On the Road to Gotham

Five weeks and Whitney no longer noticed the possessive hand on his back or arm; expensive cars and restaurants became as commonplace a daily occurrence as the paparazzi determined to chronicle their romance in the society pages. The detective photographed well and exhibited the blind fortitude of a celebrity in his ability to ignore the media. He did not frighten, nor preen, and in truth, rarely gave a reaction at all.

Lex was pleased.

Of course, Whitney’s exposure was carefully censored. No mention was ever made of the news station that let die their story idea of ‘A day in the life of Lex Luthor’s detective’ after a phone call from one of its primary stockholders. Dating a billionaire was never easy, but Lex was determined to closet Whitney from as much of the distasteful aspects as he could and was willing to use whatever means proved most expedient to do so.

Not that Lex had remained the antiquated Victorian gentleman. He wasn’t courting an abstract. Whitney was blunt and smart-mouthed, and wholly beautiful flesh and blood. His bottom lip was angled to be nibbled upon; he was ticklish behind his ears when laved with a prickly damp tongue, and his nipples would harden at the softest caress. The sounds he made when worship was given to his delightful body . . . Lex did not abstain through reluctance but rather expectation. In a twisted sense he was courting himself. With blushing trepidation Whitney had admitted to never going past second base with another guy. A boy from Texas had introduced him to his prostrate on a warm night in Naples. One finger and Lex wondered about his obsession for Smallville virgins.

Thankfully, Whitney was at the other end of the spectrum from Clark. Oh, both were tall and beautiful, heroic, and polite as only Mid-Western farm boys could be, but the distinguishing similarities ended there. For all his gentleness and eager submission to Lex, his blond was a cynical, combat hardened pragmatist. Though he was rarely given any graphic details, Lex knew that Whitney had lived and fought amongst the dregs of humankind when he served with the Marines and that he in part still did as a police detective. Whitney knew what a person was capable of, what barbarism they could sink to. He knew and still went out every day to save those that he could.

Clark, for all the millions that he saved as Superman, did not understand the small mean lives he rescued. In his colorful costume he descended from on high, his saddened, stoic visage one of endless compassion, but never empathy. Even as an earnest farm boy in Kansas whose adopted parents had struggled to provide him a normal life Clark could not understand why people committed horrendous acts on one another. Whether it was his being an alien or Martha Kent’s cooking, the man did not possess an iota of evil intent, and without the potential he could never comprehend the act. For a man as flawed and vice-ridden as Lex Luthor loving Clark Kent was easy. Living with him in a committed relationship proved impossible, not if they both were to achieve their destinies.

Accepting that truth had killed something fragile within Lex.

He was too old and too experienced to delude himself into believing he was in love with Whitney. The thought of the word made his lip curl and darkened his mood. No, he would not love Detective Whitney Fordham. He would satisfy his lover’s wants and needs for the lifetime he intended to spend with the man, and in return would possess a companion who nearly met his every pleasure. Men married heiresses for the convenience of their form and bank accounts. He was arguably arranging a similar partnership, but since he was possibly the richest man in the world, his marriage was one of self-interest and desire. In this, in Whitney, he would satisfy himself. Love he would leave to those of too little worth to value anything greater.

Five weeks and Lex inwardly smiled as he stepped into his study to see the object of his affection playing with a glass ball from his desk. In faded, thread-bare jeans, battered loafers, and a soft to the touch looking sweater Whitney stood out amongst the expensive décor. As it’s most treasured ornament.

“Good evening, Whitney. How was your flight in?” His voice drew the blond’s attention, dark blue eyes lighting up as they lifted. It was addicting, this warm joy at the sight of him, Lex Luthor. The bauble was discarded to its original placement on the desk, the absentminded precision not lost to Lex so much as catalogued under ‘Whitneyisms’ and summarily ignored. Easily done with an energetic bundle of passion suddenly in his arms.

A few minutes later Whitney pulled away to breathe, his grin satisfied and wet. “Hey there. Missed you. Trip was fine. Can we watch Scrubs?”

The puppy dog eyes earned a stern glare, but Lex silently acquiesced to sitting through a Thursday night of plebian humor. It was a small concession in the dealings of their relationship and was greatly compensated by Whitney’s penchant to cuddle during prime-time. And since he’d decided it was past time to consummate their relationship, keeping Whitney in a good mood was in his best interests. All these thoughts and more, mostly x-rated, went through that bald head, but all he said was, “Dinner first.”

