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by P L Nunn


Chapter Two


Lex started awake from a nightmare that vanished the moment sleep did. It was just as well; most of the ones he did recall left him chilled and shaken. His body remembered this one though, and hinted at its intensity with a harshness of breath and the frantic thudding of his heart.

Lightning flared outside the window, followed moments later by a muffled boom of thunder. Rain beat horizontally across the thick glass, soundless and frustrated in its fury.

He took a breath, and looked at clock on the bed table. 3:37 am. He'd gotten a little over an hours worth of sleep and that hadn't been restful. He needed at least three more if he wanted to be functional to deal with the people from Jacoby-Meyers tomorrow morning. It was a huge deal and not yawning through the talks could only play to his advantage.

His heartbeat slowed to normal. He shut his eyes and tried to blank his mind and return to sleep. He knew he was doomed to failure when the first fleeting Clark-thought crossed his mind.

A week had passed since the impromptu meeting at his office and a day hadn't gone by since, that he hadn't berated himself as ten kinds of fool for letting Clark slip away so easily. He could have had detailed answers instead of half answered questions. Clark might have talked - - given honest answers - - if wounded pride and hurt feelings hadn't stripped Lex of his common sense.

He'd sent Clark away and Clark had gone and despite all the resources Lex had at hand that could track him down, put him under constant surveillance and keep Lex abreast of just what he was doing and where and with whom, Lex didn't make the call.

Just like he didn't contact any of the various research facilities that he had specifically created to explore the subject of aliens among the masses. It would have been justification and benediction all in one pretty package for so many questionable acts of necessity.

The Clark as alien concept was he could accept, because he'd known from day one that Clark Kent was different. The admission simply validated all of Lex's uncertainties and suspicions. It was the Clark as not human thing that defied him.

He reminded himself what he'd seen in Caster Bennet's lab. Those brief/endless minutes he'd been soaring on Bennet's unfortunate little drug were so clear and sharp it verged on painful. A vivid, startling world where everything was enhanced, wired for sound and pumped directly into the brain. An interesting and unique experience to be sure, and Lex was intimately familiar with the highs and lows of designer drugs, having partaken liberally during his pre-banishment to Smallville days. The only real problem with this particular drug was the devastating crash that came afterwards.

That and the fact that a man who was probably the most brilliant mind in his field was wasting his time cooking up designer trash instead of concentrating on the work that had gained him Lex's attention to begin with. And LexCorp wasn't the only high powered interest sniffing after Caster Bennet. Royster Internatinal, Procter and Gamble, Starr industries just to name a few of the bigger players that had been prowling around Bennet's Met U labs trying to take him off the public market and into private research.

Lex wondered if any of them knew about the little side projects. Someone with influence and money did though. If the quality of the equipment in that rundown warehouse was any indication, Caster Bennet had someone with deep pockets financing him. Whether that someone cared about the nanotech work was in question, because generally Procter and Gamble recruiters didn't skulk about with automatic weapons to chase off the competition.

Lex's people had yet to track down just whom the two goons with the uzis answered to. Lex really didn't like being shot at.

Which brought him full circle back to Clark, showing up where he was least expected, catching a dozen bullets in the chest before the lab exploded and brought the crumbling wall down. Lex remembered laughing. It had seemed all too perfectly ironic and hilarious at the time. Until he blacked out in a haze of dizziness and nausea.

He didn't remember what had happened to Caster Bennet. Which was a concern, for a variety of reasons, oddly enough chief among them being whether he had seen what Lex had. If the man had seen, he needed to be found and given ample reason to keep his experiences to himself. A lab, with unlimited resources, someplace far distant from Metropolis might fill that need. If anyone was going to benefit from the exploitation of Clark Kent, it was damn well going to be Lex Luthor.

4:12 and the storm hadn't let up and his mind would not stop working.

Clark had taken him to Chloe's apartment. Had seemed comfortable there, like it was a familiar place to him. Lex wondered if they were sleeping together. Wondered if he had told her his secret. Looking back, piecing things together, he thought probably so. A stab of inexplicable irritation made him frown into the darkness and he wasn't sure if it was from the thought of Clark fucking Chloe or the idea that he had bared his soul to her.

