A Smallville Valentine's

Valentine's Day: Evening

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"How dare you!" Lana glares at him.

Clark automatically turns his head with her half-hearted slap. He licks his lips, tasting the over-ripe strawberry flavor of Lana's lip gloss. He grabs a glass from the nearest guy with a silver tray, and downs it to get rid of the taste. Clark chokes and coughs. He stares down at the empty glass. What the hell was that? Rocket fuel? It tastes even worse than the lip gloss.

Lana curls her small hands into fists. Tears shimmer in her eyes. "Clark, how could you? What's wrong with you?"

"You don't love Lex. You know you don't. Did all those billions win you over? How many trips to Paris did it take, Lana?" Clark glances over his shoulder at Lois. "What do you think, Lois?"

"I think there isn't enough money in the world to be worth marrying Lex." Lois rakes a pointed stare over Lana's white dress with its high waist line and loose drape. "I didn't know that they made maternity cocktail dresses."

"This," Lana smoothes the front of her dress, drawing attention to the flat lines of her stomach, "is an empire waist." She gives Lois' half-fastened shirt and mini-skirt a disdainful look. "It's a classic style."

Clark checks out the circle of Luthor flunkies as Lana and Lois continue sniping at each other behind him. Chloe stares back at him; her wide blue gaze is full of hurt, worry and anger. Half hidden by the folds of her evening gown, her hand is locked firmly around the wrist of the tuxedoed guy standing next to her. Who's the – Clark snorts – god, Lucas Luthor.

Now that's a face that he hasn't seen in awhile. Jeez. Would that be considered a trade-up or a trade-down from Jimmy? At least, Lucas won't be throwing girls at him. Not if the younger Luthor's cold dark stare is anything to go by. Grenades, maybe. Girls, no. Clark grins cheerfully at Lucas. He's been hanging around Lex too many years for Little Luthor Lite to scare him.

His mom is at Chloe's other side. Her red brows are pulled together in a stern frown. Does she think he's a toddler to be squashed by a mere look? His dad is beside her, looking almost like a stranger in a black tux. Clark ignores their frowns as he continues looking around the room. So this is what a Luthor party looks like. He could get used to this. As soon as he gets things settled with Lex, they'll have to throw a Kent-Luthor party that'll leave people talking for years to come.

Behind the crowds of guests in evening dress, he can see a band on a raised platform that's draped with dark red fabric. The group continues to half-heartedly play while goggling at the scene unfolding in front of them. The ballroom's parquet floor is polished to a warm golden glow, and the mellow gray walls hung with swags of red and white roses. Not a cupid or heart any where to be seen. Clark nods in silent approval. Much better than the Talon's decorations.

Flanking the walls are long buffet tables, filled with big white china platters of finger food interspersed with crystal vases of roses. Smaller round tables are decked with red and white silk covered with tiers of crystal champagne flutes. Does Lex actually own that many flutes or had they been rented for the occasional?

Clark finally allows himself to look at the tuxedoed man rising from the crushed champagne flutes. He'd bet that Lex's attention is now firmly focused exactly where he wants it – on him. Clark smirks as he treats himself to a peek beneath his husband's clothes. Oooh, yeah. He can hardly wait to tap that.

"That's enough," Lex crunches through shards of broken flutes. He narrows his eyes at Clark. "This stops now."

Lana nods. "You need to leave before we summon security, Clark."

"Go ahead. Call 'em." Clark looks over Lana's head to meet Lex's silver stare. Beneath the mingling scents of flowers and champagne, beneath the perfumes and colognes, there's a deliciously tantalizing scent that's all Lex. It makes him think of the lush sweetness and biting tartness of a perfectly ripe apple. Warm with sunshine and plucked fresh from one of the trees in the orchard – the crisp, rich snap of it under his teeth as the juices run wet down his chin.

Clark licks his lips as he thinks of the shaded darkness of Metropolis clubs, and what he'd learned there. He looks at Lex, his gaze dipping to the tight line of scarred mouth, and back up to the stormy darkness of Lex's eyes, and the fierce slant of copper brows. "You're letting Lana do all the talking. That's not like the Lex Luthor that I know. What's the matter, Lex? She got you whipped already?"

"Clark Kent!" Martha moves to the front of the crowd, trailed closely by Jonathan. She gives Lex and Lana an apologetic look. "I'm so sorry about this. He doesn't know what he's saying. He's –"

Clark smirks as Lana's and Lex's gazes lock on to his mom with an almost perceptible snap. Do they really think that she's going to slip and blurt the Big Secret out? She won't do that no matter how mad she is. He ignores his mom's excuses as he steps around Lana, and eases closer to Lex. His nostrils flare as he draws in that intoxicating scent. God, he wants to strip off that tux like he's peeling an apple and press his face to the skin beneath and suck the sweetness of it.

"Clark. Clark! Are you listening to me?" Martha spears him with her sternest stare. "I said that we were leaving. Now."

Jonathan slides his hands in his pockets. "Son, we need leave. We can talk about this at home."

"You can leave if you want." Clark shrugs. "I still have something to take care of."

