Title:
As The Night The Day
Authors: Alax and Dana
RATING: NC-17
CATEGORY: AU, Angst, BDSM, First Time, Romance
PAIRING: Clark/Lex, Clark/m
DISCLAIMER: If they were ours you still wouldn’t get to do more than read about
them.
AUTHOR’S NOTES: Dana’s notes ~ Dedicated to all the Anvil players, past and
present, who crack me up on a daily basis, esp. the brilliant suzycat, whose Lex
gives me inspiration. Alax’s notes ~ Dedicated to the readers, because when it
all comes down to it, you're the reason I do this. Thanks for all the support
and encouragement, guys. xoxox Betas ~ special thanks and love to our fabulous
betas: philtre, rosesmove and suzycat.
SUMMARY: Written for Clex Fuh-Q-Fest
3rd Wave in response to following challenges: A) “Gruesome
Level” 50,000 words in 2 months, and B) “AU-scenario: Clark's a rent boy and Lex
is on the prowl.” (MIdKnight)
FEEDBACK: Deleted scenes available upon request, and like Lex, we won’t make you
crawl. Just ask:
shaggirl@livejournal.com;
clexsymbiosis@hotmail.com
As The Night The Day
January 2003
A
thumping dance rhythm pounded through Clark as he wove through the mass of
bodies reaffirming their life forces on the dance floor. Dodging elbows and
sliding out from under the stray hands that landed and lingered on his body,
Clark squeezed out of the jumble of limbs and ducked into an arched marble
alcove just as two sated men stepped out of it. The inside of the archway
probably saw a thousand sexual acts a night. It was time he and the marble both
had a break from writhing bodies.
Breathing in the hot air, thick with the scent of expensive colognes and
underlying sweat, Clark searched the large room.
…Tall, blond, muscular. Leather pants, no shirt…eyes stagnant and murky like
swamp water. No, not him. He might not remember the terms of their agreement the
morning after.
…Burnished skin, glitter flickering high on cheekbones, white-silver glinting on
two fingers and belt buckle as he rolled his hips, grinding back against the
zipper of a pair of tight black pants. His mark turned, chin raised by a loose
fist that bore a flash of metal that matched his partner’s. The glittered man
smiled then nodded towards Clark, gesturing in his direction. Clark retreated
deeper into the darkness of his cubby.
Clark wanted one, not two. He had to start somewhere, yes, but he could at least
make this comfortable for himself.
Well, relatively comfortable anyway.
Another candidate pushed through the door of the club and Clark made his way out
of the shadows for a closer look.
Good looking, and that would definitely be a bonus. Well-dressed, but then
again, everyone in here shopped on runways instead of in department stores.
This man wore a shimmering shirt that slid over tight abdominals and slick
leather pants that clung like saran wrap in all the right places.
Clark moved to the edge of the dance floor and stepped up onto an empty
platform, moving his body to the thrumming pulse of lights and music, ignoring
the tight pull of self-consciousness in his chest. Hands on the thick metal
railing in front of him, he narrowed his eyes and looked through leather and
more leather, into the wallet of the man he’d been watching.
Four hundred dollars in cash. Clark briefly considered, tempted. It seemed
like a lot of money. A lot of money, but he’d read that the truly
wealthy, the kind of man he wanted to find tonight, didn’t carry cash or
plastic. He shook his head absently at the concept of having so much money you
no longer needed to pay for anything. Okay, so… shit. Back to square one.
Absorbed in his thoughts, Clark spun and hopped off the platform, heading back
for his still-empty hole in the wall, and stepped headlong into the path
of…well, a candidate. God, how fucked up was it that he was thinking like
this?
Clark’s attention was drawn first to the man’s hands that, lifted in defense,
spread wide on Clark’s chest. Heavy gold rings adorned long, manicured fingers,
hands that looked strong and… capable? Clark’s x-ray vision confirmed the
misshapen knuckles were a result of old breaks.
He automatically scanned the man’s pockets and his billfold revealed what Clark
had been looking for all night. No cash, no credit cards. The jeweled cuff
links that sparkled from snow-white cuffs and the rich fabric of a dark,
well-cut suit were all the additional proof Clark needed. This man with a
boxer’s hands was undoubtedly wealthy enough for his purposes.
He raised his eyes to meet the stranger’s, who was looking at him with open
appraisal. Older, but handsome, blond haired silvered at the temples. Arctic
blue eyes, cold and distant, and Clark caught himself suppressing a shudder as
he looked into them.
“Pardon me.” The thick Russian accent clung in Clark’s ears as the man’s touch
slid lower and harder, rubbing over his stomach and ribs in anything but
apology.
Clark swallowed hard and tried to breathe, shaking his head and forcing a smile.
“No, it was my fault. Excuse me.”
The man tilted his head and looked down, licking his lips in the direction of
Clark’s zipper. “Let me buy you a drink?” Not really a question with his hand
moving to grasp Clark by the elbow. The man could guess what Clark was – what
he was trying to be.
Frozen stiff on the battlefield in his mind, caught between real need and
near-paralyzing fear, Clark found himself considering his options for the
fiftieth time that night. His mind raced through the list of jobs he’d
considered, through crimes that would never be solved, all the possible
solutions that didn’t involve compromising his honor.
No.
As low as this choice ranked on the rungs of the morality ladder, it wouldn’t
hurt anyone.
One large, hard hand cupped his cock and Clark stopped breathing. He smiled and
stepped back, freeing himself. “Thanks but… I don’t drink.”
Panic spurred Clark and he moved fast, slipping into a cluster of gyrating
bodies and glancing over his shoulder to see a strikingly naked head appear over
the Russian man’s shoulder.
Siphoning out the blaring music, Clark heard the words that formed on pink,
smirking lips. “No luck, Sergei?”
Clark grinned and ducked his head, effectively hiding himself from the Russian’s
sight as he craned his neck, searching the crowd.
“I want him, Alexander. Did you see him?”
“I saw him. He looked young.”
“I like them young, Alexander. Young like you.”
Straining to hear each word that seemed to be spoken unknowingly in his defense,
Clark wrapped his hands around the hips that rubbed insistently back against his
in the mindless movements of the group. The music fell beneath his hearing,
echoing far away like he was in the bottom of a barrel, and Clark closed his
eyes, reluctantly letting hands roam over his body as he waited for the bald
man’s voice to find his ears again.
“I haven’t mixed business and pleasure in years, Sergei. Besides, what would my
father think? Let’s get you another drink and see if we can’t find another nice
young man for you to frighten.”
Clark lifted his head and opened his eyes, finding a crack in the jostling
bodies and watching as the younger man clamped a hand hard on Sergei’s shoulder
and led him to the bar.
Alexander.
Clark tested it on his tongue, voice loud and uninhibited under the roar of the
music. As if he’d heard, Alexander turned and smiled fast but genuine. Predatory
and sincere. The wink cinched it though, and Clark knew.
He wanted Alexander.
But Alexander, as sexy and compelling as he was, wouldn’t be hard up for sex,
wouldn’t need to hook up with someone like Clark. He looked young, too. No way
he could possess the kind of independent wealth Clark needed.
No, Clark needed someone who coveted youth and chastity. Someone with fangs who
wanted to sink his teeth into fresh meat.
Someone like the man Alexander was with. Sergei, he’d called him.
He’d hoped for someone nice, but Sergei could work. He’d be able to distance
himself from this man easily, take himself out of the situation and put himself
somewhere else while it happened. From the way Sergei was tossing down shots,
Clark figured at least his first time would be quick. After that, well… he’d
just have to find a way to deal with it. Maybe he was only in town for a few
days – maybe this whole thing could be over by the end of the week, and he could
put it all behind him.
Maybe he’d get to spend time with Alexander, too.
He circled the dance floor, heading for the bar where Alexander stood, looking
right at him while talking to Sergei. Clark tried to look casual at first,
ambling through cliques of men that blossomed up in his path, but then he
stopped, eyes flitting across his goal, and he saw Alexander relax back, arms
propped on the bar behind him, ankles crossed. The picture of confidence.
And Clark’s wavered.
Even at this distance, Clark could make out the crystal clear gaze of blue, blue
eyes, the sheen of sweat forming slick on Alexander’s temple, the pink of full,
sensual lips. Sergei’s back was turned; he was swallowing another glass of the
clear liquid, arm raising in the air to toast each gulp. Alexander barely
acknowledged the Russian as Clark began to move again, this time with obvious
purpose, eyes locked on Alexander’s.
He was breathtaking. Bald, yes, but Clark couldn’t imagine hair concealing that
pale skin; couldn’t picture this man with hair at all, even when he squinted his
eyes and tried.
The smooth skin flashed white and blue and purple under the shock effect of the
lights, but it was most stunning in the brown-grey darkness between the strobes,
shining there from under the white collar and dark tie. Bound up in propriety
when Clark felt the waves of individuality seeping into the air between them as
he approached.
Starched and formal in the confines of hand-tailored fabric, Alexander’s casual
facade didn’t fool Clark. Underneath the cool exterior, Clark could tell a
beautiful body was aching to be free, to connect with air and heat and skin. And
Sergei was… a business partner? No. Someone he was schmoozing, taking out on the
town and showing him a good time for the sake of the company. Alexander’s eyes
narrated the scene for him as he parted another crowd and stepped closer.
A hard worker then, even if he did come from money. Or maybe he’d earned every
penny himself, working for someone else.
It didn’t matter which, not for his purposes.
He was targeting the Russian after all. Alexander was just… a nice distraction.
Something to take his mind off what he was doing, and make the situation more…
real at the same time.
He held Alexander’s appraising…no – admiring – gaze and chanted
self-assurances in his head.
You can do this, Clark. You’re fine… you can do this. Just keep moving…
breathe.
Clark’s mantra faltered and he froze mid-step as a wide, knowing smile flashed
across Alexander’s face. Oh fuck. What if he wanted to watch? It was
more than Clark could handle, more than he was up for this first time. He
couldn’t imagine looking into those eyes while huge, rough hands groped and
grabbed at his skin. Couldn’t imagine faking pleasure, making sounds that
Alexander would hear and undoubtedly know were just an act.
Clark turned away and started back towards his corner, but a hand wrapped around
his bicep, squeezing hard.
The hand yanked him back and Clark shifted his weight to keep his balance, his
back pressing hard along the muscles of Alexander’s chest. The voice in his ear
was already familiar – one he could have picked out of a crowd if he’d had to.
“Didn’t you want to ask me something before you run off?”
Clark licked his lips, trying to summon words from somewhere underneath the
white-hot thrumming of his pulse. “I… You –”
“What’s your name, pretty boy?”
Alexander’s breath tickled hot on his earlobe and Clark tilted his head into the
voice, eyes rolling back in his head and closing as he fought down the urge to
turn and take.
“I’m, um… Clark.
But you
can call me…” The line Clark had practiced all night in his head stopped up his
throat as a strong hand rubbed down over his stomach and covered his cock. It
wasn’t that good of a line anyway.
“Clark. I like it. I know what you’re after, Clark, and I’m sure you’ll find
Sergei more than willing to provide it. Join my friend and me outside.”
Alexander’s hand slid heavily up over his arm as he backed away, leaving Clark
to turn and stammer after him. “I’m…” Clark looked between the two men who were
watching him so intently, and steeled himself. Now or never. “Okay.”
Clark tried to ignore the palm scorching its way through his t-shirt and instead
concentrated on the way Alexander moved through the crowd – fluid, unconcerned,
like the crowd parting before him was his due. Sex personified. If he wasn’t
there when it happened with Sergei, Clark knew whose face he would be picturing
behind closed eyes. He shook his head, mumbling to himself as they exited the
club. “Here goes nothing, Kent. Don’t screw this up.”
**********
Lex eased into the soft leather seat of the limo, directly across from Sergei
and the boy. The chill blast of the air conditioning cleared his senses of the
cloying smoke and heat of the club, and the early summer’s humid night. He
reached for a glass on the bar, suspecting he’d rather his senses be a bit
dulled for the evening’s next agenda item. “Shall I have the driver drop you
both at the Ritz?” he asked solicitously.
“Alexander, you disappoint me. It’s early yet. Surely your daddy lets you stay
up past midnight?”
Prick. He’d wanted nothing more than to scrape this piece of shit off
his shoe all evening, but he couldn’t be that lucky. He swallowed a glass of
scotch and poured another, regretting his earlier resolve to remain sober
tonight. “What exactly did you have in mind, Sergei?”
“Just a little fun with the boy.” The Russian seemed to have a limitless
tolerance for vodka and was pressing a shot into Clark’s shaking hands as
well. Lex watched as the boy threw back his lovely head, long throat arching,
swallowed, and held out his glass for more. Smart kid.
