Clark feels color now.
Lex's cock burns red-hot beneath him, twitching under his tentative touch. The heat guides him, like petal tracks to nectar. Even blind bees find the pollen.
He is molten gold pouring over Lex, streaming, sinking in, everywhere. His body knows where to flow by nature, each part of him finding its home in Lex's angles and curves and depths. They both glow, pale and golden tangled limbs and torsos gleaming in the still air. Their radiance is tangible, honeyed joy.
The midnight blue breath of the room cocoons them, soft and unobstrusive.
Clark drinks white nectar.