Lana grabs Lex's arm. "You should go home with your mother, Clark. I don't know what you thought you were going to accomplish tonight, but whatever it is, it isn't going to happen."

Clark tunes out the rest of her speech as he stares hungrily at Lex. Blah. Blah. You need help. Blah. Blah. See a shrink for god's sake. Blah. Blah. What she wants isn't important. What's important is that he doesn't like her hand on the black sleeve of Lex's jacket. No. He doesn't like that at all. At least there's no rock glittering on her fingers. He must have gotten here in time.

"Clark." Lex frowns at him. "Go home. Sleep off whatever you've taken. We can talk tomorrow."

"Should I call security?" Lana whispers.

Clark ignores Lana. He offers his most winsome smile to Lex. "Can we talk – privately?"

"I don't know, Clark. Is there anything left to say?" Lex asks quietly as he searches Clark's eyes.

"What if I've got something new to say?" Clark purrs throatily. "Something completely different."

"Lex," Lana frowns, "I don't think –"

Clark reaches for Lex's hand and frowns as the other man evades his touch. He allows a carefully controlled red haze to drift across his irises, and is rewarded by a deeper settling of Lex's attention on him. Let Lana try to match that. Clark coaxes, "We need to talk, Lex. You know we do. Come on. What about your office?"

Lex glances back at Lana. "This shouldn't take long."

She looks at the circle of watching guests, and then at Lex. Lana frowns. "Are you sure, Lex?"

"Yes. You entertain our guests. I'll talk to Clark. He's obviously not himself." Lex offers her a reassuring smile and then leans down to whisper in her ear. "Once he's somewhere quiet, he'll probably sleep off whatever he's taken."

Clark hides a triumphant smirk and wraps his hand firmly around Lex's bicep. He turns his head at the loud thump of boot heels on wood and sees Lois strutting toward him.

Lois flicks a dismissive glance over Lex. "I don't care how adorable you are, Clark, I don't do threesomes. It's him or me."

He opens his mouth to diss her and a wave of pain sweeps over him. Clark groans and drops to his knees. His stomach twists viciously, and his heart stutters as he suddenly feels horribly weak and hot. His hands tremble as blood heats with presence of Green K. Who? He moans in distress as it comes closer, and tries to crawl away.

"Clark? What's wrong?" Lex demands as he reaches for Clark. "What is it? What the fuck did you take?"

Clark turns his face into the solid support of Lex's shoulder. He presses close to the comforting cool apple scent and away from the betraying bulk of his dad's frame at his other side. From somewhere very far away, he hears his dad whisper, "Son, I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry about this Lex. I think we better get him home." Martha kneels in front of Clark, touching her son's face. She gives Lex and Lana an apologetic smile. "I guess he's finally coming down with that bug that's been going around."

Clark moans. He presses his sweaty face against the smoothness of Lex's throat, tilting his lips close to his mate's ear, and pleads, "No. Wanna stay."

As he droops against the fine fabric of Lex's tux, he hears the assured rumble of the older man's voice as Lex talks about the worsening storm, blizzard warnings, and all those guest rooms in the castle, and how everyone else is invited to stay for the night. There's an immediate murmur of interest and assent from most of the crowd.

Good. Nothing his parents avoid more than drawing unnecessary attention, and he's used up their quota of that for tonight. Now if he can just get away from the green stuff, and recover his strength, Clark slides a possessive hand over Lex's muscular thigh. He'll still have his chance to finish making Lex his.

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Lois comes to herself with the taste of raspberries and chocolate in her mouth. She stares down at the remains of a chocolate shell sitting on delicate silver and white china. She jabs her silver spoon in the shell and looks around the huge kitchen surrounding her. The cold white and icy chrome is nothing like the sunny warmth of the Kent's kitchen, or the friendly melons of the kitchenette that she shared with Chloe. Where the hell is she?

God, she feels sick. Lois jumps to her feet at the sound of a quiet click behind her. She smiles sheepishly as she sees her cousin standing in front of a stove, pouring hot chocolate into a tall white mug. "Chloe? Where are we?"

"You don't remember anything?" Chloe sets the pot back on the stovetop. "Do you want any? I warmed enough for two."

"No, thanks. I feel sorta sick." Lois shifts uneasily beneath her cousin's intent blue stare. How much has she eaten? She walks over to the gleaming rows of fridges and freezers lining one wall, opening and closing doors until she finds a cache of ginger ale. That ought to keep her nausea at bay. She grabs a can. "I feel like I ate a whole Thanksgiving dinner by myself."

"Not quite that bad. You ate about a dozen of those," Chloe tilts her head toward the abandoned dessert.

"Damn." Lois licks her lips. They feel odd – all swollen and tingly. "Why did you let me do that?"

"Let you? It was all I could do to get you to slow down, much less stop at a mere dozen."

Lois grimaces as she makes a quick calculation of the total number of calories she must have consumed. She pops the top of her can and takes a quick sip. "Do you have any idea how much gym time it will take to work off that much chocolate?"

"No. How much?" Chloe grins with cheery sadism.

