Category: C/Lex slash, implied other pairings
Rating: NC-17 for m/m giving.
Disclaimer: You say it's your birthday / It's his birthday too, yeah / We say it's our birthday / He's gonna have a good time / And now it's his birthday / Run from WB too, yeah....
Notes: For the CLFF challenge.  Written in chat late, late, late one night with Eliza's unstinting and thoroughly evil encouragement!  This is...well, we decided to call it 'buffetfic,' since you get a little of everything.  We kinda jumped from badfic to sillyfic to angstfic to smutfic and, well, yeah.  Not sure whether to hand you a spork or a shovel, so here's both!
Challenge: Lionel blackmails Smallville into selling him a virgin. Lex reacts. (Marag)
Summary: Lionel finds the perfect birthday present.

g

"Sir," Lionel's secretary said at the end of her morning recital, looking up from her planner.  It held all his appointments for the day neatly listed and detailed, from the eleven o'clock with his lawyers to his two o'clock with Raoul.  With his day so conveniently mapped-out, he couldn't imagine what had made her hesitate like this, a trace of...could that be uncertainty in her voice?

"Yes, Margaret?"

"I'm sure you're aware of this, but your son's birthday is tomorrow.  I can send the usual card, but I wondered what sort of car you wanted to have delivered this time."

Lex's birthday.  It wouldn't do to admit that he'd forgotten entirely--Margaret actually liked Lex, and the last time he'd forgotten, there had been an unforgettable week of wretched coffee and dismayingly long skirts.  If she wasn't so vastly overqualified, dependable, and stunningly...creative, he would have had her replaced long ago.

But still--Lex's birthday.  His son and heir, who had actually turned his life around in Smallville, despite all Lionel's pessimism on the subject.  Oh, he'd had no doubt that Lex could haul the failing fertilizer plant up out of the morass of debt and mediocrity it had floundered in.  Lex was no fool, and he had great potential when given the proper motivation to hone his more business-like talents.  Lionel had expected to find the plant running firmly in the black and Lex demanding to return to Metropolis in short order, where Lex would no doubt sink right back into his careless ways and Lionel would have to do it all over again, somewhere worse than Smallville, if such a place could be found.

He hadn't expected Lex to move in, take over...and settle down.  Settle in, like he belonged there.  Maybe it was something in the water, or some hitherto-unexplored hypnotic property of corn, because it made no sense why his son, his brilliant and gifted and flamboyantly rebellious son, would forsake the excitement and slavish adoration of Metropolis to rot in some backwater like Smallville.

It wouldn't do at all.  And he couldn't just go in again and threaten Lex into dropping everything to come home--they'd just end up with swords in hand, and Lex would growl and give under the blade and distract him with those wounded eyes, and the minute he left, his son would turn around and do whatever he pleased, just like always.

No, this time he'd have to lure Lex back.

"Perhaps a....no.  On second thought, Margaret, clear my calendar," he said, smiling a little at her look of surprised approval.  Petty of him to admit it, but he did so enjoy the ways she found to reward him for playing nice with his son.  And if he ever found out what Lex had done to corrupt his secretary so thoroughly...he was going to practice.

"I think I'll pick out Lex's gift myself."

g

The Lang girl was pretty enough, he supposed, but he knew his son.  Something...sturdier was definitely in order.  The quarterback, maybe...no.  The blond was entirely too garish.  Which also cut the Sullivan girl out of the running.  The Ross boy would provide a challenge, he supposed.  Someone for Lex to win over, someone raised on tales of the Luthor reign of terror.  It was a thought--

Ah, no.  That one.  He asked after a last name, and it was all he could do not to laugh aloud.  Jonathan...was not going to be pleased.

Lionel was looking forward to the bargaining.  He'd better invest in more lube.  Then again, maybe not.  Jonathan always did like to do things...organically.  If he was lucky, he might even catch Martha in a creative mood--that had proved pleasant, in the past.  The things that woman could do with dried ears of corn.  Come to think of it, perhaps he should pick up some produce while he was in town.  Lex would surely appreciate the gesture.  A thoughtful present should be accessorized, and all that.

It turned out Martha was in a very creative mood, which shouldn't have surprised him given the prize in question.  Negotiations turned spirited and, conveniently for him, the Kents were fully stocked and prepared with every "accessory" he could conceive of Lex needing to enjoy his new toy.  The only remaining question was whether Lionel could meet their price and still be conscious to meet Lex in Metropolis.

