Title: Death Resolves Everything
Author: mdl
Pairing: Clark/Lex
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: According to my Grandmother, you can't get blood out of a stone, but feel free to try.
Part of:: The Fifth Wave of the CLexFest at http://www.kardasi.com/Lexclusive/ClexFest 
Challenge: Set the story in the future. Clark is Superman and protector of Metropolis and Lex is the evil Supervillain... or what?
Beta: Elegantly done by MeLi.
Note: This is as close to happily ever after as I've ever been.

Death Resolves Everything

Lex sat at the big natural slate desk and pretended to read the report Gabe Sullivan, his VP of Biotech Development, e-mailed him an hour ago. The PDF file indicated sixty at the bottom, but when Lex used the voice control to turn the page, the first paragraph of the new screen might as well have been Sanskrit. He frowned slightly; this level of distraction was simply not his style. Since his twenty-fifth birthday, Lex had exercised precision control over every aspect of his life and the lives of the ever-expanding circle of people around him. There had been magazine articles written, television shows produced, thousands of words and pictures paying homage to the ice water in his veins.

Lex couldn't resist a smirk as he thought of the latest magazine cover, "Finance Asia", profiling his takeover of Vita Genomics. Lex had thought the Harley and the leathers were a tad Malcolm Forbes, but the half-caste boy taking the photos was enthusiastic about the look, so Lex had indulged him. He had considered extending his indulgence when the young man reached to unzip Lex's heavy leather jacket. The tilt of the boy's wrist scraped his fine hairless knuckles along the center of Lex's chest, almost generating interest. The boy's hair was dark, his eyes were green and his skin was like burnished copper . . . but he was only twenty and small boned. Lex had not dabbled in boys for a long time and while he liked his men green, copper and dark, he also liked them broad and tall, with thick uncircumcised cocks. In the end, this brief interest could not be sustained. He dismissed the young man with a polite nod and went back to work. Passion and attention were not to be wasted on mere humans. His new quest in Asia would absorb it better than some twenty-year-old slut. The east would fall to him as quickly as the Huadan fell to Cao Cao. If Lex could force the world to move as quickly as his synapses, he could own the continent in the time it took to perform "Love Unrequited."

It was not like the old days.

In the beginning, working from Smallville, he had expanded with glacial caution - taking part of a company here, a slice of another there. Lex had discovered early that everyone was vulnerable; you just had to find the way in. He'd slowly nibbled away at the foundations of a variety of mega corporations, taking useful bits of LuthorCorp, Insert Therapeutics, Cyrano Sciences, Genome, Avanta and a handful of others. LuthorCorp had taken him ten months to crack, the last company only ten days. When he'd finally exploded out of the mid-west, a young Turk out of the desert, he'd cast a jaundiced eye over the established order and set out to remake it to his own taste. Lex, tied to nothing, attached to no one, diamond like in his brilliance and clarity, could not be stopped. Private sanatoriums, exclusive spas and pricey retirement communities were full of the men and women who had tried. Lex had his people send them flowers quarterly. The gutter press scoffed it was the least he could do. Lex enjoyed the idea of reminding his conquests of their place in his world.

Lex shook his head, his voice sending the file on his laptop back to page one. As a matter of pride, he would finish this report, absorb it, annotate it and send it back to Gabe. Sullivan had been with him from the beginning, moving from the plant in Smallville to Cadmus Labs and then on to the state-of-the-art biotech facility Lex had built in northern Saskatchewan. If he was lucky, this report should contain the final research on the meteor rocks' mutative effects on human DNA. He could already grow humans from scratch, designing them from the ground up. When he was thirty, his faith in the meteors and some hundreds of millions of research dollars put strength, intelligence, appearance with-in his purview. Never timid, Lex had used the process to grow two adult human beings.

