The crush of Metropolis’ privileged set, glittering golden and exotically scented, overwhelmed Clark in a way the hedonistic throng of Epitaph never had.

Slipping out of a circle of satin and Armani, he escaped to the richly appointed men’s room only to find it occupied by a somber, sharp-eyed attendant who looked him over critically. Not what Clark needed right now. He pulled the door of the last stall closed behind him and rested his forehead on the smooth dark wood.

Outside he could hear the soft din of the hundreds of people attending Luthor Corp’s Annual Leukemia Society Charity Auction – the lilting laughter of bejeweled women and the more resonant tones of gentlemen discussing business.

Gentlemen.

Right. Like Lionel Luthor who’d driven Clark into this pseudo-hiding with his hateful, hurtful barbs. And his son Lex, who’d stood complacently by as Lionel made a point to introduce Clark to Sergei and his St. Petersburg associates as Lex’s ‘bodyguard’, as if they’d never met before. Clark thought he’d rather be called a whore than laughed at for trying to retain a shred of dignity.

Lex. How could he have brought Clark here? How could he have thought this would be a good idea?

The outer door was pushed open and Clark caught the call for everyone to please take their places in the ballroom where dinner would be served. No way. Clark was not going to break bread with Sergei. He’d seen the seating chart and he and Lex were at the center table with the Russians, just below the long dais where Lionel Luthor would be presiding – looking down on them all from on high. It made Clark sick.

The flick of crisp bills sounded in the room. “Why don’t you take half an hour?” Lex’s low voice poured rich and thick into his thoughts, dismissing the silent attendant.

“Clark? Let me in.” Lex said through the stall door. Clark pushed it open to admit him to the spacious cubicle. Lex leaned back against a side wall, hands in his pockets, pleased looking half-smile on his face as he looked Clark up and down. “Why are you hiding in here?”

“Why do you think?” Clark knew he sounded petulant but he didn’t care.

“I think you’re upset about my father’s rudeness.”

“Yeah, that’s a start,” Clark laughed humorlessly. “Sergei grabbing my ass was the real high point, though.”

Blue eyes hardened to ice. “He what?”

Clark raised his brows in a kind of triumph. “While your dad was talking to you. Sergei said he still wants to fuck me. Offered me ten grand to ‘entertain’ him and his partners later tonight.”

Lex crossed his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing and distant. “Sergei’s going to be dealt with Clark. That was a given after his attack on me in the limo,” he said, his voice dropping threateningly as he continued, “But touching you again…you know I’d ruin him for that alone, don’t you?”

Clark shook his head in exasperation. He would never understand the Luthors’ way of doing business. It was like espionage or war or something. “I’m not going back out there, Lex. You never should have brought me here.”

“You’re going to hide then? Let them win?”

Clark knew a challenge when he heard one, but he didn’t want to rise to this one. It wasn’t so much what Lionel Luthor or anyone else thought about him, but the fact that Lex knowingly submitted him to this ridicule that hurt so much. He’d thought Lex respected him more than that.

“Clark,” Lex said more softly, probably reading the mulish expression Clark knew he wore.

“You out-class every one of them, regardless of our arrangement. Don’t ever let someone like my father make you feel you’re not as good as them, because you are.” Lex’s gaze shifted away, but Clark could detect a quiet warmth in his persuasive voice. “You’re a better person than anyone I’ve ever met.”

Clark felt himself flush at the unexpected compliment. “But why’d you bring me here, Lex?”

A wry smirk twisted Lex’s features as his eyes flicked over Clark’s body, encased tonight in a custom-tailored Hugo Boss suit that even Clark could admit he looked really good in. “I wanted to dress you up and fuck you in the men’s room.”

The crudeness of Lex’s statement felt like a blow, forcing the air from Clark’s lungs in a harsh gasp.

“It doesn’t reflect on you, Clark.” Lex pushed off his wall, stepping across the short distance that separated them, hands coming to rest on either side of Clark’s shoulders, but sill not touching – pinning Clark to the wall with piercing eyes alone. “It’s my kink. Something that sounded like fun because you’d be so shocked by it.”

