Smallville Drabbles
short ficlets of varying ratings, all Clark/Lex

Lex/Clark, G, a Hudson Hawk-esque caper, 100 words for kyanoswolf, September '05

"All right, Clark, we're going to have exactly four minutes and thirty-four seconds. Let's synchronize our watches," said Lex, looking up at the intimidating silhouette of the LuthorCorp tower. If they were going to get the Da Vinci codex back into the hands of the museum where it belonged, they had to time everything perfectly.

"Watch?" said Clark, looking sheepish. "Wait, do you know 'Every Sperm is Sacred?'"

Lex stared at him as if he were insane, then shook his head and felt around in his pack for an extra stopwatch. "I am never letting you watch Hudson Hawk again."

The Dying

Clark came, thinking that unlike a human, unlike the man who'd given him this moment, he might never know firsthand why this was called the Little Death. A part of him clung to the feeling even as it faded away -- it was all of mortality he could share with Lex, at least for now.

Clark/Lex, PG, silence, melancholy, for violetsmiles, July '05
(100 words, resurrecting the past)

Somehow, despite all the powers and secrets, rescues and lies, whenever Clark walked into Lex's mansion and found it silent and intimidating, the thing he felt the most was... ordinary.

He wasn't directed to Lex's office today, because Lex wasn't here. Lex was off on some business trip to somewhere exotic, probably finding himself some rich, gorgeous, interesting brunette to grace his arm and his bed while Clark wore flannel and did farm chores.

The hardest part, this time, was that Lex hadn't even bothered to say goodbye. Lex had just left Clark to his ordinary life, and this silence.


Lex sat beside his only friend, watching him grow weaker, quite possibly watching him die. He'd never told Clark how he felt, not really, and now he might not get the chance. People wandered in and out, checking on them both, but Lex only had eyes for the pale face in front of him.

A part of him had believed they were both invulnerable. A part of him had thought he had all the time in the world.

He took one unbearably weak-looking hand in his own and softly said, "I love you."

Clark tossed his head and whispered, "L-Lana?"


Lex sits on the steps of the loft, Clark's balls rolling in his palm, Clark's cock buried in his throat. Allie nudges the small of his back, licking the sweat, then curls beside him to sleep. She's always been a strange kitten.

He knows Clark's mother will be calling them for dinner soon, but he'd rather have this than roast beef and potatoes any day. The musky taste, the bitter slickness of pre-come, the comfort of hands cradling his head. Clark whimpers, thrusts, comes.

"Clark! Lex! Time to eat!" drifts into the barn, but there's time for one more kiss.


Lex sat on the steps, walking the key across his knuckles; the box had been discarded at his feet. Helen sat next to him, her silence an accusation. "I'm sorry, I just... I needed some air."

She replied softly, "I'm sorry, too, Lex. But I really don't think that this is the right decision for us. No matter what you've said before, I can see who your heart really belongs to."

Lex turned pained eyes on her, taking in her dark hair and full-lipped features. "If only he could see."

Clark froze, suddenly hopeful, and waited for her to leave.

so quite new a thing

Clark knelt on the steps leading up to the high bed, trying desperately to keep himself from ripping apart his restraints. He could hear the metal creaking as he felt long nails trailing across his ass, strong hands spreading him, a hot wet tongue probing him. He couldn't see her anymore, but Adina's image was burned on his retinas, red-blonde curls, tight clothes and suggestive smirks. He didn't know why he'd trusted her, let her tie him up and touch him in ways no other girl had, or would.

He understood when Lex's voice, and Lex's cock, filled his senses.

Clark sat, gaping, in the same place he'd sat after work for weeks. His hope had cooled like the coffee in his cup, into a concentrated sludge that stimulated him into foolish action. He stood, heedless of the crowd, of the talk this would undoubtedly engender, of the protest dying on those perfect lips as he captured them, pouring his apology and love into one kiss.

He pulled back, rested his forehead against Lex's and whispered, "I'm sorry."

Lex ran a hand down his cheek, stared deeply into Clark's eyes and said, "I know. Let's go."

They went home together.


Lex walks the streets differently today, eyes down, desperation clutching at the hollow place where his heart used to be. He'd gone past this spot a hundred times before, gaze sliding right over the people huddled there. Now he's paying desperate attention to every face there, giving not spare change but spare twenties, asking if one of them has seen something, anything, of Clark.

Strong arms envelop him and a warm, familiar voice says, "I knew you'd come around."

He hates Clark for making him learn this lesson, but he knows it's one more step away from being his father.

Night Whispers

Martha was awakened by a noise, out of place in the usually quiet farmhouse. These last few years she'd learned to ignore much of what drifted down the hallway: the soft creak of the fourth stair, murmured voices, stifled giggles, sighs of passion. This was different, and it drew her inexorably out of bed.

These whispers were harsh, angry. They sounded like static on the tv after midnight, an ending sound. She waited in the shadows for the crescendo, then painful silence; for the stair to creak, and the sobs to start. Then, she went to ease Clark's broken heart.

Lex waited outside the cathedral, checking the time on his cell phone and pacing. He tried to tell himself that marital bliss was not an oxymoron, but he kept remembering his last two murderous wives. A part of him wanted to run, hide and never look back.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" said a familiar voice in his ear. Lips pressed to his temple and arms surrounded him, chasing away his cold feet with their warmth.

Lex turned in the embrace and captured Clark's mouth for a deep kiss. "I am now. Come on, let's go get married."

All of the works contained herein are labours of love, unauthorized by those who hold the rights to such things, and no profit is made from them. No harm is meant, and hopefully no offense given.