CATEGORY: AU, Angst, BDSM, First time, Romance

AUTHOR’S NOTES: Praised for its “glittering fandom cliché”, here be Epic Hooker Fic. Written for the Clex Fuh-Q-Fest 3rd Wave. Send love feedback!!

DISCLAIMER: If they belonged to us you’d still only get to read about them.

Alexander’s breath tickled hot on his earlobe and Clark tilted his head into the voice, eyes rolling back in his head and closing as he fought down the urge to turn and take.

“I’m, um… Clark. But you can call me…” The line Clark had practiced all night in his head stopped up his throat as a strong hand rubbed down over his stomach and covered his cock. It wasn’t that good of a line anyway.

“Clark. I like it. I know what you’re after, Clark, and I’m sure you’ll find Sergei more than willing to provide it. Join my friend and me outside.”

Alexander’s hand slid heavily up over his arm as he backed away, leaving Clark to turn and stammer after him. “I’m…” Clark looked between the two men who were watching him so intently, and steeled himself. Now or never. “Okay.”

Alexander gave him an approving nod before turning for the exit. Sergei smiled and stood, hand landing possessively, low on Clark’s back as they worked their way through the crowd to the club doors.

Clark tried to ignore the palm scorching its way through his t-shirt and instead concentrated on the way Alexander moved through the crowd—fluid, unconcerned, like the crowd parting before him was his due. Sex personified. If he wasn’t there when it happened with Sergei, Clark knew whose face he would be picturing behind closed eyes. He shook his head, mumbling to himself as they exited the club. “Here goes nothing, Kent. Don’t screw this up.”

Lex eased into the soft leather seat of the limo, directly across from Sergei and the boy. The chill blast of the air conditioning cleared his senses of the cloying smoke and heat of the club, and the early summer’s humid night. He reached for a glass on the bar, suspecting he’d rather his senses be a bit dulled for the evening’s next agenda item. “Shall I have the driver drop you both at the Ritz?” he asked solicitously.

“Alexander, you disappoint me. It’s early yet. Surely your daddy lets you stay up past midnight?”

Prick. He’d wanted nothing more than to scrape this piece of shit off his shoe all evening, but he couldn’t be that lucky. He swallowed a glass of scotch and poured another, regretting his earlier resolve to remain sober tonight. “What exactly did you have in mind, Sergei?”

“Just a little fun with the boy.” The Russian seemed to have a limitless tolerance for vodka and was pressing a shot into Clark’s shaking hands as well. Lex watched as the boy threw back his lovely head, long throat arching, swallowed, and held out his glass for more. Smart kid.

Lex pressed the driver’s intercom. “Take us around the park.”

Clark’s eyes were on him again, big, frightened. A babe lost in the wilderness.

“Clark,” softly spoken, holding the boy’s rapt attention, “You said you didn’t drink.”

Momentary confusion and a quick, guilty glance at Sergei as the boy remembered brushing him off in the club, and Lex knew then exactly why Clark had come with them. Stupid kid.

In way over his head if he thought tonight could be about anything other than him getting thoroughly fucked. Christ, you didn’t walk into a place like Epitaph looking like a fucking wet dream in faded denim, approach the two wealthiest men in the club—who half the people present, the better half and the more astute of the working boys, would have happily pointed out—and think for one second that you weren’t going to be treated like the piece of admittedly high dollar trade you were.

“I, um… don’t normally…” Clark appeared as surprised as Lex was when Sergei tossed back one more shot and went down on his knees to the floor of the limo, quickly unbuttoning the boy’s jeans and tugging them down past slim, squirming hips. “Um…”

It was a move Lex hadn’t expected from the arrogant Russian, but he couldn’t fault the motivation. Clark was perhaps the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen, all the more desirable for his bumbling bashfulness, even if it were an act. Lex strongly suspected that it was not. He wore innocence and naivete like a cape on his broad shoulders, and now he was going to shed it forever.

Lex felt a stab of regret even as his cock hardened at the erotic tableau before him. Clark’s long, strong body thrummed with tension as he appeared to fight his response to Sergei’s busy mouth. Eyes squeezed tightly closed, long tan fingers digging into creaking leather, his head thrashed slowly in denial.

His mewling whimpers mixed with wet, sucking sounds that Lex envied Sergei for, and fine perspiration broke out on hotly flushed skin. Honey and rose-petaled perfection. A wet tongue swept out to linger on slack warning-red lips and Clark must have heard Lex’s low moan because he was looking right at him then, perfect fuck-me mouth open and panting, eyes glazed but issuing mute appeal.

Lex held his gaze, willing the boy to be calm. “It’s okay,” he heard himself whisper, unaccountably, and then Clark was bucking into Sergei’s mouth, coming with desperate, pained little noises, fucking beautiful, grasping with his eyes, refusing to allow Lex to release his shocky, wide-pupiled stare.

It was all over in only a minute or two, confirming Clark’s rather inexplicable inexperience as much as the look of complete astonishment on his face. Lex wondered if perhaps Clark had played with girls up to this point and was just exploring his attraction to men. That would make a little more sense, because how the boy had gotten this far in life unmolested was really beyond his comprehension.

Sergei heaved his large frame onto the seat beside an endorphin-drugged Clark, whose heavy eyes kept drifting open briefly, as if to verify Lex’s continued presence in the limo. He was a pornographic picture of corruption, t-shirt pushed up and jeans pulled down to reveal an expanse of bronzed Adonis, limp cock laying red and glistening in a dark thatch of hair. Thoroughly debauched.

“He’s delicious,” Sergei confirmed, wiping his thick lips with a snow white handkerchief, before switching to Russian. “Do you want to fuck him first, Aleksandr? I’ll bet he’s as tight as he looks.”

Any other night he’d be flying high on a morality-numbing cocktail of coke and ecstasy and hard alcohol. He wouldn’t think twice about fucking Clark half a dozen different ways. Lex felt slightly nauseous though his cock swelled hopefully. “That’s very… gracious of you, but no. I’m sitting this one out. Don’t let me stop you, though.”

Sergei wasn’t listening to him, instead he groped at the rapidly resurfacing Clark, who scrambled away from the rough hand snaking between his legs. “Are you, boy? Are you a tight little virgin? Whose big cock do you want to feel first in your little hole?”

“Jesus, Sergei. Could you be any more vulgar?” Lex didn’t hide the disgust he felt for the older man any longer, his voice was thick with it. “I don’t think he’s frightened enough. And a word of advice to you, Clark,” he watched as the boy quickly refastened his jeans. “You’d be wise to get your fee up front with this one.”

Clark looked like he’d been thrown a lifeline, the opening he’d been waiting for all night, no doubt. “Um, right… Well, I am a virgin, so I was thinking—”

Lex grinned big at his earnest attempt at negotiation before Clark’s shaking voice was interrupted by a snarling burst of Russian.

“What game are you playing at, Aleksandr?” Sergei looked pointedly at Lex’s bulging trousers. “You want him and I want you. Now you’re going to show me a good time like your father told you to do.”

“My father—”

“—told us all about his disappointment with you, Leksi. In St. Petersburg.” The man’s voice dropped menacingly. “You know, he fears it might take a really nasty bit of business for you to finally stop your whoring. I think he might be right.”

