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Obsessions

by P L Nunn

 

Chapter Three

 

Clark felt like he'd been watching the world through black and white lenses and suddenly everything had blossomed into full, techno-color vitality. It was like Dorothy stepping out of the house into Oz for that first time, and a whole new world, so much brighter and wider than dreary old Kansas, opening up before her. He couldn't understand now that he thought about it, why she'd ever wanted to go back home.

But then, Dorothy hadn't had his powers. She'd just been a girl with a pair of ruby slippers going for her, who'd probably been tickled pink at the idea of living out her life on a dirt poor farm, barely earning enough to support her family, and whining and bitching when her kids actually wanted a little bit more for themselves. Using those same kids to work the land and do the heavy lifting, and forbidding them to stretch their wings and fly.

No wonder he'd been afraid all his life to let the real him shine through. Because all his parents ever did was tell him horror stories of what might happen if people found out. All they ever did was hold him back, jealous of his true potential.

That was over now, and it was time he started thinking about what was important. His wants. His needs.

First and foremost on that list was Lana. He'd been holding back way too long, sensitive of her feelings, afraid of what she'd think if he got too close and inadvertently exposed some portion of the big secret.

He couldn't really find it in him to care much about her feelings now, other than the one's she had for him, and maintaining the secret wasn't high on his list of priorities anymore. Besides, he'd seen her eyes when he'd kissed her at the Talon, that sort of glazed look after he'd pulled back, so he knew she wanted him, and even if it hadn't given him quite the electric spark he'd imagined that first kiss would, he knew once he got her somewhere a little more private and a little more horizontal, that he'd feel just fine about it.

He made a fist, admiring the sparkle of the school ring. The glint of red and gold that went really well with the black of his new clothes. He'd run all the way to Metropolis to get them. Hadn't even bothered using his dad's credit card this time, since they'd made such a stink about the other stuff he'd bought, just found what he'd liked and taken it, faster than the human eye could follow.

And he looked good. He knew he looked good. Which was another thing that he couldn't quite wrap his mind around, why he'd spent so many years walking around like he was the town freak when none of these hicks had anything on him.

Except maybe Lex, who was the personification of smooth, and who had never looked at Clark like he was the least bit freakish, but instead, with frank admiration. Lex was what Clark wanted to be, powerful and rich and utterly suave.

And Lex had toys, fantastic toys. And girl's liked expensive, flashy things, which was maybe why Lex had them falling all over him - - except that Lex liked boys, too - - that fact flashed through his mind and he had to stop for a moment, taking a little time with some of those images that had had him blushing to the bone before; and reassessing.

His smile widened a little and if he hadn't been so focused on Lana and how hot she was going to be once he picked her up for the little 'date' he'd convinced her to go on, he might have spent a little more time considering Lex's eclectic taste in fuck buddies.

At the moment he was more interested in Lex's cars. The Ferrari in particular. The sleek red one that Lex never drove, because he tended towards silver and black and grays. Clark had the feeling he'd bought it just to say he had one, and it was sitting in the cavernous mansion garage collecting dust. Which was a crime and Clark had every intention of righting that wrong. Unlike his dad's bike, he had enough respect for Lex to actually ask for the keys to the car.

Which Lex granted, after giving Clark another one of those looks, like he was the one that could see through clothing, and it made Clark's dick a little hard in his expensive new pants. Made his skin tingle.

Almost for a moment, he considered making Lana wait - - and she would wait for him - - and maybe backing Lex up against the pool table that somebody had moved from its usual place and feeding that urge he'd had since he'd met him - - the one he'd always denied having - - and running his hands over that smooth bald skull, just to feel the texture of his skin.

But Lex was looking at him with that half smile he wore when he wasn't quite sure what he was dealing with, but was trying hard to figure it out, and Clark didn't want to be figured out at the moment, so he curbed the urge and headed for the garage.

And the car was a dream. Better than the Porsche, everything about it just over the top awesome. Predictably, Lana's eyes widened when he pulled up outside the Talon to pick her up after work and he figured she was pretty blown away. He popped the passenger door and she stood there looking at it and the interior of the car like she didn't quite know what to do.

"Get in," he invited, showing her his fangs. She swallowed, a nervous little gulp that he thought was just adorable, and climbed in. The Wild Coyote was fifteen miles outside of town, out on route 13, but it was the closest thing to a club Lowell County had. During the week, it was mostly just locals and truckers, sitting and drinking, but on the weekends it attracted a livelier crowd.

It didn't have that urban feel, with the strobe lights and crowded dance floor and the fancy drinks that the club in Manhattan had had. The music was country and the place smelled like sweat and beer.

But it was better than anything inside Smallville town limits and nobody had bothered to card them on the way in. Clark was ready to find out if he could actually get a buzz.

Lana was appalled at the notion. Little miss prude, who didn't like the pounding of the bass in her ears, or the press of people they had to wade through to reach the heart of the place, much less the idea of underage drinking. She was drop dead gorgeous, but he'd never realized what a drag she was.

"This isn't our sort of place, Clark," she'd yelled, to be heard over the music and he had to snort, because she had no idea what his sort of place was. Like she thought he might prefer to hang out at bookstores and coffee shops.