Large, thin boned hands squeezed his hips, Whitney leaning in to buss him lightly. “Okay. What are we having?”

A gentle caress to the soft knit covering that well defined chest and Lex stepped away. He loved having Whitney close, of being able to touch him whenever and wherever he chose, but sometimes he needed space to re-group. It was not in him to show affection all the time the way his lover could. Thankfully, Whitney seemed to understand, his hands slipping away to bury themselves in the front pockets of his jeans.

“I believe the chef mentioned filet mignon,” Lex said as he circled the blond to his desk. His laptop was closed and he left it that way. Very early in his pursuit of the detective he’d promised himself to give Whitney’s time to Whitney. “I believe the menu for the weekend has been specifically tailored to your tastes.” Reaching into one of the top drawers, he pulled out a long thin box. “The way the staff spoil you, they must want you to stay.” He didn’t mention that Whitney received more attention than any of his previous lovers. The help honestly liked the easily pleased detective, sending their message of approval clearly to their astute employer.

“Ah, they’re just trying to get me on their side,” Whitney dismissed, his eyes narrowing as Lex came back around with his box. “What’s that?”

Perching on the edge of the desk, Lex beckoned with one crooked finger. “Come here, Whit.”

A blond eyebrow arched, but Whitney was always willing to be entertained so he came. Lex kept his ankles crossed, long legs stretched out, leaving Whitney little choice but to straddle him. With his directing hand the bald young man reached around to cup that firm posterior and pull his blond closer still. Whitney gasped a curse as their groins crushed together and Lex smiled to feel him harden.

“Lex!”

“I like you here,” Lex murmured. He squeezed the ass cheek he’d palmed hard enough to elicit a yelp and a helpless thrust against his own burgeoning erection. The pressure was exquisite and he watched Whitney clench his eyes shut and bite his bottom lip. Hands had wiggled out of their pockets to brace against his shoulders, making it easier for Lex to straighten and reverse their positions. Whitney laughed with the grace of their movements and sat himself fully on the desk.

“No distracting! What’s in the box?” Whit demanded, squirming as Lex’s hand slipped up from his ass to under his sweater, fingers skirting cool across his warm flesh.

“No distractions, hmmm?” Silvery blue eyes glinted and that wandering hand found its way to the front of Whitney’s jeans. A sharp tug and the metal button slipped free. The zipper, arching over sensitive flesh, took more delicate handling, but soon fell apart.

“N-no,” Whitney stuttered, “No di-dis- fuck, Lex!” The blond started up at the firm grasping of his semi-hard cock, drawing it from the opening in the front of his boxers, but he couldn’t move far with Lex pinning him to the desk.

“Open your present, Whitney.” Lex pressed the box into Whitney’s chest, prompting a trembling hand to fumble for it. He kept his grip on the golden shaft light, applying just enough pressure to encourage Whitney to full hardness. “Open it.”

Panting softly, the blond head dumbly shook. “Lex, not, please, oh God, Lex please.”

“Open the box, Whitney,” his lover ordered, reinforcing his words with a hard squeeze, “Open the box and put on your present or I’ll keep you like this for the rest of the night.” How he would accomplish such a feat he left unsaid, knowing his lover was still too virginal to homosexual sex to be threatened with cockrings and dildos.

Whitney whimpered and fumbled the box open. Inside, nestled on a lining of purple satin was a silver and black watch. It did not look costly, but that was one of the expenses Lex had paid. Plain and elegantly masculine, it was a digital timepiece that could easily adorn a police detective or an understated millionaire. It also housed several thousand dollars worth of technology capable of among other things, tracking its wearer’s movements and monitoring his life signs. For a man who had to control every aspect of his life, it was a compromise to his lover living a life apart from him.

“A watch?” Whitney sounded incredulous.

“I remembered you lost yours a few weeks back.” His glance went towards the still bare thin wrist as his hand started a languid rhythm.

“Y-yeah. It’s nice, Lex.” He tried hard to keep his tone as casual as Lex’s and his lover rewarded him for it, leaning in to take his mouth in a hard kiss.

