Chapter Text
Early January, 2004
“Alexander.” Helen’s voice broke into his thoughts, the gently immovable tone she used when she wasn’t going to let him look away or hide or lash out at her to make her back away from him. “Alexander, look at me.”
“How dare you,” he grated out, eyes still fixed out over the city. “How dare you bring him here, how dare you touch him, how dare you....”
“Alexander,” she said again, and there was sharpness in it this time as she took hold of his wrist and spun him around, looking up at him with those cobalt eyes that burned in the moonlight. “I am not trying to steal Clark from you. I am not trying to hurt you, or leverage you, or make you do anything. I am not going to hurt him, or let him hurt me. What I am, Alexander, is tired of watching you ache for him and refuse to let him know that there is a chance. Do you understand? He is here, now, because he wants you. And I am not going to let either of you hurt the other any more than you already have.”
“You know that having him in my penthouse amounts to throwing potassium into a bathtub, and you tell me you aren’t trying to make me do anything?”
“I could have worn the red and black bedroom set,” she told him, looking up at him with a quirk of a smile on her lips. “That would have been making you. This is encouragement.”
“You put him in red silk boxers, Helen.” He glared down at her.
“Those were his idea, actually.” Her smile grew a little more. “I told him I thought they were a little much, but he was so charmingly determined that I couldn’t help but go along.”
The rage guttered and died. Lex’s face turned cold. “You think you can stop me from hurting him, Helen? I could cut him off at the knees with a few well-aimed words. You’re fast, but not that fast.”
“I don’t have to stop you with my hands, Alexander.” She looked up at him, unflinching and unafraid. “Imagine saying that to him in front of me. Go on. Try.”
The scenarios unfolded in his mind, all the ugly things he could use to punish Clark for his lies. For making Lex vulnerable. But that was where they stayed. The cruel, the contemptuous, the outright falsehoods - he couldn’t say any of them, even hypothetically. Only the most simple statements of fact made their imaginary way past his lips: You lie to me. I know you lie to me. It’s eating me up inside.
They would hurt, yes, but in the history of Luthor attacks they were barely a warning shot.
It felt like something broke open in his chest.
“I’ll be pathetic,” he murmured, almost whispered. “Completely undone. Do you really want to see that?”
“No. I want to see you happy. But I’m willing to see you undone, if that’s what it takes to get there.” She leaned up and kissed him softly, resting her palms on his shoulders, lips tracing his until they were breathing each other’s air. “If I needed a man made out of steel, Alexander, I’d build one.”
With his hands on her waist, he leaned into the kiss. “Happy is an exotic locale for me, Helen,” he said into her mouth. “That might be a while coming.”
“I own travel companies,” she teased as she finally drew back and looked into his eyes again. “I can handle exotic. Exotic locales, exotic materials, exotic tastes...”
The ghost of a smile crossed his face. “Meteorite disco ball for the ceiling?.”
“If that’s what you want, that’s what I’ll get you.” She kissed his jaw lightly. “But for the moment, there’s a nearly naked agricultural worker in fantastic shape sitting in your bed waiting for us to debauch him.”
“I see this is fantasy-fulfillment for you, too.” He relaxed enough to gesture grandly to the penthouse door.
“Two exceedingly attractive men from opposite ends of the socioeconomic spectrum ready to do my bidding in bed?” She grinned up at him, though it didn’t quite reach the focused, tender intensity in her eyes. “What girl wouldn’t be willing to pull a few strings for that?”
He leaned down to kiss her hair. “Do your bidding? My plan mostly involves fucking both of you stupid.”
“Oh. Hm.” She leaned in enough to brush her mouth over the curve of his jaw. “I suppose I can live with my disappointment.”
Clark was standing in the hallway that led back to the bedroom, wearing one of Lex’s robes and an anxious expression, and the whole picture was enough to make Lex want to go to the damned farmboy and hold him and chase that look off his face. “Um... so...” he began.