Hope and Mercy were Lex's greatest victory and most spectacular failure. Physically, they were awe-inspiring. Breathtakingly beautiful, inhumanly strong, startlingly intelligent, doggedly loyal and fiercely aggressive - they seemed the perfect product. However, standing next to the glowing green tanks, watching as they drew first breath, Lex looked into their eyes and knew he had acted hastily. Extensive physical and psychological testing had thrown the flaws Lex had seen instantly into sharp relief. His favorite children, sprung whole from his brain, were without purpose, missing focus. Like Border Collies kept as pets, they were moody and quick to snap. The women tried to do everything asked of them, but Lex could see their misery, a combination of blankness and boredom that no therapy or drug could fix. When Hope and Mercy began sleeping together and a staff Psychiatrist ended up dead for suggesting it was a bad idea, decisions had to be made.

He had certainly considered killing them, effectively erasing all evidence of his mistake. An autopsy would have been helpful as harvesting brain and organ tissue from the living was a bit impractical. In addition, the only credible alternative to putting them down was an unpleasant one. It involved allowing these ultimate meteor mutants access to places Lex, at thirty-one, was not sure he completely controlled.

In the end, though, as imperfect as Hope and Mercy were, they were his. Unwilling to let his tarnished prizes go, Lex had tied them firmly to the house of Luthor. He made them his bodyguards, giving them a purpose - Lex's success - and focus - Lex himself. He hated their constant presence, as he had known he would. Privacy was vital to Lex's sanity. His existence was anchored in aloofness; the opaqueness of his soul was what allowed him to be Lex Luthor. Their slavish devotion made his skin feel greasy; their unquestioning obedience was like chewing tin-foil, it filled his mouth with the metallic taste of blood and made his teeth ache. The way their eyes, blue and brown, followed his every move with resolute concern reminded him of past . . . acquaintances, left behind long ago. Intimacy was no longer part of Lex's repertoire; he did not need it nor did he desire it. Those with natural claims on him, his wife and children, had been chosen or reared not to expect it. His father had never offered it. He had no equal to demand it.

As uncomfortable as the bodyguard solution was for Lex, it was appropriate. After all, from each according to their abilities, to each according to their needs. Hope and Mercy needed a reason to live and Lex needed protection. He also needed a caution against the hubris that was so much a part of his nature. He took the punishment of their attention and used it to refine his own purpose, strengthen his own resolve. As painful as the experience had been, Lex was stronger now, mind, body and spirit, than he'd ever been. He had used his discomfort to become completely self-sufficient. Nothing, no one could touch him. He had taken the crippled, emotional weakling he was and produced as perfect a human being as had ever existed in the world. As with all things, however distasteful, Lex made it for the best.

Eighteen months ago, he had expanded his bodyguards' focus to include his children, Lionel and Lena. Now, five days out of thirty he had respite. On the first day of liberation, enjoying his freedom, Lex had let his guard slip. It was understandable; he had not spent a moment alone in almost two years. Dismissing the replacement security team, Lex drove himself to a dinner meeting with his father in one of his old cars. The Healy was a dream to drive; Echo and the Bunnymen blasting out the Bose, the city ignited a hum gone from his blood for so long he'd forgotten how good it could feel. He never made the meeting because the car was not shielded - none of his old cars were, something about weight and maneuverability. For want of a shoe the horse was lost, the heavens shifted, dynasties fell. Lex immediately understood the serious consequences of his thoughtless mistake. His times had become interesting.

Deciding on a response to this sudden change of circumstance was proving difficult. Lex's first, angry instinct was to tighten everything up and declare war. His second, more judicious reaction was to twist fate back on itself and find a way use the situation to his advantage. The third, more complicated option, took longer to occur to him. It took even longer for him to consider it seriously.

Convinced it would facilitate his decision making, Lex has started spending his five free days in the penthouse office/apartment of a little known LexCorp subsidiary. The security here is not as complete as it is in his other facilities or homes. The shielding is, again, an issue but Lex insists improving it would generate too many questions. He requires privacy, he tells Gabe and his father, the only two brave enough to ask, complete isolation to work out the details of his next move. He drops hints about expansion, cloning, limb regeneration and running for political office. Neither one questions him of course - Lex has spent ten years building a reputation for certainty second only to God's. He knows he has to make a decision soon, stop this holding action and move on. His first instinct and his third thought are now completed plans; Lex just needs to pick one.

