Title: Paying the Piper
Series: 1st in The Awakening Series.
Author: Artemis
E-mail: ArtemisRaine@hotmail.com
Rating: R
Pairing: Lex/Clark unrequited
Classification: Romance
Disclaimers: I don't own the pretty boys or their friends in the
Smallville and Gotham universes. If I did, the CLex would be
riftless and eternally in love. Neither money nor profits were made
in the creation or posting of this story, and I have no money
anyway.
Spoilers: Season 1; the first half of Season 2.
Summary: On a weekend trip to Metropolis, Lex is forced to bring
Clark to a gay club. Clark is confronted with startling hidden
truths about his best friend. It is followed by the second story in
the Awakening Series, "The Sandman Visits".
Challenge: CLex Fest Wave 7: The First Line… "Lex, this club is full
of guys, and no girls."

Warnings: Same Sex (MALE/MALE) relationship. If this turns you off
or offends, go back now.

Author's Notes: MINOR SPOILERS AHEAD. DO NOT READ IF YOU WANT TO
READ THE STORY UNSPOILED. This story is an off-shoot of the series
about mid-second season, so it's an alternative universe. Lucas is
still running around somewhere and Clark did tentatively sort-of date
Lana his sophomore year, but no evil Jor-El, no evil Helen, no evil
Lionel---other than his usual Machiavellian self. Clark is still
pretty much in the dark about where he comes from and why he was sent
away, and Martha is still hiding the key to the ship in the flour
canister. Clark and Lex have become better, closer friends in the
last half of the year versus the distance shown in canon. And
Whitney is alive, though he's still out there playing soldier boy.
He deserved a better end than being a red shirt---Star Trek reference
for anyone who hasn't heard it before that meant he was just cannon
fodder. Thanks goes to my beta Rogue. January 2004.



Paying the Piper


"Lex, this club is full of guys, and no girls."

Lex cringed internally at Clark's query, his sweet, euphonious voice
full of confusion and insecurity. He looked back over his shoulder
and saw that impossibly beautiful face flickering between hesitation
and shock---a face Lex still saw in his dreams; dreams where he
relived their encounter on a bridge and the riverbank he woke up on
with brackish water in his mouth, the ghostly imprint of warm lips on
his own, and the sight of what he'd believed to be an angel kneeling
over him.

The angel part might have been wrong, but the boy truly looked the
part with high cheekbones, full pouty lips most women would happily
kill for, big green eyes framed by long dark lashes, and miles of
golden skin on a body worthy of a Greek god. Though he didn't
totally discount his initial perceptions. Clark Kent was much more
than a sixteen-year-old boy with a Lancelot complex and a soft spot
for rescuing a particular dark-haired maiden. He had many special
abilities that Lex had witnessed either personally or seen proof of
during various investigations of his strange, possibly even
paranormal, new town. He had several existing theories on why his
own self-appointed guardian angel had metaphysical or metahuman
abilities, and while he didn't believe his angel hypothesis had a
high probability of being correct, he wouldn't completely discount it
until it could be proven false.

Or one of the other theories proven true.

He knew it was only a matter of time before he either had validation
of the truth, or Clark finally came to the realization that he could
trust Lex. With his secrets. And with his life.

While Lex was at times impatient for Clark to realize just how
unwaveringly loyal he was---after all, he'd killed a man for Clark---
he had to admit that there was a clandestine, vicarious thread of
relish in not quite knowing the truth, in having all sorts of
fanciful and fantastical daydreams about just what sort of something
wonderful the raven-haired beauty might be. As much as he wanted to
know the truth, both for the sake of satisfying his insatiable
curiosity and to be given that ultimate proof of faith, he liked
being able to speculate just what manner of extraordinary his best
friend could be.

As unlikely as it was, he could admit privately to himself that in
spite of his normally rather derisive skepticism towards organized
religion, a small part of him---the same whimsical part that had
wished at the age of ten that he was Warrior Angel, the same part
that still loved to read comic books and watch anime---found it
extremely appealing that perhaps Clark really was an earth-bound
angel. Someone sent, maybe, by his mom to watch over him.

Someone sent so he wouldn't be alone.

Someone just for him.

Lex squeezed his eyes shut, pushing that thought away. He didn't
have time for senseless sentimentality.

Clark was looking around the dark club, moss green eyes as big as
saucers, and those sinful lips open in a perpetual gasp of
disbelief. Even in the dim lighting of the club, Lex could see
cheeks painted a becoming pink, which only served to enhance and
complement his dark coloring, as Clark got his first eyeful of a
nightlife he probably hadn't ever realized existed. Hell, knowing
the naïveté of his farmboy and how pathologically sheltered he'd been
raised by the Kents, there was a very, very good chance Clark hadn't
even realized yet that this was a club where only men were allowed
entrance for a very good reason.

Lex snorted to himself. He wasn't even sure that Clark knew that men
could fuck other men. He wouldn't put it past Papa Kent to have
raised his little boy to believe that all good boys and girls paired
up for procreation like one big happy ark of morally righteousness
breeders, so that the very idea of anything else would be
unimaginable. Literally.

"Lex?"

Lex felt his face want to break out of its usual impassiveness and
into a snarl as he saw heads turn and eyes focus in like lasers onto
Clark as his voice---small and tentative, with just a tremble of
something like uncertainty or fear, yet as sweet as honey and
sunshine---seemed to cleave through the darkness like a shaft of
light. It seemed he wasn't the only one to notice just how pretty
Clark looked, blushing and big-eyed, even as the boy seemed to shrink
down into himself at the attention that was suddenly being cast his
way.

Fresh meat.

Virgin meat.

Fuck.

And Clark's clothes weren't helping. Worn jeans and the loose royal
blue t-shirt---Lex had made him leave the flannel shirt in the car,
knowing it would draw unwanted attention---only made his innocence
stand out more in a sea of leather, skin, and flash. Lex himself,
reformed bad boy that he was, still had moments of temptation where
he wanted to claim that innocence for his own. It wasn't a huge
revelation that there were those here that would probably sell their
souls for a chance to have Clark.

"It's okay, Clark. We'll be out of here within minutes." Lex
stopped, waiting for Clark to get closer, and cursed Andy to Dante's
ninth circle of hell for getting him in this situation.

Fuck, while he was at it, he might as well curse the fucking
universe. It seemed to want to screw him over every fucking chance
it got.

Lex reached back, grabbing Clark's hand, and tried to smile
reassuringly at the surprised look that bloomed on Clark's face. Not
quite the circumstances he'd imagined for holding hands with the boy
he'd fallen in love with, but then this wasn't about fantastical
dreams about true loves and happily ever afters. Those type of
things, along with holding hands and sweet kisses under the stars,
had nothing to do with real life unless it was seen in a movie. He
gripped Clark tightly, pulling him close until their bodies were
almost flush, and leaned in to speak directly into the nearest ear.
He didn't bother to shout, even though the music was pounding,
trusting that Clark's sensitive ears would pick up his voice.

"Keep a hold of me and stay close. It's busier than I'd thought it
would be this early in the evening, and it'll be safer this way. We
don't want to be separated." Lex squeezed Clark's hand and started
forward again, weaving his way slowly though the crowd.

He made sure to keep Clark practically at his heels, tugging on the
boy's hand if he started to lag or stare at something too long.
Clark's gaze kept being drawn to the dance floor where beautiful and
attractive men were dancing, writhing in abandonment and self-
gratification, as they seduced with their bodies in acts of blatant
sensuality. Lex could even make out a few forms coupling in the
darkest corners of the club, as well as a few exhibitionists dry
fucking amidst all the dancing bodies.

Piper's was the most exclusive men's club in Metropolis---a trendy
way to market the gay club---with only the ultra wealthy and the
extremely beautiful allowed within its inner sanctum. Bodies
perfected by health clubs and years of personal trainers were shown
off with tight shirts, leathers that molded to the form, and some who
were wearing little more than straps of material. Tastefully
elegant, reeking of sin and sex, it was one of the hottest spots in
Metropolis to party, whether you were straight, bi, or gay. Nearly
anything could be bought and sold within these walls, whether it was
drugs, sex, or merely a good time.

It was a particular favorite of Andy's, especially when the McGregor
brothers held court. Drugs and gambling were just the start of the
vices the McGregors could pamper to if you had the money to indulge.
And Andy liked to indulge.

Lex tightened his grip on Clark's hand when Lex noticed Clark gaping
at a slender blond man giving an older brunette a lap dance at a
nearby table, the brunette's head thrown back in near orgasm. Huge
eyes turned towards him, causing him to curse Andy again.

Fuck. He never should have brought Clark here.

But it was too late now and the damage was done. He could only move
forward, finish his errand, and try to get Clark out as quickly as
possible. He'd concentrate on damage control once they got out of
here and back to the penthouse.

It was just a pity he couldn't have left Clark in the car. However,
he knew the area well enough to know that someone would have
propositioned the teen, thinking he was local trade or that he could
be lured away from his date for the right price. Lex hadn't wanted
Clark to hear some bastard's proposal for all the ways that pretty
mouth could be put to use. Clark was better than that, and he didn't
deserve to be treated like a whore.

The thought of anyone treating Clark as anything less than royalty
was an affront and made him want to rend and slash the perpetrator
into ribbons.

Which was why he needed to get Clark out of here. To the superficial
fools here, who could only see the surface beauty and wouldn't bother
to look for the inner beauty that far outshone the magnificent
exterior, Clark was merely a pretty possession, a bauble to use and
throw away.

They didn't deserve to breath the same air as Clark.

His eyes darted around them, searching for Andy's chestnut hair, and
he asked, "You okay back there?" He couldn't stop the half-smile
that formed at the dazed nod he received in reply. Damn, but the boy
seemed to somehow slip effortlessly between adorable and sexy,
causing Lex to oscillate between wanting to coddle the boy and
pouncing on him. Despite the warmth pooling in his chest at the
endearing Clarkian behavior or the warm palm in his grasp, he kept up
his vigilance.

He was keeping a sharp eye on everyone around them; he'd been in the
club scene too long and knew exactly what sort of people populated
the circuit. He glared at anyone who sent any lusty looks or
nonverbal invitations to the teenager, dire promises clear in his
eyes. He was confident enough that he'd be recognized by most and
that his proprietary gesture of holding onto Clark would send a clear
message.

Hell, he wasn't exactly known for being territorial, so his
blatant "back the fuck off" handholding should keep the predators at
bay.

Because if any guy so much as dared to touch Clark, Lex would break
his hand.

And yes, Lex knew he had farmboy issues, especially improper and
inappropriately primitive feelings of possessiveness. Not to mention
the atypical fierce protective instincts Clark seemed to bring out in
him.

Alexander J. Luthor protective? And of all things, innocence?

His father would be appalled.

Hell, he was appalled when he allowed himself to think about it too
closely. However, he'd resigned himself in that first year to the
fact that Clark was a weakness that would be allowed to remain in his
life because he couldn't and wouldn't permit the raven-haired youth
to not be within his immediate sphere.

Clark was essential.

This night, on the other hand, was not, and it was turning out to be
a nightmare of epic proportions.

