Title: WATER (Nourishment 2.6)
Author: Janet F. Caires-Lesgold
Feedback to: jfc@freeshell.org
Archive: Mailing list archives only--others please ask permission!
Category: Vignette, romance, Lex POV
Spoilers: Post-ep for "Lineage" (with reference to "Redux")
Rating: NC-17 for m/m sexual interaction
Pairing: Clark/Lex established relationship
Summary: Reflections in a pool

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 NOTES: The rest of "The Nourishment Series" can be found elsewhere in this archive - Enjoy!

DEDICATION: For David, who wore it so well, and for Tiff, who has been there ever since.

COPYRIGHT: (C) December 29, 2002, Janet F. Caires-Lesgold, 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.


Clark is floating.

He's flat on his back in my lap pool, eyes closed, and hands fluttering a little to give him some motion across the surface. All I have to say is that it's a damned good thing this pool is suit-optional.

I definitely needed a good soak after that woman claiming to be Clark's mother kidnapped me and roughed me up a bit. This feels really good. Okay, maybe not as good as I was feeling a few moments ago, but without a doubt close to it.

Primary among the causes of this momentary euphoria is the boy beside me--okay, man. He's sixteen, but more mature than I was even two years ago. His face in repose is still so beautiful that I can barely take my eyes off of him. His body is sheer perfection, and while he may always have his secrets to keep, his heart is mine.

We're friends, boon companions, lovers, somehow so basically connected that I doubt I shall ever be truly alone again. On the other hand, for a moment, we were almost blood relatives.

Clark insists that he was adopted from far enough away that there was no possible way for that woman to have borne him of my father. Where, I wonder? China? Nope--those eyes have never been creased by an epicanthic fold. Maybe the former Soviet Union. If that's the case, they sure grow 'em big over there!

But no--he's not my brother. "Cool", he called it. "As cool as that would be," he said of the situation. I guess that was just his eternal optimism putting as positive a spin on it as possible. I'm not sure if I agree with that assessment. If we suddenly discovered that we were in fact brothers, now after we've been sleeping together for all these months, how would that affect our behavior?

Could I look at this young man, this person I love more than anyone else on earth, this fellow who fucks like a proverbial volcano and sucks dick like it's his favorite flavor, and be content not to touch him or hold him, not to kiss him for hours or take him naked into my bed ever again? Brothers aren't supposed to want to do things like that. Well, it was good enough for the ancient Greeks--I think I could make a few mental adjustments, if necessary.

I keep reminding myself that I'm only twenty-two. Everyone will tell you that that's too young to make permanent life choices, that someone my age shouldn't settle down with one other person. So what if this is my first serious relationship? I cannot fathom caring for anyone else the way I love Clark. When I dare to imagine the future, I can only see myself with him. I want to be there to support him, to play with him, to be his one and only.

That's when it hits me that he is just a boy--a boy of sixteen: in other words, really too young to have decided on a life partner yet. I gave him those rings, left over from my madness with Desiree, in completely good conscience, assuming he'd pass the woman's set on to his own bride some day. How was I to know that we'd both find them to be symbolic of our own union? That certainly was never my intention, though I cannot say that I regret the connotation a bit.

But we're not married--could never be, in this conservative state or anywhere, I would reckon. So would Clark want to be connected to me from this day forward, till death do us part? Will he always love me? Don't let me think about that right now. Even if he doesn't, though, I very much doubt that he could ever forget me, leave me, forsake me. Somehow I suspect that even if our love does not grow and flourish over the years, we will still always have some kind of connection--some sort of bond we cannot break nor really want to sever. Like brothers, I guess. I like that.

So my lover came over to play today while Daddy is up in the big city. I'd heard of his triumph at the school swim meet, and invited him to come swim here at the mansion whenever he wished. He was more than eager to cavort in the water before me, making a most luscious sight, except for one glaring fault, that I saw fit to correct at my earliest opportunity.

"What's this?" he'd said this afternoon when I handed him the box.

"A little gift."

"From my big brother?" he said, practically winking as he did so.

"I don't think so," I grinned back.

I could tell that he was undecided as to whether to rip it open, or sneak it undone slowly to prolong the mystery. Given that he is still sixteen, ripping won the debate.

"What the hell is it?" he asked, his lap full of shredded paper and the small red garment clutched uncertainly in his hand.

"It's a new swimsuit."

"THIS?" he gaped in horror. "But it's barely big enough to..." I hadn't thought it was physically possible, but he blanched and blushed simultaneously.

"It will cover your genitals just fine, Clark. It's a Speedo. Olympic swimmers wear them."

"But... but... it's so red!"