“Bedroom now,” Helen ordered him, though there was warmth in her voice that made Clark’s cheeks flush hot red. “Questions later.”
“Clark.” Lex stepped in close, closer than he’d ever dared. Any resolve he had left was quickly evaporating under Clark’s radiant heat. “I need you to promise me something.”
Helen sighed.
“Yes, Lex.” Clark’s wide blue eyes looked down at him with all the sincerity in the world.
“Promise me that if you have to choose between protecting yourself and giving me what I want, you’ll protect yourself.”
“I...” Clark started to protest, looked to the side, then back at Lex. Then, thank God, he nodded his damned stubborn head. “All right. I’ll do my best.”
One corner of Lex’s mouth turned up as he curled his fists into the borrowed robe. “Well, that will have to do.”
Kissing Clark was like drinking sunlight through a fire hose, except he didn’t want to stop. Ever. It scared the hell out of him. But then Helen’s familiar warmth was against his back, her lips against the back of his neck, and he wasn’t pulling back. He wasn’t going to pull back.
He returned his attention to the task of kissing Clark until the farmboy’s knees buckled. He wondered, idly, how long that would take.
It didn’t happen before he had to break for air, but Helen seemed eager enough to take over for him. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, except that it made him harder than he’d ever been in his damned life. It also put Clark’s neck at an excellent angle for sucking, which he did with enthusiasm while fumbling with the robe’s belt. When Lex bit down into the sun-drenched skin and muscle, Clark’s moan reverberated all the way through both of them--all three, if the sudden tightening of Helen’s fingers against Clark’s chest was anything to go by. Which, he could say with the confidence of familiarity, it was. Then Helen came up for air in turn and made room for him, and he had enough time to watch Clark’s eyes snap open wide in surprise as Lex hauled his head around and kissed him all over again.
Clark moaned something into Lex’s mouth that sounded a lot like “Doomed.”
That was very satisfactory.
His second kiss with Clark was slightly less overwhelming than the first, and Lex was dimly aware of strong, graceful fingers unbuttoning his shirt. Helen, apparently unsatisfied with his progress, had decided to take over the undressing process. Lex didn’t mind. That left more time for making Clark produce those wonderfully stunned, desperate little noises.
He’d never realized just how much of the process of moving from kissing in the hallway to sprawling out on the bed could benefit from an able assistant. He’d have to give that more thought.
Later.
She’d gotten the belt already, which meant that he could put his hands on every inch of Clark’s shoulders and chest and abs like he was trying to memorize them. He was doing a pretty good job of it until he got to the hips, and then he was grinding against Clark’s barely-clothed erection and moaning ridiculously loudly and that was when the farmboy’s knees gave out and the whole lot of them spilled to the floor, even Helen.
They lay there a moment, helplessly entangled, and then she started to laugh - softly, richly, with a world of pleasure in the simple absurdity of the moment in it. After a few incredulous seconds, Clark joined in with even more gusto than she had.
Lex hadn’t laughed like that in ages, and never right before sex. “I think you were right about the bed, Helen,” he conceded breathlessly. “But please get off me so we can proceed.”
She swatted him playfully, then started wriggling her way out of the tangle of robe, silk shirt, dress and limbs. “As you get to know me better, Clark,” she said without taking her eyes off Lex, “you’ll discover that I’m almost always right about everything. I trust that I can depend on you not to follow Alexander’s example, and learn to go along from the start?”
“Sure, great, whatever you want,” came the dazed answer.
“I like him. He’s a quick learner,” Helen concluded airily as she finished getting to her feet, dropped her dress to the floor and then stepped over both of them to lead the way toward the bedroom. “We should definitely keep him, Alexander.”
“Wait, what?” Clark blinked, eyes coming into focus, and then his head was swiveling between Lex’s eyes and Helen’s retreating figure. “Did she just say...”