Lois shivers. She looks down at herself, noticing her skimpy clothes for the first time. She covertly loosens the waistband of her mini-skirt. Why is she wearing a mini-skirt and a barely there top over a lace corset in February? What happened to her coat? And why is Chloe wearing a shimmering burgundy evening gown? "Chloe, what's going on? Where are we?"

"Luthor Manor"

"Shit. Tell me that I didn't go to a formal party dressed like this?"

"Afraid so. Do you remember any of it? Or how you got here?"

"No." Lois shakes her head. Is it her imagination or is that relief flickering across her cousin's blue eyes? No. Gotta be her imagination. Why would Chloe not want her to remember?

Chloe takes a drink of her chocolate. "Do you remember anything about today?"

"Uh-huh. I remember work and Perry being pissed at me 'cause I dragged Clark into – well, never mind," Lois pauses as she remembers that she's talking to a rival journalist as well as her cousin. "Oliver called to cancelled the Italian trip –"

"He didn't."

"He's gonna reschedule it. And he gave me this at lunch," Lois hold out her arm, showing off her emerald and gold bracelet, "and promised to go to the Talon with me."

"Wow." Chloe looks at the bracelet with open envy. "It's beautiful, Lois."

"Then he called." Lois looks away from the sympathy on her cousin's face. "It seems that something came up. Again. So I decided to go downstairs, and join the party. The last thing that I remember is the fudge sauce and halibut."

"The what?" Chloe blinks. "What do fish and chocolate have to do with anything?"

"Your crazy boyfriend tried to hook me up with Clark. Of all the people, he could've picked. I've got standards you know. I mean I'm dating Oliver Queen for crying out loud. Thankfully Jimmy stopped short of offering us a complimentary can of whipped cream."

"Jimmy clearly hasn't spend enough time listening to the two of you bicker."

"Clark and I agreed that we went together like halibut and fudge sauce. We went our separate ways after Jimmy dragged you off into the pink balloon wilds of the Talon." Lois frowns. "After that, I don't remember much."

"What about the complimentary lipstick that Star was handing out?"

"Star?"

"Star's Earth Essences. She had a booth," Chloe prompts. "Skinny brunette. Dressed like she couldn't decide if she wanted to be a gypsy or a gay pirate."

"Oh, oh, her – the down-on-love woman? You wouldn't believe the line that she gave me about how her lipstick would make me fall in love with the first guy that I saw. Have you ever heard anything so completely lame? Still it was free, and I liked the shade."

"Lois, what possessed you to use that lipstick? You've been living in Smallville long enough to know better."

"Oh, come on. Like there's any chance that a lipstick would make me," Lois pauses as she notices the pitying expression on her cousin's face. "Oh. God. Who?"

"Clark was the first guy you saw."

"Nooooo." Lois groans. "Kill me now."

"It could've been worse."

"Worse? Worse! How?" Lois demands.

"Let me could the ways. Who else might you have seen? Hmmm, how about Lionel?"

"Are you trying to make me barf? Lionel Luthor? Blech!"

"Lex."

"Barf, barf, barf."

Chloe rinses her mug out and sets it in the sink. "And who will be my top pick for the List O' Badness? Ding, ding, ding, I've got a winner – Jonathan Kent! Ms. Kent would kill you."

"Okay, okay, I concede I could've done worse than Clark. But please, please, tell me that I didn't do Clark. Tell me that he screamed in horror and made a run for it."

"At first."

"At first?" Lois stares at her cousin. Her hazel eyes round in dismay. "That implies that there was an at last."

"As in – at last our intrepid traveling saleswoman corners the farmer's son in his loft and had her evil way with him and his little tractor too?"

"If his tractor is so little, why would the traveling saleswoman bother? Chloe, come on. Tell me that I did not have sex with," Lois grimaces, "Clark."

"You weren't with me the entire evening. The only person that can tell you what happened between the two of you is Clark." Chloe finishes her chocolate.

"Assuming he remembers any more than I do." Lois sighs. "What am I going to tell Oliver?"

"I don't know, but you better think of something good. I'm sure the gossip has made it to Oliver by now. Possibly even with pictures." Chloe rinses out her mug and the pot that she'd used. "I saw Cat Grant sneaking some shots of you and Clark playing tonsil hockey in the entrance to the ballroom."

"Shit." Lois scowls. She's glad that she doesn't remember, but she'd like to know what it is that she isn't remembering. How far had things gone? She could count the condoms in her purse, but what if she and Clark had been so crazy that they hadn't used any? Shit, shit, shit. She can't be knocked up. Not by Clark. She just can't. What the hell is she going to tell Oliver? Will he believe something as bizarre as spiked lipstick?

"You certainly seemed to be enjoying yourself at the time. And Clark is a really good kisser."

"Hey! Spiked lipstick! Besides no one kisses as good as Oliver." Lois eyes her cousin warily. Why is Chloe smirking like that?

"If you say so. Come on, let's go find our rooms and try to get some sleep. Things will look better in morning, or so my dad always tells me."

Lois trails her cousin out of the kitchen. "Why aren't we going home?"

"The snow storm's been getting worse all evening. Lex offered rooms to anyone who wanted to stay."