“Then I paid well for it. Put it on, Whitney. I’m certain you won’t lose this one.” The blond finally did as asked, clicking the ends together and unwittingly activating the magnetic seal. It would take more than human strength to tear the timepiece from Whitney’s wrist. Lex smiled and slid to his knees, deep throating the younger man to the root. Whitney’s startled scream echoed off the walls as he orgasmed, precluding the many that were to follow that night.

***
Swallowing all that he gave, Lex licked the spent cock one last time before easing his way back to the head of the bed. Whitney lay spread out across the satin sheets, his golden flesh adorned with love bites and bruises, glistening with sweat and the oil Lex had devoutly massaged into the lean muscles. A tremble shook the long limbed frame, but the familiar touch of its owner’s hand calmed it. The eyes that met his were glazed with pleasure and a hand reached to pull him down, but Lex refrained, catching the hand offered and drawing it over Whitney’s head.

Dinner had passed in a blur for Lex, his mind solely focused on the evening ahead. From the blush that had ridden high across Whitney’s cheeks throughout the meal, Lex imagined he had been similarly distracted. He certainly hadn’t protested being dragged from the table halfway through dessert, Lex’s control snapping over the chocolate dipped strawberries. The man had been lucky he wasn’t taken bent over the table.

“Lex, please,” Whitney begged, but his lover ignored him for the moment. Taking up his other hand, Lex admired the band of silver that slid down the leanly masculine forearm. Whitney was slightly taller than he was, and broader of shoulder, but his muscles roped instead of bulked, giving him the lithe physique of a runner or swimmer. After careful study and examination Lex felt confident in deeming his lover beautiful. He had initially wanted to label him ‘gorgeous’, but there was something chintzy and transitory to the word. Many of the models he’d bedded had been gorgeous and known their looks were going to be as short-lived as their careers. Beauty lasted and for the first time in too long Lex thought of his lover ten years down the road and didn’t have the urge to wash himself.

The watch shone against the dark bedclothes. The raiment was simple and elegant, and suited his lover perfectly. “Keep your hands up here.” After Whitney nodded, fingers curling into the pillow, Lex reached again for the oil he’d earlier set aside. “Keep your legs spread, but bend your knees a little more. Good.” Whitney was sufficiently relaxed to take one finger with only a small grimace. “Does that hurt?”

“No,” the blond grunted after a moment, shifting around the finger shoved deep into his ass. “Just feels weird. Achy.”

Two fingers and Lex took his time stretching his virgin lover, partly because he wanted Whitney to feel as little pain as possible and partly for the enjoyment of knowing Whitney’s body. Listening to the blond whimper and moan in point to the repeated penetration Lex felt himself begin to leak pre-come as he thought of finger fucking the young man for hours. Just this, possibly in his study while he tended to business, Whitney draped over his lap and ball gagged so Lex could use the phone. It could become the standard practice for when he called his father.

He practically purred at the mental image and added a third finger. Whitney grunted softly and his lover rubbed soothing circles into the tensed stomach muscles. “Just a little longer.”

“No! Now, Lex, please, now!” Whitney panted.

No sweeter sound than a beautiful man begging to be taken. Removing his fingers, Lex lubricated his thick shaft and moved into position. Heavy blue eyes fluttered open as he lifted those long legs over his shoulders and pressed the spongy head of his cock to his lover’s loosened opening. As he pressed in Whitney’s back arched, a low wail escaping from between clenched teeth. By slow increments Lex buried himself in his lover’s spasming heat, pausing with each inch gained to give Whitney a moment to adjust until he bottomed out. So terribly tight and Lex fought not to come.

“Whitney?” A dozen questions squeezed into that grunt of his lover’s name. He tried to hold still, to give his younger lover all the time he needed, but he couldn’t stop the gentle rocking of his hips. The blond’s eyes were tightly closed, tears spiking the long lashes, and his grip on the pillow was white knuckled, but he made no move to shove Lex away. “Whitney, answer me.”

His good little soldier tossed his head but obeyed. “I . . . too full, Lex. Please, it hurts.”

“I know, baby,” Lex soothed, stroking his flanks, the taut muscles of his thighs. “The first time is the worst. Just relax and take me in.”

Whitney sobbed and writhed beneath him, and Lex knew he wasn’t going to last. Easing partway out, he reached for the nightstand drawer and took out a leather cockring, fitting it to himself with the ease of practice. Wide blue eyes watched him until he thrust back in, the blond head pressing back into mattress with a sharp cry.

“What?”