Lex pressed a sloppy kiss to Clark’s throat just below his jaw. “I couldn’t possibly comment. Now move your leg, hot stuff.”
They’ll be asleep for a while. Helen pulled the robe she’d plucked off the floor beside the bed a little tighter around herself and sipped her water while she leaned against the counter and waited for the espresso machine and the coffee maker to finish their work. To see them, you’d think they’d been waiting a century for the chance to have each other and not just a few years. Pretty. I suppose I ought to be jealous. She considered the idea while she swallowed the last of the water, then walked to the balcony and opened the doors to let the cleansing cold of the winter air in.
She wasn’t. Why was escaping her for the moment, but it would come in due course. The espresso machine toned softly, demanding her attention, and she went back to fixing her Hammerhead. There was probably a law against putting a third shot of espresso into one of these things, somewhere, but she was prepared to overlook it.
Her cardiovascular system could handle it.
It had been good to see Alexander let go - to see him stop thinking about anything except where he was and what he was doing and with whom he was doing it. She’d been lucky enough to bring him to that place herself a few times, but only a few, and she hadn’t wanted the boy’s first time to be marked by seeing Lex’s eyes go distant with another thought that belonged in another place, another world.
Sentimental, but there it was - she’d wanted it to be good for them, and the boy had done an admirable job at applying himself to keeping Alexander on task.
The boy. Clark. She stirred her coffee again, carefully, and then took a hot sip that her mouth protested before she told it firmly to be silent.
She’d had her hands on him more than once tonight, and she hadn’t been gentle. Neither had Lex. He was stronger and harder than he looked with his clothes on, of course, but still....
The idea turned itself over in her mind a few times. She’d need more data to form a proper conclusion. Still, it was suddenly easier to understand the obsessive interest Alexander sometimes showed in the secrets Clark insisted on keeping. The boy truly was a puzzle.
Helen knew how to be patient. She set the thought aside for the moment, sipped her coffee, and thought about the look on Alexander’s face when he’d finally pushed his way down between Clark’s legs and gotten a look at what he’d jokingly described as the Promised Land.
He hadn’t been disappointed. Helen smiled at the memory.
The sound of the bedroom door closing softly caught her attention. Clark had found another robe somewhere, and padded across the lush carpeting to the kitchen, squinting in the light.
“You and coffee.”
“It sustains all life, Clark, I promise you.” She studied him, astonished by how comfortable and energetic he looked. He was asleep barely twenty minutes. I wish I had that kind of recovery time. “Without it, we’d simply wither and die.”
“Whatever you say, Helen,” he nodded, zeroing in on the refrigerator. She watched in amusement as he opened the appliance, retrieved a half-full quart of milk, and proceeded to drink the entire contents without either getting a glass or closing the door.
Then he went back to rummaging.
“Hey, bacon. You want some, Helen?” He peered over the door, waving the package enticingly. “Bacon sustains all life.”
“If you’re cooking,” she replied airily, “I’ll eat it. Especially if you take that robe off first.”
Despite everything she’d seen of him in the last few hours, he blushed. Not as much as he had the first time he’d seen her, but still a robust flush.
He shrugged out of it, revealing a borrowed pair of boxer-briefs. “Don’t want to get grease on it anyway.”
With only a little bewilderment at the sleek, well-appointed kitchen, Clark found a cast-iron skillet and set of tongs. “You like it chewy, crispy, or burnt?”
“Crispy.” She studied the line of his shoulders, of his chest, of his back, and her eyes narrowed slightly. I wasn’t wrong, and it wasn’t a trick of the light. “He’s still asleep?”
“Yeah.” His voice was softly affectionate. She was learning all the different tones Clark used when talking about Lex. Like this one, most were unmistakably smitten.
“If you hurt him,” she said in a deliberately mild tone, “I’m going to be very put out with you.”
He blinked. “People usually think he’s the dangerous one.”