Lex pressed the driver’s intercom. “Take us around the park.”
Clark’s eyes were on him again, big, frightened. A babe lost in the wilderness.
“Clark,” softly spoken, holding the boy’s rapt attention, “You said you didn’t
drink.”
Momentary confusion and a quick, guilty glance at Sergei as the boy remembered
brushing him off in the club, and Lex knew then exactly why Clark had come with
them. Stupid kid.
In way over his head if he thought tonight could be about anything other than
him getting thoroughly fucked. Christ, you didn’t walk into a place like
Epitaph looking like a fucking wet dream in faded denim, approach the
two wealthiest men in the club – who half the people present, the better
half and the more astute of the working boys, would have happily pointed out
– and think for one second that you weren’t going to be treated like the piece
of admittedly high dollar trade you were.
“I, um… don’t normally…” Clark appeared as surprised as Lex was when Sergei
tossed back one more shot and went down on his knees to the floor of the limo,
quickly unbuttoning the boy’s jeans and tugging them down past slim, squirming
hips. “Um…”
It was a move Lex hadn’t expected from the arrogant Russian, but he couldn’t
fault the motivation. Clark was perhaps the most beautiful creature he’d ever
seen, all the more desirable for his bumbling bashfulness, even if it were an
act. Lex strongly suspected that it was not. He wore innocence and naivete
like a cape on his broad shoulders, and now he was going to shed it forever.
Lex felt a stab of regret even as his cock hardened at the erotic tableau before
him. Clark’s long, strong body thrummed with tension as he appeared to fight
his response to Sergei’s busy mouth. Eyes squeezed tightly closed, long tan
fingers digging into creaking leather, his head thrashed slowly in denial.
His mewling whimpers mixed with wet, sucking sounds that Lex envied Sergei for,
and fine perspiration broke out on hotly flushed skin. Honey and rose-petaled
perfection. A wet tongue swept out to linger on slack warning-red lips and
Clark must have heard Lex’s low moan because he was looking right at him then,
perfect fuck-me mouth open and panting, eyes glazed but issuing mute appeal.
Lex held his gaze, willing the boy to be calm. “It’s okay,” he heard himself
whisper, unaccountably, and then Clark was bucking into Sergei’s mouth, cumming
with desperate, pained little noises, fucking beautiful, grasping with
his eyes, refusing to allow Lex to release his shocky, wide-pupiled stare.
It was all over in only a minute or two, confirming Clark’s rather inexplicable
inexperience as much as the look of complete astonishment on his face. Lex
wondered if perhaps Clark had played with girls up to this point and was just
exploring his attraction to men. That would make a little more sense, because
how the boy had gotten this far in life unmolested was really beyond his
comprehension.
Sergei heaved his large frame onto the seat beside an endorphin-drugged Clark,
whose heavy eyes kept drifting open briefly, as if to verify Lex’s continued
presence in the limo. He was a pornographic picture of corruption, t-shirt
pushed up and jeans pulled down to reveal an expanse of bronzed Adonis, limp
cock laying red and glistening in a dark thatch of hair. Thoroughly debauched.
“He’s delicious,” Sergei confirmed, wiping his thick lips with a snow white
handkerchief, before switching to Russian. “Do you want to fuck him first,
Aleksandr? I’ll bet he’s as tight as he looks.”
Any other night he’d be flying high on a morality-numbing cocktail of
coke and ecstasy and hard alcohol. He wouldn’t think twice about fucking Clark
half a dozen different ways. Lex felt slightly nauseous though his cock swelled
hopefully. “That’s very… gracious of you, but no. I’m sitting this one
out. Don’t let me stop you, though.”
Sergei wasn’t listening to him, instead he groped at the rapidly resurfacing
Clark, who scrambled away from the rough hand snaking between his legs. “Are
you, boy? Are you a tight little virgin? Whose big cock do you want to feel
first in your little hole?”
“Jesus, Sergei. Could you be any more vulgar?” Lex didn’t hide the
disgust he felt for the older man any longer, his voice was thick with it. “I
don’t think he’s frightened enough. And a word of advice to you, Clark,” he
watched as the boy quickly refastened his jeans. “You’d be wise to get your fee
up front with this one.”
Clark looked like he’d been thrown a lifeline, the opening he’d been waiting for
all night, no doubt. “Um, right… Well, I am a virgin, so I was thinking
–”
Lex grinned big at his earnest attempt at negotiation before Clark’s shaking
voice was interrupted by a snarling burst of Russian.
“What game are you playing at, Aleksandr?”
Sergei looked pointedly at Lex’s bulging trousers.
“You want *him* and I want *you*. Now you’re going to show me a good
time like your father told you to do.”
“My father –”
“– told us all about his disappointment with you, *Leksi*. In St. Petersburg.”
The man’s voice dropped menacingly.
“You know, he fears it might take a really nasty bit of business for you to
finally stop your whoring. I think he might be right.”
Lex let his eyes go cold with warning, jaw clenching involuntarily as he
considered his move. How much his father might have said, and how much the
Russians might have learned about him through readily available gossip or even
published scandal, he didn’t know. Whether or not his next words were a bluff,
he couldn’t be certain. Not when his father was involved.
“I’ll repeat myself one more time, because it’s clear you’re drunk,” Lex
said.. “ *I* am not included in your negotiations with Luthor Corp. My
father’s offered you and your partners a very generous deal which I imagine they
would be loath to have fall apart under your rutting libido.” Lex watched
the steely-eyed man turn more apoplectic with every stabbing word. He charged
relentlessly forward, ignoring Clark’s careful silence and Sergei’s indignation.
“He did *not* offer me, and in all my days of *whoring* I was never so far
gone that I would have found *you* appealing in *any* way.”
Suddenly the big man’s hands were fisted in Lex’s collar and he was being shaken
like a rag doll, considering too late that perhaps one ought not to provoke a
man reputed to be a former KGB agent – even one past his physical prime, even on
American soil.
“Listen, you little shit,” he spat, “You’ll show me some respect, and you’ll
show me a good time, or you’ll have more to worry about than explaining
to your daddy why you let his deal fall through.”
“Fuck off, Sergei. Get your hands off of me.”
Lex managed to keep the panic he felt rising in his chest from sounding, but one
look at Clark and it all threatened to spill over. The boy was wild-eyed,
tugging on Sergei’s jacket, pleading, “Hey, you don’t need him. Come on, don’t
you want to… fuck me, now? Like you said?”
The situation was so absurd – surreal and ringing of a demented after-school
special, and Lex felt slightly hysterical until the muscular older man dealt a
vicious backhand to a perfectly sculpted cheekbone.
Clark absorbed the blow and turned back to Sergei in fury. Hope sparked that
together they might overpower the man until he found a long, cold blade pressed
under his chin.
Lex froze, breath burning in his chest. He fought the urge to swallow, knowing
the knife would slice at the first movement of his Adam’s apple.
Clark was held at bay by the threat and stayed back while the car was pulled
over at Sergei’s demand. Lex kept his eyes on the knife but could feel the boy
watching him, looking for an opportunity to act, perhaps. His head was clearing
by the moment, and he began to pray Clark wouldn’t do anything irrevocably
stupid.
They were deep in the darkness of the park when the blond man ordered Clark out
of the car.
“No, I’m not leaving. I’m not gonna let you do this to him.”
“Clark – I think you should just get out of the car.” Lex said calmly, feeling
more confident now of being able to defuse the situation without the boy’s
interference, and if he couldn’t…well, he calculated the odds of Sergei actually
killing him to be extremely low. Regardless, the indignity of having the scene
deteriorate into an operatic tragedy in which he featured as the damsel to
Clark’s doomed hero was too depressing to contemplate.
“No.” Clark glared at Sergei in open defiance guaranteed to set the tyrant off,
and Sergei, perhaps feeling more confident of Lex’s cooperation, lunged at him
with the knife.
It was over before Lex could shout a warning. Clark had a furious Sergei face
down on the floor, one arm twisted painfully behind his back, while Lex snatched
up the knife which had been knocked to the floor.
“We need to call the police.” Clark sounded completely reasonable, Lex thought
dizzily, almost as if being attacked by crazy knife-wielding Russians were all a
part of his day’s work. His work as a virgin prostitute.
“No police, please.” He flashed Clark one of his many smiles, slight smirk
tempered by a touch of self-deprecation. “I can’t afford for this to make the
papers, and besides, you’re as likely to end up in jail as our friend, here.”
Clark didn’t break from form, quickly following Lex’s lead, and with little
additional discussion, they left the richly dressed man sputtering and lost in
one of the worst sections of the park. Doubtless Clark thought he was getting
off easy.
“Do you need a doctor?”
“What? No, I’m okay. Are you?” Clark was looking him over intently.
“I’m fine,” Lex answered, wiping away a trickle of blood from under his jaw. “I
could have sworn I saw you grab the knife blade with your hand. You’re not
cut?”
Clark held up his hands for inspection. “Nope. Missed me, I guess.”
Lex directed the driver to the penthouse then sat back and stared at Clark,
marveling at his calm, until the boy squirmed under the scrutiny. “You moved
fast. Have you had training?”
The questions seemed to make Clark more uncomfortable, but he answered, “Nothing
formal. My dad taught me some stuff.” He looked somewhat hopefully at Lex, “You
know, I did try to get work as a personal bodyguard, but I couldn’t get hired
without experience.”
Lex nodded. “They’re highly sought-after positions. Very well-paying.”
“Yeah,” Clark mumbled dejectedly.
“I don’t keep bodyguards,” Lex answered the question that hung in the air, “But
I would like to engage you for your other services.”
Clark’s eyes dropped in embarrassment, shame written plainly on his face. Lex
felt exasperation swell quickly to irrational anger. His cock considered Clark
to be sublimely fuckable, and the boy was clearly for sale, but this reluctant
routine was going to wear thin quickly.
“Clark, what exactly do you think you’re doing?”
The raven-haired youth took his meaning instantly. “Trying to make money,
obviously,” he shot back.
“And do you intend to continue doing so by giving it away for free?”
Confusion raced across the perfectly drawn features before Clark answered, “What
do you mean? I haven’t done anything yet.”
Lex marveled at the level of naivete. “What do you think? That Sergei was
doing you a favor?” He practically screamed. Christ, the boy
needed a keeper. Which brought him back to the discussion at hand. He took a
deep breath and asked more collectedly, “How much do you need?”
“Twenty thousand dollars.”
Lex raised an eyebrow. Quite a lot of money for a boy to need, but practically
chump change to himself. Finally they were getting somewhere. “What does that
get me?”
“What do you mean? You get… me.”
Lex noticed distractedly that they’d pulled into the penthouse’s underground
parking. “Yes, I gathered that, Clark. For how long?”
Dark brows pulled together as Clark fidgeted in his seat. A truly terrible
negotiator, Lex mused, but still he seemed to have somehow gained the position
of power because he had Lex hanging breathless on his demands. At this point,
Lex would probably agree to twenty thousand for a single blowjob from that
unbelievable mouth.
“What do you think is fair?” Clark asked, chewing on his bottom lip, and Lex
felt another smile spread across his face. His shark’s smile.
“Well, I don’t know, Clark. I’d have to see what I’m purchasing, first.” He
let his eyes eat the boy alive for a moment before suggesting they continue
their conversation upstairs.
“O-Okay,” Clark agreed, rapid breath hitching in a way that suggested anything
but reluctance.
He had to give Sergei credit for one thing: the man had excellent
taste.
**********
“Let’s begin again, shall we?” Long white fingers extended towards him and
Alexander’s patient smile drained some of his apprehension away. “Lex Luthor.
And you are?”
Clark shook the offered hand, a smile twitching on his lips. This guy had seen
him get blown and now they were going to play civilized? And Luthor. As
in fertilizer-plant-owning, Metropolis aristocracy, slimy, deal-breaking Luthors?
He shook off the stale, echoing curses Pete had made at every Luthor success
they’d read about in the paper over the years.
"Clark K-" Clark looked at the floor, suddenly acutely aware that he was giving
out his identity to a total stranger. A stranger who looked at him expectantly,
and with soft, patient eyes. "Clark Kent."
“Well, Clark Kent, it’s late and no doubt I’ll have a lot of ass-kissing to do
come morning.” Lex – it fit him better than ‘Alexander’ – tucked his hands in
his pockets and lifted his chin. “Let’s get on with it.”
Lex was looking at him expectantly, all cool reserve and commanding presence. So
fucking sexy even just standing there, and there had to be a catch
because there was no way Clark was this lucky.
He slowly sucked in a deep breath, steadying himself. Apprehension twisted in
his belly.
This was it – he was actually doing it.