His voice was a low purr and Clark could feel his cock begin to respond to the sultry words despite the protestations in his mind. “So worried someone might catch us, or if they didn’t, that they’d know what we’d done afterwards.” The sweet musk of Lex’s cologne filled Clark’s senses when he leaned closer to trace the line of Clark’s jaw with the tip of his tongue. Low, rough voice in his ear sending a shudder through Clark’s body when he continued, “Because you’re going to make the hottest little noises, while trying so desperately to be silent. And because you’re going to blush, remembering what we’ve done every time I look at you the rest of the night, and everyone will know what we’ve done, and envy me for it.”

“Lex…” Clark didn’t know how to finish. Didn’t even know how Lex could manage to get him so hard at the worst of all possible times and places.

Lex smirked through his command. “Drop your pants, Clark.”

He pulled back enough to allow Clark’s fumbling hands between their bodies. “Okay, Lex, but… but we have to be quick, alright?” He pleaded, heart trying to batter its way out of his chest in fear and excitement.

Lex’s smile deepened to something positively sinful, smoky eyes heavy lidded. “Well, that mainly depends on you, doesn’t it?” Sharp hips bumped suggestively into Clark’s hands and after he pushed his own pants and boxers down to his knees, Clark went to work on the closures of Lex’s pants.

He freed Lex’s swollen member, stroking the smooth length in his fist. Their sex scents rose in the warming space, mixing with the subtle fragrance of Lex’s cologne; Clark breathed in the heady scent, groaning deep in his throat.

Lex’s mouth opened, soft and wet under his and Clark dived in, tongue thrusting to taste Lex, a hint of expensive brandy wafting through his head on a warm vapor.

Hot hands slid under his jacket, finding and twisting his nipples through the crisp fabric of his shirt. Clark gasped into Lex’s mouth, throwing his head back against the stall’s wall with an audible crack.

God, Lex’s hands…

A throaty chuckle poured over him as those hands slipped under the hem of his shirt. One hand tugging slowly on Clark’s throbbing cock while the other crept back up to play with his hardened nipples, rolling them between deft fingers, teasing Clark out of his mind.

Lex nosed into the hollow beneath his ear, sucking hard on Clark’s throat, pulling the flesh between his teeth. He’d be disappointed to find he couldn’t mark Clark for everyone here to see, and a secret part of Clark regretted it, too. He palmed Lex’s scalp, thumbs mapping the bumps and tracing the fluttering veins through soft, delicate skin.

“Lex, please…” he moaned, eyes squeezed and head rolling on his shoulders.

Lex pulled back with a final lick to the sensitized spot. “Turn around, Clark. Take your jacket off. Put your hands on the wall.” Strong hands stroked the curve of his long hips, urging him around.

Lex’s jacket joined his on the back of the door, and Clark caught a maddening glimpse of creamy skin as Lex lifted the hem of his shirt to slick his cock. “God, Lex, you really had this planned, didn’t you?”

A slow smirk answered him. “Turn around, Clark,” Lex repeated, and Clark complied, bracing his spread hands against the cool tiles, jumping at the feel of wet fingers slipping into the cleft of his ass.

Lex fingered his hole briefly before slipping deep inside him, twisting and stretching. He could hear the wet sound of Lex stroking his own cock over Clark’s panting – his mouth slack against the cool wood. “Hurry, Lex.”

The fingers retreated, leaving an empty ache, both hands landing hard on Clark’s hips, heels pressing into his ass cheeks, opening him for the blunt cock head that pushed flush against him. His body resisted the intrusion for an instant before Lex slipped inside – thick, full press of flesh stretching him. Flash fires burned a path across every nerve ending in his body.

Lex was pushing in too slowly, torturously, and Clark reached back with one hand, grabbed Lex’s hip and pulled him hard until he was filled, spitted on Lex’s cock.