He hadn't believed it when Martha and Jonathan Kent actually gave him
permission to bring Clark up for a weekend in Metropolis.
LuthorCorp, through the Lillian Luthor Arts Foundation, was
sponsoring the Chinese National Ballet troupe for an American tour,
and they were only in town this week before moving onto Houston.
Clark had mentioned over Christmas break that he'd never been to any
type of theatre production, other than the yearly school play, so Lex
had decided it was an opportunity Clark shouldn't miss. Even if the
teenager hated it, at least he'd know after having the chance to see
one of the world's best ballet troupes, and he could give an informed
opinion on why he disliked it.

He'd mentioned it to Clark, who'd predictably been thrilled at the
chance for a weekend getaway from his parents to spend in the big
city even if he had to go to something as potentially stuffy-worthy
as the ballet. Clark had practically bounced on his toes that entire
day after being asked. Lex had thought his parents would be the hard
sell, but surprisingly Martha had merely told Lex that they'd think
it over. The next day, Clark had come rushing into the office, a
whirlwind of gleeful delight, as he'd excitedly told Lex he could go.

They'd driven up earlier in the black Porsche, Lex picking up Clark
directly from school so they could get to Metropolis before six.
Clark had been in a state of near bliss during the three hours
driving up because Lex had let him drive. After dropping off their
bags at the penthouse---there was no way he was staying at the manor
with his father---they'd gone out for dinner and a movie.

They'd been driving back to the penthouse when Andy had called.

Lex whirled around and his left hand shot out, reflexes just a little
too quick for a normal human but Lex really didn't care what anyone
thought, and he seized onto the thick wrist that he'd seen moving in
his peripheral vision. He used his right hand to pull Clark in
behind him, and he squeezed viciously into what he knew was a painful
hold for the asshole that tried to grab Clark's ass. His blue-grey
eyes grew glacial cold, and he went completely still. He said in a
very low, smooth voice, "You really shouldn't have done that."

Drunken laughter met his warning, the guy obviously too stupid or too
wasted to feel much pain or even realize that with a quick flick of
movement, Lex could break his wrist. Lex really had no tolerance for
stupid people.

"Buddy, lighten up," the man slurred, brown eyes moving hungrily over
Lex's shoulder. He shook his hand slightly, and when Lex didn't
release him, he merely grinned wolfishly. "I just wanted to touch.
Such a pretty thing wouldn't mind a little appreciation, would he?"

Lex's eyes narrowed.

"Besides, maybe your boy there would like to try a threesome." The
idiot's other hand reached out, caressing Lex's left hand and moving
slowly up his arm beneath his sleeve. "I'd love to see him on his
knees, you taking him while he has those pretty lips wrapped around
my---"

"Shut the fuck up," Lex hissed, cutting the bastard off before he
could finish his sentence. He heard a gasp behind him as Clark
obviously got the picture. "You say another word about him and I'll
rip out your tongue and shove it up your ass."

He shook off the idiot's pawing hand, releasing the wrist, wanting
nothing more than to wash off the filth crawling on his skin. He
didn't like to be touched, and most people were intelligent enough
not to take such liberties. However, it enraged him to think that
maybe Clark might feel equally as dirty after hearing about this
bastard's little fantasy. He felt his right hand squeezed tightly
and a hand placed on his right shoulder, and he lost it as he
realized that Clark's hands were trembling.

His free hand shot out again, grabbing the idiot's neck in a firm
grip around the front of his throat. He pulled the inebriated son of
a bitch forward, the bulky mass of the man who probably outweighed
him by at least fifty pounds not a problem. The Luthor freak might
be bald, but the meteors had gifted him with an agility and strength
beyond human norms.

Of course, it paled in comparison to Clark or many of the other
Smallville mutants---human or non-human---when it came to raw
strength or speed, but it gave him an advantage when others
underestimated him due to his slender build.

Not to mention the advantage of years of martial arts and kickboxing,
as well as that very interesting summer spent at Wayne Manor with
Bruce and a former Navy SEAL.

He tightened his fingers slowly, leaning forward aggressively. The
smells of vodka and sweat hit him, and he barely restrained himself
from giving into his darker impulse by crushing the bastard's
windpipe and just tossing him aside. He could feel the stares of the
men around him, but he really didn't give a shit at the moment for
whatever audience was watching. In fact, maybe they'd get the idea
very quickly not to touch what was his if he provided a little
demonstration. He didn't even notice the two sweaty hands that had
come up to paw at his wrist as he bit out, "You're going to apologize
to my friend, and then you're---"

"Mr. Luthor, is this gentleman distressing you?"

Lex's gaze flicked over to his left and his face smoothed out as he
let go of the idiot immediately, pushing him away, the message clear
that he thought the imbecile beneath him. He ignored the coughing
coming from the man, straightening in a way that his form seemed to
flow back to a stance of idle disregard, though his eyes were
anything but.

"Tony, it's good to see you again." He inclined his head slightly, a
nod of acknowledgement, then curled his lips slightly. "I want this…
gentleman removed immediately." The sneer as he said `gentleman'
made it apparent exactly what sort of treatment he preferred the man
get.

"Hey!! Wait a second! I didn't do anything but proposition his slut
for a little fu---"

Lex's hand was wrapped around the fucker's throat, and it was only
Clark's hand wrapped lightly around his wrist that stopped him from
doing anything permanently damaging.

"Please. Lex."

Clark was pressed flush against his back, the boy practically wrapped
around him in order to reach his wrist. He was trying to pull Lex
back, though he wasn't using nearly enough force to move them. His
voice was shaky, and Lex felt something inside him break as he
realized that the warm body was trembling. He let his hand loosen
slowly, and then release completely.

"It's okay," Lex said, not really sure if he was reassuring himself
or Clark. He moved back a little, and he felt Clark relax and back
off. He felt a stab of loss at the warmth against his back
disappearing, which was followed by a larger stab of guilt and self-
disgust for even thinking like that. Clark was his friend, his very
young, very impressionable, very heterosexual best friend. An
emphasis on young. Very young. And heterosexual. He'd brought
Clark into a situation that the boy never should have been placed in
or seen.

He looked over, seeing the owner of the club waiting. At five ten,
sandy blond hair, and an average build, Tony Michels was often
overlooked in the middle of a club where men flaunted what they had
and many had the money to cosmetically enhance---through surgery or
other means---what they didn't. He was also one of the most
unthreatening men Lex had ever met, exuding an air of pleasantness
and charm that screamed, `I'm your best friend'. It made him a very
successful club owner, Pied Piper being one of his many nightspots
that he owned in Metropolis and throughout Kansas. However, Lex knew
that Tony was as ruthless as any other successful businessman, and as
such he was a man who knew how to treat his best customers.

Tony signaled briefly, and two bouncers who were behind the blond
immediately stepped forward, each grabbing onto an arm and hauling
the guy up.

"You can't do this! Do you have any idea who I am?" the drunk
demanded with indignation, his words still slurred by
intoxication. "So I wanted to touch a little, maybe offer to have a
little fun. I---"

The man's voice faded away as the bouncers dragged him off. With a
cold sweeping look from Lex, the people immediately around them got
back to talking and drinking. The wake that had formed to allow the
two bouncers room to cart their target off was immediately filled
back up with bodies and laughter. Lex could hear some people
whispering, the phrases "Don't fuck with a Luthor" and "the Lex
Luthor" popping up, but he ignored it.

A trait he'd learned by the time he'd turned eight.

"Mr. Luthor, I apologize that such a disgrace should take place in
our club. I assure you, he won't be allowed on the premises again."
Tony stepped closer, face conveying nothing but warmth and sincerity,
though his eyes watched Lex anxiously.

Lex frowned.

"And I apologize to your guest for having to put up with such a
tawdry display of crudeness. I hope you don't judge Piper's
clientele based on this one experience," the man finished smoothly,
looking at Clark. His gaze moved back to Lex, and he asked, "Mr.
Luthor, is there anything I can help you with tonight? Or perhaps I
can arrange for one of the upstairs rooms to be available,
compliments of the house for this unfortunate altercation? Perhaps
your favorite on the fourth floor?"

Lex shook his head. Christ, he wished that hadn't been asked. He
just knew seventeen-year-old ears were listening too closely. "No,
I'm actually here looking for someone. Have you seen Andrew Gentres
tonight?"

"Yes, I believe Mr. Gentres is on the third level. I can locate him
if you wish."

Lex looked at Tony thoughtfully, thinking. Maybe he could contain
the damage done here tonight. Decision made, he nodded, "I'd also
like Clark to wait in your office until my business is concluded. As
well as someone outside the door to ensure his…privacy."

More like safety, but Clark really didn't need to know that. Most
teenagers really didn't appreciate being treated like kids, and even
if Lex rarely treated him like the youth he was, Lex definitely
wasn't up for Clark getting a look at the upper levels.

Tony nodded, pressing a button on the band on his wrist and speaking
to the headset that was barely visible in his right ear. Lex knew
all the security and staff had one to keep in constant and immediate
contact. The service here was incredible and nearly instantaneous.
One of the reasons the elite of Metropolis flocked in droves to
Piper's, as well as Tony's other two clubs: Pied Piper's female
counterpart Bacchae and his more traditional night club Dionysus.

It also hadn't hurt that when Piper's had first opened eight years
ago, it had been one of Lex's favorite clubs to party at during his
breaks from boarding school. And back then, where Lex went, the rest
of his set went. Nobody partied like a Luthor, and Lex had always
excelled at everything he did. Which made him a particular favorite
at both of the establishments he'd patroned.

"Lex," Clark said, tugging on Lex's sleeve. "I want to stay with
you."

Lex turned around. He almost flinched at the emotions flitting
though Clark's eyes, the most prevalent being fear. Shit, this
wasn't exactly the sort of education he'd brought Clark up to
Metropolis for, and he knew the probability of ever being allowed to
bring Clark anywhere would be nonexistent when the Kents heard about
this fiasco.

If the Kents heard about it.

He could still turn this around, and as long as Clark was kept fairly
ignorant of the nature of this club, as well as some of the darker
entertainments to be had, he could extract Clark from the building
with only a few mild tales that would seem wild to the boy's
friends. And surely Clark would realize on his own that any whispers
of clubs and Metropolis nightlife to his parents would seal whatever
chance Clark had of leaving the farm during his last two years of
high school.

The boy lived like a sequestered monk as it was. Surely he wouldn't
exacerbate his situation.

"Clark, it's better if you wait somewhere private. I only need to
speak to Andy for a few minutes." He tried to smile reassuringly at
Clark, but he could only assume he failed from the frown that formed
on Clark's face. He ignored his first impulse to raise his hand and
smooth out the small lines that formed between the dark eyebrows.

"I don't want to wait in some office," Clark said quietly, inching
closer as he noticed people unashamedly watching them. He
murmured, "I thought you said it was better if we stayed together. I…
I don't like how everyone is looking at you."

"What do you mean?"

"I-I don't…I don't know," Clark stammered. Confusion whirled in his
eyes. "I…they keep watching…you. Us. I j-just…I just don't like
it."