Lewd scenes flashed across his mind and he saw himself sucking Lex off, tasting
the cum coating his throat as he swallowed hard, Lex pulling him to his feet,
then pushing him down on his hands and knees on silk sheets, hands sliding over
his hips to grip and yank as Lex drove inside. The tangle of arms and legs and
sheets and sex in his head did nothing to soothe his nerves, even as the knot of
fear low in his stomach changed to something… else.
Clark shifted his weight; the short-lived friction of a seam rubbing against his
cock was a torturous tease. He felt his face heating, but guessed that Lex would
probably be pleased that he was already ready for action. He didn’t seem like
the kind of guy who enjoyed waiting on other people to catch up.
“Well?”
Head jerking up, bringing him right back to the moment. Lex’s head was cocked to
one side, impatience written on those beautiful features.
“O…okay. So what do you want? I can… I’ll do anything you want. You can do
anything you want. To me.” His own voice sounded thick in his ears, young and
shaky despite his resolve to do this.
Lex rocked back on his heels, smirking. “Your idea of ‘anything’ may be a bit…
underdeveloped, Clark. Don’t make promises you’ll be unwilling – or unable – to
deliver on.”
The warning was tempting, but no, he wouldn’t have any boundaries. He’d decided
that early on, after listening in on the negotiations between other men and
x-raying his way into macabre sex games in the back rooms of the bar. No rules
warranted the highest price, the most payout for the least amount of ‘work,’ if
it could be called that. And as much as he believed he would enjoy this, it
meant he could get his life back to normal that much sooner.
“No, I know some guys like… like pain or control. Dom– domination. S&M. And,
um…that’s fine. I’m up for anything.” Clark shrugged, trying to instill an air
of casualness into a sentence he never imagined he’d say.
Lex’s eyes narrowed and his tone changed from amused to all business. “So you’re
into those things?”
“I… don’t know.” This wasn’t about him anyway. “It doesn’t matter, really.” He
was curious though, wanted to know what he was getting into. “Do you? Like it, I
mean?”
“My taste varies. And it does matter, Clark.
Don’t fool yourself into thinking that just because this is a business
proposition, your trick shouldn’t care about your preferences.” Lex closed the
space between them with a step forward. “You won’t satisfy many customers if you
don’t participate in what’s happening.” A finger lifted his chin, Lex’s eyes
searching his. “And I doubt you could pull off a ruse of pleasure. Those eyes
don’t look capable of lying convincingly.”
Clark tried to keep his voice steady. “I… I wouldn’t lie to you.” It sounded
like a lie, even to him.
Lex turned, walking across the room as he spoke. “No, I’m sure you wouldn’t.”
Pouring a drink, Lex’s voice was smooth and confident. Demanding but not
threatening. “Undress.”
Clark’s fingers went to the hem of his shirt, obeying before his mind could
really catch up and wrap around the idea that another man was going to be
looking at him naked, appraising him like cattle.
Shirt up and off, Clark stood up straight, flexing his muscles as subtly as he
could. Lex’s back was turned and Clark bit his lip in anticipation.
Lex drained the glass he’d poured and turned, eyes sliding up his body with
calculating slowness. “Good. And the pants?”
The pants? Fuck. Okay. Fuck. Why was this so hard? Why
couldn’t he just distance himself? It’s not like Lex hadn’t seen most of him
anyway, in the limo. God, and he must look like a fool.
Lex crossed to him, a small smile curling his lips. “You’re not shy, are you?”
Clark sucked in air as Lex’s cool fingertips tickled into the waistband of his
pants, rubbing along his stomach.
“No… I’m just…”
Lex leaned in close to his ear, warm breath sending chills down his spine. “I
promise this won’t hurt.”
Lex’s hands worked the button and zipper on his pants and Clark tilted his head
back, eyes closed and pulse pounding in his ears as Lex mouthed the skin on his
neck.
A hand slid into his open pants, cupping his cock and Clark reached out, hands
connecting with Lex’s chest, then rubbing up to wrap on either side of his face.
Before he could stop himself or even wonder if this was something Lex wanted him
to do, his mouth was sliding on Lex’s, opening under the insistent push of a hot
tongue.
Lips parted, eyes closed, Clark rocked into the hard grasp of the hand on his
cock. He groaned against the open mouth that moved on his and barely caught
himself as the hand and lips stilled then disappeared.
Clark opened his eyes and saw Lex licking his lips and shaking his head. “So
fucking young.”
Looking down between them at the hardwood floor, he felt his face flushing with
embarrassment.
“Maybe you should find another profession, Mr. Kent.”
His eyes connected with the mocking blue of Lex’s, and Clark held them fast, his
nudity barely tugging at the edge of his mind. He was sick of the games, sick of
being teased and humiliated. He obviously didn’t know what he was doing, but he
was tired of bumbling his way through this conversation while Lex laughed at
him. He was ready to have it over with, ready to fuck or be fucked and just… put
it behind him. And after all of this, he began to wonder if Lex was just fucking
with his head and really had no intention of going through with it.
“Look, this isn’t a lifestyle choice. It’s barely even a choice at all. I’m –
I’ve never done anything like this and it’s obvious that you have, so
just… tell me what your terms are.”
Lex filled the room with the straightening of his spine, with his fading smile
and the mask of seriousness that fell over his face. Clark held his breath as
Lex began to speak.
“One month. Ten thousand up front, another ten at the end of 30 days. Six
evenings a week – Saturdays at my discretion – you’ll come here, or wherever I
choose. We’ll see if your definition of ‘anything’ matches mine.”
A month. It was longer than Clark had expected. He’d known the average price
for this kind of work from his spying at the club, but he’d expected his youth
and virginity to be worth more. Lex was young himself, though, so maybe he
didn’t care about that. Maybe he’d be happier if Clark had some experience.
Still, a month sounded good…short even. The price of month’s work, even this
kind of work, seemed so little to pay for his mother’s peace of mind. He could
do it – could manage some excuse about working in the city to answer any
questions she had.
A month. Here, with Lex.
“Okay.”
Lex smiled wide and laughed. “You don’t have a father waiting on your porch with
a shotgun, do you?”
“My dad’s dead.” Clark’s chest tightened, his heart thumping hard against his
ribcage. “Can we just… get started?”
Lex stared at him for a moment, features unreadable, then stepped into the next
room with a murmured, “Wait right there,” closing the door behind him.
Clark reached down and fastened his pants, then bent to retrieve his dropped
shirt, checking to make sure the tag was in the back and slipped it on, grateful
for the thin cloak of modesty.
Looking around the penthouse, he sank into the stark surroundings that betrayed
no evidence of a real personality. He couldn’t believe someone with such a
commanding presence lived in this dead space.
One entire wall was covered with a built-in bookcase and Clark resisted the
impulse to check out Lex’s taste in literature. He was a little surprised to
realize how much he wanted to know this man, understand him beyond his sexual
preferences. The spines of the books glinted with gold lettering and he did
recognize some of his favorites, some of the titles Chloe and Pete had scoffed
at when they’d caught him curled up in his loft reading. His fingers twitched
with the urge to pull the handsomely bound edition of To Kill a Mockingbird
off the shelf and flip through it, looking for his favorite scene, but he
didn’t move. He wasn’t here for fun. This was business.
“K – E – N – T. Right… I would assume somewhere near Metropolis, but that’s not
been confirmed.”
The voice on the other end of the line didn’t hesitate. “Runaway?”
“I don’t believe so. Just get me the usual.”
“Everything I can lay my hands on?”
“Exactly. Tomorrow afternoon at the latest.” The receiver was hung up and Clark
pulled back out of the room to the silence that surrounded him. He hadn’t budged
from the spot where he’d been left, but when Lex appeared in the doorway again,
he caught himself stepping backwards toward the entry.
His past – his secrets – were going to be examined by… Jesus, he didn’t even
know whom. This was a bad idea, even with an employer he felt he could
trust… fuck. An employer he knew nothing about, except what he’d read in
the papers, and some of that wasn’t good at all.
He didn’t have resources – couldn’t run background checks. The trust he’d felt
at Lex’s confident and careful handling of their arrangement wavered and fear
washed over Clark like a wave.
It was done though, and Clark couldn’t back out now. He needed to make this work
– had to make this work. Another opportunity like this might be months in
the making. Or, hell, why not be completely honest? An opportunity like Lex
Luthor was never going to come around again. To make all the money he
needed with just one man, a man he couldn’t read well, but one he felt he could
trust. And even if he did act like he couldn’t put two intelligent sentences
together whenever Lex was in the room, his body responded automatically to the
man, and Clark didn’t need any “professional experience” to know that a natural
connection like that didn’t come along often.
He didn’t have a choice; he’d have to risk the investigation if he wanted to do
this.
“So, um… should we get started?”
“Go home, Clark. Be here tomorrow at six – we’ll finalize this then.”
It was a forceful dismissal, one he was clearly not supposed to resist, so Clark
turned on his heels and left, the mix of surprise, apprehension and
self-satisfaction swirling in his head.
**********
Lex poured himself a neat and liberal scotch from the heavy crystal decanter and
determinedly refused to look at the bar clock glowing in the periphery of his
vision. He’d be far better off if the boy didn’t come back tonight, so complete
had been the error in his judgment. It hadn’t taken his father’s fury or even
his cutting disdain over the all but blown Nabokov deal this morning for him to
reach that inescapable conclusion.
“I suspect he would have put out for you, Lex,” his father had scoffed, “even
without your white knight routine.”
Sergei had of course put his own spin on the evening’s events and Lex saw little
to gain by defending himself on that point. The man would be dealt with. So
Lex had sat quietly, jaw clenched in anger, and waited for his father’s lecture
to reach a more productive level. Which it quickly did.
They agreed that the deal could be repaired with little more than a token show
of contrition on Lex’s part – Nabokov needed Luthor Corp in St. Petersburg far
more than Luthor Corp needed to be there, and both parties knew it. Cheap labor
was plentiful in Eastern Europe, after all, but international corporations were
hardly lining up to jump in bed with the Russian mafia, however profitable the
venture might prove.
It was Lex’s dignity that took a rather harder hit than the deal last night, and
not in his dealings with the crude Cossack. No, it was the ease with which a
puppy-eyed teen from the sticks had manipulated him into the sweetest deal a
rank novice in the field could have hoped for – twenty thousand dollars for a
pretty virgin who might prove unimaginative and unenthusiastic, a bore beyond
the undeniable pleasure of being the first to fuck him.
But Clark was pretty, and Lex woke up this morning drugged with the
memory of his kiss, nervous and eager and unbearably innocent. Lex would
pay for that…purity. Money enough to wallow in the decadence of taking it and
exit with a clear conscience after he’d corrupted it.
He allowed the thought that’d gnawed at the edge of his consciousness all day to
take form, wondered if Clark would show after having a day to think about their
arrangement. He’d given Lex total latitude on all matters sexual. The canvas
was blank and the palette full of rich, dark colors just waiting to be dipped
into and spread there. Surely a boy like Clark would have second thoughts about
what ‘anything’ could really constitute.
Lex’s investigators had delivered a thick file on the Kents before he’d even
left for work this morning. Clark Kent was apparently the most anomalous, most
inexplicably mysterious open book Lex had ever read. A straight ‘A’ student,
son of organic farmers – Lex smirked, wondering if that would ever cease to
amuse – reporter on his high school paper – Lex would have preferred him
a few years older – and frequent accidental hero.
He’d been surprised to learn Clark’s intervention with Sergei last night wasn’t
the first such incidence. In fact, he had an apparent knack for being in the
right place at the wrong time, saving lives, putting out fires. But he’d been
too late to save his own father in what was described as a ‘freak’ farming
accident.
The police report stated Clark had just arrived home from school with a friend
to find his mother screaming for him. In a rush of adrenaline he hadn’t merely
lifted the three-ton combine; he’d flipped it, rolling it away. Or so the
officer had reported. Lex was somewhat skeptical of that particular detail.
Whatever actually happened, he’d been too late for Clark’s father, and over the
last 12 months the farm’s debts had risen like a stagnant tide. The paltry life
insurance policy on Clark's father had been eaten away by debtors within weeks,
and their land had been parceled off to remaining creditors until all that
remained was the house itself and a few acres of surrounding orchards. And a
mortgage with a balance very near twenty thousand dollars.
If Clark Kent didn’t deliver on the promises intrinsic to his sinful mouth and
eager eyes, well, Lex had at least contributed to less worthy charities. Still,
he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d gotten it all wrong. Perhaps he’d had more
to drink last night than he thought, because surely no one’s mouth held that
much promise.
Lex’s musings were interrupted by the low buzz of the intercom. He walked
to the door of the penthouse and thumbed the button without waiting for the
visitor’s name to be announced. “Send him up, Franklin.”
“Yes sir, Mr. Luthor.”
