Disclaimer: I don't own any of this.

Flannel

Lex flipped off the bathroom light and stepped back into the dimness of the bedroom. He moved with careless grace, his lithe lean form with its dancer's rhythm. He seemed completely comfortable in his own bare skin. There was no apology or shame about his nakedness; in fact, he embodied an almost daring pride.

Only Lex could move that way, Clark thought. He wanted him to come back to bed, but he had to admit he was rather enjoying the unexpected show. Lex reminded Clark of a panther, all sleek muscles and reined-in power beneath skin as smooth as velvet. He made you want to touch, even though your better judgment knew it could be dangerous.

As his bare feet padded softly across the floor, Lex knew Clark was watching him. He felt his eyes like embers on his skin, burning intensely through the shadows. His own eyes took in the scene – drawn curtains, rumpled covers, clothes strewn about – with great satisfaction.

On a whim, he reached down and retrieved Clark's silly flannel shirt off the floor. He lifted it to his face, felt the worn softness against his cheek. Then he let it unfurl and, finding the sleeves, slipped inside.

The scent of fabric softener overwhelmed him as he pulled the material close around him. For some reason he'd always found that smell so evocative; if affection had a fragrance, it would be this. How right that Clark would go around always clothed in it. Clark, who everyone loved; Clark, who he could not resist.

"It's too big for you," Clark rumbled from the bed. He'd propped himself up on one elbow, the sheet sliding down to his hip; his voice was warm with admiration.

"Hmm," Lex breathed, shooting him a look full of suggestive challenge. "Does that mean that you are, too?"

Clark laughed gently, low in his throat. "If so, you've never complained about it."

A shadow of the familiar smirk played at the corner of Lex's mouth as he crossed to the bed. Clark watched him approach with unconcealed fascination. He wasn't sure what made Lex in his shirt so shatteringly sexy; he couldn't keep his eyes off the sliver of bare chest that peeked out from the placket, and the way the hem skimmed lightly against his thighs.

Lex sank one knee into the mattress and leaned in to kiss him. One of Clark's huge hands came up to cup the back of his neck, and Lex smiled softly at its pressure. He pulled back slowly.

"Come back," Clark whispered into the space between their lips. His eyes were still half-closed.

"So demanding," Lex replied, reaching out to drag a slow thumb across that insatiable mouth. "It's been hours now. I thought we could venture forth in search of sustenance."

Clark's eyes snapped open. "I guess I could eat," he said. Lex repressed the urge to laugh out loud.

"The Talon?" he asked, finding Clark's hand among the covers and pulling him to his feet. "I don't need anything more than sandwiches and coffee."

"You'll have to give me my shirt back," Clark replied with a grin, his fingers trying vainly to restore order to his inky hair.

Lex's hands ran down his chest, fingering the flannel. Clark wasn't sure for whose benefit the motion was. "I like this," Lex whispered in a way that made his heart thud crazily. "It's the closest I can get to slipping into your skin."

"You can keep it then," Clark answered faintly. "But I'll still need it, at least long enough to go out."

"I'll take that deal," Lex said, kissing him again. When they parted, their gazes were still lingering. "We're coming back here afterwards though?"

"Definitely," Clark said.

Lex turned away, smiling. He gave the soft cotton one last reluctant caress before letting it fall off his shoulders. "What do you suppose people would think if I turned up to the Talon in this?"

"Probably that you'd lost your mind," Clark said, letting his fingers trail slowly down Lex's forearm before reclaiming his shirt.

"Well, I haven't," Lex said, his hand slipping impetuously around Clark's hip. "Just my heart."