And when he'd seen Jessie on the dance floor, with her low cut dress and her biker boots, and the vibe of open invitation she was broadcasting like a hundred foot radio tower, Lana seemed a whole lot less enticing. And really, he'd have gone back to Lana after the dance, if she'd given him the chance. He remembered the way Lex had been dancing at the Manhattan club, all hips and sex and slow grace and Clark maybe got the barest gist of it down, but Jessie didn't seem to mind. She didn't mind grinding up against the boner in his jeans either, and that felt pretty awesome, because no one but him had ever touched it before when it was hard, even through a layer of denim.

Whether Lana noticed or not, he didn't know, but she interrupted them halfway through the song with a huffy declaration that she was leaving - - which honestly didn't upset him that much, aside from the fact that she was being a bitch about it. And then some Neanderthal with an attitude got into Clark's face and he got to experience another first. A bar brawl.

The fight wasn't all that exciting though, when he could toss guys around like a kid throwing GI Joes and Jessie caught his arm and dragged him out before they could call the county sheriff.

Which proved to be a pretty damned good move, Jessie a lot more impressed with the car than Lana had been, and showing it by delivering yet another first - - this one the best of the lot - - off the beaten track down at Crater Lake where there were a few other parked cars scattered around, but distant enough not to be a bother. They'd scored a six-pack of beer from a roadside convenience store outside of town, and he'd downed most of it, hoping for that mythical buzz, but so far, nothing special. Except for the blowjob.

Blowjobs were the best. The absolute best thing he'd ever had done to him in all the years of his existence. He just leaned against the car, with his eyes closed and his head back, while she got down on her knees in the grass and wrapped her lipstick smeared mouth around his dick and sucked until he came and then she pulled back and turned her head away, his come spattering her cheek.

"A little warning, next time," she complained, after his balls had finished throbbing, and he'd shot his load. He just stared at her, with her make up like he imagined a prostitute might wear, thick and garish and cheap. But appropriate when all you were thinking about was sex. He looked behind her at a battered old picnic table and she followed his gaze. She wiped the back of her hand across her glistening cheek and smiled back.

"We could," she said coyly. "But only if we can take this sweet ride all the way to the city. I'm so over this town."

He was too, but he wasn't about to let her set conditions. She didn't mean enough to him for him to let her think she could make calls. He was finished letting anyone tell him how to manage his life.

He pulled her up by the arms, and walked her back towards the table without answering. She went to kiss him, but he didn't want her mouth on his after she'd just finished sucking his dick. He wasn't even sure he wanted her mouth on his period, knowing that she went down so easily. He got the feeling he was far from the first.

He pushed her down on the table and she spread her legs willingly enough, soft white thighs, round ass flattened on the grainy wood of the table. She pulled her panties out of the way and she was soft and wet down there too, waiting for him. The smell of her wafted up, potent and female.

She pulled his hands down, pressing his fingers into her slick wetness, moaning when he touched her like he was doing something special instead of just bumbling around his first time touching a girl's vagina. It should have been awesome. He should have been rock hard again and ready to go, but he couldn't get it back up. Her mouth had been fine and good, but all her squishy moist warmth and her woman's scent were more quizzical than exciting.

He pulled his hand back, wiping it on the edge of her dress and she pouted up at him.

"Can't get it up again?"

He glowered, not appreciating her pointing it out. It was her. Absolutely her and not him. If she hadn't been so cheap, if she'd been prettier, if she'd been Lana - - he was certain he'd have had no problem.

"I'm not in the mood anymore." He tucked himself back in and zipped up. He strolled back towards the car like she was nothing, which she was, and she hurriedly straightened her panties and hopped off the table to follow.

"We still going to Metropolis?" she asked hopefully and God, she was needy, but she did give good head and that he'd liked, so he supposed he could let her tag along to the city.

"Sure. I've got a few things to take care of, then I'll pick you up."

She beamed at him, like he was the coolest thing she'd ever seen, and it mollified him somewhat. So he'd drop her home, go back to the farm and get a few things for the trip, let Lex know he was keeping the car for a while, and then leave this town in the dust.

 


 

He didn't get home till a little after dawn. Packed up a few things, barely enough to fill a duffle - - because it wasn't like he was taking flannel with him - - and almost made it back to the car Scott free before his parents caught him.

His dad stomped up, all indignant and full of bluster he couldn't back up, with his mom following in his wake, looking worried and a little afraid. He told them straight up, pulling no punches, what was what. And they gave him some spiel about the ring being made of red meteorite, and doing something to his personality. Which, if he believed it, wasn't so bad a thing. The confident new him was a hell of a lot better than the doormat the old him had been.

He left them swallowing his dust as he peeled out, laughing as he did.

It was just a matter of Lex then, the only person whose opinion actually mattered.

He was surprised Lex was up this early, but he supposed with all the disruption Lex had been complaining of at the mansion - - his dad's therapists, his assistants, the workers he had in converting Lex's spaces into his own - - that early morning was the only time he was able to get much in the way of work done.

He was in the study when Clark strolled in, using the kitchen entrance that was always pretty much open, once you got in past the front gates. Lex's desk was over in a corner, under a lot of boxes and clutter, and in its place was a big mahogany one. Lex was sitting on the leather loveseat, his laptop on the coffee table before him.

He gave Clark much the same appraising look he had yesterday, faintly quizzical appreciation with none of the censure all Clark's other acquaintances had been delivering lately.

"Lex, I'm gonna keep the Ferrari a little bit longer." He liked the command in his voice. It felt good to have that much confidence. Felt right to simply stride into a room and tell people what was going to happen. "I'll send it back when I get myself set up."

