Allure Zaeria Cheng Disclaimer: They are mine. o.O And if you believe that, I am also a two-inch tall, purple-skinned, golden-eyed, blue-haired winged fairy creature. The sky is an iridescent shade of tangerine. Shakespeare was a brilliant physicist and a lousy writer, and I have beachfront property in Arizona to sell you. Note: This damn plot bunny just sat there and stared at me when I had the time to write. It refused to acknowledge my pleading for it to hurry up and get written. Now that I am inundated with class-work up the wazoo, it’s banging, fussing, and generally stirring up a ruckus to get written. And the forks in the road! You’ve no idea how many times I had to rewrite parts of it to fit others! I need to have a serious talk with my damn muses. My second entry for the 8th Wave, Last Line challenge. Spoilers: Nope, not here. Not that I know of, anyway. I am exercising my creative license as an author. Don’t we all? Lex nursed his glass of whiskey as he stared morosely into the fire, the formerly full decanter of finely aged scotch half-empty on the low table in front of him. He was different. Knew he was different, had been different since that fateful day here in Smallville when the meteors had struck Earth. The lack of hair in all areas that’d been exposed was the first, and most obvious, clue. Then, there was the loss (and thank fuck for that!) of the asthma that had made him a weak, sickly child. Less obvious was the fact that, since that day, he didn’t seem to get sick anymore. It was as if he’d gained an immunity to all sorts of afflictions, common and exotic—the cold, the flu, sexually transmitted diseases—as well as a faster than normal rate of healing, all of which he was supremely grateful for, he really was. But, in his mind, none of this could compare with the strongest indicator that All Was Not Normal in Lex-Ville. He threw back the drink, and poured himself another. Looking at the big picture rationally, Lex had come to several conclusions. His hair for his health was more than a fair trade, in Lex’ mind. Which was preferable? A head of unruly, fiery red curls that frizzed and poufed at the slightest provocation? Or a body so healthy, it bordered on ridiculous? No contest there. His baldness may have alienated him for most (oh, all right, damn it! All!) of his prepubescent life, but at least he couldn’t get sick anymore. His metabolism was such that, as he’d discovered quite early on in his wild teens, he could indulge in all sorts of exciting (and often illegal) substances with very little repercussion of the permanent sort. Immunity and metabolism combined had allowed him to partake of marijuana, acid, heroin, cocaine, ecstasy, and all sorts of other potentially lethal pharmaceutical cocktails without fucking himself up beyond all repair. He’d experienced a few happy hours of detachment in delirium, oftentimes followed by a few hours’ worth of miserable nausea and confusion, before sleeping everything off and waking up (usually) the next morning perfectly fine, as if he’d never partaken in the first place. He’d finally just quit everything, because seeking oblivion with the help of chemical substances just wasn’t doing it for him. The only vice he’d held on to was the penchant for fine liquor…but that was entirely beside the point. And it wasn’t a vice right now. Alcohol was his friend… No, the biggest gift (or was it a curse?) that the meteors had given him wasn’t completely physical or physiological. In fact, Lex wasn’t sure what the hell it was, only that it seemed to be part psychological; something involving mental commands and strange pheromones that didn’t quite fit into any given category. It was most likened to a sort of…sexual lasso. He’d run all sorts of --experiments-- but had reached no conclusions, mainly due to the fact that he couldn’t determine whether or not he was influencing the results somehow. Lex had discovered, upon hitting puberty, that he could entice others to do his bidding, then to his bed, or to his bed directly. After he’d ‘caught’ his conquest, the ‘leash’ slipped and returned to him. He’d thought of this ability to allure a gift until recently; a way to get something he wanted when his money or the Luthor name didn’t work. All he had to do was concentrate on his wants, and before long the others would be falling over themselves to please him. A gift, until that goddamned night in this god-forsaken town when he’d crashed his Porsche into the creek…river…whatever. He downed the whiskey in the glass, the finely aged liquid burning as it went down, and