But Dean – who was way better in watching people's body language – could see the underlying, barely contained tension. He could see the rage in those crystal blue eyes. And involuntarily, he shivered a bit and wanted to warn that guy; that guy that had whispered something in Clark's ear and was sure as hell getting the bill for it now. That guy would probably sleep in the dog house tonight.

But Luthor managed to surprise him. Lex leaned a little closer to Clark, closer than Blondie, and murmured something. And Clark blushed so furiously that Dean was sure as hell it had to be something nasty.

Dean grinned to himself and suddenly felt the urge for a cold beer. He looked around but all those penguins that were running around with trays in their hands were only carrying wine and champagne. Twice he grabbed one of them on the hem of their jacket, asking for a beer. Both times he was told, "Immediately, Sir."

Nothing happened. So he sighed deeply, knowing that there was only one thing he could do now. He left the room and went on the search for the kitchen. He managed to find it and lose his way just twice. With a deep, very relieved sigh, he opened the enormous fridge, grabbed one bottle, opened it and took one deep gulp.

Oh yeah ... that was just awesome. He switched off the light, and left the kitchen. Hmm ... did he have to turn left or right now? He turned left, strolled casually down the hall and was just about to turn left again when he suddenly heard voices. Quiet, slightly breathless voices. Carefully, he inched closer to the voices.

"I missed you," a male voice whispered huskily, followed by the unmistakable sound of kissing. Dean grinned. Oh, this sounded promising. Another panting breath. "Missed you so much." Another kiss and this time Dean had recognized the voice. Clark. Ha! Sweet. He wondered briefly who it was that this man had missed so much, and decided to stick around for a little longer. Unseen by the couple, Dean scooted closer, and Clark continued, "You don't know how often I had the phone in my hand, tempted to call you."

"Why didn't you?"

Dean barely managed to catch his bottle before it could slip from his suddenly lax fingers.


His Sammy? He inched even closer so he would be able to peak around the corner, wincing when he could hear kissing again.

"Things have been ... complicated."

Oh really? Dean gritted his teeth, thinking about how complicated things would become when he'd walk around the corner to mess pretty boy's face up. Just a little bit - to make clear that he had no fucking right to kiss his Sammy.

But before he could move a single muscle, the loud banging of another door made Clark curse slightly. "Damn. That's Lex," he murmured. And then all Dean heard was a swooshing sound. He frowned slightly and decided to finally round the corner; Lex from one side, he from the other ... that should teach the kids some modesty.

He stepped into the hallway ... and found himself face to face with Luthor.

There was no sign from Clark and Sam. It seemed as if they'd never been there.


With an almost hysterical laughter, Sam and Clark hit the bed.

"Whoa ... just a few seconds more and Lex would've caught us," Clark murmured. Sam pushed back from him, resting on his elbows.

"And that would've been bad?"

Clark could hear the unasked question "Are you ashamed?" loud and clear. Sam didn't need to speak it out loud. He turned around and sat down on the end of the bed so his feet touched the floor.

"Not exactly bad," he began after a few moments of silence, "but not exactly good either. I don't know how he would react if he found out that I'm ... that we ... you know?"

Clark could hear Sam approaching him, so he wasn't startled when a hand came to rest on his shoulder. "What are you ashamed of, Clark? Is it because you're gay? Or because you're an alien?"

Clark shrugged slightly. "A little bit of both, I guess." They fell silent, listening to the sound of their breathing, each one thinking about the man in his life. Then Clark turned around. "What about Dean? Does he know that you ...?" In a shy gesture he moved one hand down to his crotch and blushed when Sam grinned widely.

"God, Clark ... you can't even say the word gay." Sam moved closer and kissed him softly. "That's so sweet." Then he moved back a bit, gazing at Clark thoughtfully, changing the topic again. "Why is it so important to you what Lex thinks about you?"

Clark bowed his head, staring intently at his hands. And this was answer enough for Sam, though he didn't say a single word. He put one finger under his Clark's chin and forced his head up so he had to look at him. "You love him, hmm?"

Clark nodded, looking miserable. "But he's straight," he whispered and Sam could see tears forming behind those green eyes. "He's straight and he will never love me the way I love him. As long as he doesn't know about my feelings, I can still at least have him as a friend."

Sam nodded. Yeah ... this was a feeling he knew too damned well. He thought about Dean, about their endless trip through the States. About their living in each other's pocket. He knew that Dean snored when he got a cold. Knew that he drooled a little bit when he slept on his left side and that he liked to cuddle in his sleep whenever they shared a King-size.