Lex's heart clenched at the insecurity and timidity in a voice that
was normally so strong and sure. Even when Clark was so uncertain of
Lana's regard or his place in the world, he was confident of himself
and his abilities. It was only one of many dichotomies that made up
Clark Kent that fascinated and drew Lex to him over and over again.

Like a moth to a flame, Lex couldn't help himself from returning to
the boy who could rain down hurtful, lacerating accusations when
cornered or when the lies that he spun were threatened. Wounds that
ripped and tore as deep into his soul as the ones his father
delivered, and like his father, never a word of apology or remorse
was ever uttered. This same boy was also the center of all that was
strange and dangerous in Smallville, and Lex had lost count of the
number of times his life had been endangered just by remaining within
orbit of this miraculous, beautiful creature.

Clark was his own personal siren, one who had sharp teeth and sharper
claws. Who knew how to use them best to hurt and maim, who knew all
of Lex's soft spots and just how to draw blood. A siren who Lex knew
would inevitably lead him to his own death if he wasn't careful
because meteor-mutated humans died around Clark, because of Clark, on
a regular basis. Sooner or later, it would be his turn. And still
he couldn't help himself, even knowing that his savior was also his
Achilles' heel.

Even knowing that allowing Clark to remain in his life would either
bring unending light to his life or a darkness he would never be able
to pull himself out of couldn't keep him away.

Even knowing that Clark could mean his own death.

"Lex?"

Clark's voice drew him back to the present, classic alliterations and
dark conjectures of doom fleeing into the back of his mind. His eyes
softened, and he stepped closer, squeezing the hand he still held in
his hand gently. "It'll only take a few minutes. I need to find my
friend, and then we'll get out of here. Tony will make sure you have
everything you need. Maybe a Coke and something to eat. There's a
small kitchen in back for employees, so perhaps something could be
prepared for you."

"Of course," a low tenor broke in. "The kitchen is preparing a light
meal as we speak. We'll take good care of him for you, Mr. Luthor,
and Mike and I will take you to Mr. Gentres immediately."

Lex looked over his shoulder to see Tony looking at him mildly, no
hint of censure or speculation in his gaze. The man was a consummate
professional. A large black man with a shaved head, probably the
largest man Lex had ever seen with muscles bulging out almost
obscenely and who must've topped at least seven feet, stood at Tony's
side.

Tony nodded slightly, following Lex's gaze. "This is David. He'll
escort your guest to my office and will see to his needs. And
privacy."

From the way `privacy' was said, Lex knew that his message had been
picked up clearly by the club's owner on what kind of service was
being requested. Lex raised his eyebrows as he looked up at Clark's
apparent bodyguard, and he let a small smile of appreciation tilt his
mouth up. He had to admit, there was no way in hell he'd try to mess
with the man if he had a choice, so Clark should be safe in his
charge. He should have this whole mess sorted out within fifteen
minutes, and then they could leave.

"Lex, I don't want---"

Lex cut Clark off, ignoring him, as he talked to the blond waiting
patiently behind him. "I'd prefer to escort him to the office as
well. Andy can wait a few moments."

"But I---"

"Of course, Mr. Luthor."

Tony and Clark simultaneously responded, and Lex cut Clark off again
by saying, "Clark. Humor me." He tightened his grip on Clark's
hand, and he lifted his left hand to set it gently on Clark's right
shoulder. He indulged himself, slightly, by letting his fingers
brush Clark's neck lightly, the dark curls just brushing his
fingertips. Not quite a platonic grip, but it could easily be
interpreted as an accidental touch rather than the almost-caress it
was.

He said softly, murmuring quietly enough that only Clark could
hear, "I'll be fine. I know it seems…strange…and the people…
different. But I used to come here before my exile," he said calmly,
a smile in his voice as he made light of his banishment to the
backfields of nowhere. He remembered Clark's earlier words, and he
tried to soothe the understandable fear of the unknown. "If people
are looking at me, it's because I'm Lex Luthor. And I haven't been
seen here for a while. I assure you, I'm perfectly safe. It was…
unfortunate. What happened earlier."

He knew his voice was a touch too warm, his clasp on Clark's neck and
shoulder just a bit too tender, but he had complete confidence in the
utter oblivion that made up Clark's world. Like Lana, Clark had the
unique ability to translate the entire world around him in terms he
could accept, transmogrifying reality into a vision of his own desire
with himself as the center of everything and everyone. If Lex wasn't
so madly in love with the teenager, and if Clark---and Lana, for that
matter---wasn't so sweet almost to the point of saccharine, he
probably would have found this egotistical self-centeredness to be
insufferable.

The hell of it all was that as self-centered as Clark and Lana both
were, anyone who met either teenager had to admit they were also
incredibly selfless.

Yet another dichotomy, and one that made most people who knew both
teens feel both overwhelming affection for and the occasional
irritation towards the pair. Because as much as they translated
everything in terms of themselves, they freely and unselfishly gave
their time and help if someone was in need.

Lex had even gotten to the point that he actually liked having Lana
as a business partner, and he almost didn't resent her for Clark's
unflagging devotion. He was actually accustomed to trying to pair
the two up, trying to win Clark the hand and heart of his fair lady,
even as Clark continually messed up whatever Lex set in motion.

Some things were just constants in the universe. Clark messing up
with the fairer sex was one of them.

"Hey," he murmured, wanting to banish the unhappiness in Clark's
face. "This will only take fifteen minutes. Then we'll head back to
the penthouse, and we can have a movie marathon if you like. You can
even pick out the movies. I'll make popcorn, and we can dig around
and see what kind of junk food the housekeeper left for us."

"O-okay," Clark said, trying to smile, even if it was a bit wobbly.

Lex squeezed Clark's shoulder one last time, brushing his fingers
across the soft skin of Clark's nape as he removed his hand, and he
tugged on the hand he still held, signaling Tony to lead the way to
the back offices. He pulled Clark behind him, still vigilant of his
surroundings, but more secure now that two of the club's security
personnel were behind them.

Fifteen minutes, and he'd have taken care of Andy and they could go
back to their frivolous weekend in Metropolis.


*****


Clark prowled around the huge office, his pacing starting to get on
his own nerves, but unsure what else to do. He'd been repeating the
same circuit over and over, from the thick steel door, past the
bookcases and electronic equipment on his right, to the desk on the
far wall, coming back past the nook with the sofas and coffee table
on the opposite side, and returning to the door. He'd already
glanced at all the books on the shelves, not really in the mood to
read anything and his mind too chaotic to be distracted by the
written word.

He eyed the spiraling staircase as he passed it, but it was only a
cursory glance. He'd already used his x-ray vision to see where it
led, which was to a huge bedroom above with even more entertainment
equipment. Not to mention a bathroom that was larger than his
bedroom.

He let out a huge sigh, and he threw himself down into the plush
black cushions in a sloppy sprawl. He glared at the Mountain Dew on
the coffee table, the ice cubes causing condensation on the outside
of the glass to drip down and soak into the napkin underneath it.
Not that he expected to be served a drink, though he knew if he
asked, he doubted David would deny him. It had been made clear to
him, before that Tony guy and Lex abandoned him, that anything he
asked for would be given to him.

He knew he was pouting, something he blamed on being a single child
he told snidely to his inner Chloe who was currently making him fun
of him for acting like a spoiled brat. He just drooped further into
the sofa, staring at the half-drunk soda and empty plates sullenly.

He'd been escorted to the back office by Lex like he was some sort of
child, hand held like he might get lost if he was let out of sight
for even a moment. He'd been left with a metaphorical pat on the
head after being told to stay like a good boy and to behave. And
worse, he was given a late supper as if that would distract him!
Like all he did was think with his stomach!

He let out a huff of frustration.

He knew he wasn't being fair. He knew Lex didn't mean it like that,
knew that he wasn't really being treated like a five-year-old. If he
was going to be completely honest with himself, not that he wanted to
be, he was actually being treated like a Luthor. Like he was
important.

He knew that if he decided that he wanted a drink and not pop, he'd
be given one. Regardless of his age. If he wanted the TV from
upstairs brought down so he could watch it, he didn't have any doubts
that David would immediately make it happen. And if he wanted
another piece of chocolate cake, his keeper would have the rest of
the cake delivered within minutes.

Because he wasn't stupid, no matter what everyone seemed to think.
He knew David wasn't standing outside the door like some sort of
sentry at Windsor palace because of privacy. Just like Lex holding
his hand hadn't been about them getting separated, and Lex almost
pulverizing that guy hadn't been about…well, about whatever Lex
seemed to think dense, clueless Clark thought it was about.

He scowled. He was tired of everyone thinking he was some sort of
dumb himbo. It wasn't like he gave off `dumb blond' vibes. Was it?

He didn't come off as some sort of airhead, did he?

Like that Cher chick in Clueless or Elle Woods in Legally Blonde?

He felt a fission of guilt at the thought, knowing how Chloe would
take the comparison. But was it his fault that American society
coined the phrase and kept the perception? No, it wasn't.

He stuck his tongue out, not caring how immature it felt. No one was
around, and it made him feel better. If he wanted to stick his
tongue out at an imaginary Lex for being such an overprotective idiot
than he could.

It wasn't like he even needed protection. He was seventeen years
old. Almost a man! So what if he was just a sophomore in high
school. He'd be a junior in a week when school let out.
Technically, he'd be an adult in one year! And he was like a super-
powered, kick-ass alien! Like he needed protection!

A tendril of unease wound through his mind, and he let out a little
shiver.

It wasn't like he'd been scared or anything. Because, hello! Super-
powered, invulnerable alien here! But…Clark had to admit that he'd
felt kinda…self-conscious. Maybe even…intimidated.

Lex had been pretty mad in the car. His friend, Andy something-or-
other, had needed help right away, and Lex hadn't wanted to take
Clark to the club. He'd simply told Clark that his parents wouldn't
be happy, presumably to soothe any offense that might be perceived in
not wanting to take Clark along.

He was still pretty leery of having to go back out there, even as he
desperately wanted to be with Lex. From the moment they'd stepped
into the dark club, the music vibrating in the air, he'd felt like he
was under a magnifying glass. After a lifetime of being ignored, it
was unnerving at the very least. Everyone around them seemed to be
staring at them, and he'd heard a few people commenting about either
him or Lex.

Not that he'd ever admit it, but it had actually been reassuring to
have Lex's hand to hold onto. Some of the stares he'd received had
made him feel…uncomfortable. It had made his stomach fluttery and
queasy, and he'd wished he'd still had his flannel overshirt because
it would have made him feel a little more secure to have another
layer on. Because the men in the club, dressed like they do in the
movies in club scenes in a riot of colors and expensive materials,
had looked at him as intensely as Lex sometimes did.

Only, when Lex looked at him, it made him feel good. Flattering.
That someone like Lex, who was so smart, and so rich, and so
unbelievably cool and sophisticated, that someone like that could
look at him like Clark was the only thing in Lex's world that
mattered at that one moment in time.

The men in the club that had stared at him hadn't made him feel like
that at all. They'd made him feel jittery. Jumpy. Like if he stood
still, if he got too close, something bad would happen.

And knowing that no one could really hurt him still didn't make that
feeling go away. Only Lex did, so he'd been glad Lex had kept close
and had kept a hold of him, even if it had made him feel so much
younger than Lex.