>From the beginning, Lex's time in this private space has made him introspective. In the normal course of his life, Lex rarely bothered with the distant past. He has spent ten years crafting himself into the perfect Zen being. His success is based on having everything but desiring nothing. He can create life from the void. He is the most powerful man in the world, months away from being the richest, years away from any political office he chooses to pursue. However, he did not walk this path to fulfill a longing for money or power or love. Lex walked it because he could, because he was stronger than the strongest that had come before him. Alexander, Caesar, the Great Khans, Saladin, the Henries, even his father. No one before him had mastered themselves and the world like Lex had. If tonight he was nostalgic, he was strong enough to indulge it. Merely thinking about things did not make one needy, making a certain type of plan did not make one weak. In the end, whatever path he chose would bend the world to him. He was master of everything, particularly himself.

He cast his mind back to Smallville, before Hope and Mercy, when hope and mercy still seemed real. Back then he was ready to move, everything was in place, the corporate crumbs he had collected had been coaxed into a power base, all he needed was a city to settle it on. Yet still he waited, almost breathless, for something that hung in the still fall air.

Anticipation.

It felt like asthma almost. Like the world was having an attack. Intakes of everything were reduced to shallow gulps of gravity, karma, salt-water and blood. The thick, humid air stole the depth from everything, forcing the seas, God and Lex Luthor into its alien rhythm. Welcome to the new world music, the bass line of impending asphyxiation, the primitive, swamp soundtrack of desire.

Ten years ago, Lex swaddled himself in these endless moments, waiting for some truth he was scared to define. The horrible, ecstatic night of his twenty-fifth birthday there was a storm, the cradle fell and someone defined it for him. Someone wrote it with his fingernails on the burning skin of Lex's chest.

Lex chose to bolt before anyone could give this newly defined truth voice.

The one moment his complete control over absolutely everything could have been some use and he was too weak to muster it. Confronted with the one thing he could never control he had broken. Lex had run like a child, like a woman, like the coward he knew himself to be. Running through space and time from destiny to here.

And everybody knows this is nowhere.

Lex frowned blankly at the screen in front of him and shook the trite notion away. Another, no less upsetting, replaced it immediately.

Lex firmly believed his transformation had begun in that moment. All the dross of his weakness burned away by the furnace of that night. Lex was reborn as a tempered katana, the golem of Metropolis, strong enough to master not only his emotions, but also the destiny of the world. Tonight, he can picture his blood rushing underneath his skin, no longer red but some fanciful shade of teal. He visualizes his brain and his heart not as flesh, vulnerable to injury, but as some kind of machine. A cyborg.

Lex smiled at the irony, because he actually is a cyborg, though not directly because of that night. The same hubris that birthed his monsters finally made his freakish nature physically manifest. Lex will not countenance the idea anything is out of his control. When the alien began to interfere, he created the Kryptonite ring, to control it, to keep it away from him. This cost him his right hand, but not his control. It spurred Lex to create the lead-Kryptonite alloy that hides and shelters everything of his; everything except this apartment and some of his old cars.

Tonight the stump is tingling, perfectly merging his phantom limb with the AI chip in the prosthetic so he almost feels whole, twenty-five again, not the decrepit thirty-five his birth certificate attests to. As the metal and plastic weds his flesh, the tingle transmutes to a throb and relocates to his groin. He can feel himself twitch in the silk of his boxers.

Maybe he should just go with plan 'A', leave here, and make sure he is never anywhere unshielded again. Refocus the meteor rock research, away from mutagens, towards weaponry. Ignore the more complicated plan 'B' and fulfill the destiny he has embraced wholeheartedly for almost ten years. Lex could eliminate his desire as a weakness, for a man who can control the universe, controlling his dick would be a simple thing. He could go home to his perfect children, to his wife, whose ornamental falseness would kill lust in the strongest satyr. The desire would pass with time; his need would grow distant as he walled it up. Lex is confident he could even indulge his lust if he wanted to. As the strongest man in the history of the world, Lex could encourage it - fan it. Redirect it. It has been a long time since his dick has risen in anticipation. Lex could go to the bed of one of the men or women he keeps and exercise his rights of ownership. There are private clubs too, not the same as the wild clubs of his youth, but a safe haven for all of the depravity he is willing to allow himself.