And he knew how much he wished that he would do this willingly, when they were both awake. And he also knew that it was never going to happen. So he offered the only kind of comfort he could give Clark. He pulled him close again and kissed him. Short. Quick. But with a promise of more to come lingering in the back.

"I'd say come into my room when the party is done but I share it with Dean."

Clark kissed him back. "Then you come to mine, as soon as everyone else is asleep. I'll be waiting for you."


Lex handled the whole Clark-and-Sam thing just like he handled every other problem in his love life: he drank himself stupid.

At around two in the morning, all of his guests had vanished in their respective bedrooms and only Dean was still keeping him company. Dean who had to be as drunk as he, Lex, was.

"Don’t ‘cha wanna go to your Sammy?" Lex slurred slightly.

Dean let his head fall back against the chair's headrest. "Nah ... I'll haffta wait till he sleeps."

"Ah," said Lex in an understanding tone - and understood nothing. Right now, he wasn't sure if Dean himself understood correctly what he was saying.

He waited until he could see Dean's eyes dropping shut and a few minutes later he carefully took the whisky tumbler out of Dean's lax hand and put it on the table. He took an afghan and threw it over the large form of the sleeping man before he swayed over to the door and switched off the light. He stumbled slightly on his way upstairs and once it was only the fact that his right hand was tightly clenched around the railing that prevented him from falling backwards down the steps.

So, okay ... he was more than a little tipsy ... he was outright drunk. It was this admittance to himself that he would use as an excuse tomorrow; should someone ask him why he took a turn right where he should take a turn left and stumbled into Clark's room.

The room was dark, only slightly lit from the hallway behind Lex and he could see the sleeping form of his friend on the bed. Slowly, carefully, he stepped into the room, closed the door behind him, plunging the room back into complete darkness and began to undress. When he was naked, he nearly bumped his shins on the bed and could just so prevent himself from falling down face first onto the mattress.

He lifted the covers and crawled under them, skidding close to the warm body. He pressed a tender kiss to the warm skin, murmured a sleepy, "Love you, Clark," and passed out before he could feel the shiver running through the body he held so tightly in his arms.



Clark awoke because the body in his arms shook. Sleepily, he opened one eye and gazed at Sam who was lying next to him. They were practically nose-to-nose, and Clark could feel the slight tremors running through Sam's body.

"Whassup?" he murmured, his brain still a bit foggy. "You cold?"

The tremors increased and now Clark realized that Sam was trying his best not to bark out with laughter. He gave Clark a quick peck on the lips and whispered, "I got something that probably belongs to you." And he gestured with his free hand behind his back.

It was just then that Clark noticed the arms around Sam's waist, arms that definitely were NOT Clark's arms. He propped himself up on one elbow and could feel his eyes grow wide.

"Lex?" he whispered. Then he turned to look at Sam again. "What the hell is he doing here?"

Sam grinned broadly. "I think he wanted to seduce you."

"He what?" Was it possible to scream in a whisper? Clark really, really felt the urge to scream in a whisper. "How do you ... when did he ...?"

"He came in about five minutes ago, crawled into bed, kissed my shoulder and said ‘I love you, Clark’. Then I tried to wake you up. Dude, I forgot how deep you sleep."

"He said what?"

Another kiss followed, softly. "He said he loved you, you dork. I think I should head back to my own room now and leave you two love birds alone."

Clark still had some difficulties wrapping his brain around the fact that Lex had just told Sam he loved him – no ... he had told it Sam, thinking it was Clark – so he simply nodded. Very carefully, they managed to loosen Lex's grip around Sam's waist long enough for Sam to get out and Clark to get into the embrace. With a deep, happy sigh, Lex cuddled close to Clark, who wrapped his arms around the smaller form of his friend.

Sam quietly put on his boxers and a t-shirt, grabbed his other clothes, pressed one last kiss to Clark's temple and left the room - leaving Clark with a very drunken, very clingy Lex Luthor. He kissed the bald head, resting on his shoulder, lovingly, before he drifted off to sleep again.


Lex Luthor had one of his favorite dreams. He was buried to the root in Clark's willing body, fucking him long and slow and deep. He could hear his lover's broken moans, his breathless pleas, his ohgodyeslexpleasemore and he gave in to every little sigh, every groan, every shuddering breath. His hands stroked every inch of skin he could reach and he was slightly amused when he realized that even in dream his hands were shaking.