"And we wanted to stay at Creep Castle? Chloe, our apartment is only –"

"Don't start with me. You weren't yourself so I made an executive decision for both of us. There are some doctors among Lex's guests; I figured it would be easier to go bang on one of their doors tonight, than to drag your sorry fanny to Smallville Medical if you didn't snap out of it."

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"That will be all for now." Lex watches his dark-haired chief of security stride out of his office. He flexes his shoulders, feeling the ache of muscles where he'd hit the table and floor, after Clark had thrown him; if he hadn't been trained and known exactly how to take a fall, he would have more than lingering soreness to deal with.

He walks over to the bookcase and rummages behind the leather bound volumes until his hand closes over a plastic pill bottle that Toby had left behind on a previous visit. He takes a bottle of water from the bar and then returns to his desk. Lex sits down and places the pill bottle next to his laptop.

Devilicus and Warrior Angel stand on the top of his desk, their arms crossed as they give him narrow-eyed looks, and making no secret of their disapproval of the pill bottle's appearance on their field of glass.

"Fuck you. If I want a pill, I'll take one." Lex picks up the bottle and shakes one pill out into his palm. He pops it in his mouth, and chases it down with a swallow of water. There. That should ease a few edges.

He's tempted to take a second one, but he can't afford to let his guard down too much. Not with Clark under the influence, and Alexander lurking about, and Lana stomping in and out of his office with fresh volleys of potshots. He's left the keys to both his fastest car and a LexCorp hummer in plain view; she can have her choice. How much more is it going to take before she grabs one of key chains and leaves?

Lex slouches in his chair, watching the weather radar's colorful maps flowing over his laptop screen. He touches his throat, remembering the silken brush of Clark's hair, and the warm touch of that mouth as Clark whispered to him. It's a good sign that Clark had wanted to stay at the castle tonight, isn't it? Lex glances at his two companions. "What do you guys think?"

Personally, he thinks that Lex is pretty damned hot. No offense, babe. Devilicus pats Warrior Angel's ass with affection. He's got no doubts about why Clark wanted to stay. He saw that sly hand to thigh move. Niiice.

"I don't know. He's gotten a little sneakier since he's been spending so much time with Ollie. What if Ollie put him up to playing Mata Hari with me?" Lex murmurs uncertainly.

Devilicus purses his lips thoughtfully. It's possible that Clark might have an ulterior motive for wanting to stay, but he'd peg Clark as more likely to go for a quick snoop through Lex's office and around the castle than play seducer, if what the alien really wanted was a few LexCorp secrets.

Warrior Angel sighs. Maybe Clark has no motive other than a case of Lex lust. Have they forgotten the way that the alien storms the castle every other day? And when Clark isn't flinging accusations about, he's trying to persuade Lana to move out. Besides Clark is always staring at Lex's ass like there's a secret treasure map printed on it.

"There is that." Lex shifts uneasily in his chair. The idea of Clark wanting his ass leaves him feeling equally nervous and excited. He's never done that – not as a catcher. He's always been more a pitcher, but with Clark, he wants to do something different; something as special as Clark is.

Warrior Angel rumples Devilicus' dark hair. How about showing him that pretty cue stick again? He gives the pool table a significant look, and then leers amicably at Devilicus.

"Take it easy on the felt this time, guys. And for god's sake, keep the all the moaning to a minimum. We have a castle full of guests trying to sleep. At least, I hope the fuckers are sleeping instead of roaming the halls." Lex takes the pill bottle and tucks it back behind the row of books. He walks toward the door, and then pauses, "Oh, wait. I almost forgot."

Warrior Angel grabs for his spandex as his partner tugs firmly at it. He looks at Lex. Is something – oh.

Devilicus smirks. His hands slide away from the waistline of his lover's costume to fondle the growing bulge behind the spandex.

"Carry on, guys. Don't mind me." Lex closes down his laptop, and locks it away. He smiles amiably at hero and villain as he turns back to them. "That reminds me. We have a bet to settle."

Devilicus looks up in dismay. His busy hands still. Now? Couldn't it wait a few hours?

Lex picks up the two action figures and smirks evilly at them. "Now."

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"Here. Drink this." A.C. holds out a cup of sugared hot coffee.

Oliver takes the cup and sips slowly at the warm sweet liquid. It's only instant, and he hates sugar in his coffee, but right now, anything hot will do. "Thanks."

"Are you okay?" Bart stares at Oliver, his dark eyes wide and shocked beneath the hood of his scarlet sweatshirt.

"Just cold and banged up." Oliver nods and wraps his wool blanket closer. Hard to look like a tough guy when shivering in blanket, but Bart doesn't need to see his fear; the youngest member of his team needs the reassurance of a confident leader right now. Oliver summons up a carefree grin. "Don't worry, Bart. Takes more than a dunking to slow me down."

"I've seen some freaky shit since I've been part of this team, but that – damn. Good thing we had all the explosives set before ol' River Monster paid us a visit. Man, I've already showered twice, and cleaned my gear three times but I still smell monster guts." Victor gives his new duffle bag a mournful look. "I'm gonna break out the bleach when I get home."

"What the hell was it?" Bart asks.