slammed the crystal glass onto the table. Lex let his head fall into his hands, rubbing them despondently over his scalp. That’s when this…gift…became a curse. He was in love. The fucking, ‘happily-ever-after, burn-the-little-black-book-because-this-is-FOREVER’ kind of love. And that was the problem, wasn’t it? No, it couldn’t be passing lust. Lust he could handle. It had to be Love, with a definite capital L. With his best friend. The utterly fuckable, drop-dead gorgeous, in every way perfect, UNDERAGE, MALE, undeniably STRAIGHT farm boy Clark Kent. The one person, it seemed, left on the entire planet that didn’t see the Luthor, only the Lex. The only individual who’d managed to bypass all of the walls and fucking security systems Lex had built inside to protect his heart. The person who’d, for this past week, had driven him to the very brink of insanity through sheer sexual frustration, a brink he clung to with the very fibers of his being not to go over. To do so would be to invite the certain death of his soul in that it meant the loss of the friendship of this man-boy. God, he’d never jerked off so many times before in all his promiscuous days…and the damn fantasies didn’t help any. Pounding that golden-tanned backside into the mattress, sheathing himself into that tight, dark heat again and again as Clark’s blue-green eyes darken with passion and lust, his well muscled form taut with his incipient orgasm…impaling himself on the undoubtedly gorgeous cock hiding beneath Clark’s clothing…indulging in extended cuddling after sex, whispering sweet nothings into each others’ ears…Lex let out a half-snarl, half-hysterical laugh. God, when the hell did he turn into such a fucking sap?! Oh yeah… He’d been in love with Clark since the moment he’d opened his eyes to discover Clark’s wet, dripping form above him on the riverbank, clothes molded to that illegally sinful body with water. He’d been confused, more so after the return of the truck, and the fact that Clark seemed to genuinely want to get to know him. Lex kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, all the while basking in this new sensation of having a friend, one with no ulterior motives, and Lex had come to relish it. That was why Lex had reigned in the urge to lure Clark into his bed; he was terrified of the possibility of losing Clark forever if he tried. That’s why, this past week, the first of the two of Spring Vacation given to Smallville youth, had been pure and utter hell. The damn innocent boy had been everywhere! Lex had never been more tempted—several times he’d barely been aware that he’d ‘activated,’ for lack of a better term, his Allurement. Thank goodness he’d realized what was happening before Clark had a chance to notice, and made all the necessary preparations to avoid places where the teen was sure to be. His gorgeous, clueless Clark would never notice if Lex had anything to do about it. No, better to leave Clark to pine after the lovely (and vacuous, and flaky, and creepy…) Ms. Lang; he deserved better than Lex. He sat up, resolved in his decision. That didn’t mean he couldn’t mope about it, though. “Damn it all to hell. The one person I’m truly, madly, deeply in love with…” here, Lex, bypassing the glass on the table, reached for and snagged the decanter “…and I’ve got to protect that innocent farm boy from ever finding out.” He raised the bottle to his lips, and began to swallow… ^.^ CLex ^.^ CLex ^.^ CLex ^.^ CLex ^.^ CLex ^.^ CLex ^.^ CLex ^.^ CLex ^.^ CLex ^.^ Clark Kent was a lot of things; tall, alien, relatively well built from hours of farm work, utterly in love with his best friend, and frustrated beyond all belief. He was pretty damn sure that at least three of the above were related to each other. True, he’d been attracted to Lex ever since the young billionaire had literally crashed into town, but this attraction had gotten…stronger, to say the least. He thought at first that it was just because Lex was a big-city person with an exciting life, but that couldn’t be it, because Chloe was a Metropolis transplant too, and Clark felt nothing for her beyond friendship. What Clark felt for Lex was unlike anything he’d ever felt before; his infamous crush on Lana didn’t even begin to compare to how he felt about Lex! It was an urge, an indistinct, indescribable need to possess and be possessed. Was he gay? Not really…he felt no such attraction to any other guys he know. But thoughts of girls did nothing for him, either. It was Lex, all Lex, and only Lex. He flopped down onto the battered couch in the loft for a moment before