Cover by danceswithgary

Title: Dance With Your Heart

Author: danceswithgary and morganichele

Pairing: Clark/Lex

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: None

Spoilers: None

Word Count: 26400

Archive: Fine, just let me know

Summary: Learning to dance was just the beginning, for both of them.

 

 

 

"Dance lessons?"

 

Martha Kent glared at her husband as he hid a grin beneath a dirt-coated glove. Taking a deep breath, she turned to her son. "Yes, Clark, I think it would help a lot. You have so much trouble controlling your body with these new powers springing up when you least expect it." She watched her son stand up and step away from the kitchen table. "Clark...you know, your father took ballet when he was in high school."

 

Green eyes rolled their way towards the ceiling. "Yeah, Mom, I know. I've heard the story about fifty times."

 

"Hey!" Jonathan Kent shook his head, and frowned. "Watch the attitude, Son."

 

"Sorry," Clark whispered, the words coming out along with a guilty sigh. "It's just...I'm not on the football team, Dad. I don't have a girlfriend..."

 

"What has that got to do with anything?" Martha asked, her voice taking on an amused edge.

 

Clark's shoulder slumped downwards as the boy moved towards the door. "There's no reason for me to be taking dance lessons that anyone will understand. I...I'm 6'3", Mom. I'm going to look like a total geek in tights." A scowl washed across his face at the snort of laughter from his father. His eyes flashed over to his mother. "See? Even Dad thinks so!"

 

"You don't have to wear tights, Clark. This is a different kind of dancing," Martha soothed, fighting back an attack of giggles at the idea of her tall, muscular son in tights.

 

Clark crossed his arms across his broad chest and pushed open the screen door with his shoulder. He stepped out onto the porch and glared down at the wooden boards that ran beneath his feet.

 

"We really think this might help you get some control over your body, Clark. It's worth a shot, isn't it? Besides, the first four lessons are free." Martha called out, a soft plea in her voice.

 

Nodding, Clark resigned himself to his fate, and looked over his shoulder into the relieved faces of his parents. "When do I start?"

 

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Clark stopped running a couple of blocks away from the dance studio. He had about ten minutes before his first official lesson, and his stomach was tied in knots. Warily, he pushed himself forward, moving towards the renovated warehouse that had been converted into The Lillian Luthor Dance Studio three years earlier.

 

He approached the building slowly, his face dark with apprehension.

 

'I'll probably be the only guy there,' he thought as he pulled the door open, and stepped inside. The inside was a lot different from what he had expected. There was a thick, dark Berber carpet on the floor of the entrance lobby, and the walls were covered in a rich, purple paper. He approached a desk and looked down to see a red-haired woman's smiling face.

 

"Hello. Are you here for the group class?"

 

Clark sighed and nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

 

The woman nodded and pointed to a clipboard on the ledge that surrounded her desk. "You'll just need to sign in here." She looked at him appraisingly. "Football?"

 

Barely restraining the urge to roll his eyes, knowing his mother would be enraged at such impoliteness, he shook his head. "I'm not involved in athletics," he muttered.

 

Her eyes widened in surprise before she resumed her kind smile. "Well, that's okay. Whatever the reason, Lex will have you dancing in no time."

 

Clark bit back a response. He moved towards the room she had directed him to, and after sucking in a steadying breath, he pushed open the door and stepped into a huge, open room. The hardwood floors were gleaming under soft lights and there were mirrors covering two long walls. A computerized sound system filled another wall, along with a large flat-screen television and a video camera. Coat hooks, folding chairs and several benches lined the fourth wall, flanking a closed door with a sign indicating the location of the restrooms and staff break room. Clark wondered about the odd strip of carpeting ran along the front of the chairs to the exit door, bordering the dance floor.

 

A movement caught his eye and Clark's mouth dropped open as he watched a couple dancing around the room in a counter-clockwise direction. He didn't recognize the music that was playing, but he could see how the man and woman moved to it, becoming a visual representation of sound. They were grace and beauty, with a rhythm and flow akin to flying as their feet skimmed over the floor, barely touching the fine-grained wood. They moved as one body with two souls to the center of the floor where they dipped and swirled in an intricate pattern, the woman's sequined skirt flirting with the air, before returning to the perimeter to resume their flight. The music slowed to an elegant finish, the couple separating to bow to an imaginary audience before the man took the woman's arm to escort her from the floor.

 

Clark watched as the man scooped up a towel and patted his head and face dry before offering a quick hug and kiss to his partner. A few murmured words and he disappeared through the marked door while the woman took a seat on the nearest bench and began to remove the high-heeled sandals she was wearing. Reaching under the bench, she removed a well-stuffed duffle bag and took out a pair of sneakers that she slipped on with a sigh of relief. She tucked away the rejected shoes and standing, made her way along the carpet to the door that Clark still stood in front of, waiting patiently until he roused from his bemused state enough to blush and hold the door open for her. She walked through with a nod of her head and a smile, and he stood there holding the door, watching her as she walked away, her sparkling costume clashing with the well-worn sneakers and bulging duffle bag.

 

Hearing hushed speech, Clark's head turned towards a small group of women of various ages, and a solitary older man, huddled together in a corner, their eyes locked onto him.

 

His eyes rolled. There was no avoiding it. Sighing, he shuffled over to the wall and perched on one of the chairs, his hands tucked in his jacket pockets. The room was mostly silent, save for an occasional burst of chatter from the group, and Clark tried to relax, failing miserably when his hearing picked up a rather interesting discussion on the potential size of his hands. He felt his breathing slowly evening out a bit when the break room door swung open.

 

A tall, slender man walked into the room, the same one who'd been dancing earlier, closely followed by two other men and a woman. Now that he was no longer flying around the floor, Clark could see that the dancer was bald, his pale scalp glimmering in the muted lighting. His back to Clark, he began greeting the group, his voice low and soothing. Clark waited as one of the gathered women raised a hand, pointing to him, and he watched the man turn slowly.

 

Clear, blue-gray eyes locked onto his, and Clark shifted uneasily, standing up straight. Nervous, he kept his hands stuffed into his pockets and waited for the man to speak.

 

"Who do we have here?" The voice was darker than before, thicker.

 

"I'm Clark Kent." Clark extended a polite hand, and shivered when a warm, callused palm slid into his grip. The shiver erupted into a full-blown tremor as those smoky eyes traveled down his body, appraising every inch as they worked their way slowly back up to Clark's face.

 

"It's a pleasure, Clark," the man murmured. "I'm Lex."

 

Choking on a soft laugh, Clark shook his head. "I guess you're the one that's going to try to teach me how to dance, then."

 

The smile that crossed Lex's face was silky-smooth, and completely wicked. "Absolutely." Lex grinned at the look of disbelief on Clark's face and leaned forward, speaking confidentially, "Don't worry, Clark. You're not the first man I've worked with."

 

Clark felt his face flush with color and he looked away from the teasing smile on Lex's face. His head was turned away, but Clark could still see their reflection in the mirror and he caught the look of chagrin that flashed across Lex's face at his evident embarrassment. He saw Lex's hand reach out and felt the gentle pat on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Clark. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable even before your first lesson. Why don't you hang up your coat and come join the group. I'll introduce you to everyone." Another glance down and he held up a hand, stopping Clark before he went any further. "Oh, we don't allow street shoes on the floor. You'll need to change into your dance shoes."

 

Suddenly realizing the purpose of the carpet, Clark's face became even hotter. "I...I don't have any dance shoes."

 

Lex's smile was understanding, and he shook his head quickly. "Of course you don't. This is your first lesson, isn't it? It's all right, just take off your shoes and you can dance in your socks today. If you decide to continue, I'll let you know where you can buy the right shoes." He lifted one foot to show Clark the shoes he was wearing. "See, they have suede soles and are a little more flexible so that you can maintain the right contact with the floor."

 

Nodding his head as if he understood, Clark hurried to kick off his sneakers; glad he'd managed to find matching socks that morning and that there weren't any holes in them. Hanging up his jacket, he pulled the cuffs of his flannel shirt down and followed Lex over to the waiting group class.

 

A rapid patter of names left Clark confused, and hoping he wasn't going to need to associate any of them with the correct face any time soon. With a clap of his hands, Lex instructed the students to take a partner and warm up on the floor with a waltz, the dance they would be learning more about that day. As the newest student, Clark had no idea what to do, so Lex asked one of the married women, whose husband had not arrived yet, to help him out. She took Clark's right hand, placed it on her waist and lifted her right hand so that he could take it and cradle it in his left. Once they had taken this position, she coached Clark to step forward with his left foot, while she stepped back with her right and simply had him walk with her around the floor while she counted 1-2-3 in time with the music.

 

The music ended and the group met in the center of the floor forming two lines facing each other, women on one side, and the men on the other. Clark could see that the others had partners they had danced with before and he was relieved to see the kind woman that he'd warmed up with standing across from him. The relief was short-lived when a newcomer joined the group and was introduced as the woman's husband, leaving Clark without a partner. The problem was solved when Lex took the empty space, explaining he would act as Clark's partner during the lesson as he knew both the men's and the women's steps, and he could help Clark catch up to the others while teaching the lesson.

