"I had a dream once we were enemies," Clark said softly against his lover's skin. "Your father drove you mad, and you hated me."
"I love you, and I always will," said Lex, languid body curling towards familiar hands with renewed interest. Their ice castle always seemed cold to him, even though the AI assured him it was kept a theoretically comfortable 72 degrees at all times. Clark's touch was like the sunlight, warm and soothing against his chilled skin. He felt more alive when he was with Clark, vital and real in a way he sometimes thought he'd long since forgotten.
It was to be expected when you were 236 years old, he supposed. Between his own initial meteor exposure, and the tender care of the AI, Lex had stayed young-looking, and limber enough to spread himself wide, inviting Clark inside his body. He didn't do this often, usually it was him taking advantage of Clark's invulnerability to ambush him all over the Fortress and fuck him with little or no preparation, just sliding into that welcoming heat so he could hear Clark moan his name.
Clark whimpered as Lex arched, showing himself off, offering himself up. His mouth was hot on Lex's skin as it traveled down to suck his balls, lick his thighs and delve into his secret places. It always took time and gentle persuasion to get Clark inside him, and it was always worth it. Clark's tongue had learned every nuance of Lex's pleasure years ago, and worked hard to make it different, special, and almost perfect, every single time.
Lex applauded the effort with moans, shouts, pleas and writhing limbs, letting himself go completely, sinking into trust and desire even as Clark's adept fingers sunk into his ass. "I could never be your enemy, Clark," Lex whispered as that familiar mouth closed over his length, sucked deeply of his lust and drew him into the swirling depths of pleasure.
He got no more response than he'd expected, a vibrating moan along his skin, the tantalizing threat of words from a fluttering tongue, the gentlest graze of even white teeth reminding him that there was more to life than black and white. A third finger brought a new kind of ache, that stretch that always shocked him, even after two hundred years. His body wanted it now, tightening and loosening at once, the edge still too far for him to leap in a single bound.
Clark's mouth left him cold and wanting, gliding up over flesh and bone and blood to steal his breath even as he gave back something so much more precious, slipping love inside in his distraction. Lex gasped and bucked, aware that he wasn't long for this world or at least this shining perfect moment, feeling a tremble in his surface tension as his glass grew overfull. Clark called his name in a distant language as their bodies spoke of eternity, and Lex fell, spilled, broke and became, once again, complete.