Wearing a variation on last night’s jeans and t-shirt, Clark looked much as Lex
had recalled. Young and farm-fresh, with bashful downcast eyes, clutching a
ratty backpack in big, likely calloused hands. Clark mumbled a “hey” in Lex’s
general vicinity.
“Hello, Clark,” Lex said in an even tone, not moving from his spot. “You can
put your bag down anywhere.”
Clark looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time, or perhaps as
if he weren’t seeing it at all. Lex had to admire his courage in getting this
far, as terrified as he clearly appeared.
“There’s a cashier’s check for ten thousand dollars on the table.” Lex nodded
to indicate the long formal dining table behind Clark. “Your background check
was in order, obviously. As we agreed, you’ll receive the remainder when the
terms of our agreement are fulfilled.”
Clark dropped his bag on the table and touched the check with his fingertips,
leaving it where it lay. He turned and met Lex’s eyes unblinkingly. “Thank
you.”
“You didn’t tell me last night that you’re still in high school.”
“I’m 18,” he declared. “I’ve graduated.”
“You’re still living at home? Won’t your mother wonder where you’re spending
your nights?” Lex searched Clark’s apparently open face for any hint of
deception. Playing with a boy like Clark could leave some with the impression
that Lex had vulnerabilities to exploit. That would be a mistake. “She won’t
be phoning the authorities, I trust?”
Clark shook his head. “No, of course not. I told her I have a night job. She
doesn’t expect me home.”
“A very well-paying night job. I’m sure she’d be proud. Then again, you’re a
teenager. You probably don’t care what she thinks.”
The stricken expression on the boy’s face confirmed his blow was accurately
aimed. A tremor slid through Clark’s voice as he answered, “No, she wouldn’t be
proud. And yes, I do care, but… Lex, I don’t think our agreement included
talking about my mom.”
“It’s not too late to change your mind, Clark. You’ve yet to do anything
irrevocable.”
Clark squeezed his eyes closed and sighed deeply, then spoke with calm
determination. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but… I need this money.
There isn’t another way.”
Clark opened his eyes and Lex nodded his understanding, feeling something like
sorrow for the choice the young man had made threading through the immense
satisfaction he felt on his own behalf. He wanted Clark badly, his throbbing
cock weeping a protest at the unexpected offer to let him off the hook.
Lex considered the tall, awkward farm boy shifting nervously beneath his regard.
Beautiful.
Exquisite. Breathtaking. Hot as fuck. There simply were not enough
superlatives to do sufficient justice.
“I want to look at you, Clark. Will you take your shirt off for me?”
Polite courtesy was easily extended when there was no question of Clark refusing
the request, and Lex’s cock twitched even before a golden expanse of skin was
revealed. Clark dropped his shirt on the table behind him and flattened his
tousled bangs in a disturbingly boyish mannerism.
Lex satisfied himself that there was nothing boyish in the broad muscular
shoulders, smooth chest and small pebbled nipples, lean ribs and narrow line of
silky dark hair that disappeared temptingly beneath low-slung jeans.
Mesmerized by the blush that crept up Clark’s body, finally disappearing into
his hairline, Lex set his drink on a side table that brought him closer to
Clark, straightened and made the request he knew might be refused.
“Get on your knees.” Lex’s quietly-voiced demand was met with a slightly
shell-shocked look. Not the best of signs.
“Wh…What?” Clark blinked at him.
Best to start out as one means to go on, Lex reminded himself when something
that felt suspiciously like guilt washed over him. Guilt. Over asking
his extremely well-paid amateur escort to suck him off. He could practically
hear his father’s laughter ringing in his ears.
“I want to fuck your mouth,” he said, choosing his words with purpose. “That’s
best accomplished with you on your knees.”
Lex’s earlier offer to let Clark off the hook was a mere courtesy; he knew this
was the moment of truth.
But the boy didn’t hesitate to cross the short distance between them, stumbling
past his own feet twice before he reached Lex and dropped heavily to his knees.
Dark lashes fell to blazing cheeks a moment before large hazel eyes were lifted
deliberately to meet his. So damned earnest, and what did he want Lex to
see in their depths, he wondered?
It didn’t matter.
Lex threaded his hand through thick curls, rubbing the silky strands between
thumb and forefinger before fisting, anchoring his hand in the warmth. His eyes
roved over Clark while he released himself from his trousers with his free
hand. Over flawless skin, honey toned and just as sweet, Lex knew with
certainty. Over strawberry lips, full and ripe, begging to be tasted, and
slightly parted in unconscious sensuality. A natural.
Gripping the base of his throbbing erection, Lex pulled Clark forward until the
head of his cock bumped and slid across that mouth, leaving a slick trail that
Clark’s shiny pink tongue hesitantly sampled. Clark’s brows furrowed at the new
taste but after a moment he tilted his head back, exposing a long, supple
throat, he and opened his mouth wider in blatant invitation. Lex didn’t
disappoint. He held Clark’s wide, worried gaze as he slid into the soft, wet
heat.
He felt Clark’s tongue move experimentally against the underside of his cock,
stroking firmly against the long vein while Lex pressed further into the soft
heat. Hazel eyes flared in panic when Lex nudged the back of Clark’s throat.
He released Clark’s hair, slid his hand around to grasp the nape of his neck,
traced the hollow of one perfect cheek with the other, and pushed resolutely
past the resistance, into the maddeningly tight sheath of Clark’s throat.
Lex pushed until he was buried, until he felt Clark breathing heavily through
his nose against Lex’s smooth belly. He waited there in that moment with Clark
swallowing down his gag reflex, blowing hard and loud like a racehorse, throat
muscles rippling along Lex’s hard length. Strong hands clutched at his hips,
bruising him perhaps, but he was too far gone to be sure.
Gone in this boy’s body and his eyes; lost in the perfection of the supplicant
before him.
His hips began to thrust of their own accord, seeking release. No chance he’d
last long, not with Clark making noises, whimpering sounds that Lex could tell
had as much to do with need as fear, and Lex closed his eyes against the sight
of him sucking hard on his cock, cheeks hollowing with the effort, swallowing
convulsively to bring Lex off. He threw his head back and listened to Clark
moan low in the back of his throat, felt Clark’s moan in the base of his
spine and his sharp thrusts became fast and sporadic. Felt his flesh swell and
harden in the moments before he came down Clark’s throat with a hoarse cry.
Clark swallowed twice before choking on the thick liquid, releasing Lex’s
softening cock to cough and wipe at his lips and chin with back of his hand.
Lex leaned heavily on Clark’s shoulders for a long moment before brushing the
hair back from the boy’s face, wanting to see his eyes, body sated enough for
his brain to click into damage control mode. “Clark?”
Clark was trembling beneath his fingertips, still licking his lips to rid
himself of the remains of Lex’s orgasm. He turned his face up to Lex, blushing
bright with embarrassment, eyes showing complete amazement. But his coy smile
was something else, entirely. Clark was… pleased with himself, all but
gloating over his success.
He’s mine.
Lex reeled slightly at the unexpected thought. One month. That was all the
time he had with Clark, and more than he would need. He pulled himself upright
and adjusted his clothing with practiced efficiency.
“I have some work to finish up, Clark. When you’re here, I want you to make
yourself at home.” Lex tilted his head to indicate the entertainment center.
“DVDs, stereo, CDs. There’s a bar in the corner. Sodas.” Lex briefly
considered explicitly granting permission to Clark to drink his liquor, but
decided against it. He wouldn’t stop Clark from doing so, but there were plenty
of laws already being trampled without encouraging them.
He blindly retrieved his own untouched glass of scotch as he strode out of the
room without a backward glance.
**********
Rubbing his eyes to relieve the strain of sitting too long in front of a glowing
screen – with the exception of his meals and Clark’s arrival he’d been on-line
since being dismissed by his father this morning – Lex mentally played ‘connect
the dots’. He couldn’t see exactly where they were leading him, but the path
was taking him through some unsavory terrain. Sergei’s meltdown the previous
night had solidified his previous unease about the St. Petersburg venture.
Lionel was convinced that they were dealing with one of the more established,
non-violent factions of the notoriously powerful Russian mafia. The Nabokovs
were deeply rooted in that city’s banking industry and had been doing business
with the West for years, even before the fall of the Soviet empire. But under
closer scrutiny, Lex could see a changing-of-the-guard had been taking place in
the organization’s upper echelons. Whether Sergei was anomalous or an
indication of the group’s new leadership had yet to be determined, and further
investigation would have to wait till morning.
Lex clicked his laptop closed and reached for Clark's file with a resigned
sigh. He'd accomplish nothing more tonight; his mind was too firmly focused on
the boy down the hall and the insistent ache in his groin.
He pulled the photo free of academic transcripts and financial statements and
drained his glass of the aged scotch, savoring the rich amber liquid. Why
should he have any more qualms about enjoying Clark than he would feel at
pouring another glass of the expensive liquor? It wasn't as if purchasing sex
was unfamiliar to Lex. He'd never had to, strictly speaking, but he
frequently chose it as a convenient route to physical release sans
inevitably one-sided emotional entanglements.
But this was different. He'd never kept anyone before. He knew his
father occasionally kept women, but for recreational purposes, Lex was more
partial to men and hadn't met one yet he trusted to be totally loyal. What was
the benefit of keeping a partner long-term beyond the assurance they were and
would remain clean? Lex frankly found the variety of his bed partners more than
compensated for the annoyance of condoms.
Now Clark Kent appeared to be the exception to his rule and Lex was at a loss
how to proceed. Contrary to his earlier fear, and despite Clark’s innocent
demeanor, the boy was anything but unresponsive, and imaginative or not,
Lex couldn't foresee himself growing tired of him anytime soon.
How did such a boy reconcile selling his body with the rest of his life? By all
accounts he'd had a Rockwellian upbringing, his father's tragic death
notwithstanding. Lex could imagine the difficulty of being a gay teen in a town
the size of Smallville – the name said it all – but could that account for the
apparent ease of this double identity?
Lex stood and stretched the stiffness from his limbs. He was being foolish, all
but hiding in his office when the object of what was fast becoming an
almost obsessive fascination was waiting to fulfill his every fantasy. It
shouldn't matter to him what the boy might end up feeling at the end of their
arrangement. Pain or regret or shame – it didn't matter. He'd offered
himself up to Lex and the deal was done. That price was Clark's to pay, and Lex
vowed not to let it weigh on his conscience any longer.
He made his way down the corridor and found Clark sitting motionless in the
dark, silent living room. He hadn't turned on the TV or stereo, not even the
lamp sitting within easy reach. Feet flat on the floor, all long legs and
awkward clenched hands, he seemed to be shrinking in on himself, lost in his
thoughts. Dwelling on Lex's earlier power play, perhaps, and worrying over what
was to come, and that couldn't be good. Lex mentally kicked himself for
leaving the boy alone so long.
Crossing to the bar to refill his glass, he asked, "Would you like a drink,
Clark?" Good intentions crumbling like a house of cards.
"Um, I grabbed a Coke earlier."
"I thought you might want something a little stronger.” Lex clarified.
"To help you relax."
"That sounds good."
Lex could hear the smile in Clark's voice. So maybe he wasn't as far gone as
Lex had feared. "Scotch okay?"
"I've never had scotch."
Lex decided to interpret that as a "yes" and pressed the cool tumbler into
Clark's outstretched hand, his breath catching at the radiant smile Clark
briefly turned on him from under a dark fall of bangs. He sank into the
deep sofa, tucking one leg up to study the bent head, exquisite in profile. He
laid an arm on the back of the couch and tugged gently at raven locks. Clark
blushed lightly, keeping his eyes averted, fixed on the drink cradled in his
lap.
Lex followed his gaze and swallowed a groan at the sight of Clark pressing the
glass’s edge against the bulge in his jeans. Had he been sitting here hard for
Lex all this time? A mere kick wouldn’t do, Lex mentally flogged himself.
"Clark, I'd like to take you upstairs now."
"Okay."
Clark quickly drained his glass before setting it aside and rising to follow him
up to Lex's suite at the head of the stairs. Lex turned the lights on, dimming
them, wanting to see all of Clark but knowing he’d feel more comfortable without
full light.
Lex watched, amused, as Clark nervously surveyed the room, done in tasteful if
somewhat unimaginative beiges and blues, eyes touching on every objet d’art,
fingers trailing over the burnished chests and bureaus – giving attention to
everything but the room’s most striking occupant – the enormous down-covered bed
that Lex stood beside, toeing off his shoes and unbuttoning his shirt while
Clark moved to the full length window covering one wall.
He stood there looking out over the sparkling lights of downtown Metropolis for
so long, Lex had to wonder what he saw in the view; if Clark felt any of the
Luthor-inherent compulsion to conquer and own, to bend men, government and
industry to his will. It seemed doubtful. Clark was more than likely only
delaying the inevitable – a very un-Luthor-like tactic.