Lex moaned, “Jesus, Clark… so fucking tight.”

“Do it hard, Lex. Gotta hurry,” Clark panted, acutely aware of the temporary absence of the attendant and their empty places at the center table. “Fast. Fuck me fast.”

“Oh, yeah.” Lex pulled them back until he could bend Clark over at the waist and began to fuck him with long, hard strokes. “You fucking love it, don’t you Clark? Love my cock in your ass.”

“Unngh,” was all Clark could manage as he nodded. He did. He really fucking did love it.

The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping on skin, the obscene wet noises of Lex pushing and pulling, pounding into him, and the sharp grunts every thrust forced out of Clark.

Lex’s soft moans filled the spaces between his own gasping breaths, and he muttered obscenities that had Clark reaching for his cock. “Tight fucking ass…Hot…and tight…and mine…. You’re a fucking slut for me…Aren’t you, Clark?”

“God, Lex, please…” Clark watched his fist pumping his own cock, free hand supporting his weight, braced on one knee. Lex was scraping across his prostate with every long stroke in his ass, and pre-come slicked Clark’s hand.

“Say it, Clark…Say you love my cock in your ass,” Lex demanded, voice hoarse with the effort he was expending behind Clark’s doubled body.

“I do, Lex, God, I love it when you… when you fuck me,” Clark moaned, giving his cock a vicious twist that sent him off, milky spurts of come coating his hand and wetting the front of his shirt as he convulsed around Lex’s cock.

Lex held still deep inside him until his aftershocks subsided, then starting pounding into him again, silent and brutal – six, seven, eight strokes. He came with Clark’s name on his lips, breath harsh and labored as he spilled into moist channel.

Knees shaking, Lex pulled Clark upright and let the wall behind him support them both. His hands wrapped around Clark, caressing the sweat-slick chest, heaving in time with Lex’s, their hearts hammering.

Several minutes later, Clark looked down at the mess he’d made of his dress shirt, pants in a wad around his ankles, and laughed, still endorphin-high. “We’re going home now, right?”

The low chuckle was answer enough. Lex slipped out of Clark and used his handkerchief to clean himself off. “I’m afraid not, Clark. But don’t worry. You’re supporting a worthy cause.”

Clark didn’t ask if he was speaking of the charity or Lex’s sex drive. He didn’t need to. “Lex, have you ever heard the expression ‘payback is a bitch’?”

Steel grey eyes laughed at him as Lex slid his jacket on, and how was it possible he didn’t look even slightly rumpled? “Get dressed, Clark. I’ll meet you at the table.” He stepped into Clark’s space again and took his mouth in a final, thorough kiss, tongue hot and probing. Clark felt his traitorous body responding again, and groaned a protest. Lex smiled wickedly. “You can tell me how you plan to punish me over five hundred dollar plates of dried-out chicken and overcooked asparagus.”

Clark pulled out his own handkerchief as Lex exited the stall, wondering how on earth he was going to hide the evidence of his orgasm. The sound of running water filled the room.

“I’ve got to get out there. Wouldn’t do for me to show up late to my father’s welcome speech. Get cleaned up and follow me.” A hot, wet towel was handed over the door. “Okay, Clark?”

Clark glanced down at the mess on his shirt tails, irritation flaring for a moment, but he could hardly be mad – not when he’d enjoyed their adventure as much as Lex had. He shook his head and accepted the towel. “Yeah, Lex. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Good. You know the other reason I brought you? Because these things are a bore. I want your company out there. Don’t make me wait.”

“I won’t,” Clark grinned. Lex was such an autocrat, and how on earth he managed to make Clark want to follow his orders, Clark had no idea.

Clark was just finishing up his reparations when he heard the bathroom door open again. He hoped it wouldn’t be the dour faced attendant returned, but revised his list of evils when Sergei’s voice reached him through the still closed stall door. He was talking to one of his St. Petersburg associates in Russian.