Lex sighed, somewhere in him there had to be a more normal or at least less complicated reaction to desire, to his life.

He was getting himself a drink, trying to loose his wistfulness and his incipient erection, when a soft noise brought him around to face the window.

"Alien." he stated, smoothing his face. "A bit late for you to be making your rounds."

It just looked at him, blank and perfect like something out of a bad science fiction novel.

It's a cookbook, he said to himself. Don't ever forget that. Luthors are grist for no one's mill, salt for no one's meat.

Taking the offensive, Lex moved forward; after eighteen months, he knew how to do this. He tilted his chin up and forward, feeling the snake slink down his spine.

Power.

"What do you want badly enough to break into my office, alien."

He sipped the forty-five year old private label Armagnac, but the drink had become a prop and there was no steadying burn. The alien was breath close the second time Lex lifted his drink and spoke down his nose at it.

"As if I'd leave anything anywhere you could find it. As if you could see anything of mine."

That set it, if not off, then at least in motion. A big hand gently but firmly removed the glass from his hand and fired it against the wall. It was fast, dangerously fast, but Lex had known that before he poked it. That knowledge allowed him to be still when it pulled their chests together and took his mouth.

And God, he had longed, twenty-five days of a dust dry life, waiting for this . . . connection. Its tongue was huge, patient and through, looking for something deep in Lex, a part of him he'd thought he'd burned away long, long ago.

Minutes of this wet, electric probing exposed his stillness as a ruse and he began to struggle against it. Pushing and thrashing, Lex forced it to free his mouth and finally the rest of him. Of course, it wouldn't want to hurt him.

Too much.

Yet.

Rubbing his mouth, in a half crouch before this ridiculous wall of blue and red, he used the only weapon he knew to be reliable.

"You sad, sick, sorry son of a bitch. This is how you get your jollies? A little home invasion, a little rape. God Damn it, Superman. I expected leather, whips and guilt, maybe panties, but this shit's like little boys. Beyond the pale."

Its facade began to crack and Lex found himself breathless, trapped between the Man of Steel and his marble office wall. As hard in its inhuman way as the stone behind Lex, he could feel its erection grinding against him. His chin was still tilted up, but now in supplication, not defiance. He licked his swollen lips and flexed his throat before delivering his last blow, sending it over the edge.

"You can't do this. You're too fucking good and noble to just take what you want. I've read your press, there's a scrapbook around here somewhere, if you want reminding."

It flipped him around, squashing his face against the cool gray marble. He hadn't managed to get his arms up, so there was no space between the cold stone and the length of his body. Lex's brain had somehow become confused and the chill registered as heat. Somebody, maybe him, maybe it, groaned and the broad alien tongue began to lick his naked skull. After a time, the broad, sweeping licks narrowed to a soft sucking at the bump on the base of his skull. The piteous moan was definitely not his this time and the alien flipped him away from the wall, lifting Lex's legs and anchoring them around its red clad hips. Then it forced itself against Lex, at the lips, chest and groin, it moved, stealing Lex's breath with saliva and speed.

Its eyes had begun the change, from empty periwinkle blue to Clark's green, but the alien was still in control. Lex wondered how it all worked, but these monthly meetings were not about conversation, so the strange transformation between Superman and Clark Kent had never come up. He'd done some limited experimentation, though and he knew how to start it on its way.

He started by tightening himself around the alien's large frame, pulling the raven hair, fastening his teeth into its bottom lip. He stopped struggling and began to grind against it, feeling their cocks rubbing together. It released Lex's mouth and started to pant after a moment of pressure, the sounds far back in its throat.

"You stupid fucking alien. You pretend to be so strong, so good. But you can't live without me, without this." Lex kissed it again, brutally, sucking its tongue into his mouth and clamping it, grinding it between the flat jagged surfaces of his back molars.

"You love this, you fucking outer space slut. You love this more than breathing, more than doing good." Lex could feel it start to pump against him, bruising him where their hipbones touched, clamping its powerful arms around Lex's back.