Lex breathed a small sigh of relief when Clark finally crossed to stand in front
of him, gaze darting once to the bed before chasing back and locking
relentlessly on Lex’s. Green and gold mottled eyes clung to him like a drowning
man to a life preserver, and Lex’s lips twitched at the irony.
Clark lifted his t-shirt over his head again without being told, leaving them
both shirtless and inches apart. Lex could feel heat pouring off the golden
skin and ran both hands across the warm flesh of Clark’s broad chest, thumbs
brushing hard little nipples before trailing down to deeply muscled flanks,
delighting in the shiver that ran down Clark’s lean body.
He teased his fingers into the waist of worn jeans and pulled Clark in for a
kiss, tongue lightly tracing soft, bee-stung lips before dipping inside the
warm, slick cavern of Clark’s mouth. Clark’s tongue slid hesitantly against his
and they both moaned at the contact, Lex probing deeper, lapping Clark’s teeth,
the roof of his mouth, searching for a trace of himself, wishing he’d tasted
Clark earlier in the evening before Coca-Cola and scotch had washed him
away.
He nipped Clark’s upper lip before pulling away; noting Clark’s chest rising and
falling more rapidly, big farm-bred hands clenching open and closed at his side.
“Do you want to touch me, Clark,” he asked softly.
“Yes.” Surprisingly soft and tactile hands were lifted instantly to Lex’s
shoulders, squeezing lightly before sliding down the paler skin of his arms,
lingering over the play of muscles as Lex unbuttoned Clark’s jeans. “Your skin
is so soft. You’re really beautiful, Lex.”
Lex felt his cock harden at the breathy compliment and chided himself. “You
don’t need to flatter me, Clark. That’s not what I’m paying you for.”
Clark jerked his hands away as if he’d been burned. “You didn’t forget that I
am paying you?” Lex mocked softly. He didn’t know what game Clark was at
but he was determined to make it clear from the beginning that Clark couldn’t
expect to win. Lex was a master at all games worth playing – sexual or
otherwise.
“No, I didn’t forget. I won’t forget.” Clark blinked rapidly and ducked his
head, attempting to hide his distress by pushing his jeans and boxers down to
the floor and kicking them away before moving trembling hands to the closures of
Lex’s pants.
Lex leaned back, letting Clark strip him, and brushed off the uncomfortable
sensation he had of being caught kicking puppies. Clark knelt in front of him,
lifting his feet to slip off his socks after shedding the pants. Lex watched
him take a calming breath before sliding dark silk boxers over Lex’s hips.
Clark gasped as he exposed Lex’s penis, engorged and completely smooth, hanging
heavy in front of him. He looked up guiltily and Lex knew he’d guessed right.
Clark had only just realized his baldness extended beyond his scalp; he’d been
too understandably shaken during the earlier blow job to notice, and Lex had
still been fully clothed at the time. He felt a hard smile settle on his face,
daring the boy to comment.
Clark reached out to him then, innocent reverence in his touch. “You are
beautiful, Lex.” Clark said, meeting his astonished stare defiantly. “Tell me
what you want me to do.”
Blood pounded thick and sluggish behind Lex’s eyes and his cock throbbed with
the sudden need to be inside this boy, fucking him, claiming him. He
handed Clark a foil-wrapped condom from the nightstand, his voice sounding harsh
in his own head. “Put it on me.”
Clark fumbled with the wrapper several seconds before finally ripping it and the
condom apart in his shaking hands. He looked up apologetically and stated the
obvious. “I… it tore.”
Lex grabbed another, tearing the foil wrapper open between his teeth and
removing the latex sheath before handing it to Clark, glad to have his blood
cooled slightly by the reminder of Clark’s inexperience. He wove his fingers
through Clark’s curls before tracing the strong jaw, cupping his chin and
forcing his head up to meet Lex’s eyes.
“Relax. It’ll feel good, Clark. I promise.”
The teen burned crimson. “I…aren’t I supposed to make you feel good?”
Clark asked as he unrolled the condom clumsily down Lex’s length.
Lex laughed shakily, beating back the urge to fuck his way down Clark’s throat
again. So tempting with the boy on his knees and blushing so prettily. “Oh,
you will. I’ll make sure of it.”
Hazel eyes searched his face, and Lex couldn’t miss the fear in them, the first
real fear he’d seen Clark show. His cock twitched, responding predictably to
the sight of the angelically lovely, physically powerful young man kneeling
vulnerable and frightened at his feet. Luthors were bred to conquer and fear
was a goad to his ego. He wasn’t even sure whether his next words were designed
to soothe Clark’s fear or stoke it higher.
“I won’t hurt you any more than I have to.”
Clark looked up at him blankly for a moment before a slow smile lit his face.
“You won’t hurt me, Lex.”
Anger spurred Lex at the trust placed so naively into his care. “I will
hurt you, Clark. It will hurt. But I’ll be as careful as I can be.” And
still find my pleasure in your body, he didn’t finish. Clark would find out
soon enough.
He pulled the younger man to his feet and pushed him face down on the cool blue
sheets, unwilling to wait any longer. Straddled Clark’s legs and urged narrow
hips up to stuff a thick pillow underneath before wedging a knee between long,
heavily muscled thighs, forcing them wide apart.
He knelt between Clark’s legs and slicked his fingers and cock with lubricant
from the bedside table, watching the supple back ripple as Clark strained to see
behind him. Clark moaned low in his throat at the first press of a thick thumb
into his ass, pulled a pillow closer and buried his face in it, clenching his
fists in the soft down.
Lex wanted to protest, wanted to hear every cry and whimper, but couldn’t find
the words. He slid the digit in and out of the clinging heat repeatedly,
mesmerized by the sight and feel of the lithe body writhing beneath him,
silently begging for more. Clark’s passage tightened momentarily as Lex slid
his second thumb in beside the first, before easing into the sensation again.
Lex rotated his thumbs, slowly twisting and pulling, stretching Clark. He bent
low and pushed his tongue into the tight space opened to him.
Clark shouted his surprise, back arching violently at the unexpected touch. Lex
moved one hand to the small of his back while the other pushed a thigh higher
up, wordlessly demanding Clark submit, while his mouth continued to devour him.
He laved Clark’s hole, tasting the almond flavored lubricant and the boy beneath
until Clark relaxed again under his ministrations. Thrust his tongue in and
teased the tight ring of muscle with his teeth until the skin of Clark’s back
was slick with perspiration beneath Lex’s hand and his inarticulate babbling
became a clear mantra:
“Please, Lex…please….please….Lex, please…”
Lex crawled his way up the glistening body, lapping at the salty hollow of a
fluid spine, and lowered himself, hard cock nestling in the warm crevice of
Clark’s ass. Tongued and nipped at Clark’s earlobe and teased, “Please what,
Clark? Tell me what you want.”
“Please, just… do it.” Almost imperceptible shiver fluttered beneath Lex.
“Do it?” Laughter rumbled in his chest, and the body under him
shuddered. “You want me to ‘do it’ to you, Clark?” Clark whimpered and bucked
his hips back into Lex, who groaned and thrust hard in response. “God, you’re
so fucking hot.”
“Fuck me,” Clark panted, twisting beneath him.
Lex quickly adjusted and slid home with one long, slow thrust, his own hoarse
cry twining with Clark’s, engulfed in molten flesh, a tight velvet glove
sheathing him. And he’d meant to give Clark a chance to adjust to him, but the
lithe body was begging for him now, long legs spreading a fraction wider,
knees seeking purchase on the soft sheets to thrust backwards.
Enthusiastic virgin, made for this – felt custom made for him – and Lex
started to move. Slow, powerful thrusts and sweat slicked skin sliding back to
chest. He pinned Clark’s arms above his head and nuzzled damp curls at the nape
of his neck, every murmur and mumbled plea driving him harder, faster, more
erratically into the pliable flesh.
Too much... too hard. Virgin... kid... Slow, Lex...Don’t hurt him. But
he couldn’t stop, not even if Clark asked him to, and the sounds coming from the
boy were all about encouragement, anyway.
“Don’t want to hurt you, Clark… brave fucking boy…oh, God, you fucking love
it, don’t you,” he rasped, wondering how he could get deeper in the hot, tight
body. So perfect, inferno’s flames licking at his skin, firing off every
nerve ending in a bio-chemical chain reaction that shouldn’t feel any different
than any other time he’d been here, but it did. Felt fucking unbelievable.
Lex braced one hand into the mattress and pulled Clark onto his knees, grasping
both hips and pounding into him, brutal with his body and the boy’s. And Clark
had to be hurting now. He had to be feeling this.
Awareness drew Lex back, reigned him in a notch; he didn’t want to hurt
Clark, shouldn’t be using him so roughly. Clark was whimpering at the slowing
of the pace, and he shouldn’t be doing that. Anger flared in Lex. Was Clark on
something? Had he lied about being a virgin? Did it matter?
Lex stilled deep inside him, forehead resting between his shoulder blades, and
drew deep gasping breaths into burning lungs. It did matter.
“S’good, Lex. Don’t stop,” Clark panted. “So close, please.”
“Am I hurting you, Clark?”
“Wha-?” Sexual haze a truth serum revealing only genuine confusion. “Please,
Lex, I didn’t know… never imagined it’d be like this…so good.” Clark
pushed back in unconscious incitement. “So close, Lex. I need it... need
you.”
Lex groaned at the urgency of Clark’s pleas, at the thrumming body beneath him.
He reached under Clark to grasp his rigid cock, stroking in concert with his own
sharp thrusts into Clark’s ass, feeling his orgasm bearing down on him with
surprising speed.
“Cum for me, Clark,” a voice he didn’t recognize demanded, and Clark spasmed
with a cry, body shuddering around Lex’s own pulsing cock as they spilled their
orgasms, each trembling aftershock rocking the other until they were both
completely spent.
They collapsed together, a sweaty, sticky pile of limbs on rumpled sheets,
gasping for long moments until their hearts slowed, and Lex rolled off Clark
onto his back, damp skin drying in the cool room. Finally, he stood and walked
to the bathroom, disposing of the used condom and cleaning himself off before
wetting a towel for Clark, who was still sprawled, loose limbed and all but
comatose, across the greatest portion of his bed.
Lex climbed in beside him and dropped the warm cloth on Clark’s chest before
leaning down to trail his tongue across the taut stomach, smeared with tacky
cum, promising himself a deeper taste of the addictive boy after he’d slept off
a bit of his current lethargy.
Turning over, he beat his pillow into submission before pulling the covers up.
Clark rolled over with him, not touching, but close enough that Lex could feel
moist breath tickling his spine.
“Lex?”
“Yeah, Clark?”
“Should I – do you want me to leave now?”
Anguished uncertainty in the whispered question, and Lex found himself stunned
by the response Clark engendered in him. There was an undeniable impulse to
chase away Clark’s fears, to protect him from… what? From himself? From
the bargain they’d struck? An impossible task, and one that was diametrically
opposed to his own desires. Sending Clark home right now was the smart move,
but it was the last thing he planned on doing.
“No. Get some sleep first.”
“Okay,” Clark replied, his relief evident.
The bed bounced under him as Clark eagerly shifted under the covers, finally
coming to rest flush against Lex, one strong arm slipping around to stroke his
chest, pulling him tight against the overgrown puppy Clark had apparently
morphed into while he his back had been turned. Lex stiffened involuntarily at
the unexpected and unaccustomed post-coital contact. The…cuddling.
“Is this all right, Lex?”
Shyly voiced query, but Lex was onto him now, and only snorted his response.
Too tired, and entirely too satisfied with the situation to object, Lex drifted
into sleep with the disquieting suspicion that he was as far out of his depth as
Clark certainly was.
**********
Rays of sun peeked through the curtains and warmed the carpet in bright ovals as
Clark stepped carefully across the room. Dawn was just yawning wide over
Metropolis and Lex Luthor wasn't stirring on the pillow bunched under his head.
The belt on Clark's jeans clacked metallically as he lifted them, and he made a
beeline for the door of the bedroom, closing it carefully behind him to avoid
disturbing Lex.
He leaned heavily back against the wall outside the door, hair catching on the
bottom of a light fixture and pulling a little as his head fell forward, shaking
in denial.
He'd done it.
No longer a virgin, no longer an innocent kid from the sticks.
Looking up, he caught his reflection at the end of the hallway in a large,
gilded mirror.
He looked... well-fucked.
Hair a tangled mop, but that was nothing unusual at this hour, chest youthfully
muscled but still, still more underdeveloped than he wished it was.
Stomach taut and flipping gently inside as he noticed his half-hard cock hanging
heavily under a patch of dark curls.