Oliver shudders as he remembers the monster's guts splattering all over the river as Luthor's lab went up on the banks. What had that thing been? Some Luthor experiment escaped and gone feral? If A.C. hadn't been there when that mossy maggot creature attacked, he might have died. "I don't know. A.C.?"

The big blond shrugs. He crosses his arms over his bare chest. "I don't know either. I've never seen anything like it."

"Well, what I know is that you can put your shirt back on any time now." Victor frowns at his team mate.

"I don't like wearing clothes. Be happy I've got the bottom half of my sweats on," A.C. taunts. "Get over it."

Bart shakes his head. "I wish we had a girl team member that felt like that."

"That would be too much to hope for. We'll have to ignore the pecs and settle for A.C. keeping Mr. Happy and the boys covered up." Victor gives A.C. a speculative look. "You know, I got this neighbor who likes big blonds. He's been asking about you."

"I am not gay." A.C. frowns at Victor. "Why would you think that I would want to date your neighbor?"

"Guess all that pec flashing led me astray. Sorry." Victor looks from A.C.'s green sweatpants to the discarded orange tee shirt. "My neighbor wouldn't be caught dead in orange and green."

"Not everyone has my sense of style," A. C. responds complacently. He looks at Oliver. "You think that creature happened to be hanging out around Luthor's lab?"

Oliver drinks the last of his coffee. "I wouldn't be surprised if Luthor had something to do with it."

Victor trades a worried look with A.C., before twisting in his seat to face Oliver. "Do you think that Luthor knows it's you? That he had drew us in and had that creature waiting?"

"I don't know. I'm going to get dressed. My clothes should be clean by now." Oliver stands up. He squeezes A.C.'s thick shoulder. "Thanks, A.C."

"Any time." A.C. nods.

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Lex tiptoes quietly into the guest bedroom that Clark had been assigned. Had Clark figured out that this particular room connected to his own via a hidden passage and is intended for his spouse? He's never allowed anyone to use it before.

He looks around at the white and royal blue stripped wallpaper. A low banked fire burns behind white wrought iron fire screen. Short lengths of cut wood wait nearby in a matching iron holder. Lex walks over to the fireplace and sets Warrior Angel and Devilicus on the marble mantle.

He turns and smiles in approval at the massive custom bed with its red flannel sheets. His smile widens as he studies the beautiful man spread across the bed. Clark mumbles Lex's name. His big hands flexes restlessly on the blue cashmere blanket covering the sheets.

Lex sighs in appreciation as the sheets get pushed lower, baring the heavy muscles of Clark's torso. He walks softly over the bed, and sets a bottle of his favorite lube on the night table. Lex slips out of his clothes, impatiently tossing them onto a white wingchair. He eases the sheets and blankets from Clark's restless hands and slowly pulls them back, baring the ridged six-pack and then – Yes! Lex grins – a slowly thickening cloud of fine black curls instead of boxers.

His breathing quickens as he stares hungrily at the heavy slackness of the balls, and the limp jut of the big cock against Clark's muscular thighs. Lex swallows, torn between sheer lustful greed and uncertainty. Clark is every bit as massive as his most erotic daydream, but fantasy is one thing, and reality another. Can he take all of that? He has to or he won't be able to complete his half of the bonding. His jaw firms with determination as he tugs the sheets all the way to the foot of the bed.

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Chloe pulls open a dresser and finds neat rows of nightwear. She riffles through the choices and puts out a blue flannel night gown with golden comets zinging across white clouds. She adds a gold robe to her selections. "Have you remembered anything else?"

"No – I," Lois stares blankly at her reflection in the mirror. Her long hair is piled loosely on top of her head. She tightens the sash on her black terrycloth robe. "I tried. I hoped that I'd remember more. Especially after I saw that damned fake tattoo while I was taking a shower."

"Fake tattoo?" Chloe glances at her cousin. "When did you get a tat?"

"I don't remember. During my Clark fixation apparently."

"You have a tat with Clark's name on it?"

"Had. Had a tat with Clark's name on it. I nearly scrubbed myself raw with a loofa, but I finally got it off." Lois glances disinterestedly down at the drawer. She closes it without removing anything and leans against the dresser.

"And Clark's name ended up on your –"

"On my boob. Okay? It was on my boob." Lois huffs. She doesn't know why she bothered. Oliver probably wouldn't even notice. Assuming the rat bastard was even here, and she could pry him away from his damned phone long enough to notice that she even has boobs, much less anything else about the girls.

"Oh." Chloe sits down on the massive four-poster bed.

"Now, aren't you sorry you asked?"

Chloe taps her head. "The inquiring mind – some times it's a curse."

"So did your inquiring mind make any inquiries into the state of the rumored engagement? Is it on or off?"

"Why ask me?"

"Between Clark whining into one ear and Lana whining into the other one, you pretty much always know what's up at Casa Luthor."

"They do not –" Chloe sighs. She flexes her shoulders, ignoring the strap of her evening gown as it slips down. "Okay. Maybe they do, but they're my friends. And I am not going to be an unnamed source for a scoop for you."

"I don't write gossip," Lois announces loftily. "I leave that to the Cat Grants of the world, just as I leave the cutesy little human interest stories to Clark. I write big picture stories – politics, business, science. That sort of thing."