Lex let his eyes go cold with warning, jaw clenching involuntarily as he considered his move. How much his father might have said, and how much the Russians might have learned about him through readily available gossip or even published scandal, he didn’t know. Whether or not his next words were a bluff, he couldn’t be certain. Not when his father was involved.

“I’ll repeat myself one more time, because it’s clear you’re drunk,” Lex said. “ I am not included in your negotiations with Luthor Corp. My father’s offered you and your partners a very generous deal which I imagine they would be loath to have fall apart under your rutting libido.” Lex watched the steely-eyed man turn more apoplectic with every stabbing word. He charged relentlessly forward, ignoring Clark’s careful silence and Sergei’s indignation. “He did not offer me, and in all my days of whoring I was never so far gone that I would have found you appealing in any way.”

Suddenly the big man’s hands were fisted in Lex’s collar and he was being shaken like a rag doll, considering too late that perhaps one ought not to provoke a man reputed to be a former KGB agent—even one past his physical prime, even on American soil.

“Listen, you little shit,” he spat, “You’ll show me some respect, and you’ll show me a good time, or you’ll have more to worry about than explaining to your daddy why you let his deal fall through.”

“Fuck off, Sergei. Get your hands off of me.”

Lex managed to keep the panic he felt rising in his chest from sounding, but one look at Clark and it all threatened to spill over. The boy was wild-eyed, tugging on Sergei’s jacket, pleading, “Hey, you don’t need him. Come on, don’t you want to… fuck me, now? Like you said?”

The situation was so absurd—surreal and ringing of a demented after-school special, and Lex felt slightly hysterical until the muscular older man dealt a vicious backhand to a perfectly sculpted cheekbone.

Clark absorbed the blow and turned back to Sergei in fury. Hope sparked that together they might overpower the man until he found a long, cold blade pressed under his chin.

Lex froze, breath burning in his chest. He fought the urge to swallow, knowing the knife would slice at the first movement of his Adam’s apple.

Clark was held at bay by the threat and stayed back while the car was pulled over at Sergei’s demand. Lex kept his eyes on the knife but could feel the boy watching him, looking for an opportunity to act, perhaps. His head was clearing by the moment, and he began to pray Clark wouldn’t do anything irrevocably stupid.

They were deep in the darkness of the park when the blond man ordered Clark out of the car.

“No, I’m not leaving. I’m not gonna let you do this to him.”

“Clark—I think you should just get out of the car.” Lex said calmly, feeling more confident now of being able to defuse the situation without the boy’s interference, and if he couldn’t…well, he calculated the odds of Sergei actually killing him to be extremely low. Regardless, the indignity of having the scene deteriorate into an operatic tragedy in which he featured as the damsel to Clark’s doomed hero was too depressing to contemplate.

“No.” Clark glared at Sergei in open defiance guaranteed to set the tyrant off, and Sergei, perhaps feeling more confident of Lex’s cooperation, lunged at him with the knife.

It was over before Lex could shout a warning. Clark had a furious Sergei face down on the floor, one arm twisted painfully behind his back, while Lex snatched up the knife which had been knocked to the floor.

“We need to call the police.” Clark sounded completely reasonable, Lex thought dizzily, almost as if being attacked by crazy knife-wielding Russians were all a part of his day’s work. His work as a virgin prostitute.

“No police, please.” He flashed Clark one of his many smiles, slight smirk tempered by a touch of self-deprecation. “I can’t afford for this to make the papers, and besides, you’re as likely to end up in jail as our friend, here.”

Clark didn’t break from form, quickly following Lex’s lead, and with little additional discussion, they left the richly dressed man sputtering and lost in one of the worst sections of the park. Doubtless Clark thought he was getting off easy.

“Do you need a doctor?”

“What? No, I’m okay. Are you?” Clark was looking him over intently.

“I’m fine,” Lex answered, wiping away a trickle of blood from under his jaw. “I could have sworn I saw you grab the knife blade with your hand. You’re not cut?”

Clark held up his hands for inspection. “Nope. Missed me, I guess.”

Lex directed the driver to the penthouse then sat back and stared at Clark, marveling at his calm, until the boy squirmed under the scrutiny. “You moved fast. Have you had training?”

The questions seemed to make Clark more uncomfortable, but he answered, “Nothing formal. My dad taught me some stuff.” He looked somewhat hopefully at Lex, “You know, I did try to get work as a personal bodyguard, but I couldn’t get hired without experience.”

Lex nodded. “They’re highly sought-after positions. Very well-paying.”

“Yeah,” Clark mumbled dejectedly.

“I don’t keep bodyguards,” Lex answered the question that hung in the air, “But I would like to engage you for your other services.”

Clark’s eyes dropped in embarrassment, shame written plainly on his face. Lex felt exasperation swell quickly to irrational anger. His cock considered Clark to be sublimely fuckable, and the boy was clearly for sale, but this reluctant routine was going to wear thin quickly.

“Clark, what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

The raven-haired youth took his meaning instantly. “Trying to make money, obviously,” he shot back.

“And do you intend to continue doing so by giving it away for free?”

Confusion raced across the perfectly drawn features before Clark answered, “What do you mean? I haven’t done anything yet.”

Lex marveled at the level of naivete. “What do you think? That Sergei was doing you a favor?” He practically screamed. Christ, the boy needed a keeper. Which brought him back to the discussion at hand. He took a deep breath and asked more collectedly, “How much do you need?”

“Twenty thousand dollars.”

Lex raised an eyebrow. Quite a lot of money for a boy to need, but practically chump change to himself. Finally they were getting somewhere. “What does that get me?”

“What do you mean? You get… me.”

Lex noticed distractedly that they’d pulled into the penthouse’s underground parking. “Yes, I gathered that, Clark. For how long?”

Dark brows pulled together as Clark fidgeted in his seat. A truly terrible negotiator, Lex mused, but still he seemed to have somehow gained the position of power because he had Lex hanging breathless on his demands. At this point, Lex would probably agree to twenty thousand for a single blowjob from that unbelievable mouth.

“What do you think is fair?” Clark asked, chewing on his bottom lip, and Lex felt another smile spread across his face. His shark’s smile.

“Well, I don’t know, Clark. I’d have to see what I’m purchasing, first.” He let his eyes eat the boy alive for a moment before suggesting they continue their conversation upstairs.

“O-Okay,” Clark agreed, rapid breath hitching in a way that suggested anything but reluctance.

He had to give Sergei credit for one thing: the man had excellent taste.

“Let’s begin again, shall we?” Long white fingers extended towards him and Alexander’s patient smile drained some of his apprehension away. “Lex Luthor. And you are?”

Clark shook the offered hand, a smile twitching on his lips. This guy had seen him get blown and now they were going to play civilized? And Luthor. As in fertilizer-plant-owning, Metropolis aristocracy, slimy, deal-breaking Luthors? He shook off the stale, echoing curses Pete had made at every Luthor success they’d read about in the paper over the years.

“Clark K-” Clark looked at the floor, suddenly acutely aware that he was giving out his identity to a total stranger. A stranger who looked at him expectantly, and with soft, patient eyes. “Clark Kent.”