Lex's look of appreciation melted into one of surprise, taken aback maybe by Clark's newfound self-assurance. Clark liked that, too. Shaking Lex's cool wasn't something he was usually capable of doing.

"Slow down. What's going on?"

Clark grinned smugly, settled down on the chaise lounge across from the sofa, liking the feel of the modern lines of the thing, the smell of expensive leather. He was meant for nice things. For expensive things.

"I left home," he said it airily, like it was no big thing.

"What happened?" Lex asked warily. "Did you have a fight with your folks?"

Of course Lex would think that, because despite everything, despite the fact that Lex even being alive was thanks to Clark, he still thought of Clark as a kid, who's only reason for leaving home was parental in nature.

"They don't get me. All they're doing is holding me back. There's nothing here for me, anymore."

Lex opened his mouth, considered, then asked carefully. "What about Lana?"

Clark laughed. "Yeah. Right. She wouldn't know fun if it kicked her in the teeth. I met a girl who does."

He said that last slyly, remembering the feeling of her mouth on his dick. It twitched a little, like it remembered, too and he slipped a hand down, rubbing a knuckle up alongside the length of it.

Lex followed the movement, eyes half narrowed, pink lips parted as he turned that over in his head. Clark wondered if Lex imagined him naked. If he jerked off sometimes with Clark in his head. He wondered if Lex's liking guys extended to him giving head and if so, if he'd be as good at it as Jessie had. Probably, because he couldn't imagine Lex being bad at anything.

"So, you're just going to take off?" Lex distracted him with the question. There was just a little bit of derision in his voice, as if he didn't believe Clark capable of carrying through.

Clark sat up, tossing him a glare. "You have no idea what I'm capable of."

Lex canted his head, one brow arched in sudden interest. "No? Why don't you tell me? What are you capable of, Clark?"

Having Lex doubt him was unacceptable, but he wasn't stupid, and he wasn't prepared to let Lex play him anymore than he'd been ready to let Jessie. Lex just deserved a little more conversation.

He rose, sauntering over to the pool table, and rolled the cue ball across the felt. "Let's just say, the world's not even close to being ready for me."

"Hmm," Lex rose, stuffing his hands in his pockets and moving to lean against the end of the table. "Now that's a lot of confidence, Clark. Can you live up to it?"

Clark grinned at him. "One day, I'm gonna be richer than you."

Lex laughed, but Clark didn't take offense, because he didn't have his condescending look on, but one of genuine amusement. He looked up, catching Clark's eyes, his own blue one's sparkling with speculation.

"You know, maybe you've hit on something with the whole escaping the parental sinkhole concept. If my father wants this place so badly, he can have it. I never wanted to live in Smallville anyway."

Clark felt a surge of excitement. It made his scalp tingle and his dick twitch. It was a novel idea, but once it hit, it was like he'd discovered gravity, it was so monumental.

"You could come with me." He felt almost breathless saying it, all his newfound confidence teetering on the edge of Lex's answer.

"Nobody's using the penthouse in Metropolis," Lex said, that sly, half smile on his lips. "We could stay there."

Clark's mind exploded with possibilities. All those forbidden thoughts rushing in, all those images he'd been so damned afraid to admit he liked. That hard on he hadn't been able to get last night with Jessie wet and ready under him, jutted hard and hot against his stomach now with just the thought of him and Lex alone in Metropolis. Of Lex on his knees with his mouth wrapped around Clark's cock. And with him, Clark wouldn't have to close his eyes and imagine it was somebody else. He was that fantasy mouth.

God, he'd been so blind, for so long. Chasing after Lana, because she'd been what he'd thought would make him normal. Because she'd have made his parents happy. But he hardly ever jerked off to images of her. Hardly ever had dreams of her that weren't G-rated. The nasty stuff, the stuff that lurked around in his subconscious, the stuff he used to die from embarrassment of when he realized he was thinking it - - when he was jacking off to it - - that stuff almost always had something to do with Lex.

"Yeah," he said slowly, getting control of his voice, because everything inside was quaking with anticipation. "Yeah, I like the sound of that."

Lex nodded, a quick flash of smile. "I have a few things to wrap up here. A few things to pack," Lex was saying, but Clark's eye was drawn to the slope of his neck, long clean line to his shoulder, to the way the soft fabric of his sweater clung just so to the curve of his chest, and fell in looser folds to accentuate slim hips, so he wasn't paying a great deal of attention.

"And I need to call and let them know to open up the penthouse. So give me maybe - -an hour?"

"Sure." Clark was willing to give him most anything.

"Hang out here. Play some pool."

"Right." Clark watched him leave, thinking about how, when he fucked him, he'd probably need lube. Because guys weren't self-lubricating. But Lex would know. Lex liked to play teacher.


Whatever was wrong with Clark, it went beyond a drug-induced belief of his own invincibility. There were drugs and there were drugs, and the short-term confidence high you could get from certain ones was nothing like what Clark was exhibiting.

Clark wasn't high. He wasn't drunk. Which meant it was something else. Something unique to Smallville's own brand of bizarre. Whatever it was, the people best suited to deal with this bout of turbo-charged teenaged rebellion were most certainly the Kent's.

So after he left Clark, he bypassed the stairs and went straight for the garage, grabbed the first set of keys on the pegboard and headed out. He broke his usual speed limit excesses getting to the Kent farm, slowed down enough in the drive not to spit up a storm of dust and gravel and stopped next to the battered old, blue Chevy convertible that he thought belonged to Pete Ross.

