Title: Amber Waves of Grain (Nourishment: Second Helpings 7)
Author: Janet F. Caires-Lesgold
Feedback to: jfc@freeshell.org
Archive: Mailing list archives only--others please ask permission!
Category: Romance, Lex POV
Spoilers: Moving beyond season 3 as it should have been done
Rating: M (for mature audiences only, due to m/m sexual activity)
Pairing: Clark/Lex established relationship
Summary: An island in the sun

DISCLAIMER: These characters do not belong to me. Smallville is the property of Alfred Gough, Miles Millar, Tollin-Robbins Productions, and Warner Bros. Television, and based upon characters originally created by Jerome Siegel and Joe Shuster. This story is just for the entertainment of my online friends and myself, not for any profit.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: "The Nourishment Series", which precedes this series, can be found elsewhere in this archive - Enjoy!

AUTHOR'S ADDENDUM: Nothing after "Covenant" is canon. Nothing after "Covenant" is canon. Nothing after "Covenant" is canon.

DEDICATION: For Tiff, who is pretty special herself.

COPYRIGHT: (C) Janet F. Caires-Lesgold, June 29, 2005, jfc@freeshell.org

Please don't redistribute or alter this story in any way without the express permission of the author. Thank you very much.

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Clark must have come from another planet.

Here, lying naked with me in a wheat field not far from his home, I am convinced of that. He is far too beautiful to be a product of this homely, rude, ordinary earth.

How his skin glows in the light of the late afternoon sun... His eyes are closed as he lies on the warm soil and basks in the summer evening, his long lashes kissing his cheeks much as I would like to do. I hold myself back for the moment, though, just stretching out alongside him, propped up on one elbow so I can see him in all his glory.

He has saved my life again and again, forgiven me far too many trespasses against him and others, and never stopped loving me. Sometimes he apologizes for things he's done, or for truths he hesitates to tell me, and his innocence and perfection make me wonder how bad his crimes could be compared to my own. Nonsense, I tell myself. This unearthly loveliness could not be touched by anything cruel or shameful or wrong.

His family has taken me into their home so I might recover from the latest villainy bestowed upon me by my father, reminding me that not all parents rule with subterfuge and mind games. Their loving touch has shaped this boy into a fine young man whom I am proud and honored to know.

Tomorrow I go home to a big stone castle removed from its original European spot and set in the Kansas farmland where it doesn't belong. Waiting for me there are room after room of riches and fine objects, yet not one of them is as beloved or valuable as this specimen laid out before me. I don't belong in this rural landscape any more than my house does, but Clark binds me to this place. When he enters my house, then it becomes home just because he is there. When he enters my body, then I become complete, grounded, a little more human, all because he wants me and loves me.

Suddenly, my vision blurs, and I slam my eyes shut to blink back tears that I cannot let him see. But he is too quick for me. A huge hand cups my cheek, and a strong thumb brushes away the droplet that has escaped down my face. "What's wrong?" he asks in a gentle whisper, concerned for me even in repose.

"Nothing," I assure him, my word nearly obscured by the screech of a blue jay in a nearby copse. "Just overcome for a moment."

I open my eyes to see his slightly amused expression, his full, moist lips parted in a small, affectionate smile. "By what?"

Perhaps I've learned the trick from him, because I swear I can feel myself blush. "You."

Every portion of his face that can crinkle or twinkle does so, and he scoffs quietly. "Why?"

"Because you're so perfect," I explain incompletely.

"No, I'm not," he argues playfully, every inch of his face and body refuting his weak claim.

"You are to me."

His hand still caresses my face, and now slips behind my neck to gather my face closer to his own. We kiss, slowly and warmly like the angling sun, his tongue eventually slipping inside my mouth and making itself at home.

I am nestled on his shoulder when we finish, his long arms wrapped around me, separated from my skin only by the fine cotton shirt he insisted I put back on to protect my shoulders from sunburn.

"I love you," I tell him, barely louder than his heartbeat beneath my ear.

"I love you, too," he echoes. "I almost don't want you to leave tomorrow."

"I almost don't want to go."

We lie together quietly, wrapped up in each other, tucked away from everyone else in the world.

"Can I tell you something before you head home, Lex? It's something I've been meaning to talk to you about, and it's kind of important..."

Long summer days and priceless opportunities for doing absolutely nothing together will soon be gone, and are not to be wasted on anything serious. "Don't spoil the mood. I'd much rather you fucked me."

"But--" he tries again.

"Not now, baby. It can wait until later. Fuck me now? Please?"

He smiles more brilliant than the sun, ducking his head in agreement, then fishes a condom out of the wallet in his discarded jeans. Tossing the pants back among the golden stalks of wheat, he kneels in the soft dirt between my legs and plows a hot, familiar furrow of his own.

Clark is far too beautiful to be of this world, but no matter what planet in the galaxy he's come from, I am very grateful that he landed on mine.

THE END