Maybe that was why Lex had been acting so funny. So overprotective.
Like the big brother Clark had never had.

Clark swallowed hard, remembering that man from earlier. He'd
clearly been drunk. But his eyes had devoured Clark like he'd wanted
to eat him, and he'd touched Lex's arm, caressed Lex's arm, like…like…
and the things he'd said. Clark felt his cheeks grow warm as he
remembered what that man had asked. About him…on his knees. And Lex…
behind.

He hadn't really understood all that, but he knew it was about sex,
and maybe he was dumb because he wasn't really sure how two guys did
it. And yeah, he could look it up on the Internet, if he could get
up the nerve to look it up while in school or at Lex's house. Or
Chloe's, though Chloe would want to know why and that was just wrong
because he would never hear the end of it, and that was only if Chloe
wasn't so disgusted with him that she refused to speak to him ever
again.

For being curious.

Because, really, shouldn't he know about this? That was the only
reason why he was wondering. Because he didn't know, and he was sure
he should know. Right?

Or maybe he shouldn't. Maybe guys didn't know how two guys did it
with each other unless they were interested. Which he wasn't.
Because that would make him…gay. And he wasn't. Gay.

He wasn't gay. There was no way he was a gay alien. He refused to
believe his level of freakishness was even higher than previously
thought. And he wasn't curious about how two guys did it, and he
wasn't curious about all the things Lex did with other people. With
women. Or…guys. If Lex even did it with guys, because he'd never
once had another guy at the castle. Doing…that.

And no, he wasn't stalking Lex! He wasn't a stalker. He wasn't.
And even if he were, which he wasn't, he wouldn't stalk his best
friend. He was just watching out for Lex because mutants and trouble
seemed to be attracted to Lex, and so what if he liked to go by the
castle every now and then to watch Lex just to make sure Lex was safe?

He was just being a good friend.

Not a stalker.

And he so wasn't going to acknowledge the fact that he'd never liked
any of the girls Lex brought to the castle. He was going to ignore
just how much he'd hated Victoria, and Desiree, and that stupid
Doctor Helen that Lex dated for about a month before dumping her.
And he definitely wasn't going to admit how much satisfaction he'd
felt when Lex had dumped her after Clark had told Lex just how creepy
he thought she was.

He was just looking out for Lex. For his best friend. All those
women might have been beautiful, but they all wanted something from
Lex. They all had wanted to use him. To manipulate him.

That was all. Really. Honestly.

He sat up, grabbing at the glass on the table nervously took a sip.

He wasn't dumb. He wasn't.

Not really.

But he honestly hadn't got it. At first.

All the men in the club. No girls. And only guys. They'd been all
sorts of ages, from some who looked younger than him to others who
were well into their fifties or older. All of them were incredibly
attractive. Handsome. Even…beautiful. And that was something that
Clark had only thought girls were, until tonight when he's seen all
the sleek, beautiful guys dancing and sliding against each other.

Beautiful like Lex.

Lex.

Was…beautiful.

He shied away from that thought, not wanting to examine his sudden
epiphany too closely. It was just that Lex had fit here. Fit in
here more than he ever did in Smallville, where Lex was like some
exotic transplant from lands never before seen by mere mortals.

Even dressed casually in designer jeans that had probably been worn
only once and a long sleeved charcoal grey shirt, the Luthor version
of slumming it. Lex rarely dressed casually, and Clark had been
touched at the effort Lex had gone to, trying to make the weekend
laid-back and fun. But Lex fit in with these sleek, beautiful people
who dripped sensuality and sex. Only those people on the dance
floor, surrounding the bar, they were pale shadows of Lex. As if
they were trying to encompass everything that Lex was innately.

Wealth worn indifferently.

Elegance and suave sophistication wrapped up in hedonistic abandon.

And…beauty. Beautiful. The kind that made your breath catch and
your eyes linger.

And why had he never noticed that before?

He fingered the glass in his hands uneasily.

Beautiful was something he'd only applied to Lana before. And his
mother. Maybe Chloe, in a sisterly sort of way. And all those too-
perfect women that surrounded Lex like they'd stepped off the pages
of a magazine cover or movie screen.

And now Lex.

He took another sip of his Mountain Dew, the carbonation tickling the
back of his throat. He shot a quick glance at the bear of a man in
the hall, his eyes flipping easily to x-ray with a thought.

He really wasn't dumb. And he could be an adult. It wasn't so hard
to admit that the men in the club had stared at him…like they wanted
to have…because they wanted to do it with him.

Sex.

Clark scrunched down further into the sofa.

Okay. So strange men wanted to have…sex…with him. With him. And
that was weird and crazy on so many levels. Because, them being guys
aside, no one in Smallville wanted anything from Clark. Sex or
otherwise. He couldn't even get a girl to go out with him, to maybe
hold hands or exchange a nervous first kiss goodnight at her front
door.

Jessie didn't really count. Because she'd wanted someone to take her
away from all her problems, and he'd been high on red meteor rock.
So they'd made out, kissing and stuff. She'd let a bold, un-Clark
touch her…breasts. And down there. Which had been nice, and sort of
hot, even if it didn't get him excited in that way.

No one got him excited that way, like he was supposed to. Like human
boys were supposed to. He'd just assumed during the last year that
it was an alien thing. That maybe his people matured differently or
something. At least he hoped.

He really, really hoped his people weren't asexual.

Not that he shared this with anyone. He'd die before he talked to
his parents again about sex. It had been bad enough the first time
when he'd been fourteen, and his parents had sat him down in the
living room like some awful After-School special and had The Talk.
With pictures and everything out of a book they'd bought, "Sexuality,
My Child, and Me" or something equally as lame and dumb that was sold
in an evil plot to the masses of gullible adults to embarrass their
children. He'd practically choked when his dad had held out a banana
and a foil packet with an expectant look.

It had only gotten worse when his mother had held out another foil
packet, telling him to do it again so he knew for sure how to do it.

He also hadn't told Chloe---she might be one of his best friends, but
she was still a girl---nor had he told Pete. It wasn't exactly the
sort of thing a guy admitted to other guys. Especially geeky, non-
athletic losers like Clark. Besides, it wasn't like he'd realized he
was that different at first. It wasn't like he'd heard locker room
talk---at least until he'd joined the football team that one week his
freshman year---since his parents wouldn't let him play sports and
they'd had him barred from gym class and the playground.

It was only when he was older that he'd found out that they'd given
his elementary school a forged note supposedly from a Metropolis
doctor to medically excuse Clark from the mandatory class. They'd
merely told a confused and hurt six-year-old Clark that he couldn't
play with the other kids because he might hurt them, and he hadn't
questioned how his parents had accomplished this until after he'd
found out about the spaceship.

He hadn't even realized he was abnormal in this aspect until he'd
gone over to Pete's one day after school about a month before the
Spring Fling his freshman year. Pete had been secretive and excited
all day, and he'd giddily shoved Clark into his room where he'd
triumphantly brought out a porn video he'd `borrowed' from one of his
brothers. Supposedly to prepare them for their big dates.

It had been educational in one respect, Clark's first glimpse at real
sex, and horrifying in another because he'd been confronted with
another freak aspect about himself. From Pete's comments, he finally
figured out what all those `boner' or `woody' comments from the past
meant, the ones he always pretended to understand, and afterwards
he'd done his own research in the Smallville library---no way was he
going to get caught looking up human sexuality at the school library,
he was already enough of an outcast---to find out that he'd been
missing years of wet dreams, boners, and masturbation.

He could admit it. He'd been really upset that maybe he was too
different in some physiologically way, or possibly neurological way,
so that he couldn't be sexually attracted to humans. Looking similar
on the surface didn't mean that two completely different species
could be drawn to each other. To have…sex.

After all, it wasn't like tigers did it with lions or cougars, and at
least they were cousin species. He was pretty sure the same couldn't
be said for his people and humanity. Even if he did look just like a
human boy.

So did Pinocchio, but that didn't make him any more human than Clark.

He'd been seriously depressed after his sixteenth birthday---the
entire summer if he was painfully honest with himself---when he'd
admitted to himself just how different he was from humans. Not
having an erection before, it wasn't like he knew what he was
missing, but it was depressing to think he'd always be alone. That
he was so different from everyone, he couldn't even connect to them
in such a basic way.

Well, there was Lana. Who didn't excite him like that, but she did
make him feel all warm and dizzy inside. Lana, who he'd kind of
dated a little this year, but not really. Something always seemed to
go wrong, with someone needing help or a meteor mutant springing up
to interrupt their big moment. Or Lana decided they were better
friends, or that she missed Whitney, or Clark shied away because Lana
wanted to know why he kept so many secrets. Why he was always so
secretive or mysterious, when Whitney had always been so open and
honest.

Clark never pointed out in these moments that Whitney hadn't been so
damn open and honest when he and his football buddies had stripped
him, strung him up on a pole, and left him as their Scarecrow because
of some stupid football tradition and some petty jealousy.

Clark had always secretly wondered since that night who his father,
the legendary football player that he'd been, had strung up when he'd
been in high school. Because he'd been the football god back then
and someone else like Clark had been the class misfit. Because in
another fit of honesty, he'd admitted to himself that as much as he
worshipped his father, at least up until the day Lex had hit him with
his car and he'd found out about the lies and betrayal, Jonathan Kent
had been the Whitney Fordman of his day.

Clark felt guilt wash over him. For his dad and for Whitney. He was
an ungrateful, horrible son and he was an even worse friend.

Whitney was away, fighting in another country, possibly endangering
his life, and Clark was moving in on his girl. Yet another reason
why Clark hadn't felt quite comfortable with the dates he'd gone on,
Lex quietly scheming in the background to help him win Lana's heart,
because despite the Scarecrow incident, he'd sort of become friends
with Whitney. And Whitney still loved Lana and had no idea that Lana
had been having second thoughts all year about whether she still
loved him.

He didn't exactly feel great about being Rebound Guy. Or at least
almost-Rebound Guy.

And, okay, he'd been kind of delusional and he'd imagined that being
Rebound Guy might turn into more. It wasn't so stupid to imagine
that if Lana just got to know him, if she just really knew him and
realized how much he loved her, than she would love him back.

Like it was supposed to be.

And yes, he realized life wasn't a fairy tale, thank you very much.

And yes, he was mature and smart and definitely not clueless.
Clueless Clark, as the kids used to taunt him (and Klutzy Kent, but
he really didn't want to recall all his childhood trauma). Because
he did finally realize, even if it took a lot of pacing and
aggravation towards Lex, that he was in a club with all guys and no
girls for a reason. Because girls didn't come to this sort of club
because the guys weren't looking for girls.

They were looking for guys. At guys. At Clark.

And Lex. A lot of them had looked at Lex. With envious looks, and
jealous looks, and this wasn't so unusual because most people looked
at Lex that way. But a lot of hungry looks had been aimed at Lex,
too, devouring looks that had swept up and down Lex's body. Eyes
lingering on his face and mouth.