4:30 and he needed to be up by 6 and if he didn't stop dwelling on Clark Kent, tomorrow was going to be a very long day.

It was. But he still nailed it. And LexCorp made an acquisition that he'd been sniffing after for months. By the time he got out of negotiations it was well into the afternoon and he'd been running off caffeine and willpower all day. It wasn't necessarily an unusual habit for him. He got distracted by the details, by the game, and sometimes forgot the little things.

He was on his way back to his office, leaving the paperwork to the lawyers, when one of his security team quietly informed him that they had located Dr. Bennet.

He stopped in front of the Pollock in the elegant hallway between reception and the private elevator that went up to the executive suites. "Where?"

"A rent by the night motel on the lower South End, Sir. Kirby Street. He's alone."

A hop skip and a jump from the ever-changing borders of Suicide Slums. Not a place he'd expect a squirrelly little researcher like Caster Bennet to take refuge in.

"Is he likely to bolt?" Lex stared at the chaotic sprawl of brush strokes in the painting. He'd never particularly liked the piece. He could debate the qualities of abstract expressionism with the most snobbish of art appreciatios, but this piece just made him edgy. Maybe that's why he kept it.

"Very likely, sir."

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, the beginnings of a tension ache creeping up. Taking a moment to wind down and relax was apparently not an option.

Lex took a modest security contingent just in case he wasn't the only one who had tracked Bennet down. Enough muscle to make sure he wasn't interrupted a second time with a man whom he was beginning to think was considerably more of a liability than an asset.

The motel was a dilapidated, four story building likely as old as Metropolis, squashed up in-between similar structures long past their prime. The whole street was one step away from the slums that pockmarked the city's 'Old South End'. His father had risen out of those same slums, on the wings of blood and corruption, rough trodding over anyone that stood in his path. The closest Lex wanted to come was tearing the whole mess down. Paving it over with something that would wash the acrid taste of poverty and the sort of low rent crime that poverty spawned, out of the City's collective mouth.

He left two men outside and one followed him into the threadbare lobby, a large menacing presence at his back that made the greasy clerk swallow and keep darting nervous glances past Lex.

"I need a room number," Lex told him the name and described Bennet in case the man had had the presence of mind to use a false identity.

The clerk looked back at him, taking in the cut of his clothes, the watch worth more than what this place probably cleared in a half a year and saw a chance for profit.

"Don't ring a bell. What's it worth to you for me to remember?"

Lex canted his head, and the muscle behind him shifted his jacket to reveal the holstered gun under his armpit. Lex wasn't in the mood for negotiations with rattrap motel managers after a morning of matching wits with a conference table full of wall-street wizards.

"Ummm. That'd be 307."

Lex nodded and headed for the elevator, motioning for his security to stay in the lobby.

"That don't work," the clerk called from the counter. Of course, it didn't. Lex changed direction and headed for the stairs.

"He's got a woman up there," the clerk offered another tidbit of information, suddenly helpful now that he was faced with the company of Lex's bullnecked security guard.

The whole place stank of urine and spent sex, but the stairs were worse, sporting the stray beer can here; used condom there.

Room 307. He paused outside the door, hearing the murmur of voices. A woman's tone and a man's panicked response. If Bennet had a hooker in his room, then they were having a disagreement over something.

Lex rapped on the door and the conversation on the other side suddenly dried up. There were a few thumps, as if someone were scrambling or tripping over their own feet. He'd met Bennet, so he knew the later was entirely plausible.

The door opened and he found himself unexpectedly face to face with Chloe Sullivan. He recovered two beats before she did and gave her a bland, inquiring look while she opened her mouth and closed it, then got her wits about her and glared at him like he'd come spreading the plague.

"What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he took her in at a glance, digital camera dangling from one wrist, doubtless a tape recorder in her pocket. "But its clear you're digging for a story where you really ought to be leaving well enough alone."

"Why? Because you say so and the Luthor word is gospel?"

He shrugged and strode past her, as willing to accept that take on the subject as any.