“Well, Clark Kent, it’s late and no doubt I’ll have a lot of ass-kissing to do come morning.” Lex—it fit him better than ‘Alexander’—tucked his hands in his pockets and lifted his chin. “Let’s get on with it.”

Lex was looking at him expectantly, all cool reserve and commanding presence. So fucking sexy even just standing there, and there had to be a catch because there was no way Clark was this lucky.

He slowly sucked in a deep breath, steadying himself. Apprehension twisted in his belly.

This was it—he was actually doing it.

Lewd scenes flashed across his mind and he saw himself sucking Lex off, tasting the come coating his throat as he swallowed hard, Lex pulling him to his feet, then pushing him down on his hands and knees on silk sheets, hands sliding over his hips to grip and yank as Lex drove inside. The tangle of arms and legs and sheets and sex in his head did nothing to soothe his nerves, even as the knot of fear low in his stomach changed to something… else.

Clark shifted his weight; the short-lived friction of a seam rubbing against his cock was a torturous tease. He felt his face heating, but guessed that Lex would probably be pleased that he was already ready for action. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who enjoyed waiting on other people to catch up.

“Well?”

Head jerking up, bringing him right back to the moment. Lex’s head was cocked to one side, impatience written on those beautiful features.

“O…okay. So what do you want? I can… I’ll do anything you want. You can do anything you want. To me.” His own voice sounded thick in his ears, young and shaky despite his resolve to do this.

Lex rocked back on his heels, smirking. “Your idea of ‘anything’ may be a bit… underdeveloped, Clark. Don’t make promises you’ll be unwilling—or unable—to deliver on.”

The warning was tempting, but no, he wouldn’t have any boundaries. He’d decided that early on, after listening in on the negotiations between other men and x-raying his way into macabre sex games in the back rooms of the bar. No rules warranted the highest price, the most payout for the least amount of ‘work,’ if it could be called that. And as much as he believed he would enjoy this, it meant he could get his life back to normal that much sooner.

“No, I know some guys like… like pain or control. Dom—domination. S&M. And, um…that’s fine. I’m up for anything.” Clark shrugged, trying to instill an air of casualness into a sentence he never imagined he’d say.

Lex’s eyes narrowed and his tone changed from amused to all business. “So you’re into those things?”

“I… don’t know.” This wasn’t about him anyway. “It doesn’t matter, really.” He was curious though, wanted to know what he was getting into. “Do you? Like it, I mean?”

“My taste varies. And it does matter, Clark. Don’t fool yourself into thinking that just because this is a business proposition, your trick shouldn’t care about your preferences.” Lex closed the space between them with a step forward. “You won’t satisfy many customers if you don’t participate in what’s happening.” A finger lifted his chin, Lex’s eyes searching his. “And I doubt you could pull off a ruse of pleasure. Those eyes don’t look capable of lying convincingly.”

Clark tried to keep his voice steady. “I… I wouldn’t lie to you.” It sounded like a lie, even to him.

Lex turned, walking across the room as he spoke. “No, I’m sure you wouldn’t.” Pouring a drink, Lex’s voice was smooth and confident. Demanding but not threatening. “Undress.”

Clark’s fingers went to the hem of his shirt, obeying before his mind could really catch up and wrap around the idea that another man was going to be looking at him naked, appraising him like cattle.

Shirt up and off, Clark stood up straight, flexing his muscles as subtly as he could. Lex’s back was turned and Clark bit his lip in anticipation.

Lex drained the glass he’d poured and turned, eyes sliding up his body with calculating slowness. “Good. And the pants?”

The pants? Fuck. Okay. Fuck. Why was this so hard? Why couldn’t he just distance himself? It’s not like Lex hadn’t seen most of him anyway, in the limo. God, and he must look like a fool.

Lex crossed to him, a small smile curling his lips. “You’re not shy, are you?”

Clark sucked in air as Lex’s cool fingertips tickled into the waistband of his pants, rubbing along his stomach.

“No… I’m just…”

Lex leaned in close to his ear, warm breath sending chills down his spine. “I promise this won’t hurt.”

Lex’s hands worked the button and zipper on his pants and Clark tilted his head back, eyes closed and pulse pounding in his ears as Lex mouthed the skin on his neck.

A hand slid into his open pants, cupping his cock and Clark reached out, hands connecting with Lex’s chest, then rubbing up to wrap on either side of his face. Before he could stop himself or even wonder if this was something Lex wanted him to do, his mouth was sliding on Lex’s, opening under the insistent push of a hot tongue.

Lips parted, eyes closed, Clark rocked into the hard grasp of the hand on his cock. He groaned against the open mouth that moved on his and barely caught himself as the hand and lips stilled then disappeared.

Clark opened his eyes and saw Lex licking his lips and shaking his head. “So fucking young.”

Looking down between them at the hardwood floor, he felt his face flushing with embarrassment.

“Maybe you should find another profession, Mr. Kent.”

His eyes connected with the mocking blue of Lex’s, and Clark held them fast, his nudity barely tugging at the edge of his mind. He was sick of the games, sick of being teased and humiliated. He obviously didn’t know what he was doing, but he was tired of bumbling his way through this conversation while Lex laughed at him. He was ready to have it over with, ready to fuck or be fucked and just… put it behind him. And after all of this, he began to wonder if Lex was just fucking with his head and really had no intention of going through with it.

“Look, this isn’t a lifestyle choice. It’s barely even a choice at all. I’m—I’ve never done anything like this and it’s obvious that you have, so just… tell me what your terms are.”

Lex filled the room with the straightening of his spine, with his fading smile and the mask of seriousness that fell over his face. Clark held his breath as Lex began to speak.

“One month. Ten thousand up front, another ten at the end of 30 days. Six evenings a week—Saturdays at my discretion—you’ll come here, or wherever I choose. We’ll see if your definition of ‘anything’ matches mine.”

A month. It was longer than Clark had expected. He’d known the average price for this kind of work from his spying at the club, but he’d expected his youth and virginity to be worth more. Lex was young himself, though, so maybe he didn’t care about that. Maybe he’d be happier if Clark had some experience.

Still, a month sounded good…short even. The price of month’s work, even this kind of work, seemed so little to pay for his mother’s peace of mind. He could do it—could manage some excuse about working in the city to answer any questions she had.

A month. Here, with Lex.

“Okay.”

Lex smiled wide and laughed. “You don’t have a father waiting on your porch with a shotgun, do you?”

“My dad’s dead.” Clark’s chest tightened, his heart thumping hard against his ribcage. “Can we just… get started?”

Lex stared at him for a moment, features unreadable, then stepped into the next room with a murmured, “Wait right there,” closing the door behind him.

Clark reached down and fastened his pants, then bent to retrieve his dropped shirt, checking to make sure the tag was in the back and slipped it on, grateful for the thin cloak of modesty.

Looking around the penthouse, he sank into the stark surroundings that betrayed no evidence of a real personality. He couldn’t believe someone with such a commanding presence lived in this dead space.