 

"All right, everyone. Dance positions!"

 

Hoping that his palms weren't too sweaty from nervousness, Clark took Lex's right hand before stepping close enough to place his right hand on Lex's waist. The warmth of the other man's skin was detectable through the fine weave of his shirt, and the flex of his lean torso as he raised his left arm to clasp Clark's upper right arm made Clark's palm tingle. He looked down at his feet, afraid he would step on the other man, although any damage would probably be minimal since his only weapons were his giant, socked feet. Listening carefully to the instructions Lex was calling out to the group, Clark desperately tried to remember which was his right foot and which was his left with mixed success. He was very glad for Lex's sake that he hadn't purchased a pair of dance shoes yet. He would have hated hospitalizing the very patient man after only one lesson with him.

 

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Stepping out of the studio, Clark lifted his face into the cool breeze and felt the air wash over his heated body. Sweat had left damp curls sticking to the back of his neck, and he used the flannel shirt he'd discarded halfway through the class to mop his forehead. He ran a hand through his thick, disheveled locks and started down the steps towards the street.

 

"Clark!"

 

Turning, Clark felt a surge of nervous energy thrum through his body as the oddly fascinating man, who'd partnered him all the way through two exhausting group lessons, jogged down the steps towards him.

 

"Hey, Lex. Did you miss me and my two left feet already?" Clark asked, his attempt at a joke falling awkwardly between them.

 

Lex shook his head softly with a smile, and extended a hand with a slip of paper held between long, elegant fingers. "I thought maybe you might like to take some private lessons. You seem a little uptight in a group. What do you think?"

 

Clark opened his mouth to speak, and looked up into curious blue-gray eyes that seemed completely focused on him. His voice failed him, and he swallowed hard. "With you?"

 

The left side of Lex's mouth lifted in an amused smirk. "With me." Lex tilted his head forward, keeping his eyes locked on Clark's. "Is that good for you?"

 

"Oh yeah," Clark muttered. "You're good for me." He felt his chest tighten at the words and the widening smile on Lex's face. "I mean, the private lessons, sure. I think I'd be a lot more comfortable." Unfortunately, the sudden surge of excitement Clark had felt at Lex's words soon subsided when reality stepped in. "I...I don't know. My parents...we probably can't afford them. To be honest, I'm not sure how they're coming up with the money for the group lessons."

 

Patiently, Lex offered the paper again. "Listen, I'm willing to try a few private lessons with you for free, then you can decide whether you want to continue. I think we could work out a payment plan we'll both be happy with, or maybe you could do some work around the studio in exchange."

 

"Well," Clark took the paper and glanced at the neat writing. His eyes widened. "Lex...Luthor? The same Luthor...?"

 

"Yes, I own the studio." Lex nodded, his eyes sparkling. "That means I get to pick the students I want to work with personally. One of the better perks, I might add."

 

"Wow. I mean, thanks!" Clark blushed at the implied compliment. "I'll have to talk it over with my mom and dad, but they're the one who wanted me to take the lessons to begin with, so they'll probably say it's okay."

 

Lex's eyes lit up with pleasure. "I hope so. I'd really like to see what you're capable of, Clark. I have a feeling you could really do well."

 

Clark rolled his eyes, sighing loudly. He looked pointedly down at his large feet and grimaced. "Not with this body."

 

The loud laugh startled them both, and Clark could only stand still and shocked as Lex leaned in close, chuckling a little more softly. "I really don't see any problems with your body, Clark." Lex's grin was cocky and bright as he stepped backwards. "I'll see you in a couple of days."

 

As Lex walked away, his hips swaying slightly from side to side, Clark shook his head quickly. Unfamiliar emotions filtered through his blood, and he felt completely caught off guard. He set off running for home, his mind a jumble of thoughts, and for the first time in a long time...he stumbled on his run.

 

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"How was it, sweetheart?"

 

Clark looked up from his plate into his mother's face. She was smiling softly, and he returned the smile before swallowing down a bite.

 

"It was different than I thought it would be." Clark looked down at his hands, and watched his fingers bend around themselves. He could remember the feeling of them curled around Lex's waist. He wondered if he should be thinking about the warmth of the skin he'd felt hiding behind cool, smooth fabric.

 

Martha nodded, and bit her lip. She was watching Clark's face closely, and the blush lingering on his cheeks darkened. "Did you get to know anyone in your class?"

 

"Well," Clark began, his voice breaking a little. He reached for his glass of milk and took a long drink. "The class was already paired up, so I danced with the instructor. He seemed really...nice." He looked up into his father's startled gaze, and returned his eyes to the fork circling his plate. "He offered to give me some private lessons."

 

Martha laid a hand on her husband's arm when she saw his mouth open. "Didn't you like the class, Clark?"

 

"It's not that, exactly," he said softly. "It's just...you know how I get around a lot of people. He thinks I'd probably be a bit less uptight if it was just us."

 

Martha lifted a hand to her face, and Clark saw the hidden smile. He rolled his eyes, and huffed out a breath at his mother's quiet laugh.

 

"Well, how do you feel about that?"

 

"I think..." Clark's face lit up with a slow, bright smile, his eyes clear and open as he looked back at his mother's concerned face. "I think it's a good idea. Lex seems like he has a lot to teach me." Clark nodded to himself, and looked back down at his plate. "I think I'm going to like it."

 

"Lex...Lex Luthor?" Clark's eyes sought out his father, who was looking down at Martha's hand covering his arm after his outburst. Despite Martha's calming influence, Jonathan still seemed upset, and Clark flinched against the sudden gust of air his father expelled.

 

"Clark, I'm glad that you enjoyed yourself. I just don't see how we can afford private lessons though, son." Jonathan's eyes widened at the ready nod from Clark.

 

"I figured you'd say that. Lex said that he'd be willing to do the first few lessons for free, and after that, maybe I could work around the studio." Clark watched as his father stood up from the table, his back rigid. "I'd be working to pay for the lessons, Dad."

 

Jonathan’s forehead creased in a deep frown, and the man drew in a deep breath. "What about your chores? School? It was one thing when it was group lessons a couple of times a week, but now private lessons and a job in Metropolis? It's an awful lot to take on, Clark."

 

"I know," Clark said quickly, standing up to move over to his father's tense form. "But, I can do it. I really can, and I want to."

 

"I don't see any reason why we can't let Clark try, Jonathan." Martha said softly, smiling up knowingly at her husband. "I think it's a good idea."

 

Jonathan face took on a resigned scowl. "Well...I suppose." He lifted a hand to grip Clark's shoulder and squeezed affectionately. "If your schoolwork or chores start to suffer-"

 

"They won't!" Clark said, grinning brightly.

 

Clark leaned over and kissed his mother on the cheek before bouncing out of the kitchen, a song under his breath. He sighed in relief once he'd entered the safety of the barn, until he overheard the exasperated comment from his father.

 

"Did you hear that, Martha? He was dancing with a man? A Luthor, no less!"

 

"Oh, Jonathan." Clark heard the loud scrape of a chair being pushed back on the floor, and then footsteps going up the stairs. "You know Lex is nothing like his father, Lillian saw to that. I would never have suggested he take lessons there if I thought otherwise. Forget about what happened all those years ago. The important thing is that Clark's happy."

 

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Clark found himself having a difficult time sitting still. His eyes darted to the clock on the classroom wall constantly, and it was a huge relief when he was finally able to walk outside and into the fresh air. The sun slipped into his skin, charging him up and leaving his skin warm and relaxed.

 

He walked easily in long strides until he was out of sight of the school, and then he broke into a full-out run. The air was a solid thing that he simply glided through like one of his mother's hot knives through freshly churned butter. He felt simple and calm like this, almost graceful. He was running, with nothing but the sun as his companion, and his feet barely touched the ground.

 

He was in front of the dance studio before he knew it, and he felt himself jerking to a surprised stop. There was such an intense sense of excitement inside of him; he'd been looking forward to his lesson so much. There was something about dancing with Lex that was just fun. Oh, he knew he still tripped up a little, and he was far from being a dancer yet, but looking into Lex's eyes, and seeing him smile, made everything he went through worthwhile.

 

He was starting to feel as if, with Lex's help, he was coming into control of his own body. When Lex's hand slipped into his, he was sure of exactly when to push and pull. He knew the right amount of pressure to use to guide and support. The music told him. The squeezing focus of Lex's fingers on his skin told him. For the first time in his life, Clark felt sure. More importantly, there was sense of safety in Lex's arms, in the beat of the music, as they moved over the floor together, trusting each other.

 

Of course, it wasn't that easy in the beginning...

 

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"Smallville, hmm?"

 

Clark's head was down as he untied his sneakers, and he just nodded in response to Lex's question. He would be dancing in his socks again, since his dance shoes needed to be special-ordered because of the size. He stood up, shoving his sneakers under the chair with one foot. "It's a town to the..."