Lex tilted his head back and looked at it for a moment, savoring its struggle against the stark need that was so much a part of it. He tilted forward until he could gently lick and nibble its ear.

"Who will guard the guardians, alien? Who judges your darkness, your evil?"

Its groin began to slam into his like some kind of deranged clockwork beast. It was close. Lex took pity and bit the lobe of its ear.

"You betray everything to indulge your perversions, alien." Lex filled his voice with gravel, glass and seduction. "You are so sick."

It came and lifted them into the air at the same time.

After that first time it had taken a week and a half million dollars to find the cabin. He'd had to buy hours of satellite time and finally use some carefully hoarded back channels into the NSC. It was in the St. Elias Mountains in the Yukon territories. It defined isolated. The hunting guide Lex had consulted was very clear. There was no way in. That area of that peak had been climbed only a couple of times. It was a hard climb, possible only in July, up the face opposite the cabin. The wind made helicopter access impossible. Lex was almost grateful for the guide's skepticism. It made it easy for Lex to pretend the cabin didn't exist. The photos, he told the guide, were part of a fraud.

The routine had not varied one iota in 18 months.

The cabin was really just one big room, divided by a fireplace. It was rustic, but beautiful, comfortable. A couch and a bed were the extent of the furniture. There was no kitchen and the bathroom was carved into the face of the mountain. It was warm and the plum light that filled the tall, spacious building came from nowhere and lit Lex's skin. The alien had made it, for him. Flown every piece of timber, every fixture, every bit of cloth and carpet into the middle of this hostile nowhere and built this place with its own hands. Created it out of will and nothing, all so it would have a safe place to touch Lex Luthor.

The door opened when it approached with Lex cradled against its chest like a new bride. It settled on the couch with Lex between its thighs. Then the touching began, like Lex was some kind of rare animal with a pelt good for whatever ailed the alien's soul. It began with his hands, slowly running its big tan fingers into the cracks between his fingers, caressing Lex's palm with its thumb. Removing his cufflinks to trace Lex's forearms, stretching the material of Lex's shirt as it rubbed his upper arms almost to the shoulder, until the fabric of the shirt strained at the seams. It didn't want the shirt ripped.

It was careful with Lex's clothes, moving from the sleeves to the front slowly working the small mother of pearl buttons until Lex's pale chest was exposed. It explored every inch of that naked surface with its blunt finger tip, running the square cut nails up and down Lex's skin, gently, leaving no marks. Next, it knelt before Lex, slowly removing his shoes and socks, cradling each foot in its hands for a moment before setting them gently down on the Persian rug on the floor. Lex's slacks and underwear were next, his cotton shirt un-tucked, tail hanging, his belt removed and set carefully on the floor for later use. For the first time since it set Lex on the floor, it leaned in, running its hands along the waist band of Lex's pants until its long fingers met in the small of Lex's back and his naked chest was pressed firmly to the slick blue spandex covered alien chest. Then, slowly, gently, torturously, its big, hot hand pressed the cloth down to the floor, running its palms down across Lex's ass, thighs and calves.

Through all this Lex was required to stand still and let it pet him. In the beginning he'd run tests, touching here, talking there, but it had gently discouraged him. The alien was implacable, not hurting Lex, but keeping him still if he tried to move, softly covering his mouth if he tried to speak. In a moment this would change, so Lex simply enjoyed it.

The broad palms of the alien's hand ran back up Lex's legs and cupped his naked ass under the soft white shirt. Still quiet and soft, it used the grip to pull Lex fully between its legs. The hands resting on his naked skin shifted, allowing the tale of the shirt to cover Lex to mid thigh. Softly the hands returned to him, still cupping the cheeks of his ass, only now with the soft white shirt between them. Its head was close to Lex's naked chest and it began to smell him. Rub its face on the smooth pale hairless skin; the alien skimmed his jaw and his soft red mouth over Lex's nipples, abs and navel. Its raven hair brushed Lex, tickling him, sending little static shocks that raised goose bumps everywhere.