One entire wall was covered with a built-in bookcase and Clark resisted the impulse to check out Lex’s taste in literature. He was a little surprised to realize how much he wanted to know this man, understand him beyond his sexual preferences. The spines of the books glinted with gold lettering and he did recognize some of his favorites, some of the titles Chloe and Pete had scoffed at when they’d caught him curled up in his loft reading. His fingers twitched with the urge to pull the handsomely bound edition of To Kill a Mockingbird off the shelf and flip through it, looking for his favorite scene, but he didn’t move. He wasn’t here for fun. This was business.

He tuned in to the room that Lex had gone into and heard the silky voice giving curt orders.

“K—E—N—T. Right… I would assume somewhere near Metropolis, but that’s not been confirmed.”

The voice on the other end of the line didn’t hesitate. “Runaway?”

“I don’t believe so. Just get me the usual.”

“Everything I can lay my hands on?”

“Exactly. Tomorrow afternoon at the latest.” The receiver was hung up and Clark pulled back out of the room to the silence that surrounded him. He hadn’t budged from the spot where he’d been left, but when Lex appeared in the doorway again, he caught himself stepping backwards toward the entry.

His past—his secrets—were going to be examined by… Jesus, he didn’t even know whom. This was a bad idea, even with an employer he felt he could trust… fuck. An employer he knew nothing about, except what he’d read in the papers, and some of that wasn’t good at all.

He didn’t have resources—couldn’t run background checks. The trust he’d felt at Lex’s confident and careful handling of their arrangement wavered and fear washed over Clark like a wave.

It was done though, and Clark couldn’t back out now. He needed to make this work—had to make this work. Another opportunity like this might be months in the making. Or, hell, why not be completely honest? An opportunity like Lex Luthor was never going to come around again. To make all the money he needed with just one man, a man he couldn’t read well, but one he felt he could trust. And even if he did act like he couldn’t put two intelligent sentences together whenever Lex was in the room, his body responded automatically to the man, and Clark didn’t need any “professional experience” to know that a natural connection like that didn’t come along often.

He didn’t have a choice; he’d have to risk the investigation if he wanted to do this.

“So, um… should we get started?”

“Go home, Clark. Be here tomorrow at six—we’ll finalize this then.”

It was a forceful dismissal, one he was clearly not supposed to resist, so Clark turned on his heels and left, the mix of surprise, apprehension and self-satisfaction swirling in his head.

Lex poured himself a neat and liberal scotch from the heavy crystal decanter and determinedly refused to look at the bar clock glowing in the periphery of his vision. He’d be far better off if the boy didn’t come back tonight, so complete had been the error in his judgment. It hadn’t taken his father’s fury or even his cutting disdain over the all but blown Nabokov deal this morning for him to reach that inescapable conclusion.

“I suspect he would have put out for you, Lex,” his father had scoffed, “even without your white knight routine.”

Sergei had of course put his own spin on the evening’s events and Lex saw little to gain by defending himself on that point. The man would be dealt with. So Lex had sat quietly, jaw clenched in anger, and waited for his father’s lecture to reach a more productive level. Which it quickly did.

They agreed that the deal could be repaired with little more than a token show of contrition on Lex’s part—Nabokov needed Luthor Corp in St. Petersburg far more than Luthor Corp needed to be there, and both parties knew it. Cheap labor was plentiful in Eastern Europe, after all, but international corporations were hardly lining up to jump in bed with the Russian mafia, however profitable the venture might prove.

It was Lex’s dignity that took a rather harder hit than the deal last night, and not in his dealings with the crude Cossack. No, it was the ease with which a puppy-eyed teen from the sticks had manipulated him into the sweetest deal a rank novice in the field could have hoped for—twenty thousand dollars for a pretty virgin who might prove unimaginative and unenthusiastic, a bore beyond the undeniable pleasure of being the first to fuck him.

But Clark was pretty, and Lex woke up this morning drugged with the memory of his kiss, nervous and eager and unbearably innocent. Lex would pay for that…purity. Money enough to wallow in the decadence of taking it and exit with a clear conscience after he’d corrupted it.

He allowed the thought that’d gnawed at the edge of his consciousness all day to take form, wondered if Clark would show after having a day to think about their arrangement. He’d given Lex total latitude on all matters sexual. The canvas was blank and the palette full of rich, dark colors just waiting to be dipped into and spread there. Surely a boy like Clark would have second thoughts about what ‘anything’ could really constitute.

Lex’s investigators had delivered a thick file on the Kents before he’d even left for work this morning. Clark Kent was apparently the most anomalous, most inexplicably mysterious open book Lex had ever read. A straight ‘A’ student, son of organic farmers—Lex smirked, wondering if that would ever cease to amuse—reporter on his high school paper—Lex would have preferred him a few years older—and frequent accidental hero.

He’d been surprised to learn Clark’s intervention with Sergei last night wasn’t the first such incidence. In fact, he had an apparent knack for being in the right place at the wrong time, saving lives, putting out fires. But he’d been too late to save his own father in what was described as a ‘freak’ farming accident.

The police report stated Clark had just arrived home from school with a friend to find his mother screaming for him. In a rush of adrenaline he hadn’t merely lifted the three-ton combine; he’d flipped it, rolling it away. Or so the officer had reported. Lex was somewhat skeptical of that particular detail. Whatever actually happened, he’d been too late for Clark’s father, and over the last 12 months the farm’s debts had risen like a stagnant tide. The paltry life insurance policy on Clark’s father had been eaten away by debtors within weeks, and their land had been parceled off to remaining creditors until all that remained was the house itself and a few acres of surrounding orchards. And a mortgage with a balance very near twenty thousand dollars.

If Clark Kent didn’t deliver on the promises intrinsic to his sinful mouth and eager eyes, well, Lex had at least contributed to less worthy charities. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d gotten it all wrong. Perhaps he’d had more to drink last night than he thought, because surely no one’s mouth held that much promise.

Lex’s musings were interrupted by the low buzz of the intercom. He walked to the door of the penthouse and thumbed the button without waiting for the visitor’s name to be announced. “Send him up, Franklin.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Luthor.”

Wearing a variation on last night’s jeans and t-shirt, Clark looked much as Lex had recalled. Young and farm-fresh, with bashful downcast eyes, clutching a ratty backpack in big, likely calloused hands. Clark mumbled a “hey” in Lex’s general vicinity.

“Hello, Clark,” Lex said in an even tone, not moving from his spot. “You can put your bag down anywhere.”

Clark looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time, or perhaps as if he weren’t seeing it at all. Lex had to admire his courage in getting this far, as terrified as he clearly appeared.

“There’s a cashier’s check for ten thousand dollars on the table.” Lex nodded to indicate the long formal dining table behind Clark. “Your background check was in order, obviously. As we agreed, you’ll receive the remainder when the terms of our agreement are fulfilled.”

Clark dropped his bag on the table and touched the check with his fingertips, leaving it where it lay. He turned and met Lex’s eyes unblinkingly. “Thank you.”

“You didn’t tell me last night that you’re still in high school.”

“I’m 18,” he declared. “I’ve graduated.”

“You’re still living at home? Won’t your mother wonder where you’re spending your nights?” Lex searched Clark’s apparently open face for any hint of deception. Playing with a boy like Clark could leave some with the impression that Lex had vulnerabilities to exploit. That would be a mistake. “She won’t be phoning the authorities, I trust?”

