And then Lex could voice nothing at all, because this was nothing like he had imagined—nothing, and everything, every fantasy made substance, every wet dream come to life. The hero’s mask must be a plastic fake, the golden boy only gilt, because there was no way Clark had never done this before—had not done this a hundred times.
Mature, future!fic, angst. Lex discovers Clark’s weakness – and his own in return. Intense. There’s no happy ending here, only Lethe’s kiss…