It changed tactics and began to taste Lex's skin, tightening its hold on Lex's ass, pulling him closer still. The tip of its broad tongue began in Lex's left arm pit and moved across his nipples to the right and then down to suck the points of Lex's naked hips. Lex had been hard since the first time it had touched him, in the office, but the soothing tongue ratcheted Lex's need up a level, causing his cock to twitch and his toes to roll. When it started to hum deep in its chest, Lex took his cue began his part in this little set piece.

"You are so pathetic, so needy. What if I told everybody what you really are, what you really want? Your beloved Daily Planet likely wouldn't run the story, but the Inquisitor would." Lex drove his voice lower and made it stronger as the alien's mouth became rougher on his skin and the hum became louder.

"What would Lois think, or your mother and father, if they knew what a pervert you are. They would pity you, wouldn't they? Maybe stage an intervention, to save you from yourself, from this illogical need you can't control."

It was snuffling at his throat now, almost ready to move on to the next act.

"But the world," Lex laughed, short and bitter, "they wouldn't feel sorry for you, would they? I can see the headlines now."

It was slowly moving its hot wet mouth along the center of Lex's chest, both large hands rubbing the soft linen shirt across the bubble of Lex's ass.

"Superman rapes Lex Luthor."

The hum became deeper; its mouth began to nip a little at his skin, establishing a pattern, suck, bite, lick. Suck, bite, lick.

"Alien caught in gay love nest. People don't like you all that much now, alien. You frighten them; even saving them and the world your otherness frightens them. It wouldn't take much to turn the tide, alien. I'm sure Arkham would be able to hold you. You'd feel right at home with all the other freaks. Although none of them are guilty of rape, are they. Imagine that, finding oneself inferior to the psychotic scum you've spend the last decade imprisoning."

The hum stopped and it turned Lex away to focus on his back and ass, draped in the unbuttoned white shirt. When the hum stopped, Lex's taunting stopped too. This pen-ultimate scene would be played out in silence. All Lex had to do was stand there and wait for its broad right hand to return.

The first blow was gentle, striking the soft flesh of his ass in almost a caress. The white shirt protected him somewhat, reducing the sting. The second blow was stronger, the third stronger still. Lex never made a sound during this part, didn't yell or curse or struggle. After striking him harder and harder a dozen times, it retrieved Lex's belt and began to slap him with that. Ever since the night Clark had told him Lex he loved him, he hadn't felt pain. Hadn't let himself feel much inside or outside his body. Since it could kill him without effort, Lex wasn't really sure what this particular part of the production signified, except that soon he would have Clark with him again.

The slapping stopped and it started to caress the back of Lex's body through the shirt. Long, slow strokes from his shoulders to the small of his back, soothing him, placing its large hands on Lex's hips and moving them up to his shoulders under the shirt. Again, Lex was pulled back in between its firm thighs, this time his back to the alien's chest, now naked against the soft cotton of the shirt. It turned Lex around and finally finished undressing him. The blue suit was gone and the starched hair had begun to soften, bangs were drifting down its broad forehead and its eyes were making the change from sterile chlorinated blue to familiar swampy green.

Almost Clark was hard again, stiff and dripping; Lex licked his lips unconsciously and had to hold himself stiff as it lowered its head to take his pale length into his mouth. Aliens had no gag reflex so in a breath Lex was seated deep in its throat. This was the worst part, because Lex refused to come for anyone but Clark. Once it had sucked him for hours, trying to change that. Nibbling, licking, gentle and strong until Lex didn't know how he would stay sane. But until he knew it was gone and Clark was there, Lex held on.

When the golden naked back rose up in front of him, the transformation was finished. Lex threw himself at Clark's lap and began plundering his mouth. Wet, deep, desperate kisses - trying to suck Clark's soul out or maybe retrieve his own. He wanted to do everything, lick every inch of Clark, suck the long uncircumcised cock until Clark begged him to stop, to finish, to kill him or grant him release.

When Lex broke the kiss to breath, Clark moved them to the bed. Lying on his back with his legs spread and his heels tucked against his firm, flat ass, Clark looked like Michelangelo's wet dream. His eyes were clear green now; his hair was a rat's nest. Lex almost lost it looking at him and, when Clark spoke his name, he took his rightful place between Clark's thighs and drove into him with weeks of need.