Clark shook his head. “No, of course not. I told her I have a night job. She doesn’t expect me home.”

“A very well-paying night job. I’m sure she’d be proud. Then again, you’re a teenager. You probably don’t care what she thinks.”

The stricken expression on the boy’s face confirmed his blow was accurately aimed. A tremor slid through Clark’s voice as he answered, “No, she wouldn’t be proud. And yes, I do care, but… Lex, I don’t think our agreement included talking about my mom.”

“It’s not too late to change your mind, Clark. You’ve yet to do anything irrevocable.”

Clark squeezed his eyes closed and sighed deeply, then spoke with calm determination. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but… I need this money. There isn’t another way.”

Clark opened his eyes and Lex nodded his understanding, feeling something like sorrow for the choice the young man had made threading through the immense satisfaction he felt on his own behalf. He wanted Clark badly, his throbbing cock weeping a protest at the unexpected offer to let him off the hook.

Lex considered the tall, awkward farm boy shifting nervously beneath his regard.

Beautiful.

Exquisite. Breathtaking. Hot as fuck. There simply were not enough superlatives to do sufficient justice.

“I want to look at you, Clark. Will you take your shirt off for me?”

Polite courtesy was easily extended when there was no question of Clark refusing the request, and Lex’s cock twitched even before a golden expanse of skin was revealed. Clark dropped his shirt on the table behind him and flattened his tousled bangs in a disturbingly boyish mannerism.

Lex satisfied himself that there was nothing boyish in the broad muscular shoulders, smooth chest and small pebbled nipples, lean ribs and narrow line of silky dark hair that disappeared temptingly beneath low-slung jeans. Mesmerized by the blush that crept up Clark’s body, finally disappearing into his hairline, Lex set his drink on a side table that brought him closer to Clark, straightened and made the request he knew might be refused.

“Get on your knees.” Lex’s quietly-voiced demand was met with a slightly shell-shocked look. Not the best of signs.

“Wh…What?” Clark blinked at him.

Best to start out as one means to go on, Lex reminded himself when something that felt suspiciously like guilt washed over him. Guilt. Over asking his extremely well-paid amateur escort to suck him off. He could practically hear his father’s laughter ringing in his ears.

“I want to fuck your mouth,” he said, choosing his words with purpose. “That’s best accomplished with you on your knees.”

Lex’s earlier offer to let Clark off the hook was a mere courtesy; he knew this was the moment of truth.

But the boy didn’t hesitate to cross the short distance between them, stumbling past his own feet twice before he reached Lex and dropped heavily to his knees. Dark lashes fell to blazing cheeks a moment before large hazel eyes were lifted deliberately to meet his. So damned earnest, and what did he want Lex to see in their depths, he wondered?

It didn’t matter.

Lex threaded his hand through thick curls, rubbing the silky strands between thumb and forefinger before fisting, anchoring his hand in the warmth. His eyes roved over Clark while he released himself from his trousers with his free hand. Over flawless skin, honey toned and just as sweet, Lex knew with certainty. Over strawberry lips, full and ripe, begging to be tasted, and slightly parted in unconscious sensuality. A natural.

Gripping the base of his throbbing erection, Lex pulled Clark forward until the head of his cock bumped and slid across that mouth, leaving a slick trail that Clark’s shiny pink tongue hesitantly sampled. Clark’s brows furrowed at the new taste but after a moment he tilted his head back, exposing a long, supple throat, he and opened his mouth wider in blatant invitation. Lex didn’t disappoint. He held Clark’s wide, worried gaze as he slid into the soft, wet heat.

He felt Clark’s tongue move experimentally against the underside of his cock, stroking firmly against the long vein while Lex pressed further into the soft heat. Hazel eyes flared in panic when Lex nudged the back of Clark’s throat. He released Clark’s hair, slid his hand around to grasp the nape of his neck, traced the hollow of one perfect cheek with the other, and pushed resolutely past the resistance, into the maddeningly tight sheath of Clark’s throat.

Lex pushed until he was buried, until he felt Clark breathing heavily through his nose against Lex’s smooth belly. He waited there in that moment with Clark swallowing down his gag reflex, blowing hard and loud like a racehorse, throat muscles rippling along Lex’s hard length. Strong hands clutched at his hips, bruising him perhaps, but he was too far gone to be sure.

Gone in this boy’s body and his eyes; lost in the perfection of the supplicant before him.

His hips began to thrust of their own accord, seeking release. No chance he’d last long, not with Clark making noises, whimpering sounds that Lex could tell had as much to do with need as fear, and Lex closed his eyes against the sight of him sucking hard on his cock, cheeks hollowing with the effort, swallowing convulsively to bring Lex off. He threw his head back and listened to Clark moan low in the back of his throat, felt Clark’s moan in the base of his spine and his sharp thrusts became fast and sporadic. Felt his flesh swell and harden in the moments before he came down Clark’s throat with a hoarse cry.

Clark swallowed twice before choking on the thick liquid, releasing Lex’s softening cock to cough and wipe at his lips and chin with back of his hand.

Lex leaned heavily on Clark’s shoulders for a long moment before brushing the hair back from the boy’s face, wanting to see his eyes, body sated enough for his brain to click into damage control mode. “Clark?”

Clark was trembling beneath his fingertips, still licking his lips to rid himself of the remains of Lex’s orgasm. He turned his face up to Lex, blushing bright with embarrassment, eyes showing complete amazement. But his coy smile was something else, entirely. Clark was… pleased with himself, all but gloating over his success.

He’s mine.

Lex reeled slightly at the unexpected thought. One month. That was all the time he had with Clark, and more than he would need. He pulled himself upright and adjusted his clothing with practiced efficiency.

“I have some work to finish up, Clark. When you’re here, I want you to make yourself at home.” Lex tilted his head to indicate the entertainment center. “DVDs, stereo, CDs. There’s a bar in the corner. Sodas.” Lex briefly considered explicitly granting permission to Clark to drink his liquor, but decided against it. He wouldn’t stop Clark from doing so, but there were plenty of laws already being trampled without encouraging them.

He blindly retrieved his own untouched glass of scotch as he strode out of the room without a backward glance.

Rubbing his eyes to relieve the strain of sitting too long in front of a glowing screen—with the exception of his meals and Clark’s arrival he’d been on-line since being dismissed by his father this morning—Lex mentally played ‘connect the dots’. He couldn’t see exactly where they were leading him, but the path was taking him through some unsavory terrain. Sergei’s meltdown the previous night had solidified his previous unease about the St. Petersburg venture.

Lionel was convinced that they were dealing with one of the more established, non-violent factions of the notoriously powerful Russian mafia. The Nabokovs were deeply rooted in that city’s banking industry and had been doing business with the West for years, even before the fall of the Soviet empire. But under closer scrutiny, Lex could see a changing-of-the-guard had been taking place in the organization’s upper echelons. Whether Sergei was anomalous or an indication of the group’s new leadership had yet to be determined, and further investigation would have to wait till morning.

Lex clicked his laptop closed and reached for Clark’s file with a resigned sigh. He’d accomplish nothing more tonight; his mind was too firmly focused on the boy down the hall and the insistent ache in his groin.