 

"Unfortunately, I know where it is." Lex interrupted. His scarred mouth twisted as he passed a hand over his smooth head. "I have a lasting reminder of my only visit there, almost sixteen years ago."

 

A quick calculation left Clark feeling sick to his stomach. "You were there when the meteors fell?" At Lex's sharp nod, his heart fell. "I...I'm sorry."

 

A puzzled frown flashed over Lex's face. "There's nothing for you to be sorry about. I'm alive and very healthy. It could have been a lot worse."

 

Thinking about his friend, Lana, who visited her parents' graves entirely too often, Clark had to agree. "I guess. Anyway, it can't have been easy, growing up..."

 

Lex shrugged. "Bald? It taught me a lot about people and tolerance. In a lot of ways, it helped make me who I am." He clapped his hands together, rubbing them briskly. "Enough of that. Let's get started." He beckoned to Clark and led him out to the center of the deserted floor. "Let's start with the waltz today. Head up, shoulders back, right arm raised to support mine, right hand in the center of the back beneath my shoulder blade..."

 

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Stepping backwards in a foxtrot, Lex looked up at Clark and asked, "Have you thought about why you're taking dance lessons, Clark, what you hope to get out of them?"

 

"Don't you think it's a little late to be asking me that?" Clark missed a step, and ended up on the wrong foot, endangering Lex's toes. "I've bought the shoes, we've booked all your free time and I'm here every other day, and now you want to know why?"

 

"Don't stop dancing, keep going. Slow, slow, quick, quick. Listen to the music and let your body remember the movements. Now, answer the question."

 

Coming to an abrupt halt, Clark protested, "I can't dance and talk at the same time!"

 

"If you can walk and chew gum, you can talk and dance. It's a necessary skill when it comes to dancing in a social setting. How do you expect to dazzle women if all you can do is stare at them while you're guiding them around the dance floor?" Resuming dance position, Lex waited for Clark to take the lead again. "Answer the question, Clark. Why are you here?"

 

Pulling his shoulders back and keeping his frame as he'd been taught, Clark began to move again, trying to keep the rhythm of the steps as he explained. "My parents thought it would help my balance. I've always been clumsy and I bump into things and break them."

 

Lex nodded, making a small correction in Clark's handhold. "Is that the only reason?"

 

Clark shook his head, waiting until he made a neat turn in the corner before continuing. "No. I like it. I like the way the music makes me feel and...I don't know, it's hard to explain." He shrugged and led Lex through a promenade back to a basic. "Why did you offer me private lessons? What made me different from the others?"

 

Lex tilted his head and a smile teased at the corner of his mouth. "That first day you were so focused, so careful every time you moved. I could feel the power you were holding back, yet you were so gentle. You took my hand as if you were afraid I would break, but you did take it." He brought them to a halt as the music ended. "You didn't care that I was a man, you saw me as a teacher, someone who would help you move to the music that you could already feel."

 

Stepping out of Clark's hold, Lex walked toward the mirror, speaking to Clark's reflection. "Someday I'm going to see that power released on the dance floor, Clark, and we'll fly." Turning, he motioned Clark closer, holding his arms up in the proper position for the waltz. "Until then, let's dance."

 

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"I can't help wondering..." Lex stopped to take a drink from his water bottle, wiping his face off with the towel he'd slung around his neck after an energetic swing session.

 

Clark squatted down to tie his dance shoe a little tighter. "What?"

 

"I had a chance to move to Smallville, manage one of my father's plants there, and I didn't take it."

 

"The crap factory?" Clark looked up in surprise, eyebrows raised.

 

Lex set the water bottle down on the bench, nodding. "Elegantly stated, Clark. Yes, the crap factory. I decided to open this studio, instead. Still, what if I had taken my father's offer and moved into that castle he shipped there from Scotland? Do you think we would have met, maybe even have been friends?"

 

Clark stood up and snickered, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, sure, Lex. The billionaire's son and the farm boy. Happens all the time. We probably would have ended up being best friends, hanging out with each other all the time, you know." Throwing his arms out dramatically, Clark laughed. "I'd come to the castle to learn how to fence and play pool, you'd come to my loft in the barn and sit on my beat-up, old couch; we'd talk about girls and watch the stars. The stuff of legends, you and me."

 

Yanking the towel from around his neck, Lex snapped it threateningly. "Okay, enough sarcasm for one night. Let's get back to work, farm boy."

 

Clark began to walk to the center of the floor, throwing one last gibe over his shoulder. "All right, but don't think I'm going to forget that you gave up that fabulous opportunity to be a crap manager so that you could prance around a dance floor instead."

 

Letting his jaw drop open in exaggerated offense, Lex waved the towel over his head and chased after a giggling Clark. "Prance! Get back here, you homespun hero! I'll give you prance!"

 

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Their lesson finished and the next week's schedule set, Clark was putting away his dance shoes when Lex pointed out one of the couples working with an instructor. Lex had pointed out the way they moved with one another, fluid, together, and happy. There had been sweat, and aching feet and growling...but at the end, he'd watched them walk out to their car, smiling at each other and humming the practice music.

 

Clark had turned to see Lex watching him, instead of the couple, and he'd smiled shyly, oddly embarrassed by the attention. Something had flashed in those serious gray eyes, and Clark had felt it tugging at him. He'd wondered what it meant.

 

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And now...here he was, standing in front of Lex's building. For the first time in a long while, he felt hesitant, and it scraped at him. He forced himself to walk into the building, and waved briefly at the receptionist before going into the room he usually met Lex in, ready for the night's lessons.

 

Walking into the room, he smiled at the sound of soft music streaming out of speakers that were built into the walls. He felt his body shift with the music, loosening and becoming ready. The hands around his waist didn't startle him, and he looked to the side, smiling at the reflection of Lex moving behind him in the long mirror.

 

"What are you going to teach me today?" Clark asked quietly, watching Lex's eyes.

 

The smile that flirted with Lex's lips caused Clark to shiver. "Tonight, we'll work on crowded floor moves."

 

"Crowded floor?"

 

Lex nodded and walked over the chairs lined up against the wall. He pulled out two and dragged them to the middle of the floor, motioning to Clark to do the same. He positioned them in a square, about three feet apart, and had Clark join him in the center.

 

"Crowded floor. You've been practicing in this nice, big space with lots of room to move. When you go out to clubs or even school dances, you're going to find that what you've learned so far won't fit the small piece of floor you'll be lucky to find." Indicating the chairs, Lex grinned. "So, I want you to take those moves and shrink them down so that you don't move any of these chairs out of place. Got it?" He held up his hand in an invitation to dance.

 

Clark looked at the tiny space he'd been allotted and winced. Taking Lex's hand, he pulled him into position only to have Lex move in, his body pressed close to Clark's. He stiffened, afraid that Lex could detect his body's immediate interest in the slim form lined up against him. The soft laugh from Lex did little to help him relax.

 

Moving gently backwards to remind Clark to start, Lex chided him gently, "The less space between us, the more space to move, Clark. Come on, I promise I won't bite."

 

Taking a deep breath, and then letting it out quickly when it brought them even closer together, Clark began to move. He tried not to think about his disappointment at Lex's promise.

 

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Martha Kent watched her son walk across the field towards his father. There was something new in the way he moved. An ease, and a confidence, that hadn't been there before. Even now, as he reached down to pick up a bale of hay and threw it into the back of the truck, there was a smooth effortlessness to his movements.

 

Her son was changing a little more every day, and it was more than just physical. Clark's eyes were brighter, more open and happy. It made her smile to see him rush through his chores each day, wanting to finish so he could run to Metropolis. She was catching him grinning more and more often, dancing down the hall...twisting his hip to shut the refrigerator door.

 

It had surprised her just that morning to hear Clark laugh with his father. The shock hadn't lain in Clark laughing. He was a sweet, joyful boy by nature. But, the laughter was different, and she'd had to leave the room, a trembling hand pressed to her mouth upon realizing that this was the first time in a long time that the laugh had been genuine. The difference was so apparent, once she'd heard Clark laugh openly, that it broke her heart to think of just how long her child had been feeling as if he had to pretend. The battles he'd undergone with mutants plaguing Smallville, and his attendant guilt over his arrival with the destructive meteors, had left him old before his time, serious and aloof.

 

The ache in her chest felt lighter, though, as she looked out at her son and husband. Things had changed, for the better, and she felt something that went beyond gratitude towards a certain young Luthor.

 

She'd remembered Lex from so many years ago...the day Clark had come into her life. He'd been so young and vulnerable as he'd lain there in the arms of that despicable excuse for a father. Just the thought of Lionel Luthor's name was enough to make her curl her lips up in disgust.