Sore but triumphant, Lionel passed the Smallville city limits several hours later, his son's present secured and certified as the genuine article.  If it had been anyone but the pathologically honest Kents, Lionel would have been very doubtful that such a pretty creature could qualify.

But it was the Kents, and Martha's protectiveness of her only son was legendary.  After all--the boy was fifteen years old, and this was the first Lionel had seen of him.  It wasn't too wildly unlikely that Martha had simply...found ways of discouraging suitors she considered inappropriate, keeping her lone chick culled from the common herd and blissfully innocent of his charms.  That made it something more of a gamble, of course, and he'd considered trying to lower the price because of it--after all, a true, comprehensive virgin was rarely very inspiring in bed once the artful tears and pleading were dispensed with.  Still--the boy might have some training in the use of produce, or at least a little of Martha's...raw talent.  Lionel just wouldn't want Lex to be disappointed, that was all.

When they arrived in Metropolis, he issued orders to have the young man bathed and brought to his te--err, office (really, perhaps he should lay off the military histories for a while), and sent out a summons for Lex.

Ah, it was good to be a Luthor.

Both doors flew smoothly open as Lex stalked in, radiating confidence in his posture and deep, deep suspicion in his eyes.  Really, it was almost as if his own son suspected his motives.  It was one of those moments when Lionel knew he had raised his son right.

"Well, father?  What's so important that I had to drop everything and come here?" Lex demanded, scanning the office as if waiting for faceless drones to step out of the shadows and begin interrogating him about the conditions of the plant and the last five felonies he needed...erased.  These days, Lionel knew better than to let them come within five floors of Lex.  He paid his little flock of lawyers well, and they were a nicely creative lot, but he was getting tired of forking out extra for therapy when his son was around.  Apparently, being addressed as a 'drone' left scars on a lawyer's delicate psyche.  Who knew?

"Happy birthday, son," he said with a smile, rising from his desk and holding his arms out wide.  The way Lex skittered away from him and reached automatically for the weighted nameplate on Lionel's desk practically brought tears of pride to his eyes.

"Birthday," Lex repeated, testing the word as if trying to translate it from some foreign language.  "Tell me you didn't get me a present, Dad."

"Well, I...."

"I'm still trying to get rid of the last one.  I can't believe you bought her virgin act."

"Ah.  Well.  Victoria has her uses, though...."

"Yes.  We're both well aware of that."

"But I can guarantee this one is the genuine article, son.  I brought him from Smallville myself."

Lex got very, very quiet.  Something shifted in his eyes that reminded Lionel of someone very near and dear to his heart.  In a way, it reminded him of himself, but even more than that, it reminded Lionel of Lex's dear mother, just before she cut a rival's wife dead or her smile as she served up drinks while Lionel was informing a competitor that his company was now Lionel's.  It was a sight he'd long missed.

"Smallville, huh?  Well, I suppose that's better than Birmingham.  As if there are any virgins there."

Lionel didn't know about virgins in Birmingham, but he certainly had fond memories of the place.  When he was feeling particularly nostalgic, there was the pink boa in his desk drawer to remind him of happier, more colorful days.

"So," Lex asked slowly, "Smallville.  Have you noticed any...peculiarities about this supposed virgin?"

Lionel thought about that for a moment.  "I suppose that really depends on what you consider peculiar.  I think the more widely-used term would be...'blessed.'"

Lex's eyes narrowed.  "How blessed, Dad?"

"Well...perhaps you'd better see him to truly appreciate it."

Turning to one of his bodyguards (who answered to Guido, whatever his name might be), Lionel gestured imperiously.  The gorilla of a man (who, sadly, did not quite deliver on the promise of his size) turned and opened a side door.  Stepping away from his desk, Lionel crossed the room with Lex following closely on his heels, grave misgivings apparent in the twist of his son's mouth.  "As you can see, Lex, this one already matches the decor."

Lex stopped in the doorway and stared for a moment.  Lionel waited expectantly.  At last, he heard his son's breathed, "Oh.  My.  God."

Lionel smiled in satisfaction.  "Yes.  Exactly."

Kneeling in the center of Lionel's study was the Kent boy, naked as the day he was born and bound hand and foot with the soft cords that would have held the curtains open if there had been curtains in Lionel's study.  As it was, he simply believed in being prepared.  Huge hazel eyes opened wide the moment Lex appeared in the doorway, and Lionel fancied there was a kind of pleading in the mute gaze, exactly the sort of thing a Luthor could be counted on to respond to.  Generally by making sure it reappeared as often as humanly possible and in as many settings as could be manufactured.