He understood. “A cockring. It stops you from ejaculating. I’ll have one made for you, with diamonds and sapphires, I think, with your initials and my stamp of ownership.” A broken moan answered him, and he started up a rhythm of slow, deep strokes, letting Whitney feel his cock take possession. A slight adjustment in angle and Whitney yelped, hips bucking hard.

“Oh!” Lex held himself there, letting his lover enjoy that first spike of pleasure. Dark blue eyes were squeezed shut as the wave rolled through him, slowly blinking open as he realized the pleasure was fading, not building. Confusion wrinkled his nose, then he frowned. “Lex. If you don’t do that again, I’m going to hurt you.”

“At your command, my own.” With a laugh he complied, making sure he continuously stroked over Whitney’s prostrate. The blond writhed and bucked beneath him, arching into each thrust with small cries of want. Ass muscles squeezed and massaged Lex’s length, making his balls ache, and he grunted, the greed of his orgasm clawing at the walls of his restraint. His instincts had been right: Whitney was a born bottom.

The room echoed the sounds of their passions, flesh smacking flesh as Lex pounded into his lover with abandon. Whitney screamed hoarsely as he came, a dry orgasm that massaged his lover’s pistoning cock. The billionaire rode him out, eyes closed in the ecstasy of forcing contracting muscles to submit, to open to his conquest.

Sliding to his knees he hunched over the lithe blond, rabbit punching his fuckhole as he shifted his grip to Whitney’s hips. Arched over Lex’s thighs Whitney’s body convulsed in aftershocks of pleasure, the repeated hitting of his prostrate not letting him come down. Long golden legs jerked and kicked, and Lex changed pace, going deep and hard. He barely broke his rhythm freeing himself of the cockring, groaning as his balls painfully tightened. Orgasm rushed through him and he threw back his head with a punctuating shout, feeling the head of his cock explode as he buried his seed deep into Whitney’s body. Pleasure whitened out his senses and he lost himself in the perfection of the owning.

When he drifted back it was to feel his hips still lazily thrusting and trembling hands ghosting over his face. Blinking open his eyes he stared down at his lover, reality slowly trickling back into a whole sensation. Whitney was biting his lower lip, squirming on the penis still embedded in his body, and Lex faintly realized his lover had to be feeling sorely used.

“Lex, are you with me yet?” the blond softly asked, stroking his cheeks as the older man continued to stare at him.

The words brought Lex back fully and he shook his head, leaning down to languidly enjoy his lover’s mouth. Whitney moaned into the kiss, but opened his mouth willingly. After a few minutes the bald man pulled back, peppering his lover’s face with kisses. “You are absolutely fucking perfect, Whitney.”

“You weren’t too bad yourself,” the blond blushed.

Lex sat back, sweeping his hand down Whitney’s front as his other hand possessively cupped his lover’s spent organ. “I have not come that hard in years, baby. Trust me, you are perfect.” He spoke the complete truth. Just thinking of having his detective again made his cock jerk in interest, but he knew Whitney was near sleep. The blue eyes were starting to glaze, the sweat on the lean frame starting a shiver as it cooled.

With consummate gentleness Lex withdrew from his lover’s body, not surprised to see his penis slicked with blood. Whitney hissed and tried to pull away faster but his more experienced lover held him still. “Shhh, don’t fight me. You tore a little, but that happens. I’m going to get a cloth. Roll onto your stomach for me?”

Whitney nodded and when Lex returned from the bathroom he stopped a moment to admire the debauched sight. Legs slightly splayed open the blond’s well fucked hole was right there for him to see, pinkish tinged semen gushing out with each exhale to glisten over his genitals and thighs. There were hand shaped bruises already blooming across his hips, thighs and virtually everywhere Lex had taken hold, his possession blatant across the length of Whitney’s body.

He carefully climbed onto the mattress to straddle his lover, whispering soothing nonsense as he gently cleaned away his seed. Whitney tensed as his fingers probed his loosened hole, but Lex’s other hand rubbed circles in his back as he felt about for the damage he’d inflicted, finding only a small tear. A smearing of antibiotic ointment took care of that and he tossed everything to the floor to stretch out alongside his lover, dragging the blankets up from the floor. Whitney shifted to face him, mostly asleep as he snuggled close. The warmth built between them and Lex followed his lover into sleep with a last kiss to his sweat dampened hair.
sSs
TBC.