He'd heard the whispers at school. In the Talon. At the Farmer's
Market on the weekends during the summer and fall. His peers at
school and the adults in the community all asking each other just
what kind of friendship existed between Lex Luthor and Clark Kent.
The sneers by some as they hinted that Lex wanted something more from
Clark, something a lot different than friendship. He'd heard the
gossip of how decadent the younger Luthor was, how he played on both
sides of the fence, and despite all the anorexically-thin beauties
that visited the castle, it was really the Kent's only child that
repeatedly drew the attention of the very adult Lex Luthor.

Clark had ignored all the insinuations and questioning looks. He'd
refused to really understand all the hints and inquiries, feeling as
if everyone was trying to dirty his friendship to Lex in whatever way
they could. As if they were demeaning their friendship, demeaning
Lex, because Lex was rich. Or because Lex was a Luthor. Or simply
because Lex was so much more than any of those petty, small-minded
people would ever be.

People were always putting Lex down in front of him and around him,
as if they were trying to warn him away. As if they cared for Clark,
were concerned for Clark, when most of those people had barely
acknowledged his existence before Lex Luthor came to town.

So when they'd given him knowing, sneering looks or when they'd
belittled and cut down Lex, he'd told himself they were all secretly
jealous that out of everyone in the entire town, it was him that Lex
had chosen as his friend. Dorky, clumsy Clark Kent. The adopted
kid, the strange kid who grew too tall too fast and was too quiet,
the poor kid from the Kent Farm, the Kents who thought they were too
good for anyone else and stayed isolated up on their farm.
Billionaire's son, genius, perfect Lex Luthor had chosen Clark Kent,
and it was like in the Valdemar books. Out of everyone in the world,
out of all the cities and all the towns, Clark had been chosen and
they were all jealous.

So he ignored all of them, even his father, because Lex wasn't
anything like they thought. Lex was the most generous person he
knew, who gave everything of himself to the people he cared about.
And who could blame him for caring for so few people when everyone
seemed to want to use him? When so many mocked and scorned him?

Lex was like his brother. His big brother. Who watched out for
Clark, and gave him advice when Clark asked, and always tried to give
Clark whatever he thought Clark needed.

And if that didn't quite ring true, he ignored it because Lex was
like his brother.

He was.

Clark's shoulders fell even as he repeated it once more to himself.


*****


Clark opened the door to see a broad chest move in front of him. He
followed the huge chest up, a little disorientated to be looking up
at someone for the first time in years, to see a fiercely frowning
face. He frowned right back.

"Ummm…" he started nervously, gathering his nerve as he stared up
into an impassive expression. He took a deep breath, straightening
his spine and imagining that he grew a few inches so he pretend he
looked just a little imposing. He demanded, pretending he was Lex
and ordering around one of the castle staff, "I want to be taken to
Lex. Now."

The muscle-bound behemoth at the door didn't even blink.

Clark lifted his chin stubbornly. "Tony said you would get me
whatever I wanted. And I want to be taken to wherever Lex is at."

David continued to stare at him several moments, and then gently
nudged Clark back into the office. He said tersely, reaching to shut
the door, "I'll check with Mr. Michels."

Clark dug in his heels, grabbing onto the door and not letting it
budge, trying to make it seem harder than it really was. "No! I
don't care what Mr. Michels says or wishes. He and Lex said I could
have anything, and I want to leave this office. Now. And I want to
be taken to the third floor to where Lex is at."

The man lifted his dark eyebrows up and looked at Clark coolly. "And
what if I was fired because I let Mr. Luthor's personal guest leave
the office against Mr. Luthor's wishes?"

Clark hesitated, not thinking of that. Lex did have a bit of temper,
sometimes, and he really didn't like it when people did things he
told them not to. But he could tell Lex not to get mad at David, or
not to let Tony fire the man. Lex would listen to him. Especially
if he asked nicely.

Lex always gave him whatever he asked. It was like a thing with
Lex. As if giving back the truck meant that Lex had to pay back
Clark by giving him other things.

Not that Lex minded helping him out. Lex liked granting him favors.
It was Lex's thing. He didn't have anything to feel guilty about.

In fact, he had something to be worried about. Lex was late. He'd
been cooped up in this stupid office for over thirty minutes, and
that meant something was wrong. Which meant he had to find Lex. Now.

Clark shook his head. "I won't let Lex get mad at you. Besides, you
can't keep me here if I don't want to stay here. I'm not a prisoner!"

Clark scowled as he saw one side of the man's mouth twist up,
amusement flitting through dark brown eyes.

"And I'm not a kid!"

Clark flushed at the chuckle that his automatic denial caused, the
man's teeth flashing white in the dim lighting of the hall. His
outburst hadn't been on purpose, but he was tired of people treating
him like a little kid! He was seventeen!

David chuckled again, mirth dancing in his eyes, as his gravelly
voice broke out. "Sure, kid. Whatever you say."

Clark tried to sound more imperious. It always worked for Lex. "I
demand to be taken to Lex immediately."

The man just rolled his eyes. "Stay put. I'll check with the boss.
It'll only take a minute."

"No!" Clark placed his hand on a thick bicep, stopping David from
turning around. He could imagine just what sort of orders Lex had
left with the man's boss. He threw pride out the window and
pleaded, "Please. It's taking too long. He should have been back a
long time ago."

David stopped, looking back with dark eyes that visibly softened as
he looked into Clark's face. "He's fine, kid. You'd have to be a
fool to mess with a Luthor in this town. Hell, to mess with a Luthor
in any town. They aren't exactly the forgiving sort. I'd bet money
the guy who caused you problems earlier will be out of a job by noon
tomorrow."

Clark blinked at the thought, startled, but shook his head. He
wasn't about to be sidetracked. He looked at the man in front of him
beseechingly, his hand still on David's arm, "Please. He's…he's my
friend. I have to see him. I swear, he won't be mad."

David snorted. "And does that look get you anywhere with Luthor?"

"Please?" Clark tried to look pathetic, this tact obviously working
better than trying to act like Lex. He imagined asking his mom for
something, or asking a favor from Chloe, and arranged his face to
look as pitiful as possible.

David grimaced at the plaintive note. He tried to glare, but
faltered as he met big green eyes and pouting lips. Clark's
wretchedness was practically dripping from him, it was applied so
thick. He started to shake his head, but one look at Clark's face
had him sighing.

"Fine. It's your funeral. You make sure Luthor doesn't have me
fired, and I'll take you. But I doubt he'll be pleased with you.
From what I hear, he's conducting business right now."

Clark looked up hopefully at the serious gaze being directed at him,
and he smiled brilliantly. He nodded emphatically. "He won't be
mad. I promise."

David only sighed in response. He signaled that Clark should move in
front of him, and he ordered in an inflexible voice, "Stay close.
You take two steps away from me, and you'll be tossed back in this
office faster than you can blink."

Clark nodded, stiffening only for a few seconds as a hand was placed
lightly at the small of his back.

"I mean it, kid. You move away from the hand, you're back here until
Mr. Luthor comes for you personally."

Clark forced himself to relax, feeling weird as the bigger man guided
him through the back hallways and into the club. The men in the club
gave them a wide berth, and those few who didn't, a meaty arm pushed
them away as David guided Clark across the room.

It was kind of weird, the hand at his back and the clear defensive
stance of his guide. It made Clark wonder if this was how girls felt
when a guy did the same to them, either as a courtesy or in a
protective gesture.

Not that he needed either, but he felt more confident with less of
those strange, hungry stares being aimed his way.

He was directed to the far wall, opposite the bar where a series of
black metal staircases seemed to go up to a balcony level he hadn't
noticed before, as well as to the mysterious upper floors. Clark was
nudged just to the right of the first set of stairs, where an
elevator was concealed, the doors blending in so well that Clark
wouldn't have noticed the elevator there without knowing what to look
for.

David nodded at another beefy guy standing at the base of the stairs
and reached around his neck, pulling out a card that was attached to
a chain tucked under his shirt, which he slipped it into a barely
perceptible slot in the wall. After a few moments the doors slid
silently open, and he nudged Clark to move inside. A punched code
and verbal order by the larger man sent the elevator in motion. It
took less than a minute to get to the third floor.

After the doors opened, Clark walked forward and stared in disbelief
as they exited into another, smaller, dance floor. This one had only
a few dozen people, unlike the huge crowd on the first floor.
However, these people were all in different stages of undress, with a
few shirts unbuttoned, and everyone else being completely shirtless.
A couple of people were completely naked, and there was a lot of
touching, hands sliding over flesh, in ways that were much more than
just dancing.

His eyes practically popped out of his head when he realized that not
everyone was coupled off with a partner. A few men were dancing in
groups, if you could call it dancing, and hands and mouths were in
places that were made Clark simultaneously want to stare and hide his
eyes. Clark wondering distantly if this was what they meant by the
word orgy.

"Come on, kid," a deep voice broke in, pushing him forward. Clark
blanched as he realized they were making their way onto the dance
floor, but it was only to walk around the outskirts far from anyone.
His eyes fell down to his feet, and he blushed as the man behind him
broke out in soft laughter.

"Don't worry about it, kid. It's a bit much if you aren't used to
it. It gets most of the clientele up here excited when they walk
through the dance floor before getting to the private rooms." They
moved through an open archway, entering a whole new area. At first
glance, it seemed to be made up of a series of hallways lined with
doors.

Clark's head had shot up at the words `private rooms', and he looked
over his shoulder at David incredulously. He stammered, "Y-you mean,
they…they do…" He trailed off, too embarrassed to say it, but he
looked up, squinting as he flipped his vision over to x-ray and
looked into the first room they passed.

He stumbled slightly as he saw two men on a couch, both naked, one of
them straddling the other's lap. Several drinks were set on a nearby
table, and one man was pouring something on the other man's chest and
licking it off. A hand clapped to his shoulder caused his vision to
blink out, and he was left staring dumbfounded at a black door.

"They're called private rooms for a reason. They're private. As
long as it isn't too illegal, what's done in there is the clients'
business. We do have rules here, and as long as they're followed,
everyone's happy." Amusement threaded the gruff voice, and the hands
at Clark's back and shoulder pushed him forward gently. "I'll need
to check in to find out what room Mr. Luthor is currently in."

Clark ignored the man behind him, who seemed to be speaking to
himself, even though Clark knew that he had to be speaking into some
sort of communication device. He looked around cautiously, the shut
doors making him simultaneously fascinated and agitated.

He could just take a quick peek into these mysterious rooms, and he'd
get an eyeful to satisfy his unexpected curiosity about gay sex.
He'd find out exactly what all those people in Smallville were always
insinuating about, and he'd know exactly what those guys downstairs
were thinking when they looked at him.

But it didn't feel right to invade all those people's privacy like
that. And he didn't know what he'd see, and this was Lex's old
world. The world his dad was always hinting about and condemning Lex
for. The world outside of Smallville that his parents seemed to
never want to acknowledge. And what if he didn't like what he saw?

What if it made him see Lex differently?

His eyes slid down, and he stared at his worn tennis shoes peeking
out from under the ragged cuffs of his jeans.

On the other hand, what if peeking made him understand Lex better?

Lex was so unapproachable about his past. He'd wax on and on for
hours about ancient history, philosophy, politics, science…anything
and everything, except when it came to anything personal. The few
crumbs he let out were mostly double-edged with a bitterness and
longing about his relationship with his father.