And respond Lex did, stalking forward and tangling one hand in dark, silky hair to tilt the head back for closer examination.

"Clark," he said quietly, as if there could be any doubt.  It was a voice that tried hard to hold on to a noncommittal flatness, bare curiosity and a touch of seen-it-all attitude, but Lionel knew his son better than that.  Lex was hooked.

"Lex--I don't know what's happening--your dad said he bought me," the Kent boy babbled, looking up at Lex like a savior.

"Mmm," Lex said in reply, bringing up his free hand to cup the boy's jaw and run his thumb over the lush lower lip.  Abruptly, Lex released the boy altogether and turned to Lionel.  "Why, Dad?"

Lionel smiled, and it stretched even wider when Lex didn't back away this time.  "You've done well in Smallville, Lex, but it's time to come home.  It's time you came back to Metropolis and took up your destiny.  I just thought this might...sweeten the deal."

Lex's eyes wavered on Lionel's face, dropping back down to Clark again as if tugged.  Lionel could tell his son wanted badly to negotiate, but those wide, innocent hazel eyes distracted him better than any drug or whore.

"Lex," the boy breathed, half a plea, but he must have seen the same thing Lionel saw, and the full mouth clamped shut as Lex turned back to his father.

"I'll need time to...arrange things."

"Of course. I completely understand.  Just don't take too long.  I know how...tempting it is to play with a new toy, but there's work to be done.  It's time you took the place you were meant for, Lex.  There are empires waiting to be built, and I want my son at my side."

"Of course," Lex echoed, sounding too complacent, too agreeable, but Lionel could afford to be magnanimous now.  Lex was his.

One sharp nod sent the guards from the room, and Lex watched impatiently as they left, a thousand thoughts flickering across his face.  The moment the room was empty, there were sure to be explanations passed between Lex and his gift, assurances and promises, and that wouldn't do at all.  Lex was supposed to enjoy this present, not let himself be talked out of it.  And besides, they owned Clark Kent.  Lionel just wanted to know if Clark owned Lex, too.

Smiling blandly at his son, he walked toward the door and, with him on what Lex would consider the wrong side, closed it.  Sinking into the comfortable leather chair just beside the door, he folded his hands with an expression of infinite patience and gave his son the not-quite innocent don't mind me look he'd been using to irritate men with secrets for decades.

"Dad, what are you doing?"

"Relax, Lex.  I just want to be sure you get my money's worth."

The Kent boy really had an amazing capacity to blush.  And he'd guessed correctly--it really did go all the way down.

Lex merely stared at him a moment longer, narrowed eyes not quite questioning, before turning back to Clark with a shrug.  "Fine, Dad.  Just don't interfere."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Lex.  He's your present, after all."

If Lex even heard him, it didn't show.  Lex was focused entirely on Clark's face, upturned and paling now that it was clear Lex had no intention of stopping, not even for an audience.  It was strange to see that look on Lex's face, though--eyes so intent, Lionel could almost believe Lex considered the Kent boy a threat, or a puzzle that was begging to be solved.

One of Lex's hands lifted slow and casual to card through Clark's thick hair, and for a moment, Lionel thought the boy was going to flinch away, shake off Lex's touch.  It would have been a mistake, though, and Clark seemed to know it.  The boy tensed but knelt motionless as Lex's fingers slipped lower, thumb tracing the line of cheek before brushing full lips yet again.  It was an obvious point of fascination for Lex--the red mouth, pouting lips pressed now into a scared line, not easing even for Lex's oddly careful touches.

Lionel held himself still, watching the results of his gamble.  The way Lex touched the boy...possessive, yes, but very nearly reverent.  There was patience here, and that was unexpected from what he knew of his son, the things he'd seen and the things Lex had been so diligent about showing him when there had still been points to be made.  What kept him from walking out or writing the whole experiment up as a loss--the loss of a good Luthor to sentiment--was the determination in Lex's stance, the hint of implacability in his eyes.  This, Lionel thought, might be another point.  But who Lex was making it to was anyone's guess.

Lex's thumb stroked over Clark's lips again, a little more insistent this time, and something in Clark's expression shifted as Lionel watched.  There was still fear there, and stubbornness in spades, but the boy was as focused on Lex now as Lex was on him, and Lionel knew he'd been forgotten.  That was even better.  He was curious to see how Lex performed when he forgot he had an audience.  When Lex remembered, he was something of a showman, always pushing for a reaction from his partner or his watchers--but this was different.  Personal.