jumping up again and resuming his restless pacing. Back and forth, back and forth he walked, not noticing that he was creating a veritable miniature hurricane in his preoccupation. Something had clicked that night on the riverbank. When he’d laid eyes on the unconscious form of a wet Lex Luthor after pulling him out of his totaled vehicle and from the river, something inside screamed frantically for Clark to do something, anything to save the life of this young man. Afterwards, he couldn’t help but to be drawn to Lex. Sure, he still chased after Lana and all, but this was more of an automatic repetition of a habit he didn’t even realize he was doing. Where before he’d been aware, but uncaring that he was blatantly mooning over the slightly vapid girl, his mind had slowly filled with thoughts of a cool, cultured bald billionaire. R- and X-rated thoughts with full color, surround-sound intensity. Thoughts that dominated his mind nowadays, especially since he’d figured out precisely why he was so fixated on one Lex Luthor. It had actually happened a month or so ago, the mind-numbing epiphany. He was walking with Pete to class past the Biology room when he’d noticed the posters out of the corner of his eyes, clues and connotations and evidence galore in his brain coalesced at warp speed, and he’d promptly tripped over his own two feet. The posters were of the ‘class project’ variety, displaying the life cycles of various creatures. The life cycle charts all had a section entitled “Mating Habits.” This was the word that delivered the proverbial smack upside the head. Mating. Mate. Lex was his Mate, the one his alien physiology found to be the most compatible. Once he’d made the connection and accepted it for what it was, Clark began to quietly observe. He knew Lex wanted him. The smoldering, hungry glances that Lex had shot at him when he thought Clark was unaware, coupled with the suggestive undertones in the conversations that they’d had together, and the subtly provocative actions (who the hell else drank from a bottle in such a…a…an arousing manner?!) all indicated thus. So Clark started responding. This had the result of Lex backing off. So Clark waited the week and a half until Spring Vacation to put his plan of seducing Lex into action, thinking that, with other distractions out of the way, it would work better. This had Lex closing up tighter than a clam in high tide. Here he was going out of his way to woo his chosen Mate, and said Mate goes out of his way to purposely send mixed signals. At first Clark thought Lex was responding to his flirtation, could feel the mating bond reaching out to him, only to withdraw. And now the damn man was hiding from him! Hence Clark’s current state of irritation; with himself for not realizing sooner, with Lex for withdrawing behind his damn corporate façade, with the fact that he walked around nowadays sporting a semi-erection, that became full blown at the least little thing that reminded him of Lex, and that he couldn’t get rid of even if he tried thinking about other things. Thinking about the bitch made Clark want to put his mark on Lex in the worst possible way. Thinking about meteor mutants caused all sorts of grocery-store romance novel scenarios to play out in his mind, with Lex as the hero and him as the rescued maiden in distress, and vice versa. Hell, even thinking about Lionel made his thoughts gravitate towards thoughts of Lex, and thoughts of other things with Lex, and to Lex, and…and… “AAARRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!! Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK!” He screamed at the top of his lungs. Clark stopped pacing and stood there, breathing slowly and deeply in an effort to calm himself down. He glanced out the window, and rapidly decided on a course of action. “Right. Mom and Dad are in Metropolis; they’ll be back sometime day after tomorrow. Chores are all done until then. I’m tired, I’m frustrated, I’m horny, I have at least 24 hours, and I. Want. My. Mate!” With this, Clark zipped to the house and made sure everything was locked up, zipped to the barn to lock everything up there, and super-sped to the castle, where he was certain Lex had holed himself up. Going over the gates were a piece of cake, and the security systems were a joke, despite having been beefed up after recent events. Using his x-ray vision, Clark quickly scanned the castle, and found his Mate’s form in the study. He entered the castle and ran up to the study in time to hear something that caused hope to replace most of the frustration in his turbulent mind. ^.