 

It wasn't just how he'd coerced Jonathan into sponsoring his bid for the Ross creamed corn factory, threatening to expose Clark's fake adoption if Jonathan refused. The man had exercised no discretion, displayed no pity or remorse when he'd made the decision to disinherit his own son. Martha remembered seeing the articles in the newspapers, and she had felt a huge wave of respect for Lex's mother, Lillian, for having the strength to leave Lionel years earlier with her young son. It hadn't really surprised her when she recalled the fiery redhead who had flown to her son's side in the aftermath of the meteor strike. Witnessing Lillian's devotion to Lex, feeling a connection as a mother with a son deeply affected by the events of that day, Martha had always felt oddly compelled to follow their lives.

 

When the Daily Planet had announced the opening of the Lillian Luthor Dance Studio, Martha had felt very proud of that young boy she'd once known. Upon their anniversary, she'd convinced Jonathan to take her to one of the dance competitions the studio was participating in, after their dinner. She recalled seeing the handsome young man perform, and had felt something like relief that he'd found something right for him. He moved as if he was born to dance, and when Clark had become discontented with the awkwardness of his constantly changing body, Martha had thought that perhaps some time in the Luthor Dance Studio could be good for her son.

 

It had felt like fate.

 

Convincing Jonathan hadn't necessarily been easy, but she knew he was reluctantly impressed with the strength of will the young man had exhibited by choosing his own path, despite his father's demands.

 

While she never said it aloud, she thought she saw some similarities between young Lex Luthor and her husband.

 

A happy shout broke into her thoughts, and she returned her focus to the two men striding towards her, their arms clasped around each other's shoulders. Her face lit up in a smile and she met them halfway.

 

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Clark's socked feet slid across the floor of the main studio as he walked around it, inspecting his work. It was the last room; he'd already finished the two smaller studios used for private lessons. When he was done with this one, he'd shut down the last of the lights and lock up behind himself, the last person leaving the building.

 

The last one in the building, that is, except for the owner who lived in the apartment above the studio. Lex had never invited Clark upstairs, but he hadn't been able to refrain from using his x-ray vision to check it out. The spacious loft used wall units and screens to suggest separate rooms with comfortably warm colors on the walls and wood accents. The only walled-off areas were the bathroom and a large walk-in closet that contained intriguing glimpses of exotic fabrics that shimmered in bright colors. The king-size bed dominated one corner of the room, and Clark had blushed as he wondered about who might have shared it last with Lex. He'd watched Lex greet his students, and it was clear that Clark was not the only one who thought Lex was an attractive man.

 

Resisting an impulse to scan the room above, Clark limited his vision to the four walls around him. The mirrors shone from his earlier cleaning, and the unmarred reflections of the soft lights overhead left the room warm and welcoming, even at that late hour. Pleased with the results, he walked over to the large rolling basket and pulled out a dry mop to start on the floors. He swept it across the polished wood, his feet feeling strangely light as he cleaned the day's dust off the dance floor. Heel scuffs on the highly-polished varnish demanded a bit more attention, and he knelt down to scrub at them with a soft rag he'd pulled from his back pocket. Rubbing carefully to preserve the finish, he found himself humming along with a song drifting out through the room from the sound system.

 

Clark moved around the room, singing a little louder as he stopped here and there to clean the more difficult marks. He straightened, grabbing the mop, and moved across the floor, his feet stepping in time with the slightly off-key singing. A wistful smile appeared whenever he repeated the chorus containing mi corazon sung by the Latin songstress.

 

The rumba lesson from earlier that day played out in his mind, and he swiveled his hips to the song, clasping the broom as his imaginary partner. As he practiced the patterns, he heard Lex's voice in his mind, and he tried to move his knees and hips properly, bending and extending, isolating each muscle Lex had traced out along his torso and legs. His breathing quickened as he pictured Lex's face from that afternoon, the intense concentration as he demonstrated the new moves, guiding Clark carefully through each one. Shaking his head at his foolish obsession, he spun around, the broom firmly grasped in his hands, and ended his song-and-dance number with a lunge, his arms cradling his partner in a heated embrace.

 

The steady, loud clapping startled him, and he nearly fell in his haste to turn and see who'd been watching him.

 

"That was nice," Lex commented, a warm smile on his face. An eyebrow rose in a subtle arch as Lex stepped forward. "I have to admit, I don't remember teaching you that last move, but it was definitely interesting."

 

Clark laughed softly, grateful for the dim lighting. His face felt hot, and he knew it must be a brilliant pink. "I was improvising."

 

Lex nodded, his smile growing brighter. "You're getting so much better, you know. Your moves are becoming stronger, more defined. You're really doing wonderfully, Clark."

 

Clark shuffled over to a wall, and leaned the mop up against it, before moving back slowly to where Lex waited in the middle of the room. "If I'm getting better, it's because of you," he murmured quietly.

 

The smile on Lex's face shifted, his eyes darkening. "Your hip movements in the rumba still need a little work, you're not opening enough."

 

"I know," Clark said softly, grinning ruefully. He saw Lex move around him, and felt a surge of energy run down his spine as the older man stepped into place behind him. Steady, assured fingers moved to his waist, pressing into his skin.

 

"Look," Lex whispered, drawing Clark's eyes up to look into the mirror. Clark trembled as a gust of breath drifted across the back of his neck, and the warm air carried the scent of alcohol. Clark suspected that Lex had been drinking, possibly something from the crystal decanters Clark had seen lined up on the bar one floor above. Still close, Lex took up the song Clark had been singing before as it began playing again over the speakers, his voice liquid, the words smooth, almost silken as he echoed the singer's plea. His hands drifted down from Clark's waist, and gripped hips that had frozen in place. He pushed gently, moving Clark's hips rhythmically with the sultry beat of the song. "Can you feel that?" he asked, his eyes watching Clark's in the reflection of the mirror. "Do you feel the way we're moving?"

 

Clark nodded shakily, unable to take his eyes from the mirror. His palms slid downwards to cover the pale hands on his hips. Feeling Lex's fingers squeeze and start to release, he pressed against them, keeping them trapped against his hips, their warmth reaching his skin through worn denim.

 

"Clark." Lex leaned in, pressing his chest against Clark's back. He moved his hips in, gliding along with Clark's movements. His lips slid up the side of Clark's neck to murmur against his jaw. "We...can't...I'm...your teacher."

 

Turning his head to nuzzle against Lex's face, Clark smiled shyly. "So teach me." He pressed back against Lex and heard the ragged gasp that fluttered against his skin. His voice was a mere whisper as Lex's eyes drifted closed in the mirror, yet the words were certain. "I want you to, Lex."

 

Slim fingers demanded freedom, and he released Lex's hand. He felt it travel across his hip to his stomach. Neatly-trimmed nails scraped gently across his shirt, teasing the skin beneath. Clark felt his breath quicken.

 

Lex's eyes opened and looked down to watch his own hand grip the fabric of Clark's shirt and tug it out from the waistband of his jeans. His other hand freed itself to assist its partner in tugging the freed shirt up, over his chest. Lex's right hand held up the hem of the shirt, exposing smooth golden flesh dappled in shadows. The nails on his left seemed sharper as they moved across Clark's bare skin, scratching, scraping across a nipple, a bright tingle shivering down Clark's abdomen.

 

Harsh breaths painted Clark's cheek, and he turned further into Lex's face. He felt soft lips skimming across his jaw; he moaned softly and dipped to meet them.

 

A curious finger slipped into his navel, the nail gentle against the tender skin there, and moved out slowly to graze back and forth over the line of fabric covering Clark's hips.

 

"Your skin is so unbelievably soft." Lex's voice was low and graveled. The finger teased at the edge of Clark's waistband, dipping inside to rasp against the dark trail of hair that led from Clark's navel. "You've got this strong, hard body...and it's covered in all of this soft, sweet skin." Shining gray eyes lifted from the exposed flesh to meet Clark's wild, desperate, green gaze. "I want to touch you every time I see you. I've wanted it, wanted you since that first day."

 

Clark blinked slowly, each movement seeming to take forever. Pressing back harder, he felt Lex jerk up against him. He could feel Lex, firm and full, and resented the barrier of clothing that separated their skin. Lex's mouth was moving down his neck, soft and slow. Warm, damp lips settled against his collarbone and as he shifted, a tongue pressed into the dipped hollow there. Sharp teeth nipped against the line of his shoulder, and bit down slightly at the crook of his neck. Clark felt the blood rush through his body, and let his head fall back against Lex's shoulder as a wave of dizzy arousal washed over him.

 

He struggled to lift his head; he wanted to see... His knees cracked against the hard floor, the sound bouncing off the walls of the room, only his invulnerability saving him from pain. Lex was behind him instantly, knees pressed against his back. Arms wrapped around his chest, pulling hard at the bottom of his shirt and yanking it up and over his head.

 

Cooler hands pressed against the heat of his chest, massaging the muscles there in tight circles. Clark lifted his hands over his head, bending them back so his fingertips could slide across Lex's torso, pulling him closer and freeing his silk shirt from the confines of his pants. His touch was soft and tentative, gentle against the delicate skin he'd exposed, his fingertips electrified with the sensation. He felt a smooth hand run down his body to slide into the gap in the waist of his jeans, fingers tugging at the dark curls they could reach.