Cursing his luck, Clark held still behind the closed stall door. He hoped they wouldn’t keep him too much longer. Maybe even more than Lex, Clark didn’t want to walk into the ballroom in the middle of Lionel’s speech.

He leaned back against the wall, closed his eyes and let the foreign words fill his ears. Russian wasn’t what he’d call a beautiful language, but it was interesting. The unusual cadence was familiar, too, since he’d heard Lex and Sergei speak a couple minutes of it in the limo. His understanding of the words was just another gift courtesy of the AI in his ship – and now the words flowed so easily in his mind that he almost didn’t recognize the sharp, guttural difference of the speech.

“The Luthors raise the bar for the term ‘ugly Americans’. Have you ever seen anything as ridiculous as Lionel’s hair?”

That was Sergei speaking, and Clark recognized the vitriol in his voice. Lex said he’d be ‘dealt with’, whatever that meant. Clearly Lex was a better judge of character than Lionel.

“The son is the worst – bringing his whore to an event like this.”

And that was one of the partners, washing his hands at the sink. Clark hadn’t cared enough to get their names.

“Yes, Lex – Lex is a problem. But the good news is, he is dispensable.”

“You aren’t sanctioned for that kind of action.” The man’s voice was cold. “This isn’t Russia, Sergei.”

“Nicholas, please. I wouldn’t act without the partner’s knowledge and approval. You should give it some thought, though. Lex Luthor sees things his father does not. He could be dangerous to our plans.”

Murder. They were talking about murdering Lex, Clark knew it! Fear and panic constricted his chest, and rage colored his vision blood red. He heard one of the men leave the room and x-rayed through the door to see who remained.

Sergei, zipping up his fly and moving from the urinal to wash his hands.

Clark stepped out of the stall behind the man and met his eyes in the mirror over the sink.

“Well, if it isn’t Alexander’s little prostitute. Are you servicing men in the toilets now? He doesn’t pay you enough.”

Super-speed enabled Clark to wipe the smirk of the bastard’s face that much faster, as he lifted Sergei by the throat, over his head and against the wall. Clark held him pinned there for a long moment, watching the crude mouth open and close in a useless quest for air, face turning scarlet red, eyes bulging.

Just before he would have passed out, Clark released his hold, and Sergei fell hard to the floor in a boneless heap. Clark resisted the urge to kick him in the ribs while he coughed up a lung at Clark’s feet.

“Listen to me, Sergei,” he said, smirking at the look of dawning horror on the man’s face when Clark addressed him in Russian. “If you hurt Lex in any way, I’ll make you sorry you did. Don’t you so much as look at him, do you understand me?”

Sergei had a hand at his bruised throat, and opened his mouth but nothing more than a squeak sounded. He nodded his understanding, eyes dropping to the floor.

Clark stood over him for a long minute more, a feeling of foreboding like a black cloud in his thoughts. The man couldn’t be trusted to keep his word, but what could Clark do, short of warning Lex?

Lex.

Shit, he was going to be pissed if Clark didn’t get out there fast. He gave the recovering man one more warning glare and opened the bathroom door onto the sound of Lionel Luthor welcoming his guests.

Martha & Clark discuss Lex (just before Clark gets the letter from Cadmus Labs).
This scene was deleted because it’s basically redundant, and because it’s a vast change in Martha’s characterization in this fic.

“Honey, why don’t you call Pete?”

Clark drained his glass of milk and stood to get a refill. “He’s in Edge City touring the campus. Won’t be back until Monday.”

“Well Chloe then. You guys could catch that new Keanu Reeves film.”

Clark snorted his freshly-pouring milk, wiping his face on his sleeve. “Sorry. And um, no, she and Lana are visiting Nell in the city – some annual school clothes shopping ritual or something.”

“Oh, well-”

“Mom, stop. I’m fine. I don’t need to be busy all the time you know.”

His mom looked down at the box of cling wrap in her hands, shaking her head. “I know you don’t, Clark. It’s just…” Her voice trailed off as she turned her back to wrap the plate of cookies.

