Title: Sleeping Pill (Nourishment: Second Helpings 13)
Author: Janet F. Caires-Lesgold
Feedback to: jfc@freeshell.org
Archive: Mailing list archives only--others please ask permission!
Category: Story, angst, Clark POV
Spoilers: Set after my Transference story, which was tweaked to suit
Rating: M (mature audiences only for m/m sexual behavior)
Pairing: Clark/Lex established relationship
Summary: Clark can't sleep

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: All parts of "The Nourishment Series" and "Second Helpings", which precede this story, can be found elsewhere on this archive - Enjoy!

WARNING!: Non-consensual sexual activity described herein. Squick-meters ON.

DEDICATION: For Henry, who hates me already anyway (since Tiff probably won't want this one).

COPYRIGHT: (C) Janet F. Caires-Lesgold, February 1, 2006, 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.



Lex doesn't have to know.

I can handle this perfectly well by myself. It's just a matter of getting past it, and then I'll be fine. Mom and Dad had no idea what was going on, so they wouldn't understand. I don't need to bother Lex about it, either, since he's so busy with work these days.

In the two weeks since Lex rescued me from the Metropolis Penitentiary, I haven't had a lot of time to spend with him, after you combine his job with my school, the chores I have to do at home, and the time I'm asleep. Of course, the joke is that I don't sleep anymore.

I tried so hard not to be afraid when I was somehow changed into Lex's father and they walked away and left me there, but I don't know if I succeeded very well. It really hurt when Lex and somebody who looked like me, but who must have been Lionel, waved and ignored me calling after them. I can't blame Lex, though, because I know that none of it had anything to do with him. He didn't understand what had happened just yet.

My first instincts were to yell and fight and refuse to cooperate with the uniformed guards, insisting that they had the wrong man, but isn't that what every prisoner says? Therefore, I kept my mouth shut and did what I was told, figuring it would keep me safe enough. How long I'd have to endure it all, though, wasn't anything I was ready to contemplate at that point.

I was locked in a cell unnoticed for most of my stay, so I sat still and tried to read the newspapers stacked neatly on the plain desk until exhaustion overcame me. Except through extraordinary circumstances (or the influence of green kryptonite), I've never felt really sick or weak in my life. Finding myself in Lionel's decrepit body made me comprehend how horrible he must feel most of the time. The cot was far from comfortable, but I fell asleep on it the moment "my" head hit the pillow. That was the last time I slept well, if at all. The rest of my stay isn't important.

Thank God Lex called me the next day. Somehow Lionel had revealed what he'd done, and Lex wasted no time to come and bring me home in the right body. Once I was myself again, he shut the kryptonite rock into its lead box and bade his father goodbye before the barred door clanged behind him.

We rushed out to the car, then sat quietly for a moment. Tentatively, he brushed my bangs away from my eyes with his fingertips, looking into my eyes like he was seeing paradise itself in there. "I am so sorry he did that to you, and I'm sorry I had to use the rock to get him to tell me the truth. Do you still feel sick to your stomach?"

Blinking confusedly, I noticed no nausea at all, so assumed Lionel had gotten to experience everything. "No," I answered, "just a little dizzy. Take me home, please."

"Next stop, Kent Farm," he announced with a cautious smile, then kissed me briefly, his hand petting my hair.

However, I didn't want to let him go just yet, so I reached over and grabbed his shoulders as close as I could across the bucket seats.

I was hugged warmly, which just made tears come to my eyes. When he pulled back, he glanced at me, and his face fell. "Oh, Clark, you must have been so scared in there..." He seized me closely where I could nod silently into his shoulder, willing myself not to cry. "Did they hurt you?" he asked, and when I didn't answer, he added, "or do you not want to talk about it yet?"

Giving my head a negative shake, which I hoped he'd assume was to the first question, I cleared my throat and straightened my shoulders, then moved back to kiss him again. "I'll be okay. Thank you, Lex. I love you."

"I love you, too," he assured me, a puzzled frown knitting his brows as he started the car. "Let's get you home."