He pulled the photo free of academic transcripts and financial statements and drained his glass of the aged scotch, savoring the rich amber liquid. Why should he have any more qualms about enjoying Clark than he would feel at pouring another glass of the expensive liquor? It wasn’t as if purchasing sex was unfamiliar to Lex. He’d never had to, strictly speaking, but he frequently chose it as a convenient route to physical release sans inevitably one-sided emotional entanglements.

But this was different. He’d never kept anyone before. He knew his father occasionally kept women, but for recreational purposes, Lex was more partial to men and hadn’t met one yet he trusted to be totally loyal. What was the benefit of keeping a partner long-term beyond the assurance they were and would remain clean? Lex frankly found the variety of his bed partners more than compensated for the annoyance of condoms.

Now Clark Kent appeared to be the exception to his rule and Lex was at a loss how to proceed. Contrary to his earlier fear, and despite Clark’s innocent demeanor, the boy was anything but unresponsive, and imaginative or not, Lex couldn’t foresee himself growing tired of him anytime soon.

How did such a boy reconcile selling his body with the rest of his life? By all accounts he’d had a Rockwellian upbringing, his father’s tragic death notwithstanding. Lex could imagine the difficulty of being a gay teen in a town the size of Smallville—the name said it all—but could that account for the apparent ease of this double identity?

Lex stood and stretched the stiffness from his limbs. He was being foolish, all but hiding in his office when the object of what was fast becoming an almost obsessive fascination was waiting to fulfill his every fantasy. It shouldn’t matter to him what the boy might end up feeling at the end of their arrangement. Pain or regret or shame—it didn’t matter. He’d offered himself up to Lex and the deal was done. That price was Clark’s to pay, and Lex vowed not to let it weigh on his conscience any longer.

He made his way down the corridor and found Clark sitting motionless in the dark, silent living room. He hadn’t turned on the TV or stereo, not even the lamp sitting within easy reach. Feet flat on the floor, all long legs and awkward clenched hands, he seemed to be shrinking in on himself, lost in his thoughts. Dwelling on Lex’s earlier power play, perhaps, and worrying over what was to come, and that couldn’t be good. Lex mentally kicked himself for leaving the boy alone so long.

Crossing to the bar to refill his glass, he asked, “Would you like a drink, Clark?” Good intentions crumbling like a house of cards.

“Um, I grabbed a Coke earlier.”

“I thought you might want something a little stronger.” Lex clarified. “To help you relax.”

“That sounds good.”

Lex could hear the smile in Clark’s voice. So maybe he wasn’t as far gone as Lex had feared. “Scotch okay?”

“I’ve never had scotch.”

Lex decided to interpret that as a “yes” and pressed the cool tumbler into Clark’s outstretched hand, his breath catching at the radiant smile Clark briefly turned on him from under a dark fall of bangs. He sank into the deep sofa, tucking one leg up to study the bent head, exquisite in profile. He laid an arm on the back of the couch and tugged gently at raven locks. Clark blushed lightly, keeping his eyes averted, fixed on the drink cradled in his lap.

Lex followed his gaze and swallowed a groan at the sight of Clark pressing the glass’s edge against the bulge in his jeans. Had he been sitting here hard for Lex all this time? A mere kick wouldn’t do, Lex mentally flogged himself.

“Clark, I’d like to take you upstairs now.”

“Okay.”

Clark quickly drained his glass before setting it aside and rising to follow him up to Lex’s suite at the head of the stairs. Lex turned the lights on, dimming them, wanting to see all of Clark but knowing he’d feel more comfortable without full light.

Lex watched, amused, as Clark nervously surveyed the room, done in tasteful if somewhat unimaginative beiges and blues, eyes touching on every objet d’art, fingers trailing over the burnished chests and bureaus—giving attention to everything but the room’s most striking occupant—the enormous down-covered bed that Lex stood beside, toeing off his shoes and unbuttoning his shirt while Clark moved to the full length window covering one wall.

He stood there looking out over the sparkling lights of downtown Metropolis for so long, Lex had to wonder what he saw in the view; if Clark felt any of the Luthor-inherent compulsion to conquer and own, to bend men, government and industry to his will. It seemed doubtful. Clark was more than likely only delaying the inevitable—a very un-Luthor-like tactic.

Lex breathed a small sigh of relief when Clark finally crossed to stand in front of him, gaze darting once to the bed before chasing back and locking relentlessly on Lex’s. Green and gold mottled eyes clung to him like a drowning man to a life preserver, and Lex’s lips twitched at the irony.

Clark lifted his t-shirt over his head again without being told, leaving them both shirtless and inches apart. Lex could feel heat pouring off the golden skin and ran both hands across the warm flesh of Clark’s broad chest, thumbs brushing hard little nipples before trailing down to deeply muscled flanks, delighting in the shiver that ran down Clark’s lean body.

He teased his fingers into the waist of worn jeans and pulled Clark in for a kiss, tongue lightly tracing soft, bee-stung lips before dipping inside the warm, slick cavern of Clark’s mouth. Clark’s tongue slid hesitantly against his and they both moaned at the contact, Lex probing deeper, lapping Clark’s teeth, the roof of his mouth, searching for a trace of himself, wishing he’d tasted Clark earlier in the evening before Coca-Cola and scotch had washed him away.

He nipped Clark’s upper lip before pulling away; noting Clark’s chest rising and falling more rapidly, big farm-bred hands clenching open and closed at his side.

“Do you want to touch me, Clark,” he asked softly.

“Yes.” Surprisingly soft and tactile hands were lifted instantly to Lex’s shoulders, squeezing lightly before sliding down the paler skin of his arms, lingering over the play of muscles as Lex unbuttoned Clark’s jeans. “Your skin is so soft. You’re really beautiful, Lex.”

Lex felt his cock harden at the breathy compliment and chided himself. “You don’t need to flatter me, Clark. That’s not what I’m paying you for.”

Clark jerked his hands away as if he’d been burned. “You didn’t forget that I am paying you?” Lex mocked softly. He didn’t know what game Clark was at but he was determined to make it clear from the beginning that Clark couldn’t expect to win. Lex was a master at all games worth playing—sexual or otherwise.

“No, I didn’t forget. I won’t forget.” Clark blinked rapidly and ducked his head, attempting to hide his distress by pushing his jeans and boxers down to the floor and kicking them away before moving trembling hands to the closures of Lex’s pants.

Lex leaned back, letting Clark strip him, and brushed off the uncomfortable sensation he had of being caught kicking puppies. Clark knelt in front of him, lifting his feet to slip off his socks after shedding the pants. Lex watched him take a calming breath before sliding dark silk boxers over Lex’s hips.

Clark gasped as he exposed Lex’s penis, engorged and completely smooth, hanging heavy in front of him. He looked up guiltily and Lex knew he’d guessed right. Clark had only just realized his baldness extended beyond his scalp; he’d been too understandably shaken during the earlier blow job to notice, and Lex had still been fully clothed at the time. He felt a hard smile settle on his face, daring the boy to comment.