The sliding doors of the big barn were open and it was likely Mr. Kent was there this time of morning.

He was; standing down the length of the barn talking in low tones with Pete Ross, the both of them looking up at Lex's entrance like he'd just walked in and interrupted some Smallvillian farmer's secret society meeting.

"Mr. Kent. I need to talk to you."

Jonathan said something low and urgent to Pete, who nodded, tossed Lex a venomous look, and headed out the back way.

"This isn't a good time, Lex." Jonathan stalked up to him, all tense lines and impatience. Lex could well imagine the reasons why. For a man used to a good-natured, well-behaved son, his world had likely been rudely turned on end.

"It's about Clark. I take it you've been having some trouble - -?"

Jonathan swelled up, eyes flashing with indignation. Not a small man, every bit as tall as Clark, with the solid broadness of maturity. A lesser man might have been intimidated by that glower. Lex had been glowered at by better and more frightening.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but it's none of your Goddamned business," the man snapped and Lex wondered if there was a right way to take that brusque statement.

Lex took a breath, patience already this thinly worn thing from dealing with his own father's eccentricities all week long. Taking shit from Clark's father wasn't high on his list of acceptable activities.

"I'm aware he's acting out - - badly. And I thought you might want to know he's at the mansion, presently planning to run away to Metropolis."

Jonathan narrowed his eyes, turning over the implications of that and apparently not liking them, if the deepening frown was any indication.

"I'll keep him there as long as I can, but if you have any plan to curb this little bout of teenage rebellion, I'd suggest you don't waste time." He turned on his heel and left the man standing there, fighting back the annoyance that he inevitably experienced after an encounter with Clark's dad.

Pete's car was still in the drive when he stalked out, so he assumed the kid had gone into the house. Almost he considered going there and trying to talk to Mrs. Kent, since she was by far more reasonable than her husband, but he was on a schedule and if he wanted to get back before Clark got bored playing himself in pool, he couldn't spare the time.

Damned stubborn ass. He hadn't expected the man to start spilling carefully guarded Kent secrets, or even to admit that whatever had Clark acting like the poster child for farm boys gone wild was not normal in nature, but he had expected just a little gratitude for the heads up.

He spun tires in the dirt at the edge of the Kent's drive, leaning on the gas as he hit asphalt. He was almost a half mile down the road when a flash of movement across the field to his left, caught his eye. He blinked, but it was gone, and when he looked forward again, there was a figure standing in the middle of his lane, a hundred yards ahead.

He cursed, jamming the brake to the floorboard, shedding rubber with a screech of complaining tires, absolutely sure he wasn't going to be able to stop in time. Realizing as he clutched the wheel that it was Clark up there, growing closer by the fraction of a second, staring down a 3000 pound car with a coy smirk on his lips.

But against all odds, he stopped just short - - God, he likely brushed Clark's knees with his bumper - - and sat there, the engine idling quietly, the smell of burnt rubber overpowering. His hands were shaking from flashbacks of the last time he'd seen Clark rush up in his windshield when his sudden stop hadn't been so impact free.

Then he got angry. Adrenalin surging so hard that he wanted to slam his fist into that smug smile that Clark still had plastered across his lips. He shoved his door open, got out cursing. "What the fuck, Clark? Are you insane?"

The more subtle question of where had he come from and how had he gotten here with no car in sight, when Lex had broken speed limits on the trip himself, weren't so vital yet, but he'd get to them.

"I got tired of playing by myself, Lex and I went looking for you." Clark's smile melted away, his lashes half-mast, his eyes glittering and hard as emeralds. Dangerous in a way that Clark's eyes never had been before. He took a step, getting right up into Lex's personal space, which put Lex at the distinct disadvantage of having to tilt his head back to look up, or retreat.

"But you weren't there. You were there," he hissed, and jerked an arm up, stabbing a finger back towards the direction of the Kent farm. "Selling me out to my parents."

"Clark," Lex held up his hands, the negotiator in him realizing that anger would get him nowhere with a pissed off Clark. "I know it's hard to see from the inside out, but something's wrong with you."

"Something's finally right with me." Clark grinned at him, but there was nothing nice about it. It was just fangs and malice. "And I'm holding you to your promise." His fingers closed around Lex's arm, biting into his bicep like five mini-vises. He started drawing him around to the passenger side of the car.

Digging heels into asphalt achieved absolutely nothing. It was like trying to resist getting towed along by a tank. Where the strength was coming from, he had no idea. Clark opened the door and pushed him, not gently, into the seat.

This was not going to happen. He had no intention whatsoever of getting waylaid by a kid with an attitude, even if the kid in question was Clark. He went to reach for the key in the ignition, and blinked when Clark slapped his fingers away, just there in the driver's seat when he hadn't been there a second ago.

"Don't even," Clark suggested, not looking at him, shifting the Porsche into gear and peeling off more rubber as he floored the gas. He tested out the zero to sixty in five seconds claim and then pushed the accelerator up to eighty and then a hundred. Not even close to the same boy who'd barely topped seventy-five on the ride home from KSU.

"Goddamnit, Clark. My patience is just about up with you."