Of course, he'd also never really asked Lex any questions about his
past. Partially because he was afraid of what Lex might say---he
sometimes got the feeling that Lex's childhood and past were less
than happy---but mostly it was due to his fear that Lex wouldn't tell
him. That Lex might snap at him to mind his own business, or coldly
rebuff him, or possibly demand to know things about Clark.

Secret things that Clark wanted to tell Lex, but couldn't. He wanted
to blame his parents, blame them because they demanded absolute
secrecy, but that wasn't completely true. It was his choice to lie
to his friends, to Lex, and he chose to lie to them each time he did
it. While his parents were a very large part of why he lied, there
was also a small part of him that was afraid to tell.

What if lost everyone?

He'd completely and utterly freaked when he'd found out, but he
couldn't exactly leave himself. He'd been horrified and shaken.
He'd blamed himself for the meteors falling, for the mutations, for
all the deaths from the meteor strike and since. He'd wondered what
kind of monster he was that he'd been sent away at birth, and what
kinds of monsters he came from that they'd send the meteors along as
a deadly distraction.

What if Lex was right, and the meteors had been cover and subterfuge
to disguise his descent into the Earth's atmosphere?

Suddenly, all the environmental problems and mutations that were
blamed on LuthorCorp were seen in a new light, and the true blame was
laid squarely at Clark's feet. Or at least his people's, whoever
they were, for sending Clark to Earth.

A large part of the hate that was aimed toward Lex and his father
should have been rightfully aimed at him.

Unexpectedly, everything had been so much clearer and so much more
horrible than anything he'd ever imagined. And he'd become a bigger
freak than even he'd ever imagined himself to be. Not one of the
ones changed or different like the hushed rumors uttered amongst the
populace of Smallville. No, not a mutant, but an alien. An alien.
Not human. Not real.

Everything had been a big lie, and Clark Kent wasn't even Clark
Kent. He was just a collaboration of lies that had started since the
moment he'd landed on this world.

There were times, when he was lying in his bed at night and he
couldn't sleep that he just stared into the darkness and he truly
hated his parents. For lying to him. For deceiving him.

Because it would've be so different if he'd been raised knowing what
he was. If he'd known from childhood that he wasn't human and that
he was an orphan in more ways than one.

He hadn't just lost a family. He'd lost a world. And he would
probably never know from which world or why. He'd had the right to
know this, to know that he wasn't human.

How much easier would his life be if he'd never even thought of
himself in those terms?

Instead, he'd had his very identity stolen from him by finding out
that it had never been real.

And as guilty as it made him, as ungrateful a child as it made him,
deep down he knew a part of him would always resent his parents for
lying to him. Mixed in with all the love and gratitude would always
be a seed of bitterness and hatred for that betrayal.

Because it was obvious that they never would have told him if he
hadn't forced the issue. And he never would have forced the issue if
Lex hadn't hit him with his Porsche.

Sometimes Clark wondered if that was one of the main reasons that his
dad hated Lex. Yes, he was a Luthor. Yes, Lionel was his father.
Yes, he was rich. But more than all that, Lex had instigated the
change.

From the moment Lex Luthor had entered Clark's life in a dramatic
event worthy of a Luthor heir, Clark had become something more.
Strength and speed had morphed into invulnerability. Abilities had
begun to spring up, like heat vision, x-ray vision, not to mention
the four times he'd woken up floating. The rumored mutants had
become something more than rumor as classmates became psychotic and
Clark became a mutant hunter or slayer or whatever.

He began questioning his parents, began questioning the way life was
like in Smallville. It was as if he'd discovered suddenly that the
entire population and town of Smallville were nothing more than a
mask of lies, and hidden underneath was a wriggling mass of dirty
secrets and malicious intent. A rotting core hidden by a façade of
small-town values and a pretty farm community veneer.

And ironically enough, it took a Luthor, supposedly the epitome of
darkness and evil, to show Clark the true face of his town, his
community, his parents, even himself.

Clark swallowed hard, shutting his eyes tightly. Why couldn't he
just be normal?

He jumped slightly as a heavy hand fell on his shoulder.

"You okay? You're not going to faint or anything?"

Clark opened his eyes to see a dark face looking down at him in
concern. He scowled. "No," he muttered. "I'm fine. I just want to
find Lex."

A large shoulder lifted and fell. "Luthor's this way." Brown eyes
narrowed and the man added cautiously, "It's none of my business,
kid, who you are or what he's doing. But the men he's with, the
McGregors…well, just take my advice. Don't draw a lot of attention
to yourself and don't mess with Luthor's business. You seem nice,
different than the usual ones he brings in. Just keep your head low
to the ground. Knowing the McGregors can be…unhealthy, if you get my
meaning."

Clark stared at the man. Surely he wasn't saying…was he? He was
talking like they were gangsters or something, which was just
ridiculous. Right?

Just what was Lex doing with these people?

And what type of people did Lex usually bring here?

How often did Lex come here, with strangers? Strange…men?

Images of Lex dancing with the men they'd just left behind, anonymous
faces and hands touching Lex, made something in Clark grow hot and
angry.

Lex was worth more than that.

Clark let himself be herded down the corridor, past doors that he
resolutely did not peek through, pushing back the anger and his mind
going back to what he'd been told, wondering what `unhealthy' meant
and what sort of men warranted that type of warning. He knew Chloe
would be in heaven to be handed such a mystery with all its shady
implications, with the hint of danger making it all the more
alluring; her busy mind working frantically to try to pull together
random bits of information to make the amazing leaps of logic she was
infamous for.

Instead of thinking on the mystery and intrigue of the club and these
McGregors, he was just worried about Lex and feeling a little
scared. Again. That maybe he was out of his depths.

They wound their way through the warren of corridors, finally ending
at a door that seemed just as unremarkable as all the others. The
card was pulled out once more, and again it was placed into the slot
near the door. A small click was heard, and Clark's escort placed
his thumb on a small pad on the door where a doorknob should have
been. Another click was heard thirty seconds later, followed by the
door moving slightly inwards. A push showed that the door must have
unlatched somehow, and Clark was ushered through the open doorway.

He moved hesitantly into the room, embarrassingly gratified at the
strong presence at his back, as he saw Lex on the far side of the
large room talking quietly with two men. Both men had dark brownish-
reddish hair, narrow faces, and thin lips that were frowning.
Clark's hackles rose as they stood in a vaguely threatening manner
over Lex, and it didn't help that they were both taller and built
like professional body builders. They looked like they were
somewhere in their late thirties, with one of them possibly pushing
into his early forties, and something sinister just seemed to radiate
from the pair.

Or it could have just been David's warning that had Clark seeing
something that wasn't there.

There were a dozen or so people in the room, and two televisions were
playing in opposite corners. One set was playing a baseball game,
and the other was showing some sort of fight. There were multiple
sofas and chairs in the room made of a dark blue material that
contrasted with the dark burgundy of the room's walls and carpet.
The lights were rather dim, and an assortment of bottles and glasses--
-filled and empty----were scattered on the tables near the
furniture.

Clark gasped as he also saw pills and a couple of bags of white
powder scattered throughout the room, along with a few syringes lying
around with other paraphernalia that Clark had only seen in cop shows
on TV. People were lying on sofas or draped over chairs, either
watching the two televisions or talking. Two couples were making out
on two of the sofas, and another pair was backed into the corner, the
man against the wall on his knees. Clark couldn't see much from the
angle he was standing as to what was going on, but he could make a
pretty good guess thanks to Pete's porn tape.

David stayed at his back as they made their way to Lex.

"This is ridiculous. You can't honestly expect me to have that kind
of cash lying around, and the banks are obviously closed for the
night. I can get the money to you by nine tomorrow morning."

"And as we've stated before, that's not adequate."

"Please. We both know that I'm good for it."

"I appreciate your offer to cover Andrew's debt, Mr. Luthor, but as
we've already stated the previous agreement was for immediate
payment. Tomorrow is too late. We expect payment tonight, and if
Andrew isn't able to fulfill his contract, then consequences will
have to be mete out."

Lex's eyes narrowed at the cool icy tones being directed at him by
the oldest of the pair. "And as we've discussed, Andy isn't able to
make immediate payment of anything. I've already agreed to take care
of the debt, and it's not unreasonable to ask for a twelve hour
extension to make arrangements for the amount of cash in question."

The taller, younger brunette smirked. "It is completely
unreasonable, Lex. You know how these things work, and we're merely
applying a common arrangement that everyone else adheres to. He knew
exactly what he was doing when he placed that bet and when he
purchased certain merchandise tonight, and like everyone else, he
pays before he leaves the room. Unless he doesn't wish to leave the
room in the same condition he arrived in."

Another brunette stood slightly to the side of the arguing threesome,
short spiky hair tipped blond and dark eyes wide with fear. He ran
his hand nervously through his hair at the last statement,
stammering, "Carl, man, there's got to be a way to work this out.
You know I'm good for it. I always make good on my payments, and
this just got a little out of hand. Lex can give you your money
tomorrow. Isn't there some way we could---"

"Listen you little shit," the younger man growled, grabbing onto
Andy's shirt and pulling him close. "You know how it works, and you
made a bet you couldn't cover. That's your problem, not ours. And
if you can't offer payment within the next three hours before Piper's
closes, then you'll be making those payments in blood. Or on your
back in trade until we get our cash."

Clark recoiled at the open terror that appeared on Andy's face. He
waited silently, unnoticed a few feet behind Lex. He felt torn, part
of him wanting to interfere at the sight of someone so clearly in
trouble and being bullied, and yet a very big part of him also
wanting to go hide in the nearest convenient corner.

Because as civilized as the two men appeared, dressed just as slick
as the rest of the people in the room, there was a clear menace in
their face and body language. It was the type of threat similar to
what Phelan had presented, the type of threat Clark didn't know how
to fight because it was so inherently malevolent and so utterly human.

Meteor mutants were a clear-cut danger he knew how to fight.
Slugging matches with the meteor-strengthened were one thing.
Humans, normal humans, who lived in a dark underworld Clark had no
concept of, was another story. Super-powered alien abilities
couldn't be used, and he had no idea how you fought that sort of
callous viciousness and delight in human misery.

Clark shrank back slightly, suddenly wishing he'd stayed in the
office.

Lex grabbed onto Andy's arm, pulling him back and out of the grip
of `Carl'. The older man looked disgruntled, and he shot a dark look
at Lex, but he loosened his fingers and let go while his older
brother looked on in boredom. Lex kept his hand on Andy's arm,
pushing the man slightly behind him, and calmly asked, "Is that
really necessary? This is a simple business transaction. You
require payment for your…services. You are unable to collect payment
within the allotted time, but you can receive payment if an extension
is allowed. If you harm him, I won't pay. If you allow the
extension, I do. This isn't complicated."

Carl's brother laughed scornfully. "And set a precedent? Everyone
knows the rules when they deal with us. If we give him an out,
everyone else will be whining about receiving one. You're a
businessman, Luthor. A broken contract has consequences. I suspect
Andrew here will find the money fast enough if he's used as a bit of
rough trade for a day or two, and he won't squelch on a payment again
in the future."