Clark reached out to him then, innocent reverence in his touch. “You are beautiful, Lex.” Clark said, meeting his astonished stare defiantly. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

Blood pounded thick and sluggish behind Lex’s eyes and his cock throbbed with the sudden need to be inside this boy, fucking him, claiming him. He handed Clark a foil-wrapped condom from the nightstand, his voice sounding harsh in his own head. “Put it on me.”

Clark fumbled with the wrapper several seconds before finally ripping it and the condom apart in his shaking hands. He looked up apologetically and stated the obvious. “I… it tore.”

Lex grabbed another, tearing the foil wrapper open between his teeth and removing the latex sheath before handing it to Clark, glad to have his blood cooled slightly by the reminder of Clark’s inexperience. He wove his fingers through Clark’s curls before tracing the strong jaw, cupping his chin and forcing his head up to meet Lex’s eyes.

“Relax. It’ll feel good, Clark. I promise.”

The teen burned crimson. “I…aren’t I supposed to make you feel good?” Clark asked as he unrolled the condom clumsily down Lex’s length.

Lex laughed shakily, beating back the urge to fuck his way down Clark’s throat again. So tempting with the boy on his knees and blushing so prettily. “Oh, you will. I’ll make sure of it.”

Hazel eyes searched his face, and Lex couldn’t miss the fear in them, the first real fear he’d seen Clark show. His cock twitched, responding predictably to the sight of the angelically lovely, physically powerful young man kneeling vulnerable and frightened at his feet. Luthors were bred to conquer and fear was a goad to his ego. He wasn’t even sure whether his next words were designed to soothe Clark’s fear or stoke it higher.

“I won’t hurt you any more than I have to.”

Clark looked up at him blankly for a moment before a slow smile lit his face. “You won’t hurt me, Lex.”

Anger spurred Lex at the trust placed so naively into his care. “I will hurt you, Clark. It will hurt. But I’ll be as careful as I can be.” And still find my pleasure in your body, he didn’t finish. Clark would find out soon enough.

He pulled the younger man to his feet and pushed him face down on the cool blue sheets, unwilling to wait any longer. Straddled Clark’s legs and urged narrow hips up to stuff a thick pillow underneath before wedging a knee between long, heavily muscled thighs, forcing them wide apart.

He knelt between Clark’s legs and slicked his fingers and cock with lubricant from the bedside table, watching the supple back ripple as Clark strained to see behind him. Clark moaned low in his throat at the first press of a thick thumb into his ass, pulled a pillow closer and buried his face in it, clenching his fists in the soft down.

Lex wanted to protest, wanted to hear every cry and whimper, but couldn’t find the words. He slid the digit in and out of the clinging heat repeatedly, mesmerized by the sight and feel of the lithe body writhing beneath him, silently begging for more. Clark’s passage tightened momentarily as Lex slid his second thumb in beside the first, before easing into the sensation again. Lex rotated his thumbs, slowly twisting and pulling, stretching Clark. He bent low and pushed his tongue into the tight space opened to him.

Clark shouted his surprise, back arching violently at the unexpected touch. Lex moved one hand to the small of his back while the other pushed a thigh higher up, wordlessly demanding Clark submit, while his mouth continued to devour him. He laved Clark’s hole, tasting the almond flavored lubricant and the boy beneath until Clark relaxed again under his ministrations. Thrust his tongue in and teased the tight ring of muscle with his teeth until the skin of Clark’s back was slick with perspiration beneath Lex’s hand and his inarticulate babbling became a clear mantra:

“Please, Lex…please….please….Lex, please...”

Lex crawled his way up the glistening body, lapping at the salty hollow of a fluid spine, and lowered himself, hard cock nestling in the warm crevice of Clark’s ass. Tongued and nipped at Clark’s earlobe and teased, “Please what, Clark? Tell me what you want.”

“Please, just… do it.” Almost imperceptible shiver fluttered beneath Lex.

“Do it?” Laughter rumbled in his chest, and the body under him shuddered. “You want me to ‘do it’ to you, Clark?” Clark whimpered and bucked his hips back into Lex, who groaned and thrust hard in response. “God, you’re so fucking hot.”

“Fuck me,” Clark panted, twisting beneath him.

Lex quickly adjusted and slid home with one long, slow thrust, his own hoarse cry twining with Clark’s, engulfed in molten flesh, a tight velvet glove sheathing him. And he’d meant to give Clark a chance to adjust to him, but the lithe body was begging for him now, long legs spreading a fraction wider, knees seeking purchase on the soft sheets to thrust backwards.

Enthusiastic virgin, made for this—felt custom made for him—and Lex started to move. Slow, powerful thrusts and sweat slicked skin sliding back to chest. He pinned Clark’s arms above his head and nuzzled damp curls at the nape of his neck, every murmur and mumbled plea driving him harder, faster, more erratically into the pliable flesh.

Too much... too hard. Virgin... kid... Slow, Lex...Don’t hurt him. But he couldn’t stop, not even if Clark asked him to, and the sounds coming from the boy were all about encouragement, anyway.

“Don’t want to hurt you, Clark… brave fucking boy…oh, God, you fucking love it, don’t you,” he rasped, wondering how he could get deeper in the hot, tight body. So perfect, inferno’s flames licking at his skin, firing off every nerve ending in a bio-chemical chain reaction that shouldn’t feel any different than any other time he’d been here, but it did. Felt fucking unbelievable.

Lex braced one hand into the mattress and pulled Clark onto his knees, grasping both hips and pounding into him, brutal with his body and the boy’s. And Clark had to be hurting now. He had to be feeling this.

Awareness drew Lex back, reigned him in a notch; he didn’t want to hurt Clark, shouldn’t be using him so roughly. Clark was whimpering at the slowing of the pace, and he shouldn’t be doing that. Anger flared in Lex. Was Clark on something? Had he lied about being a virgin? Did it matter?

Lex stilled deep inside him, forehead resting between his shoulder blades, and drew deep gasping breaths into burning lungs. It did matter.

“S’good, Lex. Don’t stop,” Clark panted. “So close, please.”

“Am I hurting you, Clark?”

“Wha-?” Sexual haze a truth serum revealing only genuine confusion. “Please, Lex, I didn’t know… never imagined it’d be like this…so good.” Clark pushed back in unconscious incitement. “So close, Lex. I need it… need you.”

Lex groaned at the urgency of Clark’s pleas, at the thrumming body beneath him. He reached under Clark to grasp his rigid cock, stroking in concert with his own sharp thrusts into Clark’s ass, feeling his orgasm bearing down on him with surprising speed.

“Come for me, Clark,” a voice he didn’t recognize demanded, and Clark spasmed with a cry, body shuddering around Lex’s own pulsing cock as they spilled their orgasms, each trembling aftershock rocking the other until they were both completely spent.

They collapsed together, a sweaty, sticky pile of limbs on rumpled sheets, gasping for long moments until their hearts slowed, and Lex rolled off Clark onto his back, damp skin drying in the cool room. Finally, he stood and walked to the bathroom, disposing of the used condom and cleaning himself off before wetting a towel for Clark, who was still sprawled, loose limbed and all but comatose, across the greatest portion of his bed.

Lex climbed in beside him and dropped the warm cloth on Clark’s chest before leaning down to trail his tongue across the taut stomach, smeared with tacky come, promising himself a deeper taste of the addictive boy after he’d slept off a bit of his current lethargy.

