I adore Smallville, and I adore Bradbury, so when I ran across the Bradbury Title Challenge, I couldn't resist. I'm late (well, I wasn't in the fandom when the challenge took place), and so not really an official part of the challenge, but the title fit. This story was written primarily to the song "Haunted" by Poe, plus some Sneaker Pimps and Massive Attack. Despite this highly atmospheric medley, I think the story itself is on the lighter side of moods. Betaed by Sleeps With Coyotes, Eliza, Peach, and Roxxi. Peach, that gift among betas, made the following food comparison: "It makes me think of apple pie with lots of cinnamon. Mmm. It's warm and tart and spicy, but not over-sweet. And there is a bit of underlying darkness, so I guess I'll add coffee with creamer." Ain't she cool?

Lazarus, if he remembered right, suffered from a long illness and lay dead for three days before Jesus raised him from the dead by taking his hand and speaking his name. Lex had gone off the side of a bridge in a Porsche and, according to his own recollection and numerous digital simulations, was not dead even three minutes before Clark Kent had brought him back by a slightly different application of both hand and mouth that had left Lex with bruised ribs and the memory of a taste like sun-warmed apples under the riverwater.

Lazarus got his name spoken by his savior and the proclamation of a miracle. Lex got a not-quite-kiss from Clark Kent and a wrecked import. Overall, he couldn't help but think he'd gotten the better bargain, and it was getting better by the second. He was now being treated to an actual kiss from Clark Kent, hovering over him on hands and knees, touching only with his mouth, awkward and sweet and still tasting so good.

Lex reached up, one hand going around the nape of Clark's neck, the other curving around one hip and pulling down. Clark resisted, pulling back long enough to protest breathlessly. "I'm heavy, Lex."

"That's all right." Lex raised his head enough to breathe against Clark's ear, letting his tongue flick out for the barest taste. Salty, and sweet still. Maybe all over. "If you crush me, you can bring me back to life again."

"Lex--" Lex turned his head and caught Clark's lips again, silencing the protest, and even without the weight of Clark's body pressing him into the sofa cushions, this was good. Better than good. Clark's soft, generous mouth worth any so-called miracle. Worth the genuine article, if such a thing had ever been. Lex worked hard to repay the gift of those lips, tracing them with the tip of his tongue, diving in when Clark opened his mouth on a soft little gasp that was just perfect.

Jonathan Kent made Clark return the truck, and Lex had given himself the challenge of finding gifts he could give Clark that neither father nor son would refuse. He'd found intangibles worked best, things like telling Lana Lang what her quarterback boyfriend had done to Clark. Things like giving Clark Lana's necklace and a means to win the girl of his dreams, if he really wanted more than the dream.

Things like this, like Lex's time and Lex's attention and any other part of Lex Clark wanted. Any part at all. It did not escape him that Clark was giving as much as he took in this arrangement, but Lex was less concerned with being in debt to Clark than with being in with Clark. Or being in Clark.

That thought spurred him to more aggressive action. He took his hand off Clark's hip and pressed it into the center of Clark's chest, pushing up. Clark pulled away immediately, a blush of embarrassment at having presumed already coloring his cheeks. Lex bit back a groan of want at that look, his cock jerking in his pants.

"So fucking pretty. Clark."

The blush intensified with the words, and Clark was stunned enough to stay still while Lex sat up and maneuvered them both until he could reverse their positions, pushing Clark down on the sofa and settling on top of him. Now Clark only looked surprised, and Lex smiled before diving in for another taste of that mouth--exactly what Clark had done to him just moments before. And while he still had no idea what had prompted such an uncharacteristic move, there was no way he would let Clark think for even a second that this was not a very, very good thing.

Sometimes, you just had to let go enough to see where the tide of fate would take you. Which was not something Lex had ever expected to advocate, but then he had never expected to escape death again in this small, dangerous Kansas town. Last time, he'd woken hairless in a hospital, his father staring at him with a loathing usually reserved for bad business deals. This time, he'd woken on the riverbank, Clark Kent staring at him with relief. Relief, before they'd ever known each other. He liked to think it was a sign of something, their lives bound inextricably together now.

It seemed Clark thought so too, at least enough to accept this with growing enthusiasm. Clark's hands settled on his back. So very, very gentle, and he was going to have to teach Clark that he wasn't that breakable, though he supposed he could understand Clark's caution, given that when they'd met, he'd been dead. He was alive now, though.

Very much alive, as certain parts of his body were insistently reminding him.

He released Clark's mouth again, listening to the intertwined rhythm of their breathing as he licked a path from Clark's jaw to the base of his throat. Clark's hands had started moving across his back, and he felt Clark's lips brush lightly against the side of his head.

"Want me?" he murmured against golden skin, not waiting for an answer before he bit down. Clark's gasp was gratifying, and he smiled as he sucked lightly. He'd be surprised if there was a bruise when he was done, and he'd meant to wait for the truth of that before taking things this far, but then he hadn't expected Clark would kiss him, either. Lex liked to think he was adaptable when it came to such circumstances.

He also liked to think this would make it that much harder for Clark to keep lying to him. He wanted that. Wanted everything.

"Lex," Clark hissed, rocking up against him, shy hands at last finding their way up under Lex's shirt to brush skin. Lex hummed his appreciation for that and moved up to align their groins better, biting Clark's ear as he shifted.

"Want me?" he repeated, and Clark didn't even hesitate.

"Yes...."

"That's good." He raised his hand to Clark's face, turning it until he was staring into eyes that were only thin edges of pale color rimming huge pupils. "Want me to suck you?"

The color seemed to disappear entirely, then dark lashes swept down. "Oh, God--"

"Want to fuck me?" He rocked down deliberately.

"Lex, stop!"

"You don't want to fuck me?"

"If I come in these jeans--"

"I'll buy you new ones." He leaned in and took another kiss, groaning in satisfaction as Clark sucked on his tongue. Apples, definitely. He pulled back long enough to catch his breath and whispered, "If you don't want to fuck me, want me to fuck you?"

Clark actually whimpered, which was both adorable and sexy as hell. "You're trying to kill me...."

"That's okay." Lex leaned in and breathed softly into Clark's open mouth. " I'll bring you back to life again."

~END~