Clark flinched as a pair of hard eyes suddenly set upon him, looking
speculatively between Clark and Lex before a leer spread over the
younger McGregor's face.

"Or we could maybe work out something in trade with that bit of
pretty behind you. I don't think I've seen him before." Carl licked
his lips, his eyes raking up and down Clark's body as he undressed
him with his eyes. "Maybe a few hours of that one's mouth, and we'll
allow the extension since we'll be receiving compensation for our…
generosity."

Lex turned, and Clark's heart started pounding at the intense, dark
look that was directed at him. Furious, cold blue eyes made him take
a step back, and he lurched into David as the ferocity of his anger
practically fell off of Lex in waves. A sliver of fear wound its way
down his spine, but what confused him was the shiver of excitement
that accompanied it.

Lex's eyes flicked up to the man behind Clark, and he glanced once
more at Clark before turning slightly to face the McGregor brothers,
while still keeping Clark within his line of sight and Andy shielded
behind him. His jaw tightened, and he jerked his head `no' once.
His voice was frigid and utterly inflexible as he bit
out, "Unacceptable. My…associate isn't negotiable. We'll reach
another agreement."

"Are you sure? Because he's magnificent." Carl paused, and his gaze
drifted down to Clark's lips. "The things he must be able to do with
that mouth alone, and those eyes are exquisite. I'd be more than
willing to reach an accord over your newest plaything." Carl's eyes
wandered leisurely over Clark's face, especially the aforementioned
mouth and eyes. His leer widened as he watched Clark hunch into
himself. "He's got that wholesome look, all shiny and fresh like he
just stepped off the farm. Like he's still cherry. He must be…quite
talented to keep such a sweet facade."

Clark took another step back, and his eyes darted to Lex, looking for
reassurance. Lex, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to commit
murder. Slowly and painfully over several hours. At least. With
his bare hands.

Carl, obviously, didn't see the same thing, because he
continued, "I'd be willing to give you the twelve hours for just an
hour with his mouth. And I'll give you twenty-four for an hour with
his ass."

Clark felt frozen, shocked at how that man was talking about him,
saying those things about him. He suddenly appreciated the bodyguard
Lex had sicced on him if this was what Lex had been trying to shield
him from. Not that he couldn't take care of himself, but he felt
incredibly revolted and dirty at the idea of being anywhere alone
with this creep. For even five minutes. He was also getting the
impression that this guy didn't take the word `no' very well. Of
course, he couldn't be forced to do anything, but…his eyes widened as
Lex's control snapped.

Grabbing onto Carl's arm, Lex leaned forward and hissed, "Why the
fuck do you always have to think with your cock? I told you, my
associate isn't negotiable. Ever. End. Of. Story. If you want your
money, you deal with me."

Carl smirked, running the hand from his free arm up and down the arm
Lex was holding him with. "Lex. You know I've always enjoyed
dealing with you. If I recall, you had quite the talented mouth
yourself. It's been a few years, so I wouldn't mind becoming…
reacquainted, maybe seeing just what you've learned in that time.
Dealing with you wouldn't be a hardship at all."

Lex had been with this creep?

Lex held himself perfectly still as Carl leaned in, lowering his head
and nuzzling into Lex's neck.

Clark was taken aback when the man's brother cuffed him on the head
and jerked him back, though he was in utter shock that Lex was
allowing this…this slimeball to touch him when Lex didn't let anyone
touch him.

"Luthor's right. You do think with your cock." He looked at Lex
coolly. "Fine. You want to deal in Andy's place, the same thing
applies. Payment in three hours or there's consequences. As a show
respect to you, Mr. Luthor, those consequences are negotiable. We're
both businessmen, and bullshit aside, we both know you could get the
money tonight if you really needed to."

"There's always Daddy," Carl added slyly.

Lex glared at the man. "There's no fucking way I'm asking my father
for anything." He paused, looking searchingly at the two men in
front of him. "What I don't understand is why the terms can't be
amended."

A speculative look entered Lex's eyes. The two men merely looked on
stonily.

"Let me guess, you need to make an example of someone, and Andy's
just convenient. Because I sure as hell know you've dealt with him
enough in the past to you know he usually requires a few days to
arrange these types of matters."

The older McGregor snorted, shrugging carelessly. "You know how
these things work; it's an annual necessity in our line of business.
And it's just business, nothing personal." He glanced at Andy with a
knowing look, like he knew it didn't matter if it was just business
or if it was personal because he'd be back either way.

Lex's lips thinned, but he nodded. "Fine. You'll have your money in
three hours. A hundred thousand as discussed. I expect Andy to be
here, untouched, when I get back."

He ignored the men, turning his back on them and grabbing Andy by the
arm. He started for the other side of the room and used his free
hand to grab Clark's arm to jerk him in the same direction. He threw
Andy into the first empty couch he saw, and he pressed Clark into a
neighboring chair.

"I want you to sit here and not move," Lex bit out. He turned
around, leaning into Andy's personal space and started whispering
furiously.

Clark shifted uneasily as he felt eyes watching him, and he glanced
uncertainly around the room from under his eyelashes trying to be as
covert as possible. He noticed a half dozen people looking at him
and Lex, whispering to each other and laughing. He also felt eyes
drilling into him from the direction they'd just left, and he ducked
his head as he realized that the creepy brother was looking at him
intently. With nothing to stare at but his tennis shoes and the
knots in his laces, he overheard Lex's furious whispers.

"Just stay here," Lex said impatiently, "and for fuck's sake, no more
partying or gambling. I'm not covering anything else you do here
tonight! I'll be back within two hours."

"Lex, I can't thank you enough. I swear, I'll pay you back within a
week, and---"

"Damn it, Andy! If you want to begin thanking me, just sit the fuck
here and don't take anything else. Don't touch anything. Don't do
anything. No drugs. No alcohol. No prostitutes. You know how you
get when you get trashed. If I could, I'd take you with me."

Andy sounded insulted as he protested, "I can take care of myself! I
can be left in a room without supervision you know! And I'm not some
addict, so stop treating me like one."

"Then start acting like an adult," Lex hissed. "If you can take of
yourself, why the fuck did you call me?"

The brunette's shoulders drooped, and he exhaled heavily. He reached
up with a shaky hand and nervously ran it through his hair. "Shit.
I'm sorry, Lex. You're right; I lost control tonight. You know how
I…well, if it wasn't for you, I'd be in a hell of a lot of trouble.
I got in over my head. It won't happen again."

Lex sighed and said resignedly, though a touch of gentleness was in
his voice, "Yes, it will. This is me you're talking to. Just don't
let it get this bad again, and stay the fuck away from the
McGregors. They don't play nice." Lex's eyes darkened. "They
really, really don't play nice."

Andy gave Lex a wobbly smile. "I mean it, Lex. Thanks. If you
hadn't come tonight…"

Lex snorted. "Just be here, sober, when I get back. We'll talk next
week on how you're going to spin this to your dad."

"I owe you, Lex."

Clark started as a hand fell on his shoulder, and his head jerked
up. He stared into livid blue eyes, and he felt his stomach coiling
tightly again in that strange dual sensation of fear-excitement.
Lex's other hand had come down on the cushion on his opposite
shoulder, which left Lex boxing him in with his body as he loomed
above ominously.

"Lex, I'm---"

"What part of, `Wait here until I come back' did you not understand?"

Even though his voice was hushed, the steel behind the words made
Clark flinch. "Lex, it was taking too long. You were gone twice as
long as you said you would be. I thought you might be in trouble."

The ice-cold fury in Lex's eyes softened just a fraction, but his
voice was still as warm as an arctic winter. "I asked you to stay
there for a reason." Lex looked up, over Clark's shoulder, and sent
the full weight of his anger in a glare only a Luthor could have
given. He spit out, "And you, I thought you were supposed to keep
him safe there."

"Lex," Clark interrupted, touching Lex's chest tentatively with one
hand, his fingertips grazing the area just above Lex's heart. He
could feel Lex's heartbeat pulsing against his fingers, and his own
pulse raced a little faster in response. "Please. Don't be mad at
David. I bullied him into bringing me to you. It's my fault, so if
you're mad, be mad at me."

Lex's eyes shut briefly, and he exhaled softly through his mouth. He
opened his eyes, his expression almost calm. He squeezed Clark's
shoulder softly, leaning down to murmur quietly enough so no one else
could overhear, "I'd never be angry with you, Clark."

Clark shivered as Lex's breath tickled his ear. However, he sent a
dubious look at Lex.

Lex snorted. Again he kept his voice down, speaking directly into
Clark's ear. "Okay, so I do get angry sometimes. But I get angry
with some of the things you do, Clark. I never get angry at you."
Lex turned his head, their faces so close Clark could see little
specks of silver-grey in Lex's eyes. Lex looked into Clark's eyes,
and his eyes warmed. "I'd never get angry at you."

Clark's breath caught at the soft promise in those words, and his
eyes were trapped in Lex's gaze. Lex seemed to be saying things with
his eyes, and Clark desperately wished he understood.

But he was just a dumb kid from Smallville, a dumb alien kid, and he
didn't understand whatever language Lex was speaking with those eyes
that Clark just knew he'd be seeing in his sleep tonight. Maybe he
wasn't city enough, or maybe he just wasn't human enough, to
understand and something inside of him twisted sharp and deep at the
thought of never knowing.

"I'm angry at the situation you were placed in. I'm angry with
myself for exposing you to this situation in the first place. And
I'm furious at some of the comments you've had to endure since coming
here. But I'm not angry at you." The next words were accompanied by
a half-quirk of a smile. "Come on. I need to drop you off at the
penthouse, and then I have some money I need to collect."

Clark's eyes popped wide open as the last few minutes really hit him,
as well as all the implications. "Lex, how are you going to get that
much money so fast," he whispered, voice stunned. "A hundred
thousand? That's crazy."

Lex started to straighten up, the hand on Clark's shoulder lifting,
and it hovered briefly as if Lex wasn't sure what he wanted to do
with it. A few seconds passed before Lex's face smoothed out into
his game face. He stood up, brushing his hands down his shirt and
smoothing out the lines in the material. "It may be, but it can be
done."

Lex's eyes flicked up to the big man who stood behind Clark, and he
looked around the room cautiously. His eyes finally landed on Clark,
and a grim smile came over his face. He quietly muttered to
himself, "There's very little a Luthor can't do if the need is great
enough."


*****


Lex was NOT happy.

However, he was very aware that excruciatingly little was in his
control at the moment, and all he could do was deal with the
consequences as they came.

One positive result of having lived the life he had thus far, as wild
and undisciplined as it was at times, was that he knew all about
consequences. Of how you sometimes just had to accept whatever
happened to you, ride out the moment, and the only thing you could do
was just control the damage after the fallout had finished.

Bemoaning your state of affairs did nothing but show your own
weakness, an indulgence only the weak-willed partook in.

However, it was another story to honestly acknowledge to oneself what
a clusterfuck the night had been since the damn call from Andy.

He shifted the Porsche down as he decelerated, the light ahead
turning yellow and then red. No other cars were on the road, but
then it was three in the morning. He drummed his fingers lightly on
the steering wheel impatiently as he waited for the light to change.