Bennet was futilely trying to get the window to the fire escape open. The window frame had obviously been painted long shut.

"Where are you going to go, Dr. Bennet?" Lex inquired. "Haven't we had this conversation once, already?"

Bennet turned wild eyes to him, stare strangely magnified behind the thick lenses of his glasses. Justifiably enough, the man's face drained of color. "Oh, no. No. No. I didn't mean to do it. It was an accident. You were pushing me. And they were pushing me. I didn't know what they wanted - - I couldn't sythisize it to their specifications - - God - - you don't understand!" The man was hysterical.

"What are you talking about?" Chloe pushed her way past Lex to place herself between him and Bennet, almost protectively. It almost amused Lex. "What was he pushing you to do, Dr. Bennet? Who's they and what did they want you to do?"

Bennet ran his hands down his face, blunt nails leaving little red trails. Bennet was strung out, that much was obvious. On what was another question. What a waste of a brilliant mind.

"I was pushing him to give up playing mad chemist and concentrate on more legitimate research," he directed that to Bennet instead of Chloe. "But you panicked, and did something you ought not, didn't you Caster? But I can forgive that, because I realize you're under stress.

Which wasn't quite true, because Lex did hold grudges and having a syringe full of dubious drug plunged into his body was high among his list of unforgivables. Which wasn't to say, he wouldn't work around that, if it could benefit him. "Any obligations you've made to less than legitimate parties can be bypassed."

Bennet stared at him, mouth working soundlessly, god knew what going on behind his dilated eyes. All Lex needed was a nod, a hint of agreement and he'd shuffle Chloe from the room, and have a few private words with the doctor.

"This is not just going to disappear, because you want it to. Over twenty people were seriously hurt by the 'trial run' of his little drug project." Chloe said, journalistic indignity rising to the occasion. The people have a right to know, would have probably, predictably, been her next line, but Lex cut her off.

"And the fact that you were among them makes you all the more eager to right the wrong. Or is it that this just might get your name on the front page? Looking for a little fame, Chloe?"

"What are you looking for, Lex? Another scientist with no moral compass to advance illegal research in unsanctioned labs?"

"You sound like you're fishing for a quote."

Her mouth twitched, but she didn't back down. Chloe's sense of self-preservation had always been a little stunted.

"I think I've already got a few."

"Go ahead. I'm sure a libel suit will do wonders to advance your career."

She glared. Lex had better things to do than trade insults with Chloe. Bennet's hoarse cry made them both start. The man was pulling at his hair, backing away like snakes were coming up out of the floor after him.

"No place is safe. No Place. You don't know who you're dealing with. What lengths they'll go to! They'll come after me again. You saw what they sent after me. You saw what he could do - -you saw!! " he rushed at Lex, clutching at his lapels. "And he's only the first - - enhanced strength, speed - - they shot him - - it must be alien nanotechnology invading the human substructure - - It's only the start. People have to be warned!"

Lex met Chloe's eyes while he was peeling Bennet's fingers off his jacket. This time she looked more worried than accusative. Though the paranoia Bennet was spouting was a mad mix of the far-fetched reaches of his own specialty and wilder conspiracy theory, he did have the alien part right. Which was a problem.

He caught Bennet's jaw and forced the man to look him in the eye. "I can keep you safe. I can get you help so you can think coherently again. Understand? If you stay here, you're right, they will get you."

Bennet moaned, rolling his eyes, but he nodded, fear driving him to acquiescence.

"So what? You're just going to pull an Amelia Earhart and make him disappear?" Chloe ground out, frustrated.

"Would you rather have him babbling to everyone who'll listen about aliens?" he inquired mildly.

She laughed in disbelief. "Oh my God. You don't actually expect me to believe you're doing this to help Cl- -" she bit off the rest of that sentence, clearly wanting to say more, but prevented by Bennet's presence. "What's to gain? Gratitude?"

"I don't need gratitude, Chloe." He flipped open his cell and made a call downstairs. Within minutes his security was upstairs and quickly and efficiently ushering the muttering Bennet out.