He was amazed at how long he was able to last. But hey ... this was a dream, right? He could do everything in his dreams. He pushed in deep again, claiming that strong body underneath him, next to him, surrounding him.

Deeper and deeper and he heard Clark's voice break at a sigh; felt his body clench around him and then he felt warm heat spread over his hand where it was wrapped tightly around Clark's cock, stroking him in rhythm to his thrusts.

It might have been the warmth that triggered his own orgasm. It might have been the softly whispered "I love you so much, Lex." It might have been the sun that came breaking through the clouds just as Clark came ... he wasn't sure. He came so hard that he was convinced that he'd blacked out.

For a moment he simply floated on his sexual high, enjoying the lingering after effects of his dream (which had *really* been vivid this time) and smiled dreamily. A kiss on his stomach startled him. With a slight curse, he opened his eyes and gazed directly into the green ones of Clark Kent who was laying next to him with his head now resting on his stomach; with an absolutely fucked out look on his face and a smile so blissful and blinding Lex was tempted to put on his sunglasses.

The smile though vanished quickly when the only words Lex could get out were, "What the hell are you doing here?"

He hated himself the moment the words had left his mouth and he wished fervently he could take them back. To see Clark practically curl in on himself, trying to hide his beautiful body behind his sheets was almost painful. He reached out one hand and put it on Clark's arm, stopping him mid-motion. "I'm sorry, Clark, I ... god, that *so* didn't come out right. I ... I guess I'm still a little hung over from last night's drinking match with that Dean guy."

The smile returned though not in all its glory. "You really tried to drink Dean under the table?"

Lex sniffed slightly. "Yes. So?"

Clark seemed to relax a bit and shook his head, the smile growing a bit wider. "I could've told you that it's a bad idea."

Lex cocked his head slightly in an "Oh really?" gesture, willing Clark to continue.

Which he did.

"Sam told me last night that Dean is pretty hard to take down. There've been others who tried what you did last night."

A blurry memory surfaced, one that made Lex smile smugly. "I did it," he grinned, feeling almost invincible – apart from the raging headache he still had. "He caved first. Fell asleep on the sofa in front of the fire place. I even covered him with an afghan so he wouldn't freeze in the night."

Clark's loud laughter made Lex wince in pain. But the pain was immediately forgotten when Clark bowed forward slightly and kissed him gently. "You gotta be the first one then."

Then he moved back again, gazing at Lex. When the silence stretched, Lex got nervous. "What?" he finally asked.

Clark bowed his head, staring intently at the bed covers. "Why ... why did you come to me last night?"

Lex wished desperately for something against his headache. Thinking made his brain implode. He closed his eyes, rubbing his temples in a vain attempt to soothe his headache. "It ... it seemed the right thing to do," he finally said lamely, and thought, 'and that way I could make sure that Sam wouldn't be able to put his hands on you.'

He felt a tentative hand on his shoulder. "And it wasn't because you ... I don't know ... love me ... maybe?" Clark's voice sounded small. Insecure.

And Lex knew there was only one answer to that question. He opened his eyes – damned his headaches – and pulled Clark close to kiss him breathless. Apparently, this was all the answer Clark needed. With a deep moan, he moved closer and pushed Lex back against the mattress.

A stroke down Clark's side to his middle, and a little push from Lex's hip upwards showed him that his young lover was ready for round two.

He grinned and let himself fall. Didn't they say sex was good against headaches, anyway?


They came down to breakfast one orgasm – each – and a shower – shared – later. It was already way past eleven and most of their other overnight guests were busying themselves with little trips to the town – mostly the Talon – some were down at Lex's stable, some were in his library. Lex had an open-house policy and most of the people knew that.

So they were both surprised to find Dean and Sam still on the table, enjoying what seemed to be a really hearty breakfast. Dean didn't look hung over in the slightest, he even had the nerve to smirk at Lex and for that he hated him with a passion. He forced a smile on his face, greeting his guests and the smile only got real when Clark put a cup of coffee in his hands.

Sam on the other hand ... Sam was looking at Clark with far too much interest for Lex's liking. Without noticing it, he pushed the taller man slightly behind him. The hot breath against his sensitive skin behind his right ear made him shiver. "Possessive much, aren't we, Lex?" his younger lover whispered.

He chose to ignore it, but he grabbed his hand and made sure that he, Lex, was sitting between Clark and Sam on the breakfast table.