Unfortunately, he has spent much of the two weeks since then working, even going out of town on business over the intervening weekend. I keep to myself during the day, getting my work done and forcing myself not to think about the hours I spent in prison. However, alone at night in bed, the visions won't leave me alone, and it's gotten too dangerous to close my eyes.

I also find myself avoiding mirrors. My hair bested my mom's steel scissors a year or two ago, so I had to work out a method of "shaving" every couple of days with my heat vision and the medicine chest door, but now I'm starting to look pretty shabby. Luckily, my parents just roll their eyes and assume it's a phase I'm going through.

At last, Lex invited me to sleep over tonight, which I was hoping would help. We sat up late watching a stupid movie, if you can call it "watching" when we were mostly making out on the couch, ending with a very satisfying blowjob from Lex. I was feeling safe and loved and sleepy when we turned out the lights in his room, so I closed my eyes and hoped.

However, the ghosts behind my eyelids didn't stay at home. The drawn curtains around Lex's bed made me picture nasty things just on the other side of the heavy cloth, so I crawled out to sit here by the window. I hope I'm not disturbing Lex as I watch the gardens in the moonlight.

Since I first discovered my special abilities, I've longed to be normal like everyone else again. Reliving some of my experiences while I was poor, wretched Lionel for awhile make me appreciate what I am just a little more. It would have made all the difference in the world had I been fully myself in that place. Maybe normalcy isn't that desirable after all.

Suddenly I startle awake from another nightmare, nearly knocking over my chair before I even realize I'd been asleep. The things at the edge of my vision won't go away, so I tiptoe to the bathroom for a moment. I take a leak, then wash my hands and face, rinsing out my accumulated whiskers by touch alone. Stretching to take hold of a towel, I slip and glance into the mirror.

All of my logic and self-control leave me, and I scream and jump when I see the reflection of a face over that of my shoulder. Of course, it's just Lex, but my heart is pounding and I'm shaking like a leaf.

"Whoa! Sorry about that!" His casual smile fades quickly, suggesting I'm not hiding my terror very well. "Are you all right?"

"F-f-fine," I stammer, my teeth chattering to spite me.

"My God, Clark! What's wrong?" He reaches for me, looking frightened and concerned all at once. "Don't say 'nothing', because I won't believe you. Is there something you're not telling me?"

I duck out of his grasp, still loath to involve him in my troubles. "Don't worry about it. It's not your problem."

This earns me a very stern look. "I love you more than anything in the world. If you have a problem, it is my problem, just by definition." His voice grows very quiet, and his eyes soften. "Let me help, Clark. It's what I'm best at."

We stare into each other's eyes for a moment, and I find my resolve cracking and falling away like burnt sugar armor, no matter how desperately I cling to the shattered pieces. Realizing I can hide no longer, I feel my knees buckle a little. However, I think twice about sitting and talking on the bathroom floor, so I tug Lex back out to bed by the hand. I shove open all of the curtains before sitting cross-legged in front of my pillow and wait for him to get comfortable beside me, which includes fetching two blue water bottles from his mini-fridge.

"Okay," he prompts, opening his bottle and taking a swallow, "talk to me. You can tell me anything, and I won't be upset. What happened to you?"

"Well," I begin slowly, "that's part of the problem. It didn't really happen to me. That's the only thing helping me keep it together."

"Look, I noticed you get out of bed, and when I came to see if you were okay, you shrieked like you'd seen the devil himself. I wouldn't call that 'keeping it together'. I'm here for you, Clark. What is it?"

Giving a crooked smile, I start over. "I think Lionel has some enemies in that prison..."

"Did you get into a fight while you were there?"

I take a swig from my bottle and continue, ignoring my racing pulse. "Not exactly. Almost everybody was actually pretty reasonable, under the circumstances. I just should have checked the showers when I went in there that night..."

Lex straightens his back as if he is anticipating what I am going to say, but says nothing himself.

"The guards acted normal when I entered the shower room, but this guy must have been inside waiting for me, or for Lionel, technically. His toadies were hanging around, standing guard on their own. Then when I came out of the shower stall, before I could find my jumpsuit, he grabbed me, threw me up against the sink, and bent me over."

"No..." His face goes pale in horror.