Clark sniggered and went faster, and Lex swore under his breath and fumbled for the seatbelt. At the speed Clark was going, it didn't take long to reach the mansion. He did one of those skidding stops at the front gate and the gate guard peered in at them in surprise, before seeing Lex and triggering the gate open.

Clark was out and striding around to the front doors while Lex was getting a hold of his breathing. He ground his teeth, threw off the seatbelt and followed him in.

"So, are you packed?" Clark was heading for the stairs.

"We're not going, Clark." Lex pointed out, since Clark hadn't picked up on the fact himself. Clark was halfway to the second floor, not paying him a great deal of heed. Not following wasn't an option, and he did, all the way to his bedroom, which Clark strolled in like he owned the place.

"So where are your bags, Lex?"

"Clark," he reached out and grabbed Clark's arm. "I told you, we're not - -"

The last of his sentence got knocked out of him, as his back hit the wall by the door, and Clark was there, palms planted on either side of his head, leaning close, staring him levelly in the eyes. "You need to be very careful, Lex," Clark purred. "How you talk to me."

Clark reached out, and casually swung the door closed. Lex felt the vibration through the stone at his back as it hit.

"Clark --"

Clark pressed his forefinger against Lex's mouth, mashing his lips against his teeth. "Shut up, Lex. I'm tired of hearing you talk. All you ever do is lie to me anyway. I like the way you look at me better. That's more honest."

Lex grabbed his wrist, trying to pull his hand away, but Clark wasn't budging. He tasted blood, where his teeth were cutting into the inside of his lip, but it was hard to concentrate on the sting of that when Clark had moved in close and he could feel the hard jut of his erection.

Clark ground it against him, leaned in close and whispered against Lex's ear. "Tell me you haven't thought about fucking me?"

He moved his finger, trailing it across the edge of Lex's jaw and forcing his head back.

"I haven't - -" He had to deny it. Admission of any one of his private fantasies revolving around Clark Kent would lead to nothing but ruin, because whatever this was, it would pass and then it would just be Clark again and Lex would have destroyed what he'd worked to build.

Clark's hands bit into his arms, pulled him forward and shook him. "You're lying."

Shoved him back again, half off his feet, and it hurt and he had no idea what he was dealing with. Whether it was whatever had affected Clark enhancing his strength or whether it was just Clark, not bothering to hide it. He remembered the car in the basement, roof torn off, a body-sized dent in the front grill and thought maybe the latter. He'd always thought the latter, it just hadn't seemed to matter so much lately, weighed against Clark's friendship.

"I'm not."

Clark growled and lunged forward, kissing him. More like an attack, mouth covering his, tongue forcing its way past his teeth like a battering ram, invading him, warm and fleshy and pliant. Clark crouched a little, knees on either side of Lex's legs, hands on his face, fingers splayed out on the sides of his skull, erection grinding little circles against his own cock. And traitorous thing that it was, it stirred, utterly thrilled that the heady stuff of so many sessions of masturbation was rubbing up against it in the flesh.

Maybe it was lack of air that made him relent, made him moan into Clark's mouth and give in to the hungry kiss. God knew it wasn't any sort of higher reason at work, because this was absolute and utter folly.

Clark pulled far enough away to look at Lex with glittering, lust glazed eyed. "Now that's," he said, licking his lips. "What it's supposed to be like."

Lex blinked, trying to gather wits. "What?"

"Lana," Clark explained. "I didn't feel this, when I kissed Lana."

Then he went back in for another one. Lex's head hit the wall, mouth full of Clark again, scent and taste and texture, and all of it inexplicably overwhelming, considering that Lex had done this a time or ten. But Clark's hands were under his sweater, fingers dragging up his ribs, then down his back to his ass, drawing him forward with a jerk, tight against Clark.

He shivered, full body, Clark's mouth and Clark's hands on him, the length of Clark's hard young body, threatening every ounce of control he had. He shoved against Clark's shoulder, pulling back from the kiss.

"This is not happening. This can't happen."

"It can," Clark tried to chase his mouth down, and Lex growled and shoved harder.

"Goddamnit, you're sixteen."

"So what? You're twenty-one. Big whoop."

A month shy of twenty-two but he wasn't prepared to start arguing details when Clark was trying to get his sweater off over his head.

"No! Just no."

Clark paused in what he was doing, fists bunched in Lex's sweater. The eyes got hard and the smile turned petulant and mean.

"Yes," he said, and used his hold on the sweater to swing Lex around and propel him towards the bed. He hit and tried to scramble off, the bed being dangerous territory, but Clark was on him before he could, dragging him bodily to the center of the wide mattress, straddling him and stripping the sweater off.

Lex cursed, tried to buck him off, but curious strength aside, Clark outweighed him and was not so easy to dislodge. And for a moment, he forgot to try, as Clark went for the buttons of his own shirt, got the first two out of the button holes before impatience got the better of him and he just ripped it the rest of the way. Little black buttons littered the bed, but one could hardly pay them notice with Clark shrugging off jacket and shirt.

God he was beautiful, all smooth skin and rippling young muscle. The flushed head of his cock had long since escaped the waist of his slacks, and pressed tight to his stomach, just short of his navel. Words, even poetic ones, didn't do him justice.

Clark looked down, grinning at the errant top of his cock. He reached out, grabbed one of Lex's hands and drew it up, wrapped his fingers around the blushing tip of it and Lex clenched his jaw, not wanting to touch it - - so very much not wanting to touch it - - because once he felt the velvet heat of it, the solid throb of the blood pulsing through it - - once there, it was just a downhill slide.