 

Clark's hands jerked away, settling in his hair and yanking hard as Lex slid down his body and settled on his knees behind him, straddling his calves, his persistent fingers stroking the tip of Clark's erection.

 

"Look, Clark. Watch us."

 

Green eyes flared wide, obeying as Lex's hand moved beneath the fabric of his jeans. A deft hand slipped into the top of his waistband, popping the brass button out of the hole and drawing down the zipper. He allowed Lex to draw his jeans down, tugging his white cotton briefs with them. The bunched fabric slid down his thighs and he saw himself clasped in Lex's fist, hard and dark against the pale skin of Lex's hand. He could feel Lex's other hand jerking behind him, freeing Lex from his pants, his heat scalding Clark's back.

 

Groaning, he tightened his hands in his hair. His eyes slid shut and he felt a forceful tug on his cock.

 

"Don't close your eyes, Clark. I want you to see." He could feel Lex straining against him, pushing up into his lower back with long, patient thrusts. The cooler skin of Lex's palm slid over him, closing around him and pulling. His hips moved forward with Lex's hand, and he felt his body tensing with the pressure roaring through him.

 

He strained to keep his eyes open, fighting to watch. His mouth fell open wide as a ragged breath shuddered out of him. A hand skimmed up his back and around his throat to trace the lines of his lips, a finger dipping inside, teasing until Clark suckled it with a moan. Clark's fingers loosened from his hair, one hand falling weakly to grasp Lex's wrist, feeling its movement as Lex stroked him.

 

Lex was moving against him in harmony with his hand on Clark, jerking and thrusting, his finger joined by a second in Clark's mouth, his face pale in the mirror over Clark's shoulder. Clark watched as Lex's mouth fell open in a choking sob, and he felt warmth spill across his back, spreading with the stuttered thrusts. His eyes slid closed and he felt heat soar through him, sizzling against every nerve, and he came in a hot flood, pouring across Lex's hand. He felt Lex's hand stroke him throughout the rush, pulling it all out until he collapsed back against Lex's chest with an exhausted whimper.

 

"Clark."

 

Clark forced his eyes open and twisted slightly, to look over his shoulder into pleased, half-lidded eyes. Smiling, he waited.

 

Lex leaned down and kissed his mouth, running his tongue over Clark's upper lip and sucking it gently. "You're beautiful." He gentled Clark to the floor, lying on his side while Clark splayed out with his face raised to the ceiling with a blissful smile.

 

They lay together for a while, Lex's head on Clark's arm, fingers stroking skin, humming along with the music that continued to play on repeat. Clark pulled away reluctantly, after a while, turning to smile softly at Lex.

 

"I've got to get home. My parents are going to be wondering why I'm so late." Clark stood slowly, pulling up his clothes before noticing the strangely blank look on Lex's face. "What is it?"

 

Getting up, arranging his clothing carefully, Lex shook his head. "I was just wondering how you're getting home without a car."

 

Clark swallowed hard, and turned away, fighting for control when he realized the mirrors would not allow him to hide his face from Lex's watchful eyes. "I've got a way to get home, Lex. Don't worry about it." He tried smiling and twisted around. "I'll be back tomorrow.'

 

Lex's patience with mumbled excuses for arriving late for lessons with torn or bloody clothing, the feeble explanations for working too fast, or lifting impossible weights, had come obviously come to an end. His look of disappointment nearly shattered Clark, and he reached out to Lex. When Lex stepped away, Clark lowered his arm and walked over to the sound system, turning it off. The silence was abrupt and startling. He saw Lex start towards the door, his face turned away from Clark's, and he couldn't stop himself.

 

"Wait."

 

Lex paused at the door, his hand on the handle. "Why?"

 

"Because I can't leave things like this. I...I have this thing. This secret. And, I'm not ready to tell anyone. There's reasons why I can't, and I wish I could share those with you. I wish that more than anything. Can't it be enough for now that you know that I want to tell you?" Clark watched Lex's hand turn on the handle and bit down a frustrated cry. "It's more than I've given anyone, Lex. Ever."

 

He waited for long seconds, maybe minutes, while Lex stood there with his hand on the door, fearing that Lex was going to walk up the stairs to his apartment over the studio, and it would be the end. He watched Lex stand there, still and pale in the dark, wishing for the impossible.

 

Lex turned and walked back to him, his eyes overly bright as he looked into Clark's hopeful face. He pulled Clark's head down and brushed his mouth against his, breathing out against his face. "I'll see you tomorrow."

 

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As he approached Metropolis, Clark's thoughts drifted back to the previous night at the studio. He wasn't really sure how things were going to be now, and he couldn't help but feel a little worried. It was easy to admit to himself that he cared about Lex. As new as everything was to him, he still felt a connection to the man; he just didn't know if Lex felt the same. Despite being a little late due to yet another mutant encounter, his feet slowed to a graceful walk as he saw the studio coming into sight. He felt his heart speed up in anticipation of seeing Lex again.

 

Clark walked slowly into the building, frowning in confusion when he heard several voices coming from the room he and Lex used for the private lessons. He opened the door and stepped inside, pasting a smile on his face as he approached Lex and several students he recognized from the group class.

 

"Hi," he said quietly, his eyes seeking out Lex. Gray eyes flashed as they met his, and then flew away quickly. "What's going on?"

 

One of the women instructors cleared her throat and smiled, attempting to smooth out the awkward silence. "Lex told us how well you're doing. He thought it might be time to try putting together an advanced group. There are so many new students...and you'd be a great add. We always need more men."

 

"I see." Clark swallowed against a sharp ache in his throat and forced himself to nod enthusiastically. "Well," turning deliberately to Lex, he cocked his head to the side. "You would know what's best, right?"

 

Lex looked up, finally, his face blank. "That's the idea." Nodding, he frowned as he took in Clark's appearance. "You brought your clothes for tonight's party at the museum, right?"

 

Clark nodded and held up his large backpack, and then looked down at the dust and hair that covered his shirt. He hadn't changed after chasing down the three-foot-tall packrat that had been trading rocks for hubcaps. When the marauding rodent had begun to remove lug nuts from truck tires in its quest for shiny objects, Clark had needed to take the matter in hand, and northern Alaska now boasted a new species. Normally, it was enough to dust himself off and wash up in the restroom, but the museum's gala was a different story. "I'm sorry, something came up and...."

 

With an exaggerated sigh, Lex interrupted. "You can use my shower after class." He began walking toward the door, lecturing over his shoulder. "You know we need all the men we can bring at these events, Clark. The studio needs the exposure and dancing with the single women always brings in new students." He left the studio without looking back.

 

Clark stood blinking in shock at the dismissal until one of the gathered students made a small sound. He excused himself long enough to wash his hands quickly and brush the dust and grass from his hair and clothing. Returning to the quiet studio, he looked at the group, and summoned a tentative smile as he unbuttoned his flannel shirt. "So, what dance are we working on today?"

 

The rest of the class clustered around the instructor and they began to partner off. Clark greeted the older student he'd been matched with, and tried to pay attention to the instructions and the music. He hoped he'd have a chance to speak with Lex later and find out exactly what had just happened.

 

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"Clark? Lex asked me to give you the key to his apartment."

 

Hearing his name, Clark turned and walked back to the receptionist's desk. He'd been on his way to the main studio to see if he could find Lex to talk to him. Approaching the red-haired woman, he smiled. She always been kind to him, greeting Clark with a warm smile when he arrived and asking after his parents. "Thanks, Pamela. I was just going to see if Lex...."

 

A tiny frown flitted across her normally serene face. "Lex is...meeting with someone right now, Clark. I don't think he'll be available until the party tonight. He wanted you to get cleaned up and changed, and maybe get something to eat. He said he'd meet everyone there." She handed over the small key ring and squeezed his fingers gently when he took it from her. She smiled up at him. "Things are a little...mixed up right now, Clark. Give him a little time, okay?"

 

Looking down at the tiled floor, he shrugged and mumbled, "Maybe I should just leave..."

 

Pamela stood up and came around the desk, stopping in front of Clark. She lifted a hand to his chin and tipped his head up enough to look into his distressed eyes. "Listen, Clark, I know you're used to having Lex to yourself, but he does have a studio to run. Tonight is one of those times when he needs our help, all of us, both students and teachers. The better showing the studio makes at the gala, the more students it attracts. The more students, the more classes and parties, and the more chances the students will have to dance." She backed up a step and folded her hands together, her face calm and serene. "He only asks the best students to attend these affairs because a studio's reputation makes or breaks it. Do you understand?"

 

Feeling a little better about Lex's absence, Clark nodded and was rewarded with smile from Pamela. Walking back around the desk, she resumed her seat. Picking up a pen, she began to write a note and Clark realized he'd been dismissed. He turned away and began to head for the stairs to the apartment when Pamela called his name again. Turning back, he waited until she set the pen down and looked up.