“I know, mom. You’re worried about me. I should be out having fun instead of moping around here.”

His mom turned back to him, a weak smile on her face. “I didn’t mean-”

“That I’m moping? I know.” Clark pushed in the chair he’d been sitting in and snatched a cookie off the tray before his mom folded the wrap over the edges. “But I’m allowed to mope a little, right?”

“Of course you are. But, Clark…” She gave him an uncertain look, like she was dipping her toe in and waiting for the temperature to register. Clark raised his eyebrows and smiled, telling her the water’s fine, come on in. “Did he… did you…”

“Mom, it’s over. It doesn’t matter what I did and didn’t… it’s over. He’s a Luthor and I have secrets that could be valuable to him. Case closed.”

“No, case not closed, Clark.” His mom leaned back against the counter and crossed her arms on her chest. “You can’t just turn off your feelings. Why do you think I didn’t ask you to stop seeing him when I found out you were… well, together?”

“Mom, can we just drop it?”

“I knew then that he’d eventually find out about you, Clark. It’s going to happen – it’s maybe not that simple-” Clark shot her an incredulous glance. ”- okay, definitely not that simple, but it’s going to happen. Over time, people are going to find out about you. You just have to pick which ones do and which ones don’t.”

Clark scoffed and shook his head. “And you think Lex Luthor is a good candidate for alien secret-keeper? Mom, he’d sell me.”

His mom’s face fell, then tightened with a sternness that Clark normally didn’t question. “He would never sell you.”

He was tired of this, tired of being convinced that Lex hadn’t really meant to fucking break his heart. “How do you know? You spent one hour with him and he completely disregarded every agreement we had about what… um…”

Whoops.

“What you were going to tell me? Yes, I guessed that from your reaction afterwards. But he was honest, Clark. He didn’t lie to me – didn’t even try. And that couldn’t have been easy for him, given the circomestances.”

Clark gripped the back of the chair he was standing behind, careful not to break the wooden rung of its back. “So he was honest once in his life. He could have been thinking about business – about what he needed to say to pacify you until he-”

His mom pushed off the counter, hands landing squarely on her hips. “Pacify me?! Clark Kent! Did I need pacifying?”

He smiled just a little. It was ridiculous. His mother, defending the man that a month before, she’d thought was paying him for sex, even after she’d found out it was basically true.

“Mom, you know what I meant.”

“He wasn’t trying to pacify me, Clark. He was letting me in.”

And that was it, right there. He’d thought the same thing. Lex was so closed off, so rigid and defensive that every tiny insight into his soul was like a gift. He’d hung on every one of them, and apparently, so had his mother. But just because Lex had given him something, it obviously hadn’t meant that he intended to give him everything.

Clark slumped into the chair, eyes lowered to a pale stain on the tablecloth. “He doesn’t know how to let people in.”

“Yes he does, sweetie.” His mom’s fingers guided a stray lock of his hair behind his ear, before slipping under his chin, lifting it so their eyes met. “He just doesn’t know how to let people stay.”

Clark stared at her understanding expression until tears made him blink, then he stood, shoving the chair back noisily as he moved to get his coat from the hook by the door.

“You can’t teach an old dog new tricks, mom. Lex Luthor will marry his…” he wanted to say whore, and how ironic was that? ”... Victoria and forget all about me. It’s for the best, trust me.”

Clark pushed the door open on squeaky hinges, then thudded down the stairs. He could be at the Talon in under a minute, and Lana would be there with a cup of legally addictive stimulant and those big, beautiful eyes. That gentle voice would sooth him with trivial concerns, cares that normal people had.

He could find comfort in the fact that she still didn’t know about him, even after all these years. And if she still suspected something, she never openly questioned him. She’d exchanged the desire to really know him with the desire to have his constancy in her life a long time ago. Their friendship was easy, simple.

Superficial.

Safe.