He shut his eyes and tightened his fingers, heard Clark groan above him, heady sound. Addictive sound. Clark reached for his belt, unzipped his pants, freeing the whole of it. He was blessed with length as well as girth, and it bobbed free, uncut and proud as he shoved his pants down. He had to get off Lex to get free himself of them, and Lex lay there, thinking fuck, fuck, fuck in a half dazed loop, until Clark grabbed the top of his slacks and yanked and then he snapped back to panicked reality.

There were so many things wrong with this scenario, he couldn't begin to name them. First and foremost, his father being in the house. Running a close second, Clark's father knowing Clark was here. He didn't even want to think about the staff, and all the temporary workers his father had brought in to rearrange the place to his liking. Much less the big, looming problem of Clark being presently out of his fucking mind.

"Clark. Clark, this isn't the time or the place - - Let's go with the Metropolis idea where it's just you and me." He was willing to agree to anything to nip this situation in the bud. Getting in a car and driving to the city with Clark would give him the time he needed to figure things out. Hell, if he got Clark alone in the penthouse and he might just be willing to take this up again.

Clark grabbed his knee and dragged him towards the edge of the bed one handed, then leaned down, snug between Lex's thighs, Lex's balls pressed against the base of Clark's cock.

"Maybe later." Clark leaned down, one hand on the mattress next to Lex's head, the other gently stroking his own cock. "So this girl, Jessie, she gave pretty good head. But I'm thinking, I'd like it better if you did it."

Lex lifted a brow at the matter of fact tone in Clark's voice. Like it was a foregone conclusion that Lex would. "I'm sure you would, if I were in a head-giving frame of mind."

Clark sniggered, backed up a step and yanked him the rest of the way off the edge of the bed. Lex's knees hit the rug, Clark's bobbing cock just about mouth level.

"Who said I was giving you a choice." Clark's big hand curled around the back of his head, the other one grasping his jaw, and the last thing Lex wanted was to have a cock shoved down his throat via force, and considering the sheer strength of Clark's tongue when it wanted in past clenched teeth, he figured Clark's cock to be a stronger contender. Opening his mouth and taking it was the only reasonable option. He braced his hands on Clark's hips, feeling the strain on his jaw. Clark was damned thick, and it had been well over a year since the last time Lex had been on his knees with his a cock in his mouth. Generally being drunk off one's ass and coked up to boot made for more flexibility in these situations.

Of course a fifty thousand dollar Persian carpet was better cushion than the bathroom floor of a nightclub men's room, and there was no comparison between Clark and that nameless hustler who'd been paid to get Lex into the compromising position that had landed him here in Smallville to begin with.

He moved a hand from Clark's hip to the base of his cock, deep throating had never been his thing, and sucked. Clark moved both hands to his head and stared down hungrily, pink tongue darting out to wet his lips, cheeks beautifully flushed.

Clark tasted earthy, with a kick of salt, the foreskin velvety and supple and hot against Lex's tongue. He remembered why he'd been on his knees to begin with in that distant Club - - because he liked the way a cock felt in his mouth. Liked the weight of it, and the pulse of life throbbing through it. And the power. He liked the power of being able to send a man over the edge into blathering idiocy. Liked the power of knowing that he was good enough at it, that they'd come begging for more.

He shut his eyes and worked Clark until Clark shuddered and whimpered, and spilled into his mouth. And he clamped down and swallowed, and swallowed until there was nothing left.

Clark sank down to his knees, gasping, murmuring 'yeah, yeah, just like that', before he grabbed Lex's face and kissed him. And Lex leaned back against the bed, hands going up to tangle in Clark's hair, thinking that Clark was going to devour him, literally, metaphorically, unless he gained some sort of upper hand in this.

"I'm gonna fuck you now," Clark said into his mouth. "We're gonna do everything - - you're gonna teach me how to do everything."

God. How was he supposed to get an advantage when Clark said things like that?

He shook his head, trying for his commanding voice because one of them had to be the rational adult here. "I will. Later. But not now. Now, we get dressed and I pack, and we make that drive to the city."

"Lex," Clark laughed at him. "When are you gonna figure out that I'm the one calling the shots now? And what I'm gonna do right now, is fuck you. Lube in the drawer?"

"The hell you are." Lex had had about as much of this as he could take without snapping. It wasn't so much the rough sex, or the grinding up against a naked Clark, as it was the damned arrogant way the boy was bossing him around. "Back off!"

This time when he shoved, Clark was off balance enough to fall backwards. He caught himself on the carpet with one hand, eyes going narrow and angry. Lex made it to his feet, got as far as reaching for his pants before Clark hit him. Just bowled him backwards onto the bed hard enough to make his head spin. Wrestled him onto his back and captured his wrists with contemptuous ease. Trapped them under his back, one handed and reached down with the other to grasp Lex's still hard cock.

"So what's this, huh, Lex?" He gave it a few hard strokes. Lex's eyes rolled back, everything tightening up, everything pulsing with the sizzling stroke of a rough hand. "You keep giving me shit, but you've been hard since we came up here."