 

"Clark, I thought I should remind you about the non-fraternization clause in the studio's contract. When you pay for your lessons and sign that paper, you're stating you're aware that students and teachers are not supposed to have contact with each other outside the studio or studio-sponsored events. It's one of Lex's strictest rules."

 

Clark gave her a puzzled look. "But...Lex never had me sign a contract."

 

One delicate eyebrow lifted as she tilted her head with a nod. "Exactly." She picked up the pen again and began writing.

 

Clark watched her for a minute before walking away, looking back once to see her still working, displaying no concern over her final bit of advice. Climbing the stairs to Lex's apartment, Clark wondered what it was she was trying to tell him, finally giving up for the moment, too distracted to try to understand right then. Fumbling with the keys, he was finally able to open the door to Lex's apartment. Entering and closing the door behind him, he called out Lex's name, hoping he might still be there. Receiving no answer, he began to explore, seizing the opportunity to examine everything he'd seen using his x-ray vision, close up.

 

The nubby fabric of the sofa teased at his fingertips as he dragged them along the back, reading the titles of the books on the shelves behind it. One glass-fronted case caught his attention and his eyes widened when he got close enough to realize that the gold and silver statuettes and trophies all had Lex's name on them. There were dozens, of all shapes and sizes, the dates spanning the last five years. The earliest had titles that indicated Lex had competed as an amateur, but the later dates showed Lex had transitioned to professional status. Clark also noticed that after a certain date, they all bore the same name as his partner, Victoria Hardwick. The wall behind was covered in photographs of Lex and a tall, dark-haired woman in dramatic dance positions, the intensity between them barely contained by the frames.

 

Frowning at the evidence of a past Lex hadn't shared, Clark took his clothes into the bathroom and hung them up, using his mother's trick of letting the steam from the shower remove any wrinkles. Undressing quickly, he stepped into the shower and let the luxurious scents of Lex's toiletries surround him. It brought the night before back to him, the taste and texture of Lex's skin under the smell of his soap, the same soap he was using. His physical reaction wasn't a surprise, but Clark didn't feel comfortable doing anything about it in Lex's shower, in his apartment, when Lex wasn't there. It felt like a violation of trust, an abuse of his hospitality, especially since Clark wasn't sure what position he occupied in Lex's life, not since he'd seen the trophies. Finishing quickly, he dried off and dressed, struggling a little with his tie before he looked in the mirror and decided he'd pass muster.

 

Packing up his dirty clothes, he tidied the bathroom before he left the apartment, locking the door behind him. When he stopped at the desk, he saw that Pamela had left a note telling him to bring the keys with him to the gala. Shrugging, he made sure everyone else was gone, locked up the studio and headed downtown for the museum.

 

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Clark moved through the museum, feeling out-of-place and uncomfortable. The dress shirt and pants felt unfamiliar on his body, and he tugged irritably at the jacket that seemed too tight across his shoulders. He moved over to an alarmed, glass case to examine a gold breastplate. It was covered in large rough-cut gems, and emblazoned with a large, serpentine 'S'. Shaking his head at the ostentatious display, he began to turn away from it.

 

"You know, it belonged to Alexander the Great." A smooth, silky voice murmured quietly behind him.

 

Turning back, Clark smiled softly at Lex. When he failed to reply, Lex sucked in a harsh breath, nodding.

 

"They said the design symbolizes strength and courage in battle." Lex's eyes flared briefly as they met Clark's before looking down.

 

Clark watched Lex's face as he looked pointedly at the floor. Sighing, he looked back up at the breastplate. "So...you seem to know a lot about this."

 

His head lifting slowly, Lex agreed. "My father was very interested in men who ruled the world before they were thirty. He always fancied himself in the role of Philip of Macedonia." He shook his head, his mouth twisted. "I was quite a disappointment, but now he has his new son, Julian, who I daresay will be raised as a Caesar."

 

"You didn't want to rule the world?"

 

Lex shrugged again and shook his head. "I suppose the only part of me that's like my father is that I want to succeed at whatever I try." His gray eyes gleamed in the light from the case. "I want my studio to be a success, to make my mother proud of me."

 

Turning to face the dance floor set up in the atrium, Clark gestured toward it. "So, is tonight a success?"

 

Lex's face brightened as he looked up, his eyes searching out faces in the crowd of elegantly dressed people. "So far. I think we're going to have quite a few new sign-ups on Monday. Having some of our best dancers here to showcase the studio certainly helps." He motioned towards the crowded floor, where many couples were dancing slowly. "How about you? Are you going to go advertise?" His voice was light, and there was a slight smile on his face.

 

Chuckling, Clark shook his head. "I've been out there, but you want good advertising, Lex."

 

"Clark-" Lex reached out and closed his fingers around Clark's wrist as the younger man started to walk away. "You're...."

 

"Victoria Hardwick." Clark said evenly.

 

Lex released Clark's wrist and stepped back. "What?"

 

Clark reached into his pocket and pulled out Lex's key ring and held them out. "Your dance partner. The name on all your trophies. The woman you never mentioned to me."

 

"I..." Accepting the key ring, Lex frowned as he struggled to answer. "She was out of my life. She'd left for England to dance with someone else before you came to the studio. She was gone."

 

Clark's eyes narrowed as he watched Lex rub the back of his neck in agitation. "Was?"

 

"Clark...." Lex moved closer, his hand out, drawing to a surprised stop as a body stepped in front of them.

 

"Am I interrupting?" Clark's eyes widened as the dark-haired woman, dressed in a costume that left little to the imagination, slithered over to Lex, easing her arm into his and settling close against him. "Lex, aren't you going to introduce me?" she pouted.

 

Lex's face closed down to a polite mask. "Of course. Victoria, this is Clark Kent. Clark, this is Victoria Hardwick."

 

Clark could feel the contempt rolling off the woman as she simpered. "Oh, so you're Clark. How nice to meet you. Pamela's been telling me all about Lex's latest project. He does like try something new now and then, but nothing really ever comes of it. He always comes back to what he knows will work, is accepted in the dance world." Her smile was brittle and cold. "After all, if you knew Lex, really knew him, you'd know how important it is for him to be a success." She gave a little shimmy before pulling on Lex's arm. "Lex, we're on in ten minutes. We need to warm up."

 

Nodding, Lex led Victoria past Clark toward the dance floor. He looked back once, but Clark couldn't read anything in his pale face and was left alone wondering if the entire day had just been an extended nightmare, hoping his mother would wake him up soon if it was.

 

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Clark sat against the mirrored wall of the museum's foyer, replaying every moment of Lex's demonstration of the tango. His arm had been tight around that woman, holding her firmly, and their faces were so close together. The fast, staccato music and the heat of the moves had wrenched at Clark's throat, closing it tight against the feeling of jealousy as he watched Lex mold his body to Victoria's, passion in every line.

 

"Clark? You look like you're a million light years away," Lex murmured, sliding down the wall to sit next to him. "What's wrong?"

 

Shaking his head, Clark attempted a smile and failed, unable to meet Lex's eyes. Sighing, he pushed himself up and away from the wall, and Lex. He moved over to the other side of the narrow hall, his arms coming up across his chest.

 

He could see Lex's worried face in the reflection of the mirror, and watched the man pull up his knees and lay his arms against them. "Come on, Clark. I'm not a mind reader."

 

"There's nothing. I'm fine." Clark swallowed down the wave of guilt as Lex frowned up at him. "I just...it's weird. To see you that close with someone else; it's so intimate."

 

Lex turned his face away and breathed out a sigh. "We were dancing, Clark. It's what I do."

 

"I know," Clark said quickly. "I guess I'm the one making this weird. I'm sorry."

 

"It's my fault," Lex muttered, pressing his palms against the floor to push himself up. "I shouldn't have let things get so out of control. God, you're a high-school senior and I'm...."

 

"So...it was a mistake?"

 

"Clark..." Lex's voice trailed off, a nervous hand rising up to run across his bare scalp as he looked away.

 

It hurt. Clark winced, feeling the pain in his chest, and fought hard to control his face. He felt Lex's eyes return to his face, and he looked up, meeting the worried gaze. "It's okay." He gathered his things quickly, moving towards the door, when he heard Lex clear his throat. He paused, waiting, but refusing to look back.

 

"I was thinking maybe you should go to some of the parties hosted by the studio in addition to the groups. You really need to become accustomed to dancing with someone other than me. You made a really good start today, but I think it would help if-"

 

"Lex." Clark's voice was low and hitched as he rasped out the man's name. "I get it, okay? I'll do the group lessons; I'll go to the parties...no big deal." He left the room, feeling the blood surge through his head. The front door of the museum was beneath his fingertips when he heard Lex whisper his name under his breath.

 

He didn't turn back.

 

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Clark had been to several of the parties. Generally, he felt withdrawn from the happy, mingling group of people. He'd participate in the dancing occasionally, but bumping into Lex and one of his dance partners on the floor was not something he was entirely comfortable with yet. Especially Victoria Hardwick.