"And just which big picture category does a barn door falling from the sky apply to? Science, business or politics?"

"Science since it deals with weather, and possible extraterrestrials." Lois unpins her damp hair and shakes it out. "With just a dash of human interest since a very beautiful young jogger almost got tragically squashed by the damn door. How did things go with Jimmy on the big Valentine's Day? Let me guess. He gave you a case of whipped cream, right?"

"Don't even joke about that."

"Uh-oh," Lois teases. "Is there trouble in nerd heaven?"

"Like you and Ollie would win Couple of the Year Award. You aren't in any position to give advice, Dr. Love Goddess. At least, Jimmy and I managed some party time in between fights."

"His name is Oliver. And we do so too party. We party in ways that you can only dream of."

"It doesn't sound like much of a party to me. Have you ever managed to get more than his shirt off before his phone rings?"

Lois flicks her damp hair over her shoulder. "Whatever his faults, at least Oliver doesn't show up at my place with cans of whipped cream."

"You just had to bring up whipped cream, didn't you?" Chloe stares down at the pajamas sitting on her lap. Lucas never mentioned the stuff, thank god.

"Shall I spot you a few cans for Christmas? I wonder if Oliver has considered buying stock in whipped cream companies. I'll have to ask."

"I thought you weren't talking to Oliver right now."

"We're not not talking," Lois protests.

"Jimmy broke-up with me."

"On Valentine's day? He couldn't have waited a couple of days? That jerk! Want me to shove him off the battlements? There's not enough of him to make much of a splat, but I'm willing to try."

"Thanks, but it's okay. It was a mutual breaking. I decided to hold out for a genuine frog prince. No substitutes accepted." Chloe smiles at her cousin. "I do like Jimmy, you know. He's got a good heart. He's just –"

"Not Clark," Lois finishes. "How did that happen any way – you and Jimmy? He doesn't seem like your type. Or was that the whole basis of his charm for you?"

"It was one of those things." Chloe shrugs. "He was looking for fun, and I was looking to get over Clark and accept that he's never going to see me as more than a friend."

Lois nods.

Chloe sighs. "Besides, I never thought that Jimmy would show up in Metropolis. It was supposed to be a fling. Why am I even telling you this?"

Lois grins at her cousin. "Because I'm a good listener. It's why I make such a great reporter."

"I thought that was because you're pushy and nosey."

"That too."

"The sex would've been okay, if not for the whipped cream. But he's not –"

"Cllarrrk," Lois mocks gently. She looks curiously at her cousin. "What did you tell Clark when Jimmy showed up?"

"Clark? Why would I tell Clark anything?" Chloe asks. "He had his chance and he passed on it. Nothing to do with him."

"Uh-huh. So tell me, did you and Clark ever – party?"

"Lois."

"Come on. You can tell me."

Chloe sighs. "Our parties got about as far your and Ollie's parties get."

Lois pounces with a smirk. "Tell. Give me all the boring details. Preferably some that I can taunt Clark with. Does he make funny noises? Does he like to dress up?"

Chloe raises her eyebrows. "You know, I'm really starting to wonder about your sex life now. Does Oliver role play Robin Hood the Leatherman version? Does he wear the little green hat the whole time you two are rolling around on his yoga mat?"

"How does Clark stand on the whipped cream issue? What's the big guy's preference, Chloe? Is he a traditionalist like Jimmy – a white whipped cream only sort of guy? Or is he more of a chocolate or strawberry cream type?"

"Do you want to walk back to the apartment tomorrow? You ought to be thinking less about Clark's whipped cream preferences, and more about what you're going to tell Oliver."

"Crap. What am I going to tell Oliver?" Lois shakes her head. "No. No. Forget him. Who cares what he thinks?"

"You do." Chloe looks at her cousin. "What did you fight about this time?"

"Same song, second verse. Kissing, groping, phone call, you have to leave NOW?!" Lois sinks lower in her seat and frowns. "And as usual, the call came just when things were getting good. We had yogurt and he was –"

"Yogurt? Ollie likes to play with yogurt and you're making fun of whipped cream?"

"It was chocolate," Lois announces with all the dignity that she can muster.

Chloe smirks. "Oh, chocolate. Well, that makes all the difference."

"Shut up."

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Alexander stares around him. What had happened? The time in the dimension that he'd chosen had been in sync with the one that he'd come from. But this is clearly not February. Nor is it late evening here. He shrugs off his heavy wool coat and drops it on a black leather couch that sits in front of the empty fireplace.

The polished wood of the staircase leading to the ranks of matching bookcases that lined the library is reassuringly familiar. So are the stained glass panels even if the warm dawn sunshine flowing through them hints of early summer. Alexander tilts his head as he inspects the huge reproduction mural of Napoleon's coronation that stretches across one whole wall of the library.

The door leading into the gardens is open, and he can hear the song of birds, and hum of bees. Smell the heavy richness of roses and lighter scents of other flowers. He can see a clear and cloudless slice of blue sky. What the fuck had happened? It should be midnight, not early morning. Winter, not summer.