"If you want to write a story, feel free. " He brushed past her on his way out. "If I need to produce Bennet, I will and when he starts talking, it won't be me that's damaged from it. LexCorp was simply out to recruit a brilliant, but misguided mind. I would be more worried about his less legitimate contacts. The ones who commissioned his little drug trial and probably do have things to hide. But again, that's entirely up to you."

He expected Chloe to tell Clark. A perverse part of him maybe even hoped she would exaggerate the encounter, because a week of Clark following his dictum of no contact, was driving Lex nuts.

Enduring a little outrage or self-righteousness or accusation was a small price to pay to get Clark in the same room, where he might breach a few more of his secrets.

Lex had taken precautions. He knew the meteor rock was Clark's weakness. He'd known that years ago, before he even knew about Clark. He just didn't know all the whys and wherefores. He certainly had enough of the stuff in his possession. Labs full of meteor rock, being researched in any number of fields for possible applications. He'd had a rock in a lead box on his desk the day Clark came calling, just in case. It was still there.

He'd thought about having bullets made up. Decided against it. Then rethought the notion and decided on enough for a couple of clips for his own personal guns. Just in case. He didn't want his security toting around weapons with meteor rock bullets. Even the most professional hired muscle could get twitchy when strange things began happening and he honestly didn't want anyone shooting Clark.

Other than him.

Which negated having a security team at all, when it came to Clark.

He was being irrational.

He went back to his office to make provisions for Dr. Bennet. In addition to the other problems the man had caused him, now he had to arrange for a detox program before he could reasonably benefit from the man's mind.

He sat there afterwards, pinching the bridge of his nose to ward off a threatening headache. Running all day on the fumes of coffee and a few hours of sleep was making him lightheaded. He was hungry, but it was late to call any of the various models, actresses, or other beautiful people that he usually had on his arm for public outings in Metropolis, and he didn't like to eat alone. It was a bit of insecurity that he'd never quite been able to shake from his youth, where his baldness had made him an outcast in the various elite schools his father had shipped him off to. The cutthroat cruelty of the world of big business had nothing on the inventive malice of children.

The penthouse then, where he'd have something sent up. He shut his laptop and stood, reaching for the jacket draped across the back of his chair. And stopped, breath stalling for a heartbeat when he saw someone standing in the doorway to the darkened conference lounge off the side of his office.

A tall someone with a pissed off stance, that Lex was all too familiar with. He took that stalled breath and debated whether sitting back down, or standing would allow more tactical advantage.

Perhaps sitting, since the box with the meteor rock was on the desk and the gun with the special bullets in the top left drawer.

"I thought I made it clear that appointments were required now on for you little visits," Lex remarked mildly, sitting down and casually leaning back in the chair. But his heart was thudding madly and it was a struggle not to let quickening breath betray him.

Lex didn't carry security around like a cloak the way his father did. If one were going out to the slums and confronting potentially dangerous psychopaths, then it was all fine and well to have the backup, but frankly, hovering bodyguards annoyed him. The building had ample security, they just did not lurk around the hallways outside Luthorcorp's executive offices. If you got up past reception and the private elevator then you belonged and there wasn't the need. He wasn't sure it would have mattered in this case, since Clark obviously hadn't come in the front way.

"How did you get in?"

Clark stepped forward. He had on a pale blue shirt that was rumpled enough that was quite possible it had been slept in and an actual tie that had been loosened and fidgeted with until the knot looked mangled. The tie was green, a few shades duller than Clark's eyes. He must have been at the Daily Planet then, which had a dress code, even for its college interns. Cheap clothes never looked so good.

"What did you do with Dr. Bennet?"

Lex rolled his eyes. Honestly, why Chloe and Clark were so concerned about the well being of a man who'd been cooking up recreational narcotics, had gotten Chloe dosed with the stuff and had been in tentative talks with assorted members of the Metropolis underworld, was beyond him. You'd think he was the kindly pastor from the Smallville First Baptist church.

"What business is it of yours, Clark? I thought you were interning at the Daily Planet, not the Metropolis PD? Do you have a badge now to go with that Boy Scout mentality?"