 

Moving over to a large, opened window that overlooked the heart of the city, he sighed and felt the breeze soar in through the screen. The cool air felt good on his skin; the heat of a dozen dancing couples tended to pump up the temperature of a room. He looked up at the slice of evening sky he could see above the buildings, and wondered why he was there.

 

"I've seen you around. Aren't you taking private lessons with Lex?"

 

Clark turned around to look into a pretty, smiling face. "I was," he replied, holding out a hand. "I'm Clark."

 

"Chloe." The young, blonde woman moved closer to stand beside him and take in the view. Her eyes were twinkling mischievously as they turned to look at him. "So...you take dance lessons, you come to dance parties, and then you stand at the window looking forlorn. Something is wrong with this scenario, Clark."

 

A chuckle escaped from his lips before he could stop it. "Oh yeah?"

 

"Absolutely." Nodding, Chloe reached forward and grasped at his hand. "If you're going to go to all the trouble of learning to dance, you can't waste it by letting all that knowledge go unused." She tilted her head to the side, quirking a blonde eyebrow up over a bright blue eye. "Besides, a big, strapping man like you surely wouldn't let sweet, little 'ole me go the entire evening without a rumba, would you?"

 

Wincing, Clark realized she was right. Why was he here if it wasn't to dance? He hadn't stopped enjoying it just because he couldn't dance with Lex. He shook his head ruefully at his stubbornness, and looked into Chloe's hopeful face. He couldn't stop the smile, and felt relieved to feel something vaguely like happiness. Listening to the music playing, he extended his hand. "May I interest you in a foxtrot, Miss Chloe?"

 

Chloe rolled her eyes playfully and nodded, pulling Clark onto the floor with her. He found that they fit well together, and she made him laugh. He was able to concentrate on talking with her, and it wasn't until halfway into the song that he realized he'd actually been dancing the entire time. He nearly stumbled then, earning a soft smack on his shoulder from Chloe.

 

She leaned up and whispered into his ear, "You're doing great, Clark. I like dancing with you." Rolling her eyes in an exaggerated movement, she grinned up at him. "Of course, it could just be because you're so hot."

 

Clark laughed, his eyes sparkling, and didn't notice another set of eyes watching as he and Chloe danced.

 

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The club was dark and loud, waves of people moving against one another.

 

At first, Clark had been unsure about going along when Chloe and some of the other dancers had suggested the club. However, after Lex agreed to make it a studio outing, Clark had agreed to come along. Chloe had kindly offered a place to sleep so that he didn't need to worry about returning to Smallville that night. Of course, then Chloe had decided he'd needed a little help with his wardrobe.

 

Chloe had become a welcome part of his time spent in Metropolis, and dancing with her was a pleasure. She seemed to work almost instinctively with him, and the easy comfort he felt acting as her dancing partner in groups and at parties had relaxed him. In a way, it was simpler to dance with Chloe than with Lex, if not as exciting. There weren't any concerns of inappropriate issues 'popping up', or making anyone uncomfortable. Chloe was a friend, and he'd needed one.

 

That was how he'd found himself pushed towards the secondhand store's changing area by Chloe, while she shoved hangers loudly along a metal bar in search of a shirt and pants for Clark to wear to the club. She'd dragged him here after hearing that it specialized in club, dance, and theatre costumes.

 

"Perfect!" She'd cried out, a satisfied grin on her pretty face. Waggling her eyebrows, she had held out the form-fitting, red shirt and slender black trousers. "Go throw this on, and I'll fix it up for you."

 

"Fix it up for me?" He had asked with an amused grin.

 

"Just go, Clark! I want to dance sometime tonight." With a laugh, he'd ducked behind a curtain doubling as the changing area and pulled off his soft, comfortable clothes and boots. Tugging on the much tighter clothing, along with the shoes Chloe had suggested, he'd felt very conspicuous as he had came out from behind the concealing fabric. He'd yanked on the collar, trying to pull the shirt away from his skin with little effect.

 

Chloe had rolled her eyes, marching up to him matter-of-factly, and unbuttoned the first three buttons. "We're going to a club, Clark, not a job interview." Waving a hand in the air and twisting her fingers in a circular motion, she continued, "Turn around."

 

Sighing, Clark had twirled in place, holding his hands out away from his sides, wishing the pants weren't quite so tight. "Well? Will I do?"

 

A blonde eyebrow arched up, in what had become a familiar expression, as Chloe nodded. "I have to say, a little spandex is definitely your friend. I have a feeling there are going to be some appreciative glances thrown your way tonight, Mr. Kent." She'd grinned widely at the sad, hopeful look on Clark's face. "I would even be willing to bet a certain dance instructor finds himself unable to look away. You look great."

 

He'd shaken his head, but followed Chloe to the register, blushing at the appreciative comments thrown his way by a few fellow shoppers. The clerk bagged his everyday clothes and boots, as he handed over some of the money he'd been earning at the studio since he wasn't exchanging his work for private lessons anymore.

 

Since Chloe was already dressed, they'd headed out to the club, where Clark proceeded to wave away all of Chloe's attempts to entice him onto the dance floor. He had watched the other dancers spread out across the floor, smiling as he watched everyone enjoying themselves, but he was still a little timid about dancing outside the studio. Leaning against the bar drinking a bottle of water, he let the Latin rhythms wash over him, his fingers tapping the beat on his thigh.

 

Lex walked off the dance floor, after performing a dance that had Clark wishing once again that he'd worn looser pants. As he reached the bar, still breathing heavily, he reached out to take a bottle of water from the bartender. Swallowing half the bottle non-stop, Lex turned to strike up a conversation with Victoria, who'd followed him from the floor, ignoring Clark.

 

Clark felt a tug on his shirt, and grinned down at a woman who pulled playfully on his arm, nodding her head towards the dance floor in invitation. He glanced over at Lex, who was busy talking to Victoria. He noticed Victoria glance his way, a smug smile playing on her lips as she leaned in closer to Lex. Shrugging off the tight pain that he felt in his chest, he let himself be pulled out onto the floor and placed his hand on the woman's waist.

 

She was lovely and exotic, with a sleek, curved body and richly tanned skin. Her dark sloe eyes were sparkling with mischief as she reached a hand up to curl around his neck and pull him in closer. Shining, red lips curved in an enticing smile as she swiveled her hips, maneuvering herself against the lines of Clark's body.

 

The salsa music was pulsating around them as they moved together, finding a comfortable rhythm, and Clark was thankful for the time Lex had spent teaching him how to dance on a crowded floor. Having her pressed along him meant nothing, he wasn't battling against his body's responses, so he was surprised when he felt his head being pulled down, his face laid against hers as she leaned up, her lips close to his ear.

 

A lightly-accented voice was laughing gently as it whispered to him. "Chloe was right. I do not think your lover is too happy with our dance, chico dulce."

 

Clark pulled back, his eyes wide. "What?" His gaze turned to the mirror over the bar as his dance partner murmured in his ear again. He scanned the crowd of people for only a moment before his vision locked with narrowed gray eyes that flashed with fury. Clark raised his eyebrows in surprise before shaking his head slightly, and looking away.

 

After finishing the dance, Clark bowed out politely at the offer of another dance, grinning charmingly at the sultry woman's pout at his refusal, and walked outside for a breath of cool air. He leaned against the brick side of the building, smiling softly into the night, humming to the song that floated out through the door.

 

"Pleasant thoughts?"

 

Startled, Clark turned his head to look at the swiftly approaching man. "Hey, Lex." He watched the normally cool, collected man bark out an exasperated breath before leaning forward and gripping Clark's arm.

 

"Come on. We're leaving." He pulled hard, yanking Clark away from the club and towards his car.

 

"What the...? Why? We can't just leave everyone there, Lex! What is your problem?" Clark tried to pull his arm away without hurting Lex, but when he realized how tightly the man's fingers were clenched into his flesh, he gave up. He followed the silently fuming man, and climbed into the passenger seat of Lex's car, folding his arms across his chest as Lex slammed the door closed.

 

He shook his head, sighing loudly as Lex moved around to the driver's side and wrenched the door open, throwing himself inside and violently turning the ignition on. Lex slammed the car into drive, barely managing to pull his own door shut with a loud bang before the car squealed away from the curb. The drive was short, filled with a hovering silence, and Clark felt a shiver run through his body as Lex pulled up to the studio in a screeching halt. Knocking the car into park and yanking out the keys, Lex clambered out of the car immediately, snapping out an order over his shoulder for Clark to get out and follow him.

 

He found himself moving silently behind the furious man, climbing up the private staircase that led to Lex's apartment over the studio. Toeing his shoes off carelessly, Lex pulled off his socks and threw everything on a pile by the door without a word. Following suit, Clark's eyes bounced around the apartment, watching cautiously as Lex paced back and forth across the carpet between the kitchen area and the sitting area. The man was vibrating with pent-up energy, and as his eyes turned to meet Clark's worried face, he snarled and stalked out onto the garden patio on the roof.