"If I'd been myself, healthy and strong, I could have fought him off. But I wasn't. I was weak, sick, and old, and I couldn't do a goddamned thing. All I could do was look in the mirror over the sink and see your dad's face and this big mean guy behind him while he..." I falter and try to take a deep breath.

"It's okay, Clark. You don't have to say it if you don't want to."

"Yes I do. I need to put the words to what happened. He raped me." My throat tightens, but I go on. "When I could tell that it was unavoidable, I relaxed as much as I could, but it still hurt, and I was still really scared. I have tried to tell myself that it wasn't me--that it didn't happen to my body, which makes it a little better somehow--but I can still see that guy's face every time I close my eyes or look in the mirror."

"My God... What did you do then?" he asks, visibly keeping his hands off of me.

"Nothing. I figured that no one in authority would care about it, especially with how the guards seemed to look the other way. The rest of the time I was there, I just read old newspapers in a cell by myself, ate crappy food, and didn't talk to anybody. Mostly I just prayed you'd find out the truth and be able to bring me back. Thank you, Lex."

"You're welcome, baby. I'm glad I was able to rescue you. Is it okay if I touch you?" he asks with fear in the corners of his eyes.

"I thought you'd never ask." I echo his move to set my water bottle on the nightstand, then am wrapped in his embrace, which I return gratefully. We hold each other tight in the middle of the bed for long minutes, rocking gently while I don't hold back my tears anymore, since I can hear him snuffling a little in my arms.

Without letting go, he eventually speaks again, his voice quiet and strained. "Would you... do you want to talk to a counselor or something?"

"I dunno. I mean, I wouldn't be able to explain everything that happened to anyone else without sounding sort of crazy. I haven't even been able to say anything to my parents, for God's sake. They don't know that anything was out of the ordinary, I guess..."

At last, he releases me reluctantly and pulls away just far enough to see my face. "They knew something was wrong with you this week. Your mom called me the other day and asked if I could find out what was bothering you..." Before I can protest, he continues, "I don't think they need to know all of the details, or anything at all, if that would make you uncomfortable. But I am flattered that they felt I could talk to you and help you solve your problems."

"Wow," I marvel, still a little sniffly, "they trust you as much as I do!"

"I'm glad," he says softly, leaning in and giving me a kiss. "I don't have any training to help you with this kind of thing, but I'm willing to listen and do whatever you want to help you get over this. Would that be okay?"

"Sure, Lex. I'd like that." Just then I am interrupted by a deep yawn. "I'm sorry--I haven't really slept since that night."

"Or shaved, apparently," he says with a small smirk, tipping his head toward my scruffy beard. "I was going to ask what that was about, but I figured it would come out if I let you take your time." He gets a thoughtful expression on his face. "I have some shaving supplies somewhere for guests. Can I help you tame your wolfman disguise a little?"

I imagine the scenario he describes, his hands touching me precisely and intimately as he took care of me, and try not to let my regret at its impossibility show. "That's okay. I'll be able to look at myself in a mirror soon enough, I'm sure."

The shift in his features indicates that he's still thinking up ways to take action to help me. "If it's an issue about mirrors, there's a nice one in the bathroom there..."

"What do you have in mind?" I ask suspiciously.

"I was thinking of making you some new, more positive associations with them. Do you trust me?"


"Then come here." He gets up and stands beside the bed until I join him, then moves to the bathroom. I follow him gamely to where he's stopped in the doorway. "Now, judging by your enthusiasm on the couch earlier, you don't seem to have any trouble with your sexual response. Would you be interested in actual intercourse?"

Mental images of being taken by force by a stranger come to me suddenly, only to be replaced gradually by numerous memories of Lex's loving attentions. "Maybe," I answer slowly. "I doubt I could deal with any other man, but I could never refuse you."

His take-charge gleam softens into an abashed twinkle, but he simply asks, "That night--were the lights on?"

"Yes, but not this bright."

Just inside the door, he adjusts the dimmer knob down, then ushers me inside, urging me to lean my naked ass up against the edge of the sink. His hands pet my chest and trail up to my neck, where he draws my head to his until we are close enough to kiss deeply. I embrace his warmth to my body and stop thinking as much as I can.