Lex loves Clark (sometime after their last night as employer and employee).
This scene was deleted for its GRA-TU-I-TOUS SEX.

Piercing green eyes and the full stretch in his ass were the infinite scope of Lex’s universe. He knew his eyes were closed, but he could still see Clark’s, flecked with golden light, boring into his soul. His back arched sharply with every slow thrust of slim hips, the bed beneath him melting away to nothingness. Like floating on clouds, safe in Clark’s strong arms, anchored on his cock.

Silky tendrils of hair brushed his nose, and he breathed in the clean scent, his fingers sliding into the warm haven to pull the boy in for a kiss. Clark wanted control, and Lex gave it more eagerly than he ever had, delirious with the sheer perfection of the moment. Clark’s insistent tongue, lapping at the roof of his mouth, slipping wet against his own, lush mouth sucking at his lips and tongue, devouring him.

Lex moaned under the sweet agony of Clark’s onslaught, his ass burning from the unaccustomed use. How long Clark had been riding him, he couldn’t remember; it seemed like forever, and he prayed for it to be true. And if there was a God in heaven He would surely grant him this wish, after letting Lex soar so close with one of His very own angels.

Lex smiled at the fanciful thought under Clark’s hot, hungry mouth, the skilled tongue exploring his small scar with admirable attention to detail, sharp teeth nipping at his lips between soothing licks.

Clark pulled back, arms braced on their ethereal bedding, and Lex opened his eyes, breath catching at the unearthly beauty above him. Clark’s eyes were squeezed tight, lean, muscle-corded body straining as he began to thrust faster into Lex, sinful lips parted and panting.

Lex lifted his legs higher, tighter around the boy’s ribs, taking him deeper into his body. His hands stroked down Clark’s back, smoothing over the play of powerful muscles, the burn in his ass radiating outward, the sun breaking free to warm him body and soul.

“Clark, I love you,” he moaned, orgasm washing over him unexpectedly, his untouched cock spurting warm come across both their bellies.

Blood pounded thick in his ears, a physical reminder of their earthbound state, and Lex stretched against the firm mattress under his back.

Something was wrong. Clark was still and hard inside him.

“Clark?” he opened his eyes to see a look of purest agony on the beloved face.

“You can’t love me, Lex,” he said, tears tracing down his face, falling like acid onto Lex’s skin. “I’m not real.”

Lex shook his head, not understanding, heart breaking at the raw open wound Clark had become at his words of love.

“None of this is real, Lex,” Clark continued, looking towards the bedroom window. “Just ask your dad if you don’t believe me.”

Lex turned his head to the penthouse’s huge window, knowing the cityscape below like the back of his own hand, and screamed at the sight of Lionel hovering outside, eighty stories above the ground watching them with an amused grin on his face, raising a snifter of brandy in toast.

He bolted upright in bed, heart hammering so forcefully in his chest he thought he might die of his terror. He was covered in slick sweat and sticky come, the nightmare still present in the room, fluttering about him on phantom wings.

“Lex?” a sleepy voice called to him, cool hand running down his back. “Are you alright, love?”

He got out of bed without looking at its source. “I’m fine, Victoria. Go back to sleep,” he said as he made his way to the bathroom and a hot shower.

A dream analyst wasn’t required to tell Lex he was completely fucked. Smirking at his own mental pun, he stepped into the hot spray. Clark was making nightly appearances in his dreams, and Lex’s declarations of love were just as regularly scheduled.

He couldn’t mean them, of course. Dream-Clark was right. He wasn’t real; none of it was. Lex scrubbed a washcloth hard over his sensitive skin, washing away as much of the dream as he could. The declarations, like tonight’s Lionel apparition, were reminders about how vulnerable he’d let himself become during Clark’s month here.

Warnings, one might say.

He’d have to be more careful when Victoria was gone and Clark was back in his bed.

Soaping his stomach, he smiled at the come that dissolved and slid down the drain. Lex Luthor, having wet dreams at his age. His father would be laughing if he knew.