"—So I thought, maybe this is my fate. Destiny doesn't want me dead, but it doesn't want me alive either. I had to do something to change this world," Clark continued.
Soren caressed the scar.
He remembered when he had once run through the cornfields to wipe the red paint from Clark's chest when he was tied to the cross.
But now, no matter how hard he tried, this scar couldn't be wiped away.
He looked up at Clark, and the vulnerability in Clark's expression shattered his own reason in an instant.
...He wanted to love him with everything he had.
"I'm back now, Clark. I'm back," he whispered as he held Clark tightly, repeating, "Everything you've lost will come back. We'll be okay again. Believe me."
Clark ran his fingers through Soren's hair, and suddenly, Soren took a deep breath, feeling an urgency rise within him.
He tilted his head and kissed Clark's jaw, then moved...
"Soren!" Clark was utterly shocked, trying to pull Soren back, his entire face turning crimson in an instant.
But Soren stubbornly refused to get up.
He didn't have much experience, only relying on some vague references he'd come across to make an attempt.
For Clark, though, this was far too much.
The most overwhelming part was that it was Soren doing this.
Soren, of all people!
Clark's head was about to explode—he never thought he'd find himself in such a situation!!
...
As things escalated, Clark desperately tried to push Soren away, but Soren refused to let go and determined to go through with it... all the way to the end.
...Soren's eyes began to water, his mouth aching terribly.
Clark quickly scooped him up, cradling him in his arms, and pinched Soren's cheeks.
His voice was filled with panic as he said, "Do you realize you could've been in serious danger? I could have... gone straight through your skull! Spit it out, please, Soren, just spit it out."
Soren frantically shook his head, closing his eyes as he forced it down.
With a gulp, it was all swallowed.
Clark's eyes went wide, turning red with worry: "Soren!!"
Soren gasped for air, his face flushed as he burrowed into Clark's chest, still trying to act tough despite the situation.
In a small, cocky voice, like a man trying to impress a lover, he muttered, "Wasn't I amazing?"
Clark's breathing was heavy, and he still felt like he was dreaming: "Why would you..."
Soren's scalp tingled with embarrassment.
"Why are you asking so many questions?" he mumbled shyly.
Clark's heart was melting.
He picked Soren up, kissing him tenderly over and over, his love for Soren so full that it was overflowing, and he didn't even know where to put him anymore.
But as he kept kissing him, Soren who is sitting on his lap, suddenly felt something…
Soren was completely stunned: …No way.
Is this what it means to be a Kryptonian, Clark Kent?!
Clark's face turned an even deeper shade of red.
He looked like an awkward college boy, trying to evade the situation, mumbling, "…It's nothing. It'll go away soon."
However, once someone gets a taste of something, it's impossible to ignore it so easily.
After a while, Soren noticed that not only had it not gone away, but it seemed to have... intensified.
Now, Soren was so embarrassed he couldn't even lift his head, "You're just... too much…"
Clark's face was just as flushed.
"I didn't mean to… I…" He hesitated for a long moment before stammering, "I'm sorry."
Then, Clark leaned in to kiss Soren again, very politely asking for his consent: "…Is it okay?"
…
But soon after, Soren started crying.
He had never imagined that Clark Kent… truly wasn't human!
He's more like a beast!
A beast! A beast! A dog in heat, right?
He must be a dog, he's definitely a dog in heat!
Soren kept sobbing uncontrollably, "No more… please… no more… I can't take it anymore Clark…"
Several times, Soren tried to crawl away.
But each time, Clark would pull him right back.
At first, Soren still had the strength to cry.
By the end, he couldn't even make a sound.
He could only let his hands hang limply, like a cloud that had been completely torn apart.
…
The next morning, Soren could barely lift a finger.
He lay weakly under the blankets, remembering how by the end of the night, Clark had even started obsessively kissing his feet.
His arches had been caressed over and over, to the point where it felt like the skin had been rubbed raw.
Clark had even spoken in a voice filled with fascination, praising his feet, insisting on using the arches for...
And that wasn't even mentioning the rest of him that had been thoroughly... ravaged.
Soren turned his head to look out the window, tears spilling silently before he could say a word.
His feet… weren't clean anymore.
Clark had been waking up early and tidying the room.
He looked like someone who had just been gifted the entire world—overjoyed, with an invisible tail wagging furiously behind him like a happy golden retriever.
He hadn't been this happy in years.
This was, without a doubt, the best day he had experienced in ages.
It was as if the empty, hollow space in his heart had suddenly been filled with warm water, overflowing and warming every inch of him.
Clark had once been a man drifting alone, gazing down at the world from a lonely height.
But now, he was tethered by a single thread, and Soren's hand firmly held the other end of that thread.
Clark's boundless energy allowed him to clean the entire Kent farm in one morning.
He weeded, mopped, wiped the windows, and even prepared an incredibly hearty breakfast.
As soon as he heard Soren waking up, he rushed into the room with the food.
Soren, feeling utterly defeated, glanced at him, and the flood of emotions immediately welled up inside.
"You didn't listen to me at all yesterday..." Soren's eyes began to brim with tears.