"Clark," Lex murmured again, his voice low and rough, caressing.  It shivered through the room and slipped smooth as honey down the spine and Christ, his son sounded like sex.  Like the heavy, languid touches that came long past the point of exhaustion, slow and certain of their welcome.  Only the certainty that he'd shatter the moment if he breathed too loudly kept Lionel still in his chair.

Clark remained silent, kneeling motionless, but his lips parted hesitantly under Lex's gently stroking fingers, and the hitched gasp of Lex's breath rasped loudly in the quiet room.  Watching Lex's fingers disappear into the Kent boy's mouth was almost shocking in its intimacy.  Lex pressed slowly deeper, and Lionel swallowed hard himself as he saw Clark's lips close over two fingers, cheeks hollowing as they were sucked in.  The uncertainty in Clark's eyes had turned willing, curious, though the intensity of Lex's gaze had only deepened.  It looked like Lex was trying to memorize this or peel back the layers of Clark's changing expressions until everything was laid bare to him for the taking.  Only the shifting of Lex's hand kept them from being statues, pinned by stares that seemed to be asking questions Lionel had no clue about, had never even considered could be there.

He was nearly as surprised as Clark when Lex suddenly pulled his hand away, fingers hovering over Clark's cheek for a moment before dropping to his side.  There was a struggle in Lex's expression that a blind man could have interpreted--wanting and restraint, the hunger to take what was his and an unexpected touch of fear.  Fear of losing something, and Lionel was torn between chortling over how well he'd picked this present and chiding Lex for his rampant emotionalism.  It was going to get his son in trouble one day, but Lionel honestly couldn't say whether he wanted that day to be this one or not.  It would be a valuable lesson, but he'd honestly intended this as a gift.  Something just for Lex, much better than a car, unique and irreplaceable.

Staring up at Lex, the Kent boy's face stilled and shifted again--and Lionel almost couldn't believe it, but Lex's show of hesitation had worked.  Something about the illusion of choice it gave the boy made up his mind at last, and the tension melted out of Clark's shoulders as Lionel watched.  Maybe it was a small-town thing--displays of nobility some secret and shivery turn-on--but it had been exactly what Clark needed to convince him to do this--

Lean forward, balanced with admirable grace despite his bindings, and nuzzle his face into Lex's midriff, right at the hollow of lean stomach and hip.  It made Lex hiss, hands coming up automatically to bury themselves in Clark's hair again, but Clark didn't seem to mind.  "Lex," was murmured against his son's belly, and "please," and lips pressed against deep violet silk before perfect white teeth closed on the fabric and tugged.  Gently, careful not to rip, but clearly an order or an invitation.

Lionel preferred to think of it as the latter.

One of Lex's hands lifted and smoothed down his chest, sliding on silk as if oiled, and Clark...sighed, eyes gone pleading again.  Lex just smiled, fingers working almost absently at the buttons of his shirt while playing with Clark's hair, and that almost made Lionel want to look away.  He hadn't been able to help his reaction to his son's baldness years ago, to that stranger-face that had stared up at him from a hospital bed, begging for things Lionel had never known how to give.  Now that Lex had grown into his strangeness--now that he'd wrapped that nakedness around himself like an impenetrable suit of armor--Lionel found himself easy with it, wanting to reach out, touch, too late.  No one touched his son unless Lex was high or fucking, getting fucked.  Lionel could, but he didn't have permission, not anymore.

Clark did.

Clark turned his face into bare skin and breathed deep, not put off at all by the unnatural smoothness beneath his cheek and lips.  That simple, almost-chaste caress shouldn't have been enough to affect Lex--shouldn't have enough to affect Lionel--but it did, uncomplicated evidence that Clark was sure of this, wanted this, wanted Lex, imperfections and all.  If Lionel could have given his son the same unconditional love and support twelve years ago, maybe there would have been no need for gifts like this.

Clark's mouth was living up to its promise, lips and teeth working with unexpected nimbleness at Lex's belt.  The determined concentration on the boy's face was nearly as arousing as the sight of him--bound and golden and kneeling at his son's feet--and Lionel couldn't help picturing what that mouth would look like wrapped around a hard cock, if that same focused look would still lurk in Clark's eyes.  If so, Lex was going to be a lucky, lucky man.