He's clearly in a version of Luthor Manor which is probably located in some version of Smallville, but which? Where the FUCK is he? WHEN the fuck is he? Lex's scowl deepens as he notices a big black shoe peeking around the edge of the wet bar. Glossy Italian leather if he's not sadly mistaken. His own exact size as well. Lex moves around the couch and walks over for a better view.

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There's cool, smooth skin under his hands. God, it feels so real. This is the best dream ever. Clark pulls Lex close and rolls over, pinning the slimmer man beneath him. He nuzzles the apple-scented sweetness of white skin. His lips brush over the tightness of a nipple and he kisses it. "Lex."

"Clark."

He keeps his eyes firmly closed, despite the sensual invitation in the husky voice, afraid that the dream will vanish if he opens them. He softly bites the beaded flesh beneath his lips. The bossy hands tangled in his hair are pressing him closer, and the demanding arch of Lex's chest under his sucking mouth are both good, but he wants – more.

Clark kisses his way lower. Smiling as the squirming urgency beneath him transmutes into a breath-holding hopeful stillness. Even the hands caressing his head are carefully neutral, allowing him to choose his direction. He brushes his lips over the tickling borderline of copper curls as he thinks of what he wants to do.

Although he'd demanded it from plenty of guys in the clubs of Metropolis, he had never offered to worship any of them that way and had laughed at any who'd dared ask him to rim them. Kal didn't give worship; he took it as his just due. But he wants to do that with Lex. He wants to taste every inch of Lex.

Clark nuzzles the quivering length of cock. He licks the damp juicy crown bobbing in front of him. Ummmmm. It tastes good. Really good. He greedily sucks the whole cock into his mouth. There's a muffled, strangled exclamation overhead, and the bossy hands are back, tugging at his hair as Lex's thrusts into his mouth.

How can anyone taste so very, very good? Clark slicks his tongue over the sweet-salty thickness stretching his mouth. Very, very good. He pulls off slowly, ignoring the aggravated yank of Lex's hands at his hair. He kisses his way down, and feels Lex's pinned hips go still again as he licks the ripe curve of balls, and playfully nuzzles his way beneath to taste the tender strip of skin behind.

"Oooooh, Clark. Please."

Clark grins as he feels his lover's legs folding over his shoulders, granting him free access. He strokes his hands over the muscular thighs, savoring the trembling tension there as Lex waits for the very first touch. Has anyone ever done this for Lex before? He pushes the thought away. This is his dream, and in his dream, he will be the first to taste Lex there.

"Do it," Lex urges. "Damn it. Do it."

He spreads his lover's cheeks wide and touches just the tip of his tongue to the tender furl. The needy shiver of Lex's hips and clench of long legs around his shoulders pleases him, and Clark turns his head to spread kisses over the tense curves of each cheek, rubbing the roughness of his stubble over the smooth skin.

"Clark, I swear, if you don't get on with –"

He goes back to his target and gives Lex's a slow lick. Ummmmm. He spreads a series of soft exploring licks over the cleft, pausing a little longer each time on the delicate skin of the furl. Clark listens to the pounding of his lover's heart, and the breathy moans as Lex jerks and twitches against him. He changes the pattern, firming the stroke of his tongue and flicking the tip rapidly over the tender center.

"Godgodgodgodgodgod."

He circles, probing, and then he's sliding inside, avid for the secret intimate taste of his husband. This he is certain is something that Lana has never had from Lex; something that is his alone. He presses closer, shoving as deep as he can, flickering and curling his tongue as Lex trembles and shudders helplessly. There's a hastily stifled scream of his name and then Lex comes apart for him.

Strange. This is the part where he usually wakes up, lonely and sticky, to do the laundry. Clark cautiously opens his eyes. Not a dream. He grins as he stares at the lithe sweat-damp body spread in front of him. Clark kisses a limp thigh. "Lex. You're really here."

"Ummmm?"

Clark eases the slack thighs off his shoulders, and wraps them around his waist. He moves upward, drawn by the apple scent and the wet gleam of white skin. He laps at the dampness on Lex's stomach and chest, licking his lover clean. Clark lifts up on his elbows and gives Lex a determined look. "You're mine now."

"Uh-huh," Lex murmurs agreeably. He pats Clark's shoulder. "Your's."

"My mate. My husband," Clark insists with a soft bite to each dark pink nipple.

"Do you hear me arguing?"

"Everyone thought that you and Lana were going to announce an engagement tonight."

"Did they?"

"Yeah." Clark growls. He gives the other man a little more of his weight, and rubs the unsatisfied ache of his cock against the curve of Lex's ass. "They thought that you and Lana belonged together."

Lex stirs at the probing stroke. "Their mistake."

"I don't want any mistakes. I want everyone to know that we belong together," Clark whispers fiercely as he fits his hot cock between the inviting coolness of his husband's cheeks and thrusts. "And tomorrow, you're going to tell everyone that we are engaged."

"I am?"

"We're already married, Lex. You don't have a choice. You're mine." Clark twitches at a sharp hard pinch on his nipple.

"Wrong." Lex glowers at him. "I have a choice, but luckily for you, I choose this. And you."

"Jeez, Lex." Clark rubs a soothing hand over his tender nipple. "It's not like it's the first time you've been married."