It was stupid to wait here when there was no reason, no other car in
sight, but with his luck tonight, there was probably some cop hiding
and in wait to swoop down to give him a ticket if he just went
through the light.

Things had moved swiftly after leaving the McGregors behind, and just
thinking about the brothers who were barely a level above thugs and
who specialized in catering to the rich made Lex want to gnash his
teeth. Carl, with his thrice-bedamned horniness, hadn't let his eyes
wander away from Clark after first noticing the boy had slipped into
the room. And he'd asked after Clark again, trying to get a name and
a price for the latest Luthor whore when Lex had come back with the
hundred thousand that Andy had so desperately needed.

It was a very close thing, and he'd almost given into his desire to
pound the presumptive little shit into the very expensive carpeting.
Only knowing how detrimental it would be to let anyone know just how
precious the dark-haired boy was to Lex Luthor kept Lex's fists
clenched at his side.

The last thing he needed was an attempted kidnapping of Clark to try
to manipulate or blackmail him. Nor did he want people to start
targeting the teenager as a way to get to him, or as an avenue for
revenge in an attempt to hurt the Luthor heir. Ugly rumors were also
a possibility, as was some overzealous vulture of a reporter popping
up to start harassing or stalking Clark if the rags got a hint that
the teenager meant something to him.

He also didn't want Clark to have an inkling of what his true value
was to Lex. Besides being discomforting, the boy hadn't earned the
right to know he was loved beyond all reason by Lex.

Clark could keep his secrets, but Lex would keep his, too. And he
wouldn't accept Clark in any form beyond friendship without both love
and trust irrevocably offered with an open heart.

Fucking he could get from anyone. Friends with benefits? That
always ended badly. Nothing was more important than their
friendship, not even his love for the boy. And he wouldn't risk that
friendship for anything less than *all* of Clark.

Another reason he'd never dug too deep to get positive proof on what
he believed Clark Kent to be. He wanted the truth, and thus proof of
complete trust, from Clark's own lips. Not from some paid lackey or
from his own investigations.

The truth, without trust, would only taste of bitter ashes.

Which brought him back to one of the biggest problems that the
evening had laid at his door.

Clark.

Clark, his best friend. His seventeen-year-old best friend. Who'd
been brought to a gay men's club, had been propositioned lewdly
twice, and was probably still in heterosexual shock.

Or perhaps shock had passed into righteous fury.

Nobody did righteous fury better than a Kent.

There were times Lex really hated Jonathan Kent, and hearing
Jonathan's voice come out of Clark tomorrow morning wasn't exactly
something he was looking forward to. He'd had to hear it all too
often in the past, and he was afraid one day he wouldn't just quietly
take the shit Clark or his father dished out. One day, he'd get fed
up with the baseless accusations and blind bigotry and he'd say what
was really on his mind.

One day, he'd lose Clark's friendship. Or Jonathan Kent would make
his son choose between his family and a Luthor's friendship, citing
Lex's disrespect as cause enough for forcing such a choice on his
only child.

Lex really didn't want to know whom Clark would choose in such a
situation.

He was pretty sure ingrained Luthor hatred of a decade and a half
would hold sway over a two-year friendship.

Not to mention that Clark was an orphan. The poor kid didn't have
anyone but the Kents in the world, so he couldn't imagine little
orphan Clark just blithely turning his back on his adoptive father
and mother.

Besides, even if by some miracle Clark choose Lex over his parents,
he had no doubts that Clark would eventually blame and hate Lex for
that choice. After all, with the Kents, everything always came down
to the Luthors and how everything bad, evil, or slightly questionable
was somehow their fault.

Lex rubbed his face wearily, his hand brushing over his scalp slowly
before he looked up blankly at the green light.

Now he was slipping into maudlin hopelessness. Something that
occurred all too often when he thought about his hopeless, unrequited
love for the child who'd saved his life.

He let his own disgust roll over him as he continued making his way
to the penthouse. He didn't know what was worse, that he'd actually
allowed himself to fall so miserably in love with someone who
couldn't and wouldn't love him back, or that he was practically a
pedophile for having such intense feelings for someone so damn young.

Ironically enough, the fact that he'd been younger than Clark when
he'd had his first sexual experience and that he'd had sex with men
and women a hell of lot older than him when he was Clark's age didn't
make him feel any better. It was a whole world of difference on the
other side of the equation, and it didn't make him feel any less
perverted.

Who the hell fell in love with a fifteen-year-old?

Lex swore quietly to himself for the thousandth time that he wouldn't
ever touch Clark, and that he'd protect Clark from everyone. Even
himself and his love. After all, as his mother found out, a Luthor's
love could be a terrible thing.

Lex pulled into the parking garage, nodding an acknowledgement to the
security guard on duty, and pulled into the Luthor level
reluctantly. He wasn't quite ready to go up, but he wasn't about to
let himself play the coward now.

He itemized the immediate problems in his mind as he entered the
private elevator to his penthouse, a graduation present upon his
graduation from the Princeton undergraduate program at the top of his
class. Not that the bribe had worked. Lex had stayed on the East
Coast to start on his doctorate and had told his father to go bite
himself. He'd insisted that the family business could wait until he
finished with his education and that hell would freeze over before he
went to Met U again.

Lionel hadn't been happy, but Lex would swear there had been the
tiniest gleam of satisfaction that the bribe had shown that he
couldn't be easily bought or wooed.

But reminiscing didn't solve his problems. And Jesus fuck was he
tired.

First, he had Clark to deal with. There was nothing for it: he'd
have to have a serious talk with the teenager in the morning about
topics that Lex would have preferred not to be brought up at all.
But what he wanted had very little to do with what needed to be done
and damage had to be maintained to a minimal if possible.

Second, he'd have to take certain preventative measure in regards to
the McGregors. The bastards knew he could come up with a serious
chunk of cash within hours, as well as Andy and anyone else who might
have been listening or anyone that the McGregors told. He wouldn't
be surprised if someone had followed him, and he'd assumed someone
had because paranoia was a very healthy way to live when you were a
Luthor and richer than God.

After ushering Clark as quickly through Piper's as possible---he had
serious issues about Clark being exposed to the third floor---he'd
dropped off the protesting teen at the penthouse. But not before
going up himself and withdrawing a satchel from the safe in the
office that had contained $40,000 in hundred dollar bills, from which
he'd taken $30,000 and placed into a briefcase. Security would have
to be increased at the penthouse in case someone got the idea that it
was an easy mark for a burglary.

Maybe he'd contact Selena. If she was willing to make the trip from
Gotham, he knew he couldn't find a more capable and knowledgeable
security consultant. Security cameras and an alarm weren't going to
cut it anymore.

He'd gone to the airport next, where he'd had $20,00 stashed in a
locker in case he ever needed to get out of the state or country
quickly. Being on the run might mean he wouldn't have the time to go
anywhere else to pick up cash or clothes, not to mention the fake
ID's he'd had stashed in the duffle bag, so he'd covered his bases.
It was annoying that he'd have to give up the locker, but another
could be rented easily enough with a different alias.

Luckily, he hadn't had to stop off at the bus station for the very
similar duffle bag he'd stashed there, so that locker was still
secure.

Next, he'd driven to several other `dummy' locations merely to
confuse anyone that might be following him. No reason to make it
easy for anyone to know where he really kept large amounts of cash,
and it might throw some doubt that Lex kept cash at the penthouse.
However, what really irked was that he'd have to drop his bolthole
now that it was compromised.

His bolthole had been his second to last stop before going to the
club. He'd rented the apartment anonymously under an alias, and no
one knew of the place but him. You never knew when you might have to
go into hiding, and he'd been renting the place since he was
sixteen. He had a couple such places scattered in the US and Europe.

Living the life of a Luthor, being the heir to of one of the largest
fortunes in the United States, and being the son of Lionel Luthor
meant having such boltholes. Lex had always been a survivor, even at
his most suicidal, and paranoia and experience had led to him
outlining such measures early in life.

However, compromising the place had been a necessity, so he wasn't
about to gripe too much. He'd needed the $50,000 stashed there,
under a floorboard.

Fuck, if Andy wasn't one of the few childhood friends he'd had, he
wouldn't bother to continue bailing the guy out. He should stop,
force him to learn to take care of his own problems, but Andy had
been the one of the few kids who hadn't teased or rejected him at
Excelsior when he got out of the hospital. It wasn't a kindness he
could forget or dismiss easily.

He stepped out of the open elevator door in relief, glad to be home
and finally able to get some sleep. He still had some thinking to do
about the McGregors, but it could wait until tomorrow. He hadn't
liked the look in Carl's eyes as he'd handed over the briefcase, and
he had a feeling that one or both of the brothers would be back in
his life sooner than he would like.

He shuddered slightly. Besides asking about Clark, the SOB had
turned those creepy little eyes on him. He still regretted his one
night with the man, a bad error in judgment that he chalked up to
youthful stupidity combined with too much coke for him to know
better. He didn't even remember that night all that clearly, but the
light in Carl's eyes had shown that the same couldn't be said for
Carl.

Fuck. Why was it that all the weirdoes and power-hungry assholes
were always after his ass or cock?

Lex stopped abruptly, eyes wide, as he stepped into the living room
area of the penthouse.

Moonlight was streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the
stars twinkling almost imperceptibly through the light pollution of
the city. But it wasn't the celestial heavens that had caught Lex's
breath in his throat, or caused his heart to pound furiously as a
disgustingly soft warmth spread throughout his chest.

Pale moonbeams spilled out onto a sleeping figure on the sofa facing
the night sky, and the cool light seemed to enfold the boy. It took
very little imagination to envision that he'd stepped into an
artist's studio, and before him lay a sleeping beauty worthy of
Michelangelo. A finished masterpiece, pure perfection chiseled out
of rock that had whispered into the artist's ear of a magnificence
beyond even that of David.

Lex let out a soft breath, and his fingers itched to reach out to
touch soft locks. The boy's raven hair seemed to absorb the darkness
of the room even as the moonlight caressed a curl that had fallen
down into his forehead. A black fan of lashes brushed moon-kissed
cheeks, and lips were a dark burgundy in the silver-white rays
streaming through the windows.

Lex just thanked whatever gods might be listening that Clark had put
on sweats and a t-shirt. If the sleeping boy had been half-naked,
Lex wasn't sure he would have had enough of a mind left to exercise
the necessary restraint and self-control. As it was, he was
entranced by the sight of Clark, asleep on his stomach, one cheek
pressed into the dark cushion, and that delectable ass presented
temptingly as one knee had been drawn up towards the boy's stomach.

At this one moment, in the darkness of the night and with no one to
witness other than the moon and the stars, Lex felt his heart fill
with so much love for the one sleeping before him that he'd swear he
could feel it overflowing, threading its way like molten gold through
his veins and entrenching itself down into the mitochondria of every
cell in his body.

His chest spasmed as he realized, recognized, and accepted within
seconds just how much he loved this boy, the most beautiful creature
he'd ever seen, and he knew that he would do anything for the man-
child that slept unaware. Live, die, steal, kill. Whatever Clark
wanted and needed, he would give if it was within his power, and wha