The party in the evening was a huge success. Each of Clark's friends had come and they celebrated his new job until the early morning hours. Now it was a little after five a.m. and he, Lex, Sam and Dean were enjoying a little nightcap in front of the fireplace.

Clark was sitting next to Lex on a sofa and rested his head on the other man's shoulder. His eyes were half closed and he looked so content, that Lex was sure that, if he'd been a cat, he would have started purring.

"When are you leavin'?" Clark could hear Lex asking, and pushed him gently with one elbow.

"Lex ... that's impolite," he mumbled.

"Ah, no ... it's okay," Dean drawled, his voice thick and heavy with Whiskey. "Sammy and I here," Clark could hear a soft patting, "will leave tomorrow after breakfast."

"Do you have to?" Clark mumbled, cuddling a little closer to Lex's warmth.

"Yeah ... you know ... the road calls. And then there's the job." Sam's voice was quiet, sleepy and Clark opened one eye.

And smiled.

It seemed as if he hadn't been the only one who'd gotten lucky last night. Sam was sitting so close to Dean he was practically in his lap, their hands were intertwined, and Sam rested his chin on Dean's shoulder, breathing softly on Dean's neck.

"Yeah," he agreed quietly, "the job." His own job started on Monday. His first lunch break would be with Lex, and Lex had already invited him over to the Penthouse for Dinner.

They sat in silence until Dean finally nudged Sam gently with one elbow. "Come on, Sasquatch," he murmured, "time to haul your ass to bed. Let's go as long as you can still walk by yourself. I so don't wanna carry you."

Sam laughed softly, a noise Clark recognized. It was husky and flirty. "You love my ass ... admit it."

"Yeah, whatever," Dean grumbled but he smiled while he said it.

Lex and Clark followed them a few moments later. When they came to Clark's bedroom, Clark prepared himself to say good night to Lex without making a fuss. But when he stopped, Lex simply grabbed his wrist and pulled him gently with him. "My room this time," he murmured and with a big grin on his face Clark followed.

The door was barely closed behind him when Lex attacked him again. With a desperate sound he pressed his mouth to Clark's, kissing him so deep and passionate that the younger man began to see stars in front of his closed eyes. Clever finger opened his shirt buttons and shoved it down over his shoulders, his t-shirt following swift. Clark felt dizzy. It was too much too soon.

Yes, he loved Lex, no doubt about it. But he felt like he was trapped inside a hurricane. And he wanted to slow down. He wanted to make it special. He didn't want a quick fuck like this morning, no matter how satisfying it had been. This time he wanted to take time to learn what Lex liked, how he wanted to be touched, how he could make him loose control. Yes, he was a big softy ... he wanted to make love. Simple as that.

Before Lex could reach the button from his jeans, Clark took hold of his hands in a gentle grip and pressed his forehead against Lex's. "Ssh," he whispered, "slow down, love, we have time."

He could feel a mighty shiver running over Lex's smaller form. And then Lex slowed down. The frantic, almost brutal kisses became soft, the rough handling turned to gentle strokes and the tight muscles grew soft and almost pliant under Clark's hands. He sighed, relieved. He poured all his heart, all his feelings in the next kiss and felt goosebumps rise on Lex's soft skin.

"I want you, Lex," he murmured between two kisses, "I want you spread out on that bed naked, want to taste you, want to kiss every inch of your silken skin. I want to lick you and suck you and then I want to make you come so hard that you can barely remember your name. And when you calm down I want to start all over again."

He smiled at the hitch in Lex's breathing and was a little surprised when he found himself moments later laying flat on his back, the bed still slightly bouncing underneath him. Lex was leaning over him, kissing him, touching him, murmuring, "God, yes, Clark, please ..."

And those were the last words that were spoken for a very long time. Clark did everything he ever dreamed of. Touching and kissing every inch of Lex's soft skin, delighted and thrilled when he discovered that the older man had not a single hair on his body and his skin was like silk. He left little love bites, every one of them making Lex moan deeply in his throat; an intoxicating sound. Then he turned Lex around and kissed his way up from his feet, over his long, pale legs until he reached the perfect globes of Lex's ass which fit perfectly in his hands. He kneaded them and smiled when he heard another of those shallow breaths escape Lex. With a smile, he pressed a kiss to each before moving up over the column of his spine until he was covering Lex from head to toe with his own body, pressing the older man into the mattress. "I love to feel you like this," he murmured in Lex's ear, "spread out underneath me. Can I ... Lex, please, would you let me ... "

He stopped, unable to form his plea. He wanted to be inside Lex so badly but wasn't sure if Lex would be okay with it. Another deep breath, and he tried it again, "I want to be ... inside of you, Lex. May I? Please?" His voice was barely audible on the last words.