"You can't just make people disappear, Lex."

"There's that word again. What do you and Chloe think I do all day? He's a researcher. I'm setting him up to research somewhere where he won't have the temptation of experimenting with illegal drugs or I might add babbling on about the freakish feats of strength and invulnerability he witnessed that day in the warehouse. He's not being harmed. He's not being held against his will. No one died during the trial run of his drug. Get over it."

Clark really, really wanted to dispute his logic, that was clear, but even the renowned Kent pigheadedness was having a hard time coming up with an argument with Lex's solution to the problem. Of course, Lex had sold Clark short before. So far from short that it was laughable now, all things considered.

"How do I know you won't have him mass producing that stuff, or creating something worse?"

Lex drummed his fingers, annoyed. Having to explain himself over and over again was not something he particularly enjoyed doing. Especially when he'd actually been telling the truth and most of the extra effort he'd put into the Bennet relocation plan had been for Clark's benefit. He had yet to sit down, really sit down and try to rationalize why.

"His field of expertise is molecular nanotechnology and the development of smart materials that could be used for a variety of commercial applications. Most notably, in the medical arena. I could give you some of his thesis work, but honestly, I'm not sure if your classes at K-state covered advanced speculation in that particular field. You might find yourself a little lost." The level of Bennet's work when the man was operating at full capacity, left Lex lost and he'd done a fair bit of reading on the field.

Clark glared at him. Lex allowed a hint of a smile.

"You threatened Chloe."

"I did not threaten Chloe." Lex denied immediately even as he replayed the conversation with her in his head, trying to recall if he actually had. There had been the libel thing. Did that qualify?

Clark laid his palms flat on the desk, then frowned, pulling the right one back up with an odd look. His eyes fixed on the desktop, where his hand had been, over the left hand drawer. He looked back up, eyes practically spitting indignation. "You've got a gun with kryptonite bullets."

"You can see through the desk?" Lex hadn't known that. Kryptonite?

Clark muttered something under his breath and yanked Lex up before Lex even realized his shirt had been grabbed. He got hauled away from the desk and into a wall, Clark glaring at him all the while. Arguably, he could have hit the wall significantly harder than he did.

"You were going to shoot me?"

"No. No." Lex had his hands up, trying to derail that notion, even though he wasn't entirely sure himself what his intentions on the subject actually were. "Not unless you forced the issue."

"How? By being alive? I knew I couldn't trust you."

"Who's threatening who? Stop acting like you're nine, Clark. I'm not your mother so I'm not falling for the spoiled brat routine."

"Don't talk about my mother." Clark was pissed, cheeks flushed and eyes spitting indignation/frustration/anger/passion. With Clark you got what you saw, his eyes a mirror of his emotional spectrum.

He got pulled away from the wall and slammed back again, hard enough this time to make him lose a little breath. Clark's hands transferred to his upper arms, fingers like vises in his flesh. He jammed his hands against Clark's chest, wanting him off, but it was like shoving against the side of a brick building and finding out that 'no' the foundations weren't going to tremble.

He'd been on the receiving end of violence from Clark before. He knew Clark was damned strong, but knowing just how strong, just how easily those big hands could shatter and break was a little intimidating. Lex hated to feel intimidated. It made him rash.

"Does it make you feel more like a man, pushing us mere humans around?" He could almost feel Clark flinch at little at that and the fingers biting into his arms let up. Lex pushed his advantage while it was fresh and leaned in to growl in Clark's face. "You're the one who broke into my office. You accuse me of using power and money to get what I want. At least I don't leave bruises. And you wonder why I've got Kryptonite bullets."

He was so rattled he had his teeth bared. Clark was glaring stubbornly back at him, eyes close enough that Lex could see the iridescent gold spokes radiating through the green. Clark had the most beautiful fucking eyes . . .

Vocabulary unexpectedly failed him, caught up in those eyes, utterly aware of the beat of Clark's heart under his palms, the heat of his body through the cotton shirt. He tightened his fingers in cheap material and Clark looked down where Lex's hands pressed against him, then back up, breath rapid, lips half-parted, those too-pretty eyes widening just a little.