He smelled well-fucked too, cum and sex and lubricant mixing together into a
sharp, musky cologne that he wished he could splash on every morning for the
rest of his life. Sex was... something he knew now, something he could have and
enjoy. Any intimidation he felt was quickly being worn away by the fast and
furious workings of his mind. He wanted to know it all, wanted to feel it all.
Wanted to turn and burst through the door, yank Lex out of his sleep and demand
more now.
Chloe had warned him – told him that after she had done it, she'd gone a little
mad with it. She'd wanted sex all the time, wanted more whenever she did have
it, imagined having it with almost everyone just so she would know them
that way, too. It opened an entirely new part of herself, an entirely new world
full of the people she knew, but made her suddenly aware that she had never
really known them at all. Not completely.
And now Clark knew Lex like that. Lex knew him like that.
It was backwards for them though, starting here but with nothing behind
them to bind them to each other. The incident with Sergei hardly constituted the
basis of a relationship, not to mention the ten thousand dollar check waiting
for him downstairs, and Clark's chest pulled tight at the realization that as
wonderful as it had been, it had meant nothing.
His head knocked back against the wall and he gritted his teeth at the loud
sound it made – hoped to God it didn't wake Lex. He couldn't face a distant
employer this morning, and he was sure that's the only version of Lex he would
see if they met at the breakfast table.
Still, it had been incredible. He had been incredible – he'd made
Lex feel so good and Lex had been so... considerate seemed too Puritan a word
for the situation, but he had been. It hadn't felt like just a fuck,
hadn't made him feel cheap or used or like a piece of meat. Maybe it wasn't an
emotional epiphany, but the sensations, the raw desires and reactions of his
body as Lex touched him still echoed on his skin, sending electricity shooting
through his veins.
The idea seemed ludicrous now, but in the thick fog of sweat and sex, he'd lost
himself in the purest connection he'd ever felt with anyone.
He'd forgotten the farm and his mother and even the ten thousand dollar check on
the table downstairs. He'd floated on the smooth stroking in his ass, the skin
that slipped and rubbed wet against his, the sucking, biting kisses that weren't
anything but lust. And this morning, when a stray arm slid warm and heavy
across his chest, it had taken everything he had to open his eyes and see his
employer lying next to him instead of the boyfriend his sleep-lazy brain had let
him imagine. He'd accepted the reality though, and rolled out from under the arm
to make a silent and stealthy escape from a temptation that sat too bitter-sweet
in the pit of his stomach.
Clark smiled shyly back up into the mirror, then grinned at the ridiculous sight
of himself, debauched, analyzing everything like he should be wearing an
inspector's badge. Maybe he was going to go mad with fucking too, just like
Chloe. Running a hand through his hair and smelling the sweat that clung beneath
the sex scents, he shook his head.
He never would have believed that he would look forward to meaningless sex. But
tonight was just fourteen short hours away, and Clark wasn't sure he'd make it.
Slinging his jeans and shirt up over his shoulder, he sped down the stairs,
pausing in the living room to dress before heading into the kitchen. A glass of
water and he'd be on his way. Lex should have something, too – from the stark
surroundings of the penthouse and the lean body he was beginning to know so
well, he gathered that Lex didn't indulge often, and there were no sweet,
sugar-charged breakfast foods in the pantry, no cereal of any kind. He did find
strawberries and yogurt though, and ice of course, so he whipped them up and
stuck the mix in the fridge, using a decorative magnet to hold a short note to
the door so Lex would know his breakfast was waiting for him.
Lex,
Hope I didn’t wake you. There’s breakfast in the fridge. It's just strawberries
and yogurt, but I thought you could use an energy boost this morning. Thanks
for...
Clark paused – how do you thank someone for fucking you? His cheeks heated at
the thought and he couldn't help but grin a little, the memories of the night
before flashing through his brain in a sexy montage. Clark closed his eyes and
breathed deeply, then looked back down at the paper and sighed.
... everything. I'll see you tonight.
- Clark
He stood there, staring at the note for half a minute, mind completely devoid of
anything but the remembered softness of that perfectly blank skin.
Turning to pull his jacket from the back of the chair he’d hung it on, his
fingers slid along the table, scooping up the check and folding it in half
before his eyes could see the bold handwriting he knew was scrawled across it.
If he thought about it, he’d leave it and never come back. No, he had to
concentrate on the other part – the part that swelled and rose against the
zipper of his jeans at the thought of a sleepy, willing, naked Lex who would
wake and find him gone and maybe even miss him all day long.
**********
“Mom, where are the deposit slips?” Clark rifled through the desk in the
hallway, noticing the fat stack of unpaid bills, the really late ones
thumb-tacked to a piece of corkboard by the phone.
“Mo-om!” He was excited, too excited to worry about the no-yelling-in-the-house
rule his mother enforced with a flash of her eyes.
“I’m right here. Stop yelling!” There was the flash, and Clark answered it with
a wide smile.
He turned, leaned casually back on the desk, the check dangling down by his
thigh. “Where are the deposit slips?”
“In the bottom drawer. Why?”
Clark grinned, holding the check out for her to read.
“Oh my God!”
Clark laughed as she blushed furiously, her head shaking in denial and her hands
going up to cover her blush-red cheeks.
“I meant gosh! Oh my gosh. Where, why... how did you get this?” She
reached out to take the check from him, sitting down at the table and smoothing
it with her fingers against the wood as if she had to touch every inch of it for
it to be real.
Clark smiled down at her, his hands curling over the back of the chair to keep
from grabbing her up and squeezing her in a bear hug. It was too soon for
celebrating, especially since he knew the worst was yet to come.
He pulled the chair out and sat down across from her, drawing in a deep breath
and steeling himself against his only real vulnerability to date. His mother
never ceased to hit every guilty vein in his body. “It’s an advance. From Lex
Luthor. That’s who I’m working for.”
Concerned, tired blue eyes narrowed and Clark winced. “Since when does a Luthor
own the Daily Planet?”
His mother’s eyes hadn’t sparkled in months, and Clark hated to take even the
slightest ray of hope out of them, but he knew he had to.
“He doesn’t. I–” Clark looked down at his lap and kicked a table leg with his
toe. “I lied. I don’t work for the paper. I applied but the press room didn’t
pay enough, Mom.”
“And Mr. Luthor does? Ten thousand dollars, Clark? You’re only eighteen! What
does he want with you?”
It stung, and not in the way his mom had intended, but because he’d thought the
same thing more than once since he’d come down off his post-coital high this
morning.
“I’m his–” Clark paused, trying to find the words. “Mom, you have to promise not
to freak out, okay?”
“I hate it when you start sentences like that, Clark.” Impatience pursed her
lips. His mom had telltale signs and that was one of the more frequently used
ones – Clark knew he was in for it if he didn’t spill it right now.
“I’m his bodyguard.”
His mom’s arms crossed over her chest and Clark reached out to wrap his hands
over them, pulling them out of their defensive posture so he could hold them
tightly in his own on the table.
“He’s not in any danger, not really. It’s just with his dad owning Luthor Corp
and–”
“And their reputation–”
“Right, his dad’s reputation, he has to be careful. He thinks someone
might kidnap him or something. You know how it is – rich boys always think
people want to get their hands on them.”
Clark’s cheeks heated at his Freudian slip, and he hoped his mom didn’t notice
the blush. Who wouldn’t want to put their hands on Lex? He oozed confidence.
And the rest wasn’t really a lie, either. Lex did have to be careful,
especially since his father was sending him out with guys like Sergei.
“He’s not in any danger, really Mom.”
He looked up into his mom’s disapproving face and smiled, shrugging off the lies
that burned his throat and the memories of skin and teeth and tongue that
scorched his brain.
His mom’s mouth quirked up in a little smile. “You said that already.”
“Well, he’s not. And you know I’m not, right?”
“No, I don’t know that, Clark! What if you have to defend him and you use your
powers to do it? What if someone sees?”
Good, valid points, but he wasn’t actually a bodyguard, so it was highly
unlikely. “They won’t. I promise.”
His own fears had nothing to do with knives or bullets or creepy old
businessmen. They centered more around the fact that his pants were tight, even
now, even sitting at the breakfast table with his mother, just
discussing Lex Luthor.
“Clark, there has to be something else–”
“There isn’t, Mom. Look... just look at that check. It’s half of what we need. Half.
And he’s going to give me the other half at the end of the month.”
His mom tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and looked at him
skeptically. “So it’s temporary? You’ll be done before Fall semester?”
“Yep, one month. That’s it, and then you won’t have to worry about me or the
farm or tuition or anything. You can finally relax and concentrate on you
instead of trying to make ends meet. And then, I’ll be off to school and you’ll
have one less big hungry mouth to feed, too.”
Martha smiled across the table at him and lifted one of his hands to her mouth,
kissing it quickly before brushing away unshed tears. She stood, turning her
back to him as she started washing the breakfast dishes. “I’ll miss that big
hungry mouth, even if it is always yelling in the house.”
**********
Lex leaned the back of his head on the cool wood of his office door, knees
shaking slightly, and repeated to himself that Clark Kent was not trying
to kill him. A fact which probably accounted for his narrow escape, because Lex
was sure now that if he put his mind to it, if he really tried, Clark
could send Lex to the coroner’s office with a pathetically grateful smile on his
face.
Having his cherry popped had apparently opened a kind of Pandora’s Box of raging
teenage hormones in Clark, which wasn’t a complete surprise to Lex. He recalled
his own first time, and the subsequent groove his mind had worn in that solitary
track. Only, Clark was a lot older than Lex had been, a lot more physically
mature. Consequently, and unlike Lex at the time, Clark now found himself in
the perfect position to… achieve satisfaction. A laudable goal, and one Lex
intended to support him in, but one that could threaten to distract Lex at the
worst possible time, which was not laudable.
Not. At. All.
Lex grinned in spite of himself, picturing the boy just before he’d taken Lex’s
cock in his mouth, looking up and confiding rather urgently that he’d “been
thinking about this all day, Lex. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
He didn’t need to say so, though. The budding artistry of his technique implied
a good deal of thought had been applied to the subject, and then of course there
was the coup de grace – Clark cumming in his jeans in spontaneous,
unassisted reaction to Lex’s orgasming on his oh-so-surprised face. God, it had
been beautiful.
But now Lex really needed to get some work done.
He sat at his desk, flipped open his laptop and quickly became absorbed in
correspondence with his European banking contacts, catching up on the work he’d
missed over a long stilted lunch he’d shared with his father and Sergei.
The Nabokov deal was back on track and the Russians were pressing for signed
contracts. Only Lex’s discovery later in the afternoon that two of the group’s
recently replaced executives had died in gruesome unsolved murders was staying
Lionel’s hand, but with reluctance. There was a great deal of money to be made,
after all, and Lionel was nothing if not a risk taker.
If Lex was to succeed in extricating Luthor Corp from a relationship he now knew
to be a terrible mistake, while demonstrating to Sergei the inadvisability of
laying hands on him uninvited, he would need to keep his eye on the end game,
and not allow himself to become distracted by a certain mop-haired satyromaniac.
His thoughts strayed back to the man’s cool blue eyes mocking him over their
lunches, enjoying what he no doubt assumed to be Lex’s penance. Lex had only
smirked back, satisfied with his private knowledge that, yes, Clark was every
bit as tight as he looked, and the crazy bastard would never, ever have
the pleasure.
**********
The high-pitched sound of phaser fire carried down the hall as Lex made his way
to the living room. He crossed to the bar in front of Clark, who showed every
sign of being completely engrossed in Star Trek: First Contact – laughing
at the less than stellar special effects, groaning at the predictable
dialogue. “Would you like a drink?” he asked over the blare of his cutting
edge sound system.
Clark immediately lowered the volume, silly grin on his face as he watched an
unfortunate crewman get assimilated. “No, I’m okay. I wasn’t that crazy about
the scotch, anyway.”
“It’s an acquired taste.”
Clark’s snort seemed to ask why anyone would bother to acquire such a taste.
“Should I turn this off? Are you ready to, uh…go to sleep?”
Lex leaned back against the bar and studied Clark with a small smile. He was
blushing again, but Lex thought it was more to do with his uttering such a safe
euphemism than the possibility – the certainty – of Lex wanting to fuck
him.
He couldn’t remember ever being as un-jaded as Clark was. It was strangely
soothing.
“No, leave it.” He moved to join Clark at the end of the sofa opposite the
young man, kicking off his shoes and throwing his feet up. It gave him as good
a view of the superbly put-together boy as of the action on the big-screen TV.
“I don’t think I’ve seen this since it was in the theatres.”
Clark looked incredulous. “So you just buy movies and then don’t watch them?”