Lex turned his head a bit so he could gave Clark a deep, lingering kiss before he replied, "Condoms and lube are in the nightstand."

Clark's hand shook when he reached over to open the first drawer on the nightstand. He pulled out an unopened pack of condoms and a half empty bottle of lube. He gazed at the condoms for a moment. Usually there was no question about using one. It wasn't that he could get sick or something but he had found out that it made the other guys he was with feel much better. Safer. So he never slept around without one.

But this was Lex; who might have had a misspent youth with all kinds of bad reputations; who was a meteor mutant with amazing healing abilities. Lex - who had never been sick ever since that first meteor shower.

Lex - who he loved and trusted.

Lex - who right now seemed to notice his hesitancy. He sat up, and put one finger under Clark's chin, lifting it gently so he could look him in the eyes. "I'm clean, Clark. I haven't fucked around for almost two years now. But I can understand if you wanna use one."

It was the last statement uttered with so much love and understanding that made Clark toss the condom box over his right shoulder where it fell with a little *thump* on the floor. "Don't need it," he mumbled, moved forward again, kissing Lex deep and passionately. He took the lube that was still lying next to him on the comforter and opened it. Coating two of his fingers generously with it, he reached behind Lex, searching and finding his entrance.

A deep groan escaped Lex's slightly parted lips when Clark slowly pushed first one and then, when he felt his lover relax, a second finger into his body. For long minutes Lex rocked gently on Clark's fingers, opening himself up for his lover. Then he gasped, "Now, Clark ... come on ... fuck me now."

Clark was almost beside himself with lust. He removed his fingers from Lex's body, grinning slightly at the murmured protest. But then he gritted his teeth when Lex more or less toppled him over and without further warning sank down on him. Clark shouted out when his lover's ass came to rest on his thighs. God! Never before had it been so intense. He gazed up into Lex's heavy lidded eyes, and could read the same emotions in them. He put one hand in Lex's neck, pulling the slightly shorter man down to him, kissing him deeply. "Love you, Lex," he panted against the scarred lips of his lover, "love you so damn much ... and now move. I wanna feel you ... wanna feel you lose it for me."

Lex gasped, and did as he was told. He began slowly. A little bit up and then down again. But it wasn't enough. Not for Clark who was so hungry for Lex he could barely restrain himself. Making love to Sam all those years ago had healed him from his fear of hurting his lover when he topped. Those nights in Stanford with the hunter had showed him a whole new world. So he wasn't afraid now when he took hold of Lex's hips, and started to lift the other man up and pull him down again. He knew that even in the throes of passion he would never hurt someone. It was Lex that lost it first. Grinding down on Clark one last time, he came with a curse, shooting all over Clark's stomach. The warmth, the smell, and Lex's murmured, "Come for me, Clark ... wanna see you come, God, please, Clark ... " made Clark's orgasm slam into him like a freight train. He came deep inside his lover's body, filling him up, making Lex moan and writhe on him, until the older man collapsed on top of him. A few moments later, Clark slipped out of him, and Lex skidded down next to Clark, lazily reaching for the comforter, and cleaning them up a bit.

Panting, kissing, and caressing each other they lay on the bed, waiting for the first rays of the sun to appear on the horizon.


They stayed in touch, Sam and Clark, after that special weekend. They had enjoyed the time together too much to let the contact break up again. They wrote e-mails, called each other every now and then and sometimes, when Sam and Dean were in Kansas, they even managed to meet.

Dean and Lex still hated each other. Clark took it as it was; knowing that he couldn't change his lover's opinion on Sam's other half. On one occasion Sam had confined in Clark and had told him his biggest secret, namely that Dean was not only his lover but also his brother. Clark had just looked at him with a "So what?" expression on his face and that was that.

But Clark knew that it had taken his friend a lot of courage to tell him this, so when he found out another strange alien thing about his body, Sam had been one of the first to tell.

He sat down with his laptop, with Lex curled up behind him, caressing his bare stomach gently and began to type:

"Hi Sam,

This time it's me with the big news. Did you know that Kryptonian men can get pregnant? Well, neither did I ..."

The end