For awhile, my whole universe consists of gentle hands, fevered lips, and a probing tongue. His smooth belly rubs against mine, and I cannot help noticing that he's getting hard, as am I. Eventually, he sighs into my ear, "Do you want me to make love to you?"

"Yeah," I gasp in response, my hands stroking his back from his shoulders to his ass.

"Is it okay if we do it right here?"

He has made sure that I am just aroused enough not to want to move very far. "I guess so."

Quickly, he finds supplies in a nearby drawer while never letting go of me. "Do you know how much I love you, Clark?" he asks, his other hand slipping between us to caress my erection.

Relaxing in his tender care, I sigh, "Show me."

Smiling sweetly, he turns me with a firm touch to face the mirror, where my eyes slam shut almost involuntarily. However, Lex doesn't miss anything. "Open your eyes. This is you. It's just you. You're safe." Fingertips slide down my sides as I assume he must be crouching to the floor behind me. His hands never leave me, constantly stroking and petting my skin, making me brave.

Decisively, I follow his instructions and open my eyes to find myself looking back out of the mirror. I am alone in the reflection--a mass of unruly beard and shaggy hair framing red-rimmed eyes, but unmistakably me. "I look awful," I blurt out without thinking.

"You've looked better," he agrees, "but I think you've got an excuse. You're still beautiful to me, though." His hands press against me, and I can feel his breath on my bottom. "Tell me if you want me to stop." Thumbs expose my opening to the air, and I jump a little at the sensation. "Okay?" he asks, stopping short.

"Yeah," I reply to my watching face. "Just startled me for a minute. Go ahead."

Before I can think again, he tongues me carefully and softly. My knuckles go white around the edges of the porcelain, and I inhale sharply through my nose. Lex rims me almost too slowly, taking his time and getting me used to the feeling of being touched there again with my pleasure being the ultimate goal. I can see my eyes narrow in the glass, but I keep watching myself to focus and ground me. The lapping feels so good that it takes all of my effort to hold still without crushing the sink in my hands.

My orgasm is close, but he pulls away and kisses one asscheek abruptly, and I hear myself whine in disappointment. "Sssshhhh," he hushes me, then retraces the paths of his fingers up my sides as he stands behind me. "Did you like that?"

"Mmm-hmmmmm," I murmur a little edgily.

"Do you want some more?" His voice holds the tinge of a wicked grin, and I glance over the shoulder in my reflection to find him there, grinning happily, just as I expected him to be. I could never forget how handsome and sexy he is, but it's more comforting than I can say to meet his loving gaze in the mirror at last.

Only one thing is missing to make the moment complete. "Fuck me, Lex--please. I need to feel you inside me."

With a weird combination of great care and impressive speed, he applies rubber to himself and lube to me. Slick fingers finish the job that a hot tongue began, then Lex slides his sheathed cock a hair's breadth per second into my waiting hole. When he has impaled me completely, he spreads his dry hand soothingly over my stomach and puts his slippery one around my penis.

The friction of his cock inside my body and his grip on my erection is familiar and intense. The scary mirror in my memory may not be entirely erased, but the image of my lover staring hotly into my eyes as he penetrates me gives me strength and makes me whole.

I want to express my emotions in words, but my throat pours out deep groans of satisfaction that I believe will suffice. He mouths the words "Love you" around an inhalation and a low moan, and I am lost. I throw my head back into Lex's shoulder as I come hard, pelting the sink, his hand, and even the mirror with thick fluid. Flinging his arm around my collarbone for leverage, he gives a final thrust and shudders as his climax overtakes him.

An immense lassitude consumes me when we finish, and as soon as possible, Lex recovers, disengages, and cleans up the mess we have made. I am kissed and escorted back to bed, where we curl up together and whisper our quiet devotions into each other's ears.

Before I drift off, a thought occurs to me. "I wonder if that guy attacks your father a lot..."

Lex doesn't even open his eyes as he cuddles me closer and answers, "Sounds like poetic justice to me..."

I was wrong. Lex did need to know about all of this. He is the only one who could have known how to make it better.



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