^ CLex ^.^ CLex ^.^ CLex ^.^ CLex ^.^ CLex ^.^ CLex ^.^ CLex ^.^ CLex ^.^ CLex ^.^ “Who’s an innocent farm boy?” Lex choked on the mouthful of liquid in his mouth, accidentally spilling a portion of the scotch on himself before he righted the bottle. He turned his head towards the doorway, and blinked. “C-clark?” Damnit. Lex knew he did not just squeak! There he stood; all tall and dark, with wind-tousled hair and reddened lips and cheeks…Lex suppressed the urge to moan, unconsciously licking his lips. “Hmm?” Clark took a step into the room and paused, entranced by the view. Lex was sprawled elegantly on the leather couch, one hand resting on the back, the other hanging off the edge holding the (mostly empty) decanter of amber liquid. The pale blue shirt, unbuttoned at the neck and rolled up at the sleeves, and the dark grey slacks did nothing to disguise the lithe, muscular physique, and the glow of the fire created fascinating light and shadow plays on the plush cream rug in front of it, the dark leather of the couch, and the pale, smooth skin of the man on the couch. A few stray spilled droplets of liquid that hadn’t been wiped away glistened at the base of Lex’ throat. When Lex licked his lips, Clark shuddered and slowly walked forward. “Clark. Uh…what are you doing here? It’s late…how did you get in?” Lex asked. He was surprised that his voice came out as evenly as it did, considering Clark was practically prowling his way, sensual in his fluid movements. He forcefully pressed down on his growing arousal, and fought the urge to jump up in nervous energy. Lex merely sat up a bit, making room on the couch for Clark to sit. He stared at the fire, to avoid staring at Clark. “Answer the question, Lex.” Clark said lowly, huskily, as he ignored the couch to kneel in front of Lex. He reached out a hand, and forced Lex to meet his eyes. He leaned in until they were eye-to-eye, breaths brushing tantalizingly against the other’s lips at every exhalation. The blue-gray pair darkened with growing lust, as the green-blue pair sparkled with longing, and something else. “Who’s an innocent farm boy?” Lex’ brain scrambled to find a reply even as all blood was abruptly redirected south. “Y-you are…” Lex heard himself stutter roughly. He saw Clark’s eyes flare with emotion before he was dragged the scant centimeters that separated them into an explosive kiss. Tongues dueled, slipping and sliding together, twining from one mouth to the other. It was wet, it was sloppy, it was sweet and slick and oh-so-fucking-HOT. But somehow, two of Lex’ brain cells that survived meltdown were able to rub together and make Lex break the kiss. “W-wait, Clark.” he gasped out, pulling back. Clark made a low noise of protest, and tried to follow Lex’ lips. “No…no, Clark, stop!” He pushed on Clark’s broad shoulders, and Clark reluctantly sat back down on his haunches. Lex nearly said to hell with his damned morals when he saw those kiss-swollen lips, but managed to steel himself against his desires. “Listen, Clark, you…” he swallowed thickly. “You don’t know what you’re doing.” Clark was a very unhappy alien. His Mate wanted him as much as he wanted his Mate, they were quite happily kissing, and now, now they stopped! What the hell was up with the stopping?! No stopping allowed! Clothes…too many clothes…”Yes I do, Lex.” Clark started to unbutton his flannel outer shirt. Lex twitched. “Clark.” He said carefully, closing his eyes tightly. “What are you doing?” “What does it look like I’m doing, Lex? Seducing you, since you won’t seduce me.” Clark snorted in reply. He tossed the flannel aside. “Do you have a problem with that?” He started to tug the t-shirt he wore underneath out of his denims. “Gggaaahhhhhh…uh…Yes. Yes, damn it, I do!” Lex was torn, but determined to do the right thing. Even with Clark stripping in front of him. He was hard-pressed to open his eyes, but resisted. For the moment. “You don’t know what you’re doing! Listen, Clark, I’m sorry, but this isn’t you!” “Trust me, Lex. This is me.” Clark shucked the cotton shirt, tossing it off to join the flannel. He leaned back on his arms, half-reclining on the rug. “Look at me, Lex. This is me, all me, and I want you.” Against his will, Lex’ eyes popped open to see a half-naked Clark; tanned skin contrasting erotically with the cream rug, framed by the blazing fireplace. God…all that golden satiny skin stretched over rippling muscles…Lex had to mentally slap himself to shift his focus away from this manifestation of his one of his favorite wet dreams to the matter at