“Do you know the story of Hephaestion, Clark?” She took another sip of her coffee and leaned her head back, enjoying the warmth of the stove and the coolness of the air.
He sighed. “Everything’s ‘Ancient Greece’ this and ‘Renaissance’ that with you people.”
“Hephaestion was the schoolmate, friend and companion of a great general - a conqueror who led a single small country to rule the entire known world of the time by the age of thirty. The story goes that the general so loved Hephaestion that when the young captain died of a fever before the general could even reach his side, the general was so overcome with grief that he refused to eat or drink for two whole days, and then he gave his beloved a funeral fit for a king. Soon after, he became sick himself - or was poisoned, depending on which historian you believe - and died, some say as much of heartbreak as of the fever.” Helen took a slow sip of her coffee and watched Clark watching her from the corner of her eye. “The general’s name was Alexander of Macedon, who was called the Great by his people and his enemies alike.”
“I saw that one coming, FYI,” he said mildly, turning the bacon. “Kinda hard to avoid the legend when it hangs over Lex’s head all the time.” He turned to look at her head on. “Look, I don’t know what kind of future we have, but--”
“I wasn’t suggesting that you ought to be picking out matching curtains and crockery just yet,” she told him with an amused smile. “But you asked me why I think you’re the dangerous one to him instead of the reverse. From everything he’s told me about you and everything I’ve seen, you are singularly well-endowed with friends and family who care deeply for you. Alexander might hurt you, it’s true, but if he does I have no doubt at all that you’ll heal swiftly and cleanly. I am not nearly as confident he’d heal well if you hurt him. Does that make my point a little clearer, Clark?”
He nodded, started to stare broodingly at the wall, then frowned and rubbed his face. “I’m afraid of that, too.”
“Caution isn’t the same as fear, Clark. It’s worth remembering the difference.” She finished her coffee and set the cup down on the table, then ran her fingernails firmly down the line of his back. It felt surprisingly like scraping them across a nail file. “I think you and Alexander can do well together. You just need to remember to handle him with care.”
With his free hand he picked up a pot holder and lightly gripped the handle of the skillet, turning it to a better bacon-flipping angle. “I know how to be careful.”
“More careful than we were with you tonight, I should hope,” she teased him as she drew her fingers back and flexed them slowly. I wonder...
He shrugged as if he could feel her scrutiny. “I know other people bruise more than I do.” Apparently satisfied with his cooking, he flicked the stove off and went to look for plates. He smiled as he handed her portion over. “And I didn’t mind you being un-careful.”
She heard something darken in her own voice as she set her bacon down and pressed into him, pushing him back against the counter and running her hand down his chest. “And just how uncareful,” she husked, “are you willing to let me be, Clark?”
His own plate clattered on the counter. She could feel him start to harden through her robe.
“Uh. Lots?”
She shoved herself against him, wrapping her hand in his hair and kissing him hard enough that it hurt her own lips a little, her other hand wrapped around his wrist as she ground herself against him. They stayed like that a little while, tongues tangled, her feeling his body burn against hers, and then she drew back and licked her lips and looked down at his hand where she’d pressed it.
“Clark,” she murmured, whole body rigid with the taut stillness that had driven itself through her when she’d been sure she’d put his hand where she’d meant to, “that burner is still hot.”
Belatedly he jerked his hand away, a hunted look on his face as he slid sideways away from her. “It’s just...I don’t...I have to go.” He was halfway to the front door when he looked down at himself and stopped short.
“Clark,” she said softly in what she hoped was a reassuring tone, keeping her eyes on his and suppressing the astonishment that was trying to drain the blood out of her face, “don’t punish Alexander because I had to know. I already told him that I wasn’t going to let either of you be hurt. Don’t make me a liar.”
A half-hysterical laugh bubbled out of his throat. “Sure, no problem. Helping you keep your word is definitely my top priority right now.” Still, he didn’t rush back to the bedroom and his clothes, starting to pace the living room instead.
