Common Scents

Lex didn’t last long at the party. He tried to mingle and network, but when his attention was blissfully diverted from a sticky fingered associate that worked for his father, the distraction let him fully observe his surroundings for too long. His eyes grazed over the highly glossed party guests, tipsy with holiday cheer and roaring even more loudly to be heard over the entertainers suddenly belting out “Deck the Halls”, and the negative sensory stimulus drove him out of the room.

Back in the atrium, the lowered decibel of mindless chatter allowed him to hear himself hum ‘pa rum pa pum pum’ again, still looping in his mind from Clark’s apartment, and a detached curiosity made him wonder when he’d become an experiment for one of Clark’s classes. Clark had obviously learned the finer points of mind control from some course at school, though Lex couldn’t recall any psych classes in Clark’s schedule.

Obviously, Lex had been programmed to forget.

A sleek Asian woman was also trying to escape the fetid festivities and her pointed heels clicked like a metronome against the marbled floor. The easy sway of her hips under the red silk dress also punctuated each ‘rum’ and ‘pum’ of the song continuously looping in Lex’s head.

Was it some sort of sleeper trigger?

She walked by the Christmas tree, looming large in the annex and Lex continued to hum, critically eyeing the behemoth pine. The tree had gold lights nested deep within its boughs and thick red ribbons with gold trim streamed down from the glittering star on top. When Lex handed the valet attendant his ticket, the attendant opened the entrance to brave the cold again and a gust of wind fluttered the ribbons. The tree stood bare and looking incensed, the little lights flashing brighter. It was obviously artificial; the musty plastic stench wafting over the bracing blast of air from outside, and Lex knew the needles wouldn’t feel right either.

His skin still prickled some, a delicious little itch around his nipples where Clark had decided to show him the difference between artificial and real pine needles. Lex felt his groin tighten again when he lightly scratched at the sense memory emanating from his chest.

He was Pavlov’s bitch in heat.


***

Lex could smell the heavy scent of fresh greenery from the voluptuous wreath on Clark’s door when he entered the apartment building. He automatically inhaled deeply, like he needed the smell infused with his oxygen, and rapped once on the door to announce his arrival before letting himself in.

Clark was teetering on a rickety step ladder as he strung multi-colored blinking lights with clear flower caps along the archway between his kitchen and living room.

“Hey,” he smiled, surprised but pleased. “I thought you were going to that Christmas party.”

“I thought you were studying,” Lex replied, glancing around for Clark’s textbooks or notes. Something to tell him what other devious experiments he would be subjected to.

“Done,” Clark proclaimed. “I’m so ready for this final.”

“Which class?” Lex asked again. Still searching.

Clark frowned. “Mass Media. Are you feeling alright? You’ve been… distracted all day. Ever since we started shopping this morning.” He studied Lex more closely. “You usually like shopping. I even let you pay for the Christmas CDs.”

Lex blinked at him. Yes, how benevolent. If Clark really cared, he would’ve let Lex pay for the damn decorations that had to cost him a month’s worth of his meager pay as an intern at The Planet.

“I’m fine, Clark,” he lied.

Lex went to the stereo playing softly in the background. Clark had it on repeat and must’ve listened to Jessica and Ashley Simpson’s rendition of various holiday favorites, including the Little Drummer Boy, a hundred times now. To Lex it sounded like cats being tortured and he wondered if that was what was causing his discomfort at the party. Perhaps they’d developed a telepathic connection. He cast a sidelong glance at Clark, still battling the tangled Christmas lights. Now that wouldn’t have surprised him at all.

Lex changed the CD and Bing Crosby began crooning “White Christmas.”

Clark hopped down and pecked the corner of Lex’s mouth. “So what do you think?” he asked, sweeping his arms in a stunted arc to showcase the small and overly decorated room. His eyebrows danced mischievously when he added, “I haven’t put up the surprise yet though.”

Right. The mysterious bag that got Lex’s hand slapped when he tried to peek inside.