hand; namely, doing the right thing. Both his hormones and his (very) interested dick protested. “NO, Clark, you don’t understand! You…you don’t really want this…” In reply to this feeble argument, Clark popped the button on his jeans and began to play with the zipper. “No…what I want is for you to take me, mark me, make me yours, Lex.” Said man moaned, trembling with desire. Against his will, he felt his Allure reaching out, and tried to rein it in. At this, Clark frowned and sat up. “Lex, why are you fighting it? The bond between us…why won’t you allow it?” It took Lex a moment to decipher these words, but once he did he grasped at them like a lifeline. “What? Clark! Are you telling me you can feel the Allure?!” He was flabbergasted. “Yes, I can.” Clark shrugged. “But how is that possible?” Lex asked. His mind was in turmoil, and what Clark said next was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. “Because I want it. I want you, Lex.” At this statement, delivered in a matter-of-fact tone of voice, the Allure slipped out of Lex’ control and lashed out. To his amazement, he felt the Allurement catch and anchor onto something. More, he felt something similar connect to him, and a wave of emotions not his washed over him. Longing…frustration…desire…regret…lust…waiting…need…adoration…exasperation…attraction…LOVE. At this last, the final delicate thread holding Lex back snapped. With a groan, Lex pounced. ^.^ CLex ^.^ CLex ^.^ CLex ^.^ CLex ^.^ CLex ^.^ CLex ^.^ CLex ^.^ CLex ^.^ CLex ^.^ Clark moaned lightly, rubbing his face into the plush, sot rug underneath him. He shifted slightly, and luxuriated in the warm, smooth body sliding against his back, the ragged breathing puffing against his neck, hands still gripping possessively at his shoulder and his hip. He unclenched his hands from the rug by his head, and wriggled a bit more, at the delicious ache in his ass and the welcome invader that had caused that ache still half-hard and half in him, paying no attention to the sticky and cooling mess under him. He exulted at the Bond he could feel, thrumming between him and his Mate. Said Mate was just now coming to. “Mm…Lex…” he practically purred, then gave a moan of disappointment as Lex pulled out of him. “Clark…” Lex’ voice was still rough with passion. “What…the hell…just happened? Besides the best sex I’ve had in my entire life?” “Um…we’ve been Bonded?” Clark blushed, not daring to look at his Mate. “What do you mean, ‘Bonded’?” Lex persisted. The scientist in him was valiantly digging its way out of a haze of euphoria, and wanted answers. “You love me, right?” Clark asked unexpectedly. “Even if I weren’t what you thought I was, you love me?” He looked up at Lex, his eyes—and the Bond—reflecting his trepidation at Lex’ answer. “Damn it. Yes, I love you, I'm in love with you. Have been in love with you since the night on the riverbank. I couldn't care less if you were really a mass murderer or a meteor mutant or a damn reporter or even some random guy my father hired to ruin me! I. LOVE. YOU. Now tell me about the Bond.” Lex demanded, and was caught off guard and tackled to the rug by an ecstatically happy Clark in a full body, full contact hug. He spared a passing thought thanking who-ever that the rug was so soft and thick. “Nope on all accounts, Lex. I’m an alien. You did hit me with your Porsche. I came down with the meteors that day.” Clark ran a hand over the smooth scalp of his lover, his Mate, before running it down his body. “We’re Bonded, meaning that we can feel each others’ emotions, because I’ve chosen you to be my Mate.” Clark felt confusion and elation and doubt and Lex’ low self-esteem thrum down the Bond. “An…an alien?! And why me, of all people? Surely there are others better suited to you! I mean, I’m just me, nothing special, but you! You’re gorgeous, you…” Lex cut off with a strangled gasp as Clark grasped Lex’ renewed erection in one hand, rose to his knees straddling Lex, positioned, and impaled himself in one smooth motion. “B-be—because you are…the only one…for me, Lex…” Clark gasped out, rocking back and forth. He paused in his movements, leaned down, and gave Lex a very deep kiss, conveying his sincerity and his love through it and the Bond. “I love you.” He felt satisfaction as the negative emotions disappeared in the wake of their shared love. Right before he resumed riding, Clark said one more thing, to refute a statement his Mate had made that was severely irritating him. “For the record, Love? You’re not ‘just you.’ I can't imagine a time I wouldn't have found you fascinating." <<