Adrenaline fueled anger settled lower, shifting into something new - - or not so new. It slunk up on him from where it had been lurking in the shadows, hit him like a fist in the gut, need so raw it hurt.

Lex took a breath, wet his lips and tried to rationalize something that simply had no rationalization. It was simple as basic arithmetic; he wanted to fuck Clark until he screamed. And that was no new craving, it had simply been shifted back to a dustier part of Lex's brain. There was just something at the edge of Clark's expression, in the quivering tension of his body that made Lex think - - maybe.

He spread his fingers, palms flat again and slid them across Clark's ribs, a teasing trail of contact that Clark would either flinch away from or endure. Tentative testing of muscle and flesh that would either make or break the deal.

Clark started, a shiver of nerves that made the muscles ripple under Lex's fingers. But he didn't pull away, he simply moved one hand from Lex's arm to the wall beside his head, leaning there like his knees had gone suddenly weak. His eyes were a maelstrom of conflicted emotion. Distrust. Confusion. Anger. Fear. Want. Like there were a handful of Clarks in there instead of one, warring for control. Lex knew from control. Came close to losing it entirely when it really sank in that Clark wasn't adverse to this or whatever Clark thought this was.

He trailed his hands lower, to hips and back up again, never taking his eyes off Clark's. You didn't avert your eyes facing down a predator. You didn't avert them from a competitor across the negotiation table. You didn't break eye contact when sex was involved. You let your gaze convey everything. Want. Promise. Reward.

"Lex . . ." Clark said, a hoarse whisper, as if his mouth were bone dry, as if he were out of his depth and floundering. He was. But Lex knew the way.

Lex leaned forward, so close his lips were almost touching Clark's jaw, but not, and exhaled. Clark smelled like some cheap, drugstore soap, and the outdoors and some other indefinable scent that made Lex's fingers curl. He did it again, against Clark's lower lip, so close he could feel the electromagnetic pull of his skin.

He ran his hands down Clark's hip, across the bulge - - yes, there was a definite bulge - - in his jeans, until Clark was shuddering, breath a ragged thing in his chest, hand clenching Lex's shoulder as if he didn't know what else to do with it.

"Fuck - - Lex . . ." Clark gasped as Lex squeezed him through his pants.

"Maybe," Lex murmured, and slid down the wall to work at Clark's buckle. If he hadn't been deft about it, Clark might have given in to the uncertainty and pulled away, but once Lex had his hand on his cock, thick and hard and very certain what it wanted, even if Clark wasn't, doubt was not a factor.

Now Lex had, in his younger days, given his fair share of head. He hadn't particularly been choosy in his sexual partners, male or female, as long as they were pretty and might piss off his father if and when word got back. Like everything else he did, he was good at it. His competitive nature demanded no less.

Not a one of them had stuck in his mind longer than it took to fuck them and loose them. With Clark - - God - - had a day gone by in the last 8 years that he hadn't crossed Lex's mind one way or another? - - a good blowjob wasn't an option. Lex wanted it to be the best fucking blowjob he'd ever had in his life. He wanted him to remember it and mourn that he'd never had the like before and might never again, depending on the state of Lex's mercy.

You started with the hands. You always started with the hands, readying the field of combat, so to speak, for the deployment of tactical weapons. But of course, when you were dealing with a skittish opponent, too much foreplay might allow him the opportunity to gather his forces and retreat. Timing was everything.

Lex didn't have a lot of maneuverability, between Clark and the wall at his back, but he was nothing if not inventive. He'd seen bullets bound off Clark's skin, so he was going to assume that a firm grasp and a hint of teeth weren't going to present a problem. And contrary to that same vein of reasoning - - God, but Clark's skin was soft.

Clark's head hit the wall between his hands when Lex squeezed the tip, then leaned in and licked the shaft, from base to head in one long, slow stroke. He looked up, the tip of Clark's cock resting against his lips, and met sex-hazed green eyes. With deliberation, he licked the little drop of pre-come and his own cock thrummed against his belly as Clark's eyes rolled back in their sockets and little helpless groaning sounds issued from parted lips. Clark tasted organic, as if all of his mother's farm grown dinners had affected the taste of his come. Or maybe it was simply his alien biology at work. Regardless, the taste was as appealing as the sense of heady power knowing that at this moment, all that strength and power meant nothing, because he held control.