 

Following, his voice cracking with the strain, Clark asked, "Lex, what is going on?"

 

"Could you have gotten any closer to her, Clark? You were practically fucking her on the dance floor." The words were short, bitten-off.

 

Clark's eyes widened with realization, and he laughed bitterly. "Are you kidding me?" A large hand jerked up to sweep through his hair, sending it falling into a messy spill across his forehead. "You cannot seriously be upset that I danced with some girl at a club; not after telling me you wanted me to do just THAT!"

 

Lex swallowed hard, looking out at the sky with an incredulous expression. "I wanted to throw that girl through the wall." His mouth twisted into a dry, self-mocking smirk as his head turned in time to see Clark's look of utter disbelief.

 

"You mean that girl I was dancing with?" At Lex's tight nod, Clark huffed out a humorless laugh. "Lex, you're the one that told me dancing was just that...dancing. I was just dancing with her. Dancing, Lex. That's all. It's not as if I was going to take her home with me, Lex. It's not like I even thought about it. You know damn well how I feel-" Straightening his shoulders, he took a deep breath. "Not that it would matter if I was doing more than that. After...after that night that we...well, you made it pretty apparent the next day that you felt that it was a mistake."

 

Smooth, pale skin flushed with dark color as Lex spun around and moved slowly towards Clark. "I never said that, Clark."

 

"You didn't have to, Lex. We shared something I thought was really special and important, and then the next time I see you, you're putting as much space between us as you can, and  Victoria Hardwick shows up... What do expect me to think?" Clark choked on a bitter laugh. "I know regret when I see it."

 

"Maybe you're not as perceptive as you think," Lex hissed, reaching out to clench his fists in the collar of Clark's shirt. He yanked hard, tearing the fabric. "I can't stop looking at you, wanting you. I think about that night every minute of every day, and it only makes me want you more."

 

Clark felt a violent shiver take hold of his body and he leaned into Lex's hands, feeling the backs of the straining fingers hot against his skin. His mouth hovered over Lex's, waiting, feeling the soft, panting breaths hitching out from his lips. "You know I want you, Lex. Why are you pushing me away when you want this, too?" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Why didn't you have me sign a contract, Lex?"

 

He watched Lex's tongue dart out to wet his lips. The older man shook his head tightly, his eyelids fluttering closed as his head dropped back. "If you weren't a student, then....fuck, I don't think I even know why anymore." Lex's body was buzzing with tension, his hands trembling against Clark's skin. "I just...I want more than just sex, Clark. I want everything from you."

 

Clark watched Lex's eyes move beneath the lids. Leaning forward, he blew softly against them and watched them open in surprise. Lex's eyes seared across his face, landing on his mouth, and Clark felt the breath forced out of his chest as Lex jumped up against his body, pushing him back through the opened door and into the apartment. Clark felt his back slam against a wall, and moaned as a wet mouth latched onto his throat. He rolled them across the wall, stumbling when they moved into a partially open door. Clark's eyes widened as he looked over Lex's shoulder at the large, unmade bed.

 

Lex's hands reached out to steady Clark's body, clasping firmly around the younger man's waist before traveling up to his chest. Deft fingers searched out the skin exposed by the rips in the deep red material, and clutched against the frayed edges, pulling hard to rip the shirt open further. He pushed the ragged fabric away from Clark's chest, scraping his nails across hardened nipples. His eyes moved across the smooth, glowing skin he'd exposed and then upward to watch Clark's face. Clark's hands slid across Lex's chest, moving around his ribs and down to his waist, lifting him up and over to the bed with no effort.

 

He placed Lex, still standing, on top of the bed, his hands shaking slightly as Lex looked down at him. Gray eyes, completely focused, burned into his. They stayed on him as Lex lowered himself down to his knees. His long, pale fingers moved to his undamaged shirt and began undoing the buttons quickly. Lex's eyes never left Clark's as he pulled the shirt down his leanly muscled arms. Clark reached out a hand and brushed it softly across Lex's cheek, noting the sharp, white teeth that bit down into a soft lip. His eager hands were swatted away when he reached towards Lex's pants, and he couldn't prevent the soft bark of laughter at the reaction.

 

"It's faster if I take them off. Follow my lead, Clark," Lex whispered, looking down at Clark's trousers and the shredded remains of his shirt that hung raggedly from the waist of his pants.

 

Clark's composure was wrecked, fingers shaking wildly as he undid the fly of his pants. His eyes looked down in an effort to try to force some sort of control into his nerveless hands. The sound of silky fabric gliding down skin and falling onto the mattress recaptured his attention, and he looked over to see Lex back on his knees in front of him on the bed, watching him fumble with his pants. Lex was sleek, toned and sinfully naked, like something from his nightly fantasies, almost too perfect to touch. Clark could feel the warmth of the man's body, so close, and he heard a noise garbled in his throat as he tried to say Lex's name.

 

Strong hands reached out and yanked at his opened pants, shoving them down his legs, along with his briefs, the shirt dropping to the floor. Lex encouraged him to step out, and onto the bed with him, pulling Clark down on top of him. The intense sensation of so much skin pressed against his caused Clark to groan, and thrust down against the body beneath his. Lex shoved against Clark's shoulder, rolling them over until Clark's back was pressed against the cool sheets on the bed.

 

Clark looked down along his body to see Lex's cock sliding across his own and moaned. His lashes slid down, obscuring his view, and he fought to keep his eyes open until soft lips pressed against his. A persistent thumb reached up, brushing against his chin and pushing down, opening his mouth wide. Invited, then welcomed, a soft, warm tongue slid inside, running across teeth, and curling around his.

 

His mouth was wet, moving with Lex's, and he inhaled sharply through his nose. The scent of Lex...his cologne, the tang of sweat, flooded his senses. And underneath, he caught the heavy-oversweet scent of her perfume and he clenched his eyes closed tight. He wrenched his mouth away, gasping for breath, and forcing his eyes to open. Gray eyes were there above him, dark, thin circles around blown, black pupils. Those eyes shone at him, through him, watching, waiting.

 

Lex arched his neck as Clark reared up, sucking hard against Lex's throat. His lips worked across the pale skin, pulling up heated marks in a trail. "I can smell her on you," Clark said, his words slurred. "But, you're here. You're here with me."

 

"With you," Lex whispered, reaching a hand down to grasp their erections. His fingers moved quickly, sliding up and over, smearing their pre-come across his palm, and running it back along their shafts as he stroked his way down. "She hasn't been in this bed, Clark." His hand twisted as he gritted out, "I want you, Clark. I think about you when I'm alone, jerking off in this bed, in the shower." He groaned. "It's only...you."

 

Clark thrust up into Lex's hand, a wild, broken sound in his chest. His hands moved across Lex's back, sliding down until his fingers clenched around Lex's firm, round ass working above him. He grasped Lex hard, and pulled him against him, gasping at the sensation. A pulse of hot fluid gushed between them, and he felt busy fingers smear it across them, between them.

 

They were sliding together, their bodies frantic and fast. Clark's legs fell open further, and Lex pushed down, his movements jerky and harsh. Clark felt his body tense, the heat spiraling down his spine, and he deliberately relaxed his fingers, easing them away.

 

"No!" Lex growled, his eyes dark. "Don't let go of me. Fucking touch me. I want your hands on me when you come. I want to feel everything." Pressing his face down, Lex bit sharply on Clark's jaw. A finger slid through the slit on Clark's cock, and he whined loudly, the air raging from his lips. That sleek, knowing hand slid down, past his sac, and pressed hard against the strip of skin there as Lex's cock slid hard against his.

 

Clark choked out a frenzied breath, his body bucking up against Lex's, his fingers digging into that firm, creamy ass hard enough to leave dark, purple marks. He buried his face against Lex's neck, spilling his come between them. Lex jerked hard, his eyes wide open and caught in Clark's as he was thrown into his own orgasm.

 

Lex collapsed against him, his arms trembling against Clark's sides. Clark moved his hands from Lex's ass, settling across his lower back to lay his fingers against the sweaty skin there.

 

Shifting into a more comfortable position for both of them, Clark started to move, and was startled to see Lex forcing his face up to look into Clark's eyes. "Don't leave tonight."

 

"Lex-"

 

Smiling, Lex nuzzled his face against Clark's chest, laying a kiss on the satiny skin. "I need for this to be real tomorrow. Stay with me."

 

Clark quickly calculated that Chloe wasn't going to be too surprised if he didn't show up at her house that night. He nodded, and drew Lex's head down against his heart. "I'll stay as long as you want me to."

 

Lex didn't have to say a word; Clark felt the smile against his skin.

 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

"The registration deadline for the Nationals in Las Vegas is a week away, Lex."

 

Lex looked up from the stack of correspondence that Pamela had handed to him and frowned at his mother's oldest friend. "And you're bringing it up again because...?"

 

"I think you need to reconsider your decision not to enter." The red-haired woman twirled her pen