“Well, I’m watching it now, aren’t I? Pass that popcorn.”
Clark handed over the Tupperware bowl with a good natured grin. “Did you have
dinner before I got here? I’ll fix you something if you’re hungry,” he offered.
“This is fine.” Better than fine, actually. Clark liked his popcorn with extra
butter and salt, too. “I’m not that hungry.”
“Yeah, I can tell by the way you’re scarfing down that popcorn,” Clark laughed.
“It’s really no trouble, Lex. I know your work keeps you busy, and I’d like to
be helpful while I’m here.”
His eyes roamed the lanky form, calling forth another charming flush, and Lex
was treated to a teasing smile in anticipation of his obvious reply. “You
are helpful, Clark. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Clark laughed at his come-on but didn’t turn away. Lex waited to see if he’d
take the initiative, holding the questioning gaze until the dark haired boy lost
his nerve and turned back to the movie with a slight frown.
“Seriously, Clark, you don’t need to prepare my meals. I normally just have
coffee for breakfast.” It went unspoken that he’d found the fruit smoothie
waiting for him this morning on his way out the door.
“I figured as much. No cereal in the house. Maybe you haven’t heard, Lex, but
breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” Clark chuckled at his own sad
joke, all awkwardness forgotten. “Besides, I have a really fast metabolism. I
eat like five meals a day, and it’s just as easy to fix enough for two.”
“There’s a grocery list by the kitchen phone. Put down whatever cereal you like
and the service will stock up. Anything else you want, too.” Lex stretched his
legs the length of the couch since Clark wasn’t using it. His toes came to rest
against a long, muscled thigh and he could feel the seam of worn jeans through
the thin silk of his socks.
They turned their attention back to the movie, laughter filling the room when an
especially cheesy moment would cause them to look at each other with
simultaneously raised eyebrows.
At some point Lex realized Clark had shifted to take Lex’s feet in his lap.
Long, nimble fingers were pressing firmly into his heels and arches. He could
feel the day’s tension draining out his lower extremities.
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a sci-fi geek.”
“Geek?” Lex sent Clark a smoldering look. “You do know who you’re speaking to,
don’t you?”
“Lex Luthor, sci-fi geek?”
“You’re speaking to ‘one of the world’s most eligible bachelors’.” Lex provided
accompanying finger quotes to illustrate that his statement was published fact.
“It would be highly unlikely that a man such as myself would have such plebeian
tastes.”
“You’ve got all the movies. Even the really bad ones.”
Lex threw a hard kernel of popcorn at Clark, that being all that was left in his
bowl.
“Just sayin’,” Clark snickered, unrepentant.
“I’ll also remind you that you’re the one who selected this cinematic
masterpiece.”
“Yeah, well, I am a sci-fi geek. Have been all my life.”
“Really?” Lex stretched to put the empty bowl on the coffee table and grab his
drink. “Elaborate.”
“You really want to know?”
Clark sounded skeptical, but they were going to be spending the better
part of a month in each other’s company. Why shouldn’t they get to know each
other? Besides, Lex was having a good time. “Yeah, Clark, I really want to
know.”
Clark considered his reply with a look of sincere reflection. “Well, I’m just
fascinated by outer space, I guess,” he started out a little awkwardly, like Lex
might be grading him on his presentation. “I’ve got a telescope at home. It’s
in our barn. It’s probably too bright here in the city to see very much, but
some nights in the country it’s pitch black and it’s like you can see the whole
Milky Way. I only pick up a fraction of what’s there, though. My scope’s
pretty good, but not great,” he explained. “I’ve had it since I was a kid.”
Lex watched Clark bending over his feet as he rubbed them, long bangs shadowing
his face, and imagined Clark hunched over his telescope, shivering on a cold,
Kansas winter night. Imagined himself attending the never-ending stream of
pointless social functions that normally filled his calendar. How many nights
had Clark spent looking into the sky while Lex was oblivious to his very
existence?
“You know, a few years ago I was nearly exiled to Smallville. I wonder if we
would ever have met.”
“Exiled? What do you mean?”
Lex didn’t feel his usual embarrassment at being asked about his past, only
disappointment, in some ill-defined way, that he wouldn’t measure up to Clark’s
natural decency. Crazy that he should feel that with Clark of all
people, but he did.
“My youth was somewhat misspent, as my father is quick to point out. He’d had
enough of it. Threatened to put me in charge of the fertilizer plant there. It
would have been hell.” Lex laughed outright at the ridiculous idea. “Still,”
he continued more thoughtfully, “It might have been interesting with you
around.”
Clark looked genuinely flattered by his compliment, and they fell silent again
while the Enterprise was evacuated and its Captain faced off with the
Borg. It was Lex’s favorite part of the movie.
“Clark…what do you think of the Borg Queen?”
Clark looked at him slightly askance. “What exactly are you asking me?”
“Do you think she’s hot?”
“What?! No! Ew. She’s…creepy. She’s the villain,” Clark said, as if his
point were obvious.
“You don’t think villains can be sexy?”
Clark seemed to search his memory before conceding, “Well…okay. Maybe. But
she’s so…alien. That wouldn’t bother you?”
“Are you kidding? Getting it on with aliens is what Star Trek’s all about.
Classic Trek anyway.”
Clark seemed almost titillated by his admission, shifting Lex’s feet aside to
adjust himself. “I never watched much of the original series.”
“Well, I’ve got them all on tape,” Lex revealed. It wasn’t like he hadn’t
already been outed. “Back of the cabinet.”
Clark grinned at him. “I know it’s kind of blasphemous to a Trekkie like your
–”
“I prefer Trekker.”
“– to a Trek-ker like yourself, but I don’t really like Captain Kirk.
Picard’s my favorite.”
“Picard?” Lex became suddenly aware of what their conversation had degenerated
into, but the realization that Clark must act this way with his friends only
egged him on. “Christ, it was two seasons before Picard ever went on an away
mission. He never gets laid.”
“But he could. He could get laid,” Clark argued emphatically.
“Look at him. He could get laid any time he wanted to. I mean, what’s Kirk
trying to prove, anyway?”
“Oh, Jesus.” Lex launched a pillow at Clark, who batted it harmlessly away,
laughing at his effort.
“Hey, Lex,” Clark was still smiling, but his voice had turned a little serious.
“I think Jean Luc Picard might have been my first boy crush. Even before I
thought I might be gay. I just remember thinking the bald thing was really
sexy on him, but, um…” Clark held his gaze, cheeks blazing, “I think it looks
better on you.”
Lex’s hand ghosted reflexively across the top of his head, a nervous reaction
he’d never been able to shake. “Yeah, well, it’s a look not even the most
insolent of pre-teens can pull off. And believe me, I was a piece of work.”
“Lex, I...” Clark clearly regretted bringing the subject up.
“It’s okay. I’ve been so long without hair that I wouldn’t feel like myself if
I had it again.” He smiled, letting Clark know he didn’t mind the change of
topic.
“How’d it happen? I mean, if it’s not too personal.”
“Were you in Smallville in ’89? The day of the meteor shower?” Lex knew from
his investigation that Clark had been adopted as a young boy but he hadn’t paid
attention to the date.
Clark looked stricken. “I…I just got there that day. You lost your hair in the
meteor shower?”
Lex smiled wryly. “The genesis of my own sci-fi geekdom, I imagine.”
“Wow. Lex, I’m so sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”
Lex shook off Clark’s concern. “Don’t be, Clark. You might not believe it, but
more good things than bad came from that day, not the least of which is my being
the lucky beneficiary of your latent Picard kink.”
Genuine laughter erupted from Clark before he sobered again, searching Lex’s
face. “Well, you know,” he said softly before crawling up the length of Lex’s
outstretched body, wicked grin lighting his eyes. “It’s really more of a Lex
kink now.”
Lex leaned forward and caught Clark’s lower lip between his teeth, staring into
eyes more blue than he remembered as he slowly lay back again, pulling Clark on
top of him. Clark pulled free and kissed him with every bit of his warm, wet
mouth, eager and messy and everything Lex had been hoping he’d want badly enough
to take.
“Lex,” breathless whisper as teeth grazed along his jaw to nip under his ear,
“We need to go upstairs. Now.”
Lex smiled and ran his hands under Clark’s t-shirt, up the silky flesh of his
back. “What’s wrong, Clark? You don’t want to make out with me in front of the
TV?” The idea was surprisingly appealing to Lex and he ground up into Clark’s
hard cock, eliciting a low moan.
“No, we gotta stop, Lex.” Clark pulled back to look at him earnestly, rolling
hips belying his words. “Please? I messed up my underwear earlier, remember?
If I cum in these jeans…”
Lex choked back a laugh. “Alright, Clark. Lead the way.”
A moment later Clark was pulling him off the couch and tugging him up the
stairs.
**********
Clark's legs hummed with anticipation as he rode the elevator up to
Lex's penthouse. He glanced at his blurred reflection in the brushed metal of
the doors, running a hand through his hair and slapping his thighs in a beat
that didn't even come close to matching the music that buzzed softly through the
elevator.
He wasn't nervous; he was anxious. Couldn't fucking wait and already
achingly hard behind the zipper of his jeans.
The last few days had convinced him of one thing: Lex liked him.
They’d laughed and talked almost as much as they’d fucked, and Lex always seemed
genuinely interested, asking questions about Clark’s life, even sharing some
vague memories as they’d connected over losing a parent.
Lex had been acting less like an employer and more like... a friend.
Like last night, when Clark had fallen to his knees just inside the door – a
sort of routine of theirs – Lex had taken his hand and urged him to his feet and
down the hall.
He’d had taken Clark out on the deck, telling him he could borrow the telescope
there anytime he wanted – the telescope Clark had never noticed before through
the forever-open curtains of the living room, though Lex acted as if it had been
there all the time. Clark had smiled and quietly thanked him, heart brimming
with excitement.
He didn’t know how it was possible, but Lex obviously respected him, even in
this potentially degrading situation.
That was the thing; Lex never treated him like a prostitute. He never looked at
Clark with anything but a quiet measuring that always softened into a kind of
approval.
Sometimes it almost touched on admiration.
It was something to hold onto, the smallest of assurances to chant in his mind
as his hormones raged and his desire put a spring in his step.
The doors opened with a bing and Clark stepped out, pausing in front of
the penthouse door, one hand frozen in a fist inches from the wood, stomach
fluttering.
The door opened fast before his knuckles could finish their task and Clark burst
in, hands going straight for Lex's skin as he kicked the door shut behind
himself and pushed them both further into the room.
"Clark, Jesu-"
Clark's tongue licked the laughed exclamation from Lex's mouth, one hand
clamping hard on the back of his neck to keep them locked together, to keep Lex
from pulling away sooner than he wanted. He dove in, pulling the kiss tight
around his mind, as his tongue moved deeper and Lex's hands snaked up around his
neck, answering the fierce kiss.
It slowed when their teeth clacked together, Clark pulling back just a little to
keep it passionate but not violent, his one hand gentling on Lex's neck, the
other rubbing slowly down between them, knuckles pressing firmly into Lex's
growing erection.
His own hungry moan vibrated, muted and lost in the depths of the mouth that he
took without permission, knowing he'd be forgiven. Lex's arms tightened on his
neck and Clark licked slower, turning the kiss from claiming and desperate to
something easy and comfortable.
He leaned back a little, the tip of his tongue licking Lex's lips as they curved
into a smile and pale lashes blinked open. "Well, hello to you, Clark."
Clark smiled and reached up to move Lex's arms from around his neck then fell
heavily to his knees. The kiss was a start, but he wanted something else on his
taste buds.
"Clark, you don't have to–"
Shaking his head, he smiled up at Lex. "No, Lex. Please don't tell me not to..."
Clark pulled open Lex's pants and slid them down the smooth, pale legs that
trembled just a little when he leaned in to bite the inside of one thigh. "...
just let me... please let me..."
Lex moaned his assent and slipped fingers through his hair, gently pulling him
closer. Clark scooted forward a little and licked his lips, hands sliding from
the backs of Lex's knees up to squeeze gently on his ass.
He pressed his forehead into Lex's stomach, nuzzling into the perfect,
virgin-soft skin of his cock. He inhaled deeply, head rubbing back and forth as
he licked out, wetting the hard shaft and eliciting a groan from above him.
Lips curled in, Clark took him, suction pulling hard and fast, no time to let
Lex get used to it, but the only protest – if it could be called one – was the
tightening of the fingers in his hair and the groan that sounded more like
relief than complaint. The hand tugged gently, guiding him back off with a wet
slurp and Clark sank forward again, unwilling to relent, tongue cradling Lex's
cock as it slid back inside his mouth, harder now and painting a ragged line of
salt-burst inside his mouth.