As they came, their passion drove the last whiff of the alien away and gave him what he was waiting for. His name on Clark's lips released the only prayer Lex still knew.

"Clark."


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"Do you ever wish it were different, Clark, between us, that it was . . . well . . . quieter?" Lex had never been brave enough to ask this.

"Like I picked this, Lex." He felt the tension in Clark, the war that never ended, between Clark and the alien. "Like I was in the universes' focus group the day this got the thumbs up."

Lex wondered when Clark had become as dead inside as he was.

"I'm serious, Clark, we should have enough power between us to make it anything we want."

"What we want, Lex? You mean, I could replace, what's his name this quarter, Lex? Mason, or is it Thorne? Did you actually pick this brown-eyed blond de jour, or just order him off the Internet?"

Lex suckled Clark's earlobe like it might produce scotch. He'd learned months ago, pain was a pointless weapon in this battle. He understood other contrivances could produce better results.

"How is Lois?" he asked as soon as Clark moaned.

Clark's laugh was a pleasant surprise and it made Lex wiggle against him like a slippery fish. Clark pulled him closer trapping Lex's pale human hand in his broad alien one and he began licking Lex's fingers like they were the finest hard candy ever made. Lex was the most naked he had ever been here in bed with Clark, but he wasn't completely naked, so, other then the wiggle, his face and body showed nothing. His smile of contentment was on his soul.

"Lex, I'm an abandoned alien raised by a cracker and you're a bald a mutant raised by a sociopath. The two of us have more issues than Carter's got pills. We should be grateful we have this. We should be thankful everyday we're not out destroying the world between us."

Lex was amused that Clark was still enough of a Kent to say that and he was still enough of a Luthor to find it vulgar. Clark was exactly right, it was still about fathers and sons.

Then Clark lifted Lex up to straddle his thighs and gently began to remove the AI collar from Lex's stump. Clark's tongue on this never exposed part of Lex's flesh started out gently and felt like pure worship. As the pink mouth enveloped his forearm, he shifted down and used his left hand to force his cock up Clark's ass. Clark took him in and anchored Lex to his body, moving his head and his hips in a stuttering rhythm, flexing all his muscles, against the smaller man on top of him. When Lex realized they were floating, he came sobbing Clark's name. The contractions of his orgasm brought Clark off across his belly.

Sticky with cum, sweat and the mingled salt of both their tears, Lex, 15 feet in the air, stuck to Clark ancient pain and fresh bodily fluids, was satiated, grateful, thankful, and completely done with this.

When he got home, he would put the plan 'B' into motion. The plan he had worked on for the year. He'd tweaked and prodded and designed and engineered this plan with every brain in his head and every dollar in his pocket. In the next month Lex Luthor, president and sole owner of LexCorp, LuthorCorp and Luthor Dynamics, would die in a plane crash and Stephan Crandal would take up his life as a reclusive software developer in a restored Roman villa hidden deep in the Pyrenees. He would expand his catalogue of AI software for the new line of prosthetics LuthorDyne was developing. In a year or so, when LexCorp's re-engineered AI chip came on the market, he could maintain himself releasing one pre-written program a year. If he was motivated, he could write more. He didn't think he would, though, till Clark found him and he knew how this wild crapshoot was going turn out.

Eighteen months ago, Lex finally realized he was nothing like his father, not a true Luthor after all. Lex realized he had never risked anything of value. He had lived thirty-five years and never made a bet unless he was sure he would win, never wanted what he could not have, never risked everything for something he wanted more than his next breath. Lex Luthor was thirty-four years old before he learned he was a coward. He'd put everything into building this supposedly secure life that he controlled from the ground up, and found himself alone, one Clark away from suicide on his thirty-fourth birthday.

The plan had been usable for six moths and perfect for the past two, but only tonight, here, now, did he find the courage to take his first risk. Lex was done living in this perfectly appointed eighth circle of hell. Only time would tell if Clark was too.

END