He tightened his fist and it hurt enough to make lights spark at the edges of Lex's vision. Jacked him fast and hard with that same tight fisted hold and Lex cried out, balls tightening, every muscle in his body going tight rope taut. He climaxed, starting to spurt until Clark stopped it, hand gripped tight around the head, thumb pressed against the slit, damming the flow. It was excruciating, teetering on the edge of a precipice and not able to topple over. Infuriating with Clark looking down with the sort of smile you'd expect on a child holding a magnifying glass over a anthill. Cruel. And Clark had been sullen and indignant and defensive upon occasion, but never been cruel. Lex didn't know who the hell this was.

He cursed, writhed, trying to dislodge his hand, and Clark just threw a knee over his thighs and pinned him more thoroughly down.

"You fuck," Lex gasped at him.

Clark's grin widened." That's no way to get what you want, Lex."

"Fuck - - you - -"

"No, fuck you. And yeah, that'd do it."

Clark slid his thumb aside, pumped a few more times and Lex spilled. Long streams of it, coating Clark's hand and his belly. He shut his eyes, body gone slack in the aftermath, blood still rushing in his ears. Clark shifted his knee, used it to nudge Lex's thighs apart and he felt Clark's fingers gliding through the slickness on his belly, then moving down between his legs, twisting a finger inside him.

Lex opened his mouth, shut it, a desperate little sound escaping him as Clark touched on the right spot.

"You're so - - tight." Clark whispered, fascinated. "You think I'll fit?"

Almost Lex laughed at that. Wondered if in this present state of mind, if it would matter one way or another to Clark.

"The drawer," he said, because if this was going to happen, it might as well happen with as little pain as possible. "The lube's in the bed table drawer."

Clark breathed out a little sigh of anticipation, the fingers of the other hand tightening on Lex's wrists, grinding bones together hard enough that he winced, before he released his hold, leaning over him and reaching one long arm towards the night table.

Knelt there, popped the cap and squirted a dollop onto his palm, swiped it down his straining erection until it glistened, then leaned over and asked. "How're we going to do this?"

He didn't wait for an answer, so Lex figured it was a rhetorical question, just reached down and flipped him over, pulling him up to his knees with that unsettling speed and strength. Doggie style it was.

"You know, I've never done this before. With anybody," Clark remarked, positioning himself, his cock hot and slick against the crack of Lex's ass. He shut his eyes and braced himself. It had been a damned long time since he'd been in this particular position. He'd never preferred to be the receiver in these situations. The oral sex was a skill to be used to gain a certain leverage - - this, this was just getting used.

Clark leaned down, skin fever hot, body heavy against Lex's back and purred in his ear. "I'm glad its you."

He opened his eyes, struck by that admission, even if it was coming from this aberration of Clark. Then Clark pushed in and there was pain. Bright, burning pain, as if Clark were ripping him open in his eagerness to get inside. He hissed and tried to lunge away, and Clark's arm tightened around his waist, the fingers of the other one digging into his hip.

"Stop. God - - Stop - -" He was clawing at the comforter, sobbing, tasting blood from the slice on the inside of his lip that he'd reopened. And Clark wasn't stopping. Clark was just bulldozing his way in, heedless of any comfort but his own.

Then he was in and moving, long, hard thrusts slamming into the core of him, knocking the breath out of him in Clark's enthusiasm. Once the ripping sting of entry began to fade, the inside friction wasn't so bad. The inside friction was pretty damned good. He was growing hard again, the whole of his body spasming each time Clark brushed his prostate. Clark's particular girth made the experience that much more intense.

The blood was rushing so violently in his ears, that he didn't even hear the tap of his father's cane or the cursory rap on the bedroom door, before it opened. It was only Clark's cessation of movement, and the big hand that slipped around to cover his mouth that alerted him to the intrusion.

Fuck. Just. Fuck. The hard on he'd been sporting deflated almost on the spot. It felt like Clark's actually got a little harder, growing and twitching inside him, if such a thing were possible.

"Lex? Lex, what are you doing?" Lionel hovered in the door, blind eyes staring aimlessly about the room. The dark glasses he'd taken to wearing were missing.

Very softly, Clark sniggered in his ear. He leaned all his weight on Lex's back and his legs were shaking too badly to support it. They gave out and they slid down, flat on the bed, Clark pressed against his back and fully seated inside him. It was likely the most embarrassing thing his father had ever caught him at.

"I hear you," Lionel complained. "Blindness heightens the other senses, you know."

Clark slid his hand aside, and Lex drew in a gasp of air. "I'm - - here, dad."

Clark drew back, thrust in short and sharp, making Lex's eyes roll back and the mattress squeak.

"What? Still in bed at this time of the morning? Are you sick or did you drink too much last night. I've warned you about - -"

"Dad," Lex ground his teeth. "I'm feeling just a little - - under the weather. I'll be down - - shortly."

"Under the weather? That's unusual for you, son." He was looking straight at them, drawn towards the sound of Lex's voice, and blindness or no, it made Lex's skin crawl and his eyes very badly want to water. Clark bit his shoulder, then sucked at the mark. Lex wanted him dead. At that moment in time, he'd have done it himself, if he could have.

"Just - - go away." He wasn't at his most articulate.

Lionel sniffed, offended. "I just came up to tell you, as if it's my responsibility to deliver messages, that there's a man at the gate looking for his son. I told him the ill-mannered young man was no longer here. I seriously question the quality of your acquaintances, Lex."

Clark made an amused sound and Lionel cocked his head, frowning.

"Thanks dad. I'll take that under advisement. Now get out."

Lionel sniffed once more, before tapping his way back out into the hall. Thankfully, he closed the door after him.

