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It's instant, like the click of a camera, a moment out of time captured and preserved. Even if he doesn't know why until now.
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Work/Series Details
Standing in the Common Spaces by seperis
Published: 2003-01-22
Work/Series ID: 20448Relationship Tags:
• Peter Parker/Lex Luthor
• Clark Kent/Lex Luthor
• Peter Parker/Mary Jane WatsonWork/Series Summary:
It's instant, like the click of a camera, a moment out of time captured and preserved. Even if he doesn't know why until now.
(Approximate) Last Read: 2025/08/27
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❤ (ɔˆз(ˆ⌣ˆc)
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A curl of fingers against his skin, a second that's split decision or maybe hesitation, and there's a moment where Peter thinks Lex will draw away. Then--movement, slide to his shoulder, wrapping around, and Peter--doesn't think. Lets this take over, here with someone as different as he is, even if he can't figure out why. Just two people in the middle of New York, and right, they're dancing, and maybe it's another score for superpowers that he doesn't have that adolescent awkwardness anymore unless he tries for it, works at it, and for Lex--
--for Lex, he doesn't want to be awkward.
The fit's perfect. There are inches of controlled space between them, wrapped in loud music and the energy of a crowd of perfectly normal people having one night of utter freedom. No Green Goblin tonight, no monster for Peter to fight, no responsibilities or power, just what's made here, now.
The fingers on his neck are loose--not indecisive, Peter thinks, and he's lightheaded and shocked at himself, shocked at Lex, shocked at everything, but shock's a cushion that lets him do it again, just close the distance and take it. No one dies if he does this. No one is going to get shot or strangled, no one's going to starve or get into danger, and the world won't end. It's just a kiss, and it's sweet, this time against a mouth that opens just a little, tempting him.
Taste, touch, they're only touching here and there and there, three spots of blinding heat surrounded by the cool of the night and the mill of bodies, and somewhere there's a world where Spiderman was just watching, where Peter Parker wasn't a part of this night.
It goes on forever, the slow movements that don't bring them any closer but don't draw them farther away. Lex's fingers are so soft on his neck, so gentle, sliding up into his hair, tilting his head, and the kiss deepens, rich and still soft, still so sweet. He could sway here, do this, never move again and be perfectly content.
Lex, whose eyes are closed, is moving into it as if there's nothing else for him either. When Peter draws back, he watches a pink tongue slick out, licking away his taste. He wants to put it back, leave it all over Lex, somehow.
Peter tightens his grip, pulling Lex closer--hip to chest, so warm. And Lex smiles, slow and thoughtful and brilliant like the lights overhead. Blinding. No place Lex was could be dark.
Clark Kent, bad suit and forthright stare, black rimmed glasses, profile unobscured by hair or bent head or Lois Lane. Superman, too close and too personal. Say Lex's name, and the expression's the same.
"I just wanted it to be me he wasn't alone with. I want him to be the person he could have been. I want him to be less good at what he does so I don't have to worry, so I don't have to keep my distance. I want that to be mine. He can't give me that, but he can give it to you, and he can do it in front of the world. How am I supposed to forgive that?"
"You think I don't get that?"
"No, I don't think you do." And Clark's kneeling beside him, pushing the pictures aside. He's too close, but Peter can't back away, frozen by the unhealed pain that matches his own. "He touched you here tonight." Fingers trace the air above his cheek. "You can be seen with him." Clark's voice shakes, and the touch is hot, almost feverish, burning below the skin into places that won't be able to forget.
Slow, even breathing between them, and Clark's mouth brushes his cheek. Hot and wet, and Peter closes his eyes at the touch, the feeling of it. Big fingers curling around his throat, and a single flex would break it, like Lex in the alley, how ironic, how--
"Clark--" His breathing stutters out. God, so dangerous, this is why Lex is obsessed. Clark kisses his name away--and he's nineteen again, getting his first serious kiss from his first lover. Lex leaves his fingerprints on everything he touches, even here. But soft and sweet, the way Lex never could be.
The warm mouth settles beside his ear, a lick within that makes him shake. "Peter. How would you have felt, if this was you and Harry?" And Clark pulls back, holding Peter in place like--oh damn, like a fly in a web, unable to move from beneath that gaze. "If I'd gone to your city and did everything with him you couldn't--" Clark jerks away, wiping a hand roughly across his mouth. It'd be so easy to reach across the distance and see how far they could take this. They're not different except in everything. Lex would never forgive him. Clark would never forgive himself. "Get the hell out of my city. Now."
Jesus, yes. Yesterday if he could. His fingers brush against his own mouth, and he wonders if Clark could taste Lex on his skin. "You're not being fair."
Wet eyes stare back at him, and all that leashed energy, all the ways Clark hides himself, all the brakes, are gone.
"No, I'm not."