Turning over, he beat his pillow into submission before pulling the covers up. Clark rolled over with him, not touching, but close enough that Lex could feel moist breath tickling his spine.

“Lex?”

“Yeah, Clark?”

“Should I—do you want me to leave now?”

Anguished uncertainty in the whispered question, and Lex found himself stunned by the response Clark engendered in him. There was an undeniable impulse to chase away Clark’s fears, to protect him from… what? From himself? From the bargain they’d struck? An impossible task, and one that was diametrically opposed to his own desires. Sending Clark home right now was the smart move, but it was the last thing he planned on doing.

“No. Get some sleep first.”

“Okay,” Clark replied, his relief evident.

The bed bounced under him as Clark eagerly shifted under the covers, finally coming to rest flush against Lex, one strong arm slipping around to stroke his chest, pulling him tight against the overgrown puppy Clark had apparently morphed into while he his back had been turned. Lex stiffened involuntarily at the unexpected and unaccustomed post-coital contact. The…cuddling.

“Is this all right, Lex?”

Shyly voiced query, but Lex was onto him now, and only snorted his response. Too tired, and entirely too satisfied with the situation to object, Lex drifted into sleep with the disquieting suspicion that he was as far out of his depth as Clark certainly was.

Rays of sun peeked through the curtains and warmed the carpet in bright ovals as Clark stepped carefully across the room. Dawn was just yawning wide over Metropolis and Lex Luthor wasn’t stirring on the pillow bunched under his head. The belt on Clark’s jeans clacked metallically as he lifted them, and he made a beeline for the door of the bedroom, closing it carefully behind him to avoid disturbing Lex.

He leaned heavily back against the wall outside the door, hair catching on the bottom of a light fixture and pulling a little as his head fell forward, shaking in denial.

He’d done it.

No longer a virgin, no longer an innocent kid from the sticks.

Looking up, he caught his reflection at the end of the hallway in a large, gilded mirror.

He looked… well-fucked.

Hair a tangled mop, but that was nothing unusual at this hour, chest youthfully muscled but still, still more underdeveloped than he wished it was. Stomach taut and flipping gently inside as he noticed his half-hard cock hanging heavily under a patch of dark curls.

He smelled well-fucked too, come and sex and lubricant mixing together into a sharp, musky cologne that he wished he could splash on every morning for the rest of his life. Sex was… something he knew now, something he could have and enjoy. Any intimidation he felt was quickly being worn away by the fast and furious workings of his mind. He wanted to know it all, wanted to feel it all. Wanted to turn and burst through the door, yank Lex out of his sleep and demand more now.

Chloe had warned him—told him that after she had done it, she’d gone a little mad with it. She’d wanted sex all the time, wanted more whenever she did have it, imagined having it with almost everyone just so she would know them that way, too. It opened an entirely new part of herself, an entirely new world full of the people she knew, but made her suddenly aware that she had never really known them at all. Not completely.

And now Clark knew Lex like that. Lex knew him like that.

It was backwards for them though, starting here but with nothing behind them to bind them to each other. The incident with Sergei hardly constituted the basis of a relationship, not to mention the ten thousand dollar check waiting for him downstairs, and Clark’s chest pulled tight at the realization that as wonderful as it had been, it had meant nothing.

His head knocked back against the wall and he gritted his teeth at the loud sound it made—hoped to God it didn’t wake Lex. He couldn’t face a distant employer this morning, and he was sure that’s the only version of Lex he would see if they met at the breakfast table.

Still, it had been incredible. He had been incredible—he’d made Lex feel so good and Lex had been so… considerate seemed too Puritan a word for the situation, but he had been. It hadn’t felt like just a fuck, hadn’t made him feel cheap or used or like a piece of meat. Maybe it wasn’t an emotional epiphany, but the sensations, the raw desires and reactions of his body as Lex touched him still echoed on his skin, sending electricity shooting through his veins.

The idea seemed ludicrous now, but in the thick fog of sweat and sex, he’d lost himself in the purest connection he’d ever felt with anyone.

He’d forgotten the farm and his mother and even the ten thousand dollar check on the table downstairs. He’d floated on the smooth stroking in his ass, the skin that slipped and rubbed wet against his, the sucking, biting kisses that weren’t anything but lust. And this morning, when a stray arm slid warm and heavy across his chest, it had taken everything he had to open his eyes and see his employer lying next to him instead of the boyfriend his sleep-lazy brain had let him imagine. He’d accepted the reality though, and rolled out from under the arm to make a silent and stealthy escape from a temptation that sat too bitter-sweet in the pit of his stomach.

Clark smiled shyly back up into the mirror, then grinned at the ridiculous sight of himself, debauched, analyzing everything like he should be wearing an inspector’s badge. Maybe he was going to go mad with fucking too, just like Chloe. Running a hand through his hair and smelling the sweat that clung beneath the sex scents, he shook his head.

He never would have believed that he would look forward to meaningless sex. But tonight was just fourteen short hours away, and Clark wasn’t sure he’d make it.

Slinging his jeans and shirt up over his shoulder, he sped down the stairs, pausing in the living room to dress before heading into the kitchen. A glass of water and he’d be on his way. Lex should have something, too—from the stark surroundings of the penthouse and the lean body he was beginning to know so well, he gathered that Lex didn’t indulge often, and there were no sweet, sugar-charged breakfast foods in the pantry, no cereal of any kind. He did find strawberries and yogurt though, and ice of course, so he whipped them up and stuck the mix in the fridge, using a decorative magnet to hold a short note to the door so Lex would know his breakfast was waiting for him.

Lex,

Hope I didn’t wake you. There’s breakfast in the fridge. It’s just strawberries and yogurt, but I thought you could use an energy boost this morning. Thanks for...

Clark paused—how do you thank someone for fucking you? His cheeks heated at the thought and he couldn’t help but grin a little, the memories of the night before flashing through his brain in a sexy montage. Clark closed his eyes and breathed deeply, then looked back down at the paper and sighed.

... everything. I’ll see you tonight.
—Clark

He stood there, staring at the note for half a minute, mind completely devoid of anything but the remembered softness of that perfectly blank skin.

Turning to pull his jacket from the back of the chair he’d hung it on, his fingers slid along the table, scooping up the check and folding it in half before his eyes could see the bold handwriting he knew was scrawled across it. If he thought about it, he’d leave it and never come back. No, he had to concentrate on the other part—the part that swelled and rose against the zipper of his jeans at the thought of a sleepy, willing, naked Lex who would wake and find him gone and maybe even miss him all day long.

“Mom, where are the deposit slips?” Clark rifled through the desk in the hallway, noticing the fat stack of unpaid bills, the really late ones thumb-tacked to a piece of corkboard by the phone.

“Mo-om!” He was excited, too excited to worry about the no-yelling-in-the-house rule his mother enforced with a flash of her eyes.

“I’m right here. Stop yelling!” There was the flash, and Clark answered it with a wide smile.

He turned, leaned casually back on the desk, the check dangling down by his thigh. “Where are the deposit slips?”

“In the bottom drawer. Why?”

Clark grinned, holding the check out for her to re