“I would think,” she said softly, “that protecting Alexander would be a concern.” She stayed where she was, keeping her movements to a minimum except for starting the espresso machine going again. Her doctor was going to throw a fit, but that would be later. Later would be the time for dealing with that problem.
“He’s the only reason I’m still here,” Clark snapped, glaring. “I just meant that I don’t really care what you want.”
“Why should you?” She smiled faintly and leaned against the counter. “But it’s good that we understand each other. I’m curious about how you came to be fireproof and bruise-proof, of course, but I’m also more interested in not having Alexander hate me in the morning. I let curiosity get the better of me once tonight. I think that’s more than enough.” For the moment. I wonder if your passion for the cause of meteor-radiation is personal, Mister Kent, or if there’s something else going on? Also for later. “I don’t expect you to like me, Clark. I don’t expect you to trust me. But you can believe that I want Alexander to be happy, and that I don’t want to see you hurt... well, outside the bedroom.” Her lips quirked up in a smile she couldn’t quite contain. “Though now I know to be more careful with my teeth.”
Clark looked away and muttered something about his wishes concerning her dental fortitude. Then he sat on the far end of one of the sofas, arms crossed over his chest and trying to glare holes in the window.
“Are you going to sulk all night?” she asked softly, mixing herself an Americano and moving to sit on the other end of the couch.
“Yup.”
She couldn’t help smiling. The boy was so disarmingly earnest, even about his anger. “When I was eight years old,” she whispered, surprised by her own need to offer him something in return for the secret she’d so badly wanted to steal, “the world stopped making sense to me. Before that moment, I thought that everything there was could fit neatly into a pattern that logic and learning and common sense could identify, sort and make simple fact. I thought that good people took care of each other, and bad people could be helped or at least kept safely at arm’s reach, and that God looked down on the world and made sure everything went the way it was supposed to.”
Clark kept staring straight ahead. “Will you just leave me alone, or do I have to lock myself in the bathroom or something?”
Helen sighed and looked down at her coffee, then closed her eyes. “What I’m trying to say, Clark, is that I’m not going to do anything that’s going to take you away from your parents. Anything. Ever.”
There was a subtle creak of leather, and when she peeked through her lashes Clark was giving her a sideways, appraising look. After a long moment he spoke.
“I believe you. But I also believe that you’re going to dig up as many of my secrets as you can whether I want you to or not.”
“As many as I can without breaking my word to Lex not to intrude on your life, yes.” Her lips curved up at the edges in another one of those smiles that wouldn’t go away, and she opened her eyes fully to meet his. They really are a lovely, vivid shade of blue... “You’re a fascinating man, Clark. I won’t say ‘can you blame me,’ because of course you do, but...” she laughed gently. “Just don’t offer me a lift across any rivers, and we’ll be fine.”
He narrowed his eyes and went back to glaring out at Metropolis.
She sighed. “Aesop? The scorpion and the frog? Nothing?” Another swallow of coffee was definitely necessary.
Without another word, Clark got up and padded down the hallway. A moment later, she heard him start the shower. That warranted another sigh while she finished her coffee. Then she had an idea that brought another smile to her lips as she started toward the bedroom.
“Alexander,” she murmured as she slid into bed next to her lover and pricked him with her nails to wake him, “your farmboy is naked in the shower.”
His half-lidded eyes instantly snapped to full awareness. “Have I told you lately how completely marvelous you are?”
“Not lately.” She settled in next to him and kissed his jaw, pulling the blanket around him away and curling into it herself. “Are you going or staying?”
As he sat up, he gave her waist a lingering caress through the cashmere. “Going, naturally.” He smirked. “I can’t be held responsible for the distraction you present.”
“Wouldn’t expect you to be. Enjoy your farmboy.” She closed her eyes, settled her breathing, and made a show of getting ready to sleep.
From the sounds she heard from the shower a few minutes later, she would have wagered a small Pacific island that he’d taken her advice.