I didn't have the heart to mention that, at the moment, so were his cheeks. "So's that pup tent you wore over here the last time we went swimming. You have a perfect body, Clark. Are you ashamed of it?"


"Well, then I'd like to see you show it off a little, at least around me."

"You mean just wear it here for you, and not at school?"

"Not if you wouldn't be comfortable wearing it there, no."

"God, Lex--if I wore that at school, I'd be laughed out of gym class!"

"Trust me, beautiful--I truly doubt that that would be everybody's reaction. Now go change so we can take a dip."

He began to trot off to the shower hesitantly, then turned back to me. "Do you really think I have a perfect body?"

"Yes, baby. I want to see you in that suit. Can you go put it on for me now?"

That earned me a flawless, toothy grin. "Okay. For you," he answered, a sparkle in his eyes that matched the ones on the surface of the pool.

All of my fantasies of how he would look in the tiny red slingshot were, pardon the expression, blown out of the water by the actual thing. The lines of his abdominals and shadows of his hipbones contrasted amazingly against the snug knit fabric. His ass bounced perkily under the broadest expanse of cloth, and his incredible penis curved down out of harm's way, outlined subtly yet unmistakably by the pouch in the front. He did a little turn in front of my chair like a model on a runway, looking sheepish, watching my eyes intently for my reaction. "Well?"

Holding my tongue to keep him guessing for a moment, I finally let my smile burst forth and answered simply, "Magnificent!"

"Really?" he asked, not fishing for a compliment, but genuinely incredulous.

"Trust me, Clark. It's beautiful on you. Give it a try." I gestured casually toward the edge, and he obliged by turning his back (oh, rapture!) and diving beneath the ripples. Swimming a quick lap, he bobbed back up before me, flinging water out of his hair. "So, how does it feel?"

"Weird. Good. Kinda sexy." His gaze transformed from playful and loving to teeming with desire before my very eyes. "Get in here," he commanded.

"Yes, sir," I replied, dropping my robe and revealing my black Speedo for the first time.

"Oh, my God," he breathed, just looking at my dick in its tight covering. His eyes were huge and dark.

I dove in and swam to his side. "You had something to say to me?" I chided him teasingly.

At last he raised his eyes to my face. As if he'd entirely lost the rest of his vocabulary, he said only, "Fuck me now."

The sight of him so nearly undressed and so suddenly aroused did wonders for my own libido. My tongue dove for his in a heartbeat, and within seconds we were both hard, naked, and positioned against the metal ladder on the edge of the pool. He perched precariously on the top step, curled to accept my cock inside his ass, which I provided with pleasure.

With nothing for lube but chlorinated water, I found his hole and plunged inside. "Oh, God, Lex!" he groaned as I slid in and out, his head thrown back and his eyes closed in ecstasy. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," he begged, his rhythm matching that of my hand on his erection, while my hips set up a counterpoint further back. His arms were flung loosely around my shoulders, and his feet hooked firmly in the bottoms of the handrails to give me some resistance in the water. Chanting steadily, his voice raised in pitch as his text changed to "Gonna come, gonna come, gonna come, oh, shit!" His exclamation signaled the actual event, and he spurted up out of the water in a creamy jet, the contractions in his ass making me follow suit jerkily.

Nearly collapsing with relief, I stood leaning against his chest and waiting for my pulse to slow down to normal levels. "So good, so good, so good," he continued to murmur, kissing my head as punctuation to each phrase.

"I love you," I mouthed against his temple, whereupon his refrain shifted to "Love you, love you, love you."

Too soon, we disentangled ourselves and began a lazy post-coital drift in the pool. In my afterglow, I find myself thinking just how essential Clark is to my continued existence. Not for nothing do his clear green eyes match the color of the water beneath him--he buoys me up, supports me in my depths, refreshes and restores me. He is basic, he is necessary, he is sometimes all I need, and no matter what our relationship, I doubt I could live without him.

"Damn, boy--you looked good in that suit!" I mutter, shaking my head in fond disbelief.

"I could tell you thought so," he grins back at me.

"I want to see you in it again. Put it on. Where is it?"

Chuckling, he points. "There." There is a scrap of red fabric still dangling from the second step of the ladder. "And there." Another piece adheres to the tile on the edge of the pool above the four-foot mark. "Oh, and there." On the bottom of the pool, the last red shred mocks me up through the clear water. "I told you I could tell you liked it," he smirks, dabbling along beside me.

"Guess so," I agree, echoing his smile. "I've definitely gotta buy you another one of those."

"Definitely," he nods.

Clark is floating.

I, however, am sailing on top of the world.


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