The taste exploded on his tongue and Clark breathed in hard through his nose,
pulling on Lex's legs, urging him deeper with every stroke. His throat blocked
and squeezing tight, he grasped Lex's ass hard in his hands and buried his nose
in the smooth flesh of Lex's belly. He swallowed thickly, throat full with the
push of blunt softness and his harsh intake of breath. His ears rang with Lex's
keening pleasure-filled cry, and cum shot down his throat, pulsing in warm,
strong bursts.
Lex rocked back out of his mouth. Clark looked up to see the bottom of Lex's
chin - his head was thrown back and his hands still clung to Clark's hair,
finally loosing their grip as the buzzing of the intercom sliced through the
haze of the moment.
"Mr. Luthor is here to see you, sir."
"Fuck." Lex's chin fell forward, his teeth clenched around the word.
Clark sat back on his heels as Lex reach down for his pants, pulling them up and
fastening them carefully over his glistening cock.
"Your father?" It was a stupid question, but it was better than the nervous
laugh that bubbled up in his throat.
Lex's thumbs rubbed hard lines over Clark’s cheekbones and he smiled, head
shaking in a sort of disbelief as Clark wiped his mouth on the back of his hand
and looked at him questioningly, suddenly worried about his own presence there.
What would Lex say, how would he be introduced to Lex's father? Clark's
hands were sweating and he wiped them hard on his thighs, waiting for Lex's
instruction.
"Get up, Clark. Wait for me upstairs. I won't be long."
Better, and thank God; Lex didn't want to introduce him at all. He wouldn't have
known what to say anyway.
Clark nodded and rose as Lex thumbed the button on the intercom. "Send him up."
Clark went upstairs, pulling the door shut gently behind him as he moved to sit
on the bed, wary of disturbing the perfectly smooth comforter, but dismissing
the idea when he realized it would just be tossed to the floor later anyway. He
traced the lines of one palm with his finger as he sat listening, waiting for
the door to open downstairs.
No, he couldn't invade Lex's privacy like that, not now. He stood, moving to the
desk across the room, picking up a book on astronomy he was sure he hadn't seen
there before. Lex must've been brushing up so they could use the telescope
together.
"Hello, Lex."
The words cut through the floor beneath his feet and he froze, the book falling
to the desk with a thunk he was sure the entire city heard. Stupid. So
fucking stupid.
He narrowed his gaze, concentrating on the floor, x-raying his way through to
see if Lex's father had noticed.
They must not have heard. Lex's father stepped into the room, grinning at Lex
and Lex was smiling back, impatience clearly written across his face.
Jesus. Lex's father could have been a complete stranger for all they looked
alike. But no, wait - there it was. They were identical, limbs moving in tandem
in a smooth gait that took them both across the room where Lionel stripped off
his coat and threw it over the back of a winged chair that looked like it had
never been sat in.
Lionel Luthor was... impressive. Not in size, although his height certainly made
his presence known, but in appearance. His hair floated wild and untamed around
his angular face, his long fingers curling over the back of the chair as he
spoke. He filled the room with a visceral threat that couldn't be missed.
"So where is he, Lex? I've come to see this boy who's caused so much
trouble."
"He's not here, Dad, and as I've explained to you once already, he wasn't
responsible. Sergei was the problem, not Clark. This boy isn't a threat
to you. He’s nothing but an amusing distraction." Lex's defense was casual, his
tone dismissive and calm. If he hadn't known better, Clark would have thought
Lex really was indifferent about him.
"Come now, Lex, I'm not blind, and my nose works as well as my eyes. You're
flushed and the scent of sex tends to linger, in case you haven't noticed. Where
are you hiding him?"
Clark watched in horror as Lionel began striding through the penthouse, opening
doors and peeking inside like he owned the place, then shaking his head and
clicking his tongue in a mocking admonishment as he stepped back into the living
room where Lex stood waiting for him.
"Are you so taken with him that you won't let me meet him?
Am I so
vulgar, son?"
Lionel
laughed softly and Clark's spine straightened, stiffened with the instinctive
rush of caution that flared in his brain.
"Yes, you are. But you're wrong, Dad. He's not here."
Clark smiled as Lex scored a point in the verbal sparring match, watching
carefully as the elder Luthor leaned back on the banister of the stairs, looking
for all the world like a lion ready to pounce.
"You’re calling him your-" Lionel cleared his throat, "bodyguard,
correct?" Lex nodded and Lionel mimicked the gesture, lips pursed in apparent
thought. "Have you tested his capabilities?"
Lex turned his back and began to pour two snifters of the brandy Clark guessed
was reserved for his father's visits. "He certainly was effective against
Sergei."
Lionel pushed up from his casual pose and Clark's legs twitched with the effort
to stay put, to not rush down the stairs and stand protectively in front of Lex.
"Yes, he was effective. Tell me, Lex, do you let him fuck you?" Lionel
reached out to take the drink from Lex's hand, not waiting for it to be offered.
"I never developed a strong affinity for cock, although I suppose I did
find the strength of another man somewhat comforting in my youth."
"Why exactly are you here, Dad? Surely you didn’t come all this way merely to
discuss my sexual preferences." Lex took a drink of his brandy and Clark held
his breath, waiting for Lionel's next biting remark.
Lionel stalked closer to Lex, reaching up to caress Lex's cheek with the back of
his hand. Lex flinched and tilted his head, but the hand didn't relent or fall.
Lionel was staring intently at his son, a small smile playing on his lips.
He wasn't a father, he was a predator. And Lex, his own son, was the prey.
"Dad-"
The hand moved in a blur and Clark's heart skipped as he watched it slam into
Lex's cheekbone, the scene screeching to a dead halt as Clark's body took over,
speeding him down the stairs he didn't even see. He caught himself at the bottom
of the stairs, slowing to normal speed and stopping at the sight of Lex, hand
covering the abused flesh of his cheek, head turned sharply away from his
father's still-raised hand.
Lex straightened slowly, eyes fierce with anger, mouth tightly pinched.
The two men stood, one smirking and satisfied, the other emanating hatred and
humiliation like it was a natural, inborn thing.
Clark froze, his body warring with his mind over the daunting situation. He knew
there was nothing he could do but make things worse by making his presence
known. Lex would be embarrassed and Lionel…well, he had no idea how Lionel might
react.
His foot found the stair behind him and he reluctantly stepped back, intending
to slip from the room unnoticed. The wood creaked under his weight and Lex's
eyes flashed on him. Lionel turned to follow his gaze and Clark's heart sank as
Lex swallowed hard and looked at the floor, shaking his head slightly.
"Well, well, well." Lionel moved fast and fluidly across the space between them,
stepping without hesitation into Clark's personal space, chin lifted in
maddeningly close proximity to his face, like he was scenting him. Lionel's
mint-tinged breath ghosted over Clark's lips as he spoke. "The bodyguard's
timing seems a little off, wouldn't you say, Lex?"
Clark warily took his eyes off the man whose shirt brushed his arm and looked to
Lex for some kind of direction. Lex's eyes locked on his and he smiled just a
little, bitterness and resigned disgust twisting it into a message for Clark.
Almost an apology, but more of an excuse. He's a bastard, but he's my father.
Clark turned back to Lionel, impressed with his own ability to keep from
spitting in the man's face or throwing him through the wall of windows at the
end of the room.
"Dad, this is Clark. Clark, my father. Lionel Luthor."
“Yes, Clark Kent, I know.” Lionel’s face twisted into a parody of
amusement. A private joke at someone’s expense, but Clark didn’t know whose.
Then long, thin fingers closed over his throat in an icy grip and Clark sucked
in a breath, eyes flying wide when Lionel yanked him forward, mouth claiming his
roughly, tongue shoving in between his lips and licking along the roof of his
mouth before Clark could gather himself and push against the surprisingly firm
chest that crushed against his body.
Clark's hands fisted Lionel's shirt and shoved, but Lionel was already pulling
away, licking his lips and smiling wide, nodding over his shoulder at Lex as he
stepped back from Clark, leaving him choked with revulsion.
Lionel patted his arm, laughing softly. "He's delicious, Lex. Perhaps when
you're finished with him, I’ll rekindle my taste for boys."
The subtle taste of brandy from Lionel's mouth clung inside his own and Clark
shook with rage, with the need to replace it with Lex, with anything. He
strode to Lex, shoulder slamming into Lionel's as he moved past him. Lex lifted
his hand, offering him the snifter of brandy. Clark took it, drinking deeply,
throat burning with the alcohol and the realization that through the entire
scene, Lex had never even moved.
Clark closed his eyes.
Lex hadn't dropped the glass, hadn't been surprised by any of his father's
actions. He'd known exactly what to expect.
Hands carefully not touching Lex, knowing he would be despised for the
supportive gesture, Clark glared back up at Lionel, wishing he had the balls and
freedom to flip the switch in his brain and incinerate him where he stood.
Lex took the glass from his hand and finished off the brandy, mouth curving into
an alligator smile that Clark shivered at.
"Don't you have some business of your own to attend to, Dad? I believe Constance
must be waiting downstairs in the limo. Or is it Sasha tonight? Either way, I'm
sure your date's meter is running."
Clark started at the blatant insult then swelled with pride for Lex – he could
hold his own, even against this man. Against his father.
"As amusing as this has been, we do have business to discuss, Lex. Excuse your
friend and let's get on with it. The meter is indeed running."
Clark looked at Lex, hesitating to leave the two men alone together again. Lex
tucked his hands into his pockets and nodded, eyebrows raised in a strong,
reassuring order that Clark wouldn't have dared refuse.
He turned and walked back up the stairs, glancing over his shoulder to see
Lionel slinking into the chair he'd hung his coat on and Lex sitting on the
couch. Neither paid attention to him as ascended the stairs and Clark shook off
his trepidation, walking determinately to the bedroom and closing the door
behind him.
He stretched out on the bed, his face mashing into a pillow to inhale Lex's
scent. He remembered the book on the desk and got it, thumbing through until he
found what looked like an interesting chapter as he lay back down on the bed.
Still concerned, he stretched his hearing, listening in for a moment on the
conversation below.
"... that you never forget where your priorities lie. Now, what are we going to
do about the man-hours we've invested in this? I don't have to tell you that I'm
not willing to waste revenue, Lex – either you follow through with Nabokov or
you come up with another viable option that utilizes our..."
Clark pulled his hearing back to the bedroom, the voices muffling and
disappearing quickly, the silence that filled his ears more of a relief than a
nagging curiosity.
He turned onto his belly, feet kicking up into the air as he began to read. The
words on the page ran together as his brain tried to process the enigma that was
Lionel Luthor.
The father-son interaction had left him confused, desperate for an explanation.
Had it always been that way between Lex and his father? The horrible tug-of-war
bit and scratched at Clark's heart as he replayed the scene over and over in his
head, looking for answers.
He shifted, rolling onto his back and tucking an arm behind his head, the book
in his hand falling open and forgotten to the bed beside him.
Better to have no father than one like Lionel.
Oh, God.
Clark blinked hard against the rush of pain that constricted in his chest. It
wasn't fair. His father had been a good man, worthy of a long, happy life
and this man – this suave prick who abused his son, treated him like a fucking
dog – lived a life of luxury.
Clark closed his eyes, wet lashes sticking together, and pushed the resentment
from his mind. He and Lex were bound to the lives they led, the people they
called family. No matter how detestable the truth was, it was reality.
Lex would follow his father, put up with the insults and abuse, and Clark would
spend the night in the arms of a man who was paying him to do so.
He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and pushed up off the bed, walking into the
bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face and mopped it with a towel.
Frowning at the boy in the mirror, Clark shook his head and walked back to the
bedroom, hand pausing on the door to the hallway.
He stretched his hearing again but only caught the subtle click of Lex's fingers
on the keys of his computer. Lionel was gone, and Lex was working.
Clark sighed and turned back to the bed, back to the book he had yet to really
begin reading. He curled up on his side, the words pulling his attention away
from the lonely expanse of the city outside the windows that twinkled at the
edge of his sight, just over the tips of the pages.
**********
A soft rap on the door pulled Lex from a mire of research, and he stretched,
dismayed to note he’d been working for over two hours without interruption since
his father’s departure. Lionel had finally agreed to drop the Nabokov deal on
the condition that a similar arrangement could be negotiated elsewhere in
Eastern Europe, and Lex had immediately begun compiling the possibilities.
Sergei and his partners would not be put off for long and Lionel had left made
it clear this would be Lex’s project entirely.
Still, Clark was owed an apology for Lionel, and Lex hadn’t intended waiting so
long to give it. He’d only needed time for his temper to cool over his father’s
handling of Clark. Kissing his Clark.
Clenching his jaw, he composed himself before calling out, “Come in.”
The door cracked open an