And maybe it should have been surprising that Lex had waltzed into his own father's office without boxers or briefs, but it wasn't, really.  Maybe if they were the type of family that made those kinds of distinctions, if he was the type of father that had never seen his son's hard cock, it would have been different.  But they weren't, and this was Lex, and Lex did things like this almost as a matter of course.

Lionel knew, and had people who were paid to know, that some lovers reacted to Lex's complete bareness...unpredictably.  Sometimes it was a turn-off, or a turn-on for the wrong reasons, and the smart ones pretended they didn't see and thereafter didn't look.

Clark looked, and saw, and if Lionel had ever had anyone devour him with their eyes the way Clark did with his son, maybe he would have remarried.  Woman, man, or space alien--Lionel would have fucking proposed, or had them quietly kidnapped with no one the wiser.  There was still a hint of necessary bravery in Clark's eyes--virgin, Lionel reminded himself, feeling inexpressibly smug--but almost no hesitation as he rubbed his face over Lex's hard flesh and licked, tongue darting out almost shyly to taste.

Lex's hands fisted in Clark's hair, but Clark didn't seem to notice, his mouth moving slowly over Lex's cock without quite taking it in.  Tongue gliding, lips teasing, the careful graze of teeth driving Lex right to the edge, and it was so different than what Lionel was used to seeing, feeling, though it was hard to place how and why.  Not just the lure of innocence being lost to desire, the sweetness of those first fumbling touches from someone new...it had to be the pure devotion the Kent boy approached it with, like all his enjoyment came from listening to Lex gasp and groan.  Not because it gave him power or the promise of a better and more expensive gift at the end, but because he wanted to.  Lionel could almost appreciate what it was Lex saw in Smallville and this boy in particular.

As attractive as Clark on his knees was, Lionel was watching his son's face when the boy finally took Lex's cock in his mouth and sucked, head bobbing nice and slow in an unpracticed, unhurried rhythm.  It was like nothing he'd ever seen before--Lex's head tipping back as his eyes slid half-closed, the tension of years melting away in a breathless, trembling moan.  Lionel could practically see his son's religiously-maintained walls crumbling right before his eyes.  Lex hadn't been as open as he was this moment in years, and it...

Twisted something in Lionel's gut that was a lot like desire and maybe a bit like loss--maybe more than he cared to admit.  It wasn't that he wanted to fuck his son, although he could, at last, appreciate Lex's oddly refined beauty, how his freakishness had made him, defined him.  But he wanted his son, wanted Lex to come to him willing and open, and that was never going to happen.  If Lex ever did, Lionel would flay him alive, because that was what they did.  The closest he would come was watching this--his son's fingers lacing in thick black hair, holding that pretty face still and beginning to thrust, fucking his lover's mouth with something terribly like love half-hidden by wispy, lowered lashes.

And Clark took it, the same look standing out much more clearly on his honest young face, and none of this was what Lionel had expected when he made that bargain with the Kents.  Vaguely, he wondered if he'd been had, if Jonathan and Martha had known all along that their son wanted Lex and that Lex might never have taken Clark on his own.  In fact, he could probably expect to find a seven-figure check returned in the next few days, along with a sappily-sweet and covertly smug card, something like thinking of you.  It should have left him furious, but it was...amusing really, and it said good things about Jonathan, like the fact that the sanctimonious bastard had been listening to him all these years.  Maybe he'd have to find a way to...thank them for this, in a way they would have to accept.

Still, for the moment, there was just this--his son locked together with his lover, and it was a beauty even he could appreciate without having to trust where it would lead.  This was not the time to chide Lex about letting his emotions rule him, or even to remind him of the compliance this gift was supposed to have bought, not when the Kents held all the cards.  Lex didn't know that yet, and Lionel hoped to keep it that way.  His son was hard enough to control as it was.  In fact, it might be time to slip out quietly before the end, before he saw his son shattered by orgasm and his own weakness, and with more joy in the act that the most skilled whore could have given him.

It wouldn't really be a retreat.  Just...a regrouping, and it would probably drive Lex nuts trying to figure out why he'd been so considerate.  Keeping Lex off-balance--now that was a worthy challenge.  Maybe the Kent boy would be useful in that respect, as well.

But first...he needed to visit with Margaret and accept her heartfelt congratulations for making his son so happy on his birthday.  And clear his calendar again for later in the week.

By the time the expected card came, he'd have thought up something appropriate for the elder Kents.  Something...organic.  He could be a generous loser, so long as everyone won.

After all, he was very good at winning.

g

end