"That," Clark said, pulling back and thrusting in a few times, and the new angle hit new spots that made Lex tingle all over. "Was just awesome. I don't like him and told him what you were too chicken to say. That he needed to get the hell out and leave you alone."

Fantastic. All he needed was a juiced up sixteen-year fighting his battles for him.

"Let's try something different." Clark pulled out abruptly, caught his arm and pulled him over onto his back, crowded over him again, all white teeth and glittering eyes and Lex might have appreciated it more, if the whole thing hadn't been as good as rape.

"Clark, your father's out there!" Lex planted a hand on his chest, trying to stave him off.

"And yours told him I wasn't here. So what?"

Clark brushed his hand aside, hooked an arm under his knee and plunged back in. Easier entry this time, even if there was still that residual sting. He squeezed his eyes shut, cursing silently and took it, little enough choice, as Clark found his rhythm again, possessed of stamina that was apparently indefatigable.

There was a thudding in the hall, Lex heard it this time, turned his head in a panic, and shoved futilely at Clark a moment before the door burst open, this time without the benefit of a knock. This time filled with the glowering bulk of Jonathan Kent.

"Goddamnit, Lex where's my - -" The demand had started before the door was fully open and died on the man's lips before it swung in, banging against the inside wall. He stood there, staring with wide-eyed shock, and God - - Pete Ross was hovering behind him and Lionel further back - - a blur of faces that Lex didn't want to see.

Clark paused, face twisted in annoyance, before he casually thrust in again. "Can't you see I'm in the middle of something. I thought I told you to stay out of my business, dad." The last word came out bitterly mocking.

Lex couldn't breathe. It was as if the look on Jonathan Kent's face, as the shock dissolved into red-tinged fury, stole all his breath.

"This isn't what it looks - -" he started, realized how horribly cliché it sounded, realized Jonathan Kent wouldn't have cared regardless and shut his mouth.

"You son of a bitch - -" Jonathan wasn't talking to Clark. He took a step into the room, big fists clenched.

Clark lifted an amused brow. "You really want to walk away right now, old man."

"Pete," Jonathan said, voice shaking with rage. And Pete Ross slipped into the room, wide, horrified eyes, hands trembling as he pulled a little metal box out of his jacket pocket.

"Pete, Pete, Pete," Clark chided. "My dad's dragged you in on his little crusade, too? You shoulda just said No."

"You shoulda said no," Pete's teeth were chattering hard enough that he barely got the accusation out, before flipped the lid of the box and shoved it towards Clark.

Lex caught a glimpse the rock inside, studded with the translucent green of meteorite. Then Clark was screaming, convulsing over him and inside him, the whole of his body pulsating with agony. His father darted forward, grabbing his arm and yanking him off Lex and over the side of the bed, where he huddled, whimpering and trying to curl into himself. He caught Clark's wrist and twisted the class ring from his finger, tossed it at Pete, who fumbled to catch it with his free hand, then dropped it in the lead box with the meteorite and snapped the lid shut.

"What's happening?" Lionel was saying from the doorway. "I demand to know what's going on?"

No one paid him heed. Lex snagged a throw and covered himself, even as Jonathan Kent was crouching by his huddled son.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God." Clark was rocking, pressed into the corner of bed and nightstand, eyes wide and shell-shocked. Not the boy he'd been moments before.

"Son? Clark?" Jonathan grasped his jaw, forcing his face up, forcing him to meet his eyes. Clark blinked at him, tears trailing down his cheeks, lips trembling.

"I'm sorry. Sorry. Sorry." It was barely audible. He looked up at Lex as his father was shoving clothing at him, telling him gruffly to get dressed, stared for a second with wide, horror filled green eyes, before he squeezed them shut and turned away.

"Pete, get him down to the truck. And you damn well stay there." Jonathan snapped, shoving Clark, who'd gotten pants pulled on, but nothing else, in Pete's direction. Clark went docilely, head down, shoulders quaking, hands in fists tight against his chest.

They were barely out of the room, and Lionel still hovering in the doorway, when he whirled to glare at Lex. And Lex expected incrimination, and accusation because the man had found him in flagrante delicto with his teenage son, and an explanation of extenuating circumstances was sorely required. They needed to sit down and deal with this like reasonable adults and they fucking owed him an explanation after this.

What he didn't expect was the fist to the jaw. He didn't even get the chance to open his mouth before Jonathan pulled back his arm and smashed his fist into his face. He sprawled back, pain blossoming out from the point of impact, the room spinning. He wondered dazedly how long it would take for his father to summon security if the man crawled on top of him and proceeded to beat him to death.

But Jonathan just stood there, fists clenched, jaw working, barely able to get out words past the fury that must have been clogging his throat. "You - - you sick son of a bitch - - I'll have you up on charges."

God. How perfect. Lex shut his eyes and listened to the sound of heavy boots stomping away. Almost thought they'd all left him in peace, until his father's voice intruded upon it.

"Lex, Lex, Lex. I knew your predilections would get the better of you one day. A sixteen-year-old boy? You'll be lucky if all they do is level criminal charges. They take same sex statutory rape seriously in these small towns."

"Fuck you," Lex murmured past an aching jaw. Then after the sound of Lionel's cane diminished down the hall, he laughed. It sounded vaguely hysterical, even to him and it came hand in hand with wetness running down his temples that he couldn't seem to stop.

One way or another this town would kill him.

 

 

 

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