He waited until Clark's eyes focused again, until he was staring down in flushed anticipation, hands clenching and unclenching on the wall - - and then Lex went in for the kill.

He wrapped his lips around the uncut head of Clark's cock, swallowing a few inches, pressing his tongue against the throbbing pulse of the shaft. He pulled back and went down again, this time all the way, until the tip pressed against the back of his throat. He had to take a second to adjust to that, not having experienced the sensation in some years. Clark wasn't miserly in the size department, so swallowing all of him without going into the realm of serious deep throating wasn't going to happen. And though Lex didn't mind - - rather liked if truth be told - - the feel of cock in his mouth, he wasn't big on it forced halfway down his throat. But again, that was what creative hands were for.

And tongues. And lips and mouth. The shivery tease of teeth. The firm pressure of fingers cupping tightening balls, kneading and shifting until Clark was making urgent, breathy noises, body rocking against Lex and almost throwing him off his balance.

The sounds got to him. The flush that spread out from Clark's cheeks to his perfect lips. The look in his eyes that had gone past confusions and complications and was just simple animal need. Lex was almost creaming his pants before he reached down to scrub his palm across his own bulge. Desperate, rough strokes that ground the soft material of his briefs against the hypersensitive length of his cock.

He tightened his grip on the base of Clark's shaft when he came, maybe even bit down in reaction to a surprisingly intense orgasm.

Clark made a sound that might have been a curse, might have been his name. His body shifted, hands dropping down from the wall to grasp Lex's head. Lex had brought him to the breaking point and now he was past it, body taut and shuddering. He thrust his hips and the back of Lex's head hit the wall with enough of a crack to make him see stars. He did bite down that time, but again, with skin that could take bullets, teeth probably weren't a dilemma.

Clark's hands on his head might prove to be, if the fingers splayed out across his skull clenched in the throes of passion and cracked bone. But even in the midst of mind-stealing culmination, Clark seemed to have a subconscious awareness of his strength and the damage he could do to fragile mortal flesh. The grip let up, but not enough that Lex was able to take control back. Clark set the pace, thrusting with fast shallow strokes, never quite breaking Lex's comfort barrier and cramming himself down his throat. It was either tense up and choke or relax and accept the shift of power and try to work it to his advantage. Which in this case was sliding his hands around to grip Clark's ass, which was no less tight and firm than one might have expected.

Clark tensed and pressed in tight against the back of Lex's throat, shuddering as he came.

Fifteen seconds. Twenty. Lex thought he was going to choke a little on the warm come oozing down his throat.

A sigh of release foreshadowed the softening of Clark's cock. Despite having lost control of the situation at the end, it was still a victory. Retribution and justice for lies and years of frustration. It felt like a coup, until Clark's legs gave way and he slid down to the floor next to Lex, knees straddling Lex's, face still flushed with orgasm.

Lex tried to think up something to say. Something casual and cutting. Clark caught him by the neck, big hands pulling him forward so that he rested his forehead against Lex's, leaning against him and simply breathing. For the second - - maybe third time tonight, words failed Lex. He'd never been so inarticulate in his life.

His heart hadn't thumped so frantically in his chest when he was coming in his pants.

And then Clark was gone, leaving nothing but a startled breeze in his wake. Lex sat there, completely devoid of balance. Mind reeling. He got his bearings and leaned back against the wall. After a moment he looked down and took stock. There was a wet spot at his crotch, which was unfortunate, since he didn't have a spare set of clothing in the office. He could send someone, but he wasn't quite prepared for an assistant wondering how he'd managed to mess his pants alone in his office. Which proved that even though he could still go down like a sex club junkie, he'd thoroughly gotten over the masochistic little buzz of seeing printed in the next day's tabloids.

He'd wait and see if it dried clear and if not, perhaps a convenient glass of split water . . .




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