“The tree is still leaning,” Lex replied petulantly.

Clark rolled his eyes. “Did you eat?” he asked, ignoring Lex’s determined look as he assessed the tree.

It really was distracting that way.

“Lex?”

Lex knew he couldn’t really count the half a glass of champagne and bite of brie he forced himself to choke down at the party. “No.”

“Don’t tip it over,” Clark warned as he rummaged in the refrigerator.

Lex had no intention of attempting to straighten the tree or turn it to simply point out the window as they had tried before. He was still unsure any cleaners could get the sap out of his sweater.

By the time Clark set out a plate of cookies and two glasses of eggnog, Lex had removed his coat and jacket, loosened his tie, and rolled up his sleeves to begin rearranging the ornaments for some illusion of balance. Deft fingers moved the little hooks displaying Clark’s keepsakes from school crafts. Other handmade trinkets Martha had probably bought from local fairs and fundraisers. The decorated glass bulbs that had intricate winter scenes and various years painted on them. Other balls that were just plain solid color, mostly red and blue.

After a few moments, he stepped back to assess his work and Clark pressed one of Martha’s sugar cookies into his hand. Clark stood beside him, head tilted to one side as he critiqued, “The glass balls should be on the bottom. In case they fall off, they won’t break then.”

“I’ll buy you new ones.”

Clark sniffed in disapproval, but just pointed to a now exposed spot, virtually stripped of needles during the tight squeeze in the door. “I still have some more tinsel or garland--”

“No,” Lex replied quickly, looking at the pile of blue garland at Clark’s feet like it was a coiled snake, ready to strike. He moved a few more ornaments into the hole.

Clark nodded. “Alright, now for the final touch.” He picked up a spray can and shook it vigorously.

Lex recognized it as the ‘artificial snow’ Clark had used to write annoying seasonal messages of good wishes to unsuspecting passersby on the windows. He stepped back, chugging his glass of eggnog as Clark sprayed a generous layer of white fluff on the tree branches.

“Okay, let’s plug in the lights,” Clark declared, clapping his hands in anticipation.

In a flash, he was on his hands and knees, rooting around under the tree skirt for the cords. He was taking too long though and Lex’s impatient fingers, of their own volition, were suddenly sliding along that exposed skin where Clark’s sweater rode up on his back. And he didn’t feel any remorse. The teasing little patch was just begging for it, really.

“That tickles,” Clark protested huffily, trying to wiggle away, but actually just shaking his ass at Lex some more.

May as well be ringing the dinner bell.

Lex’s hand slid down, fingers working into the back of Clark’s jeans and Clark quickly lost interest in the lights. He abandoned his search for the elusive cords and scooted back out from under the tree, turning on his knees to look at Lex. His hair was disheveled from the skirmish, covered in pine needles and his face was lit up with a smile that that definitely said ‘come and get it.’

Lex eagerly dropped to his knees, but Clark suddenly bounced up like the other end of a see-saw. “Wait!”

He ran to the kitchen and returned with the mysterious bag. Clark’s smile now was definitely going to put him at the top of Lex’s naughty list, but the spot was clinched as Clark produced a sprig of mistletoe.

And held it over his groin.

***

Clark slid a pillow behind his back and leaned against the sofa, pulling Lex’s limp body up against his chest and covering them with a soft worn afghan.

“Oh, the lights,” Clark mumbled around a contented yawn.

Lex was finally getting the feeling back in his legs and he pulled away to locate the power strip for the lights. He plugged in the tree, the lights over the archway, and the string outlining the living room window. A chaotic flurry of multi-colored blinking lights bombarded him and he switched off the lamp behind Clark’s head before he settled back down. Clark manhandle him some more until he was leaning against Clark’s chest, their limbs entwined so it was virtually impossible to get away again.

To his last breath, Lex would swear it was the damn lights, combined with sleep deprivation and hunger— all commonly used to brainwash prisoners—that made him do it.

“We should tell your parents about us.”

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