"No. And on the plus side, you haven't tried to kill me yet for my money yet."

"I don't want your money. I want you. I want a marriage like my parents." Clark pants as he strokes slowly over the furl. He kisses Lex hard. "I want it to be just us. No mistresses, one-night stands, or casual fucks. No one else gets to have you."

"Will you agree to the same?"

"Me?"

"You."

Clark stares at Lex, his motion stilling in shock. "You think I'd – me! I'm not the one handing out diamond earrings by the handfuls like Halloween candy."

"I haven't done that in months. And I wasn't the one giving Lois a tongue swab down in the ballroom."

"But – that was – I wasn't." Clark clears his throat. "About that."

Lex raises his eyebrows. "Yes?"

"I wasn't myself."

"I noticed."

"It wasn't my fault." Clark relaxes as an idea hits him. He rubs happily against his husband.

"Of course it wasn't," Lex murmurs dryly. "I bet it was mine, wasn't it? Go on and tell me how."

"I was fine until I went to the Talon's party."

"Umm. Even better. Let's blame Lana." Lex nods against his pillow. He rewards Clark by lifting his hips to give the brunette a better angle. "That works for me."

"Oooh, Lex." Clark groans. "One of the vendors had drugged lipstick."

"Of course, they did."

"And Lois put it on."

"Of course she did." Lex sighs. He thrust his own reviving cock against the alien's stomach. Rolling into his husband's strokes with more enthusiasm as his own arousal grows.

"She kissed me, and then –"

Lex narrows his eyes. "Did you fuck her?"

"No!"

"Hmmm. Which vendor?"

Clark replies firmly, "It doesn't matter, and you don't need to know."

"Are you sure?" Lex wiggles provocatively as he stretches over toward the nightstand. He grabs the bottle of lube and holds it in front of Clark. "I think I do. LexCorp was one of the sponsor for that stupid party, and I am a silent partner at the Talon, so yes, Clark, I do need to know."

"No, you don't." Clark snatches the bottle away. He uncaps it and spreads the lube over his fingers.

"Clark Kent," Lex warns. "You tell me which of those fuckers – god."

Clark grins and slides his finger deeper inside Lex, watching the hungry arch of his lover's body and the quivering rise as the rosy cock lifts higher. He asks mockingly, "Tell you what, Lex?"

"What?" Lex rolls his hips into the slow, teasing finger fuck. "I'm not that easy to distract."

"Oh, yeah?" Clark carefully eases a second finger inside. "I'll have to try harder then."

Lex groans. He grabs the wide span of his husband's shoulders and pushes back against the fingers stroking and stretching him wider. "Which – which – oooooh – vendor?"

"I dunno," Clark lies as he slides his fingers free and squirts more lube onto his hand. He slick up his cock and sets the head against the eager twitch of Lex's body.

"You're lying. You think that I don't know when you – godgodgod." The sharp intelligence in Lex's gray eyes softens into a dazed pleasure.

Clark carefully inches deeper. A proud grin flashes across his face. He's never seen Lex in such an intense sensual bliss-out except in his dreams. He moves in slow shallow thrusts, slipping deeper each time. He watches the dazed gray eyes for any flicker of pain, but he sees nothing in Lex's gaze but a melting pleasure as his balls press against his husband's up-turned ass. He eases partially out and then back into the glorious tightness. After several thrusts he picks up the pace, only to pause, panting, at a sudden hitch in his husband's breathing. "Lex?"

"No." Lex tightens his thighs. "No. Go on."

"Lex, if I'm hurting you, you tell me." Clark stares sternly down at the human, his eyes gleaming orange in the dim light. "I don't want to hurt you."

Lex rolls his eyes. "It didn't seem to be a problem when you threw me into that table."

Clark looks away. "I didn't mean to –"

"Yes, you did. No one throws a guy like that by accident. We're both lucky that I know how to take a fall."

Clark waits, trembling with the strain of remaining motionless in the tight grip of his husband's body. "I'm really, really sorry about that Lex. I would never hurt you."

"No? Shall I list every bruise that you've left on me? Every time you've shoved me? Every time you've even dared to hit me?" Lex bucks upward, taking Clark deeper. "God, that's good. Don't you dare stop on me now when it's a good hurt."

Clark winces at anger layering the desire in other man's hoarse voice. He kisses Lex. "I don't mean to. Not when I'm myself."

"That stops now, Clark. I won't tolerate being roughed up. I won't tolerate being pushed and shoved. I've allowed it to go on long enough. There will be no more."

"I didn't mean – I won't. Never, Lex, I promise. Please," Clark whispers. He can hear the thickness of tears in his voice. What if Lex doesn't forgive him? What if Lex sends him away? Refuses any contact with him? Those dread possibilities had never occurred to him. "Lex, please?"

Lex leans up to kiss his husband. "If I had been anyone else – someone who didn't heal fast, someone who didn't have the kind of martial training that I've had – someone like that could have been hurt badly tonight."

"I won't. Never again." Clark moans as Lex's palm slides to the center of his chest. He shudders at the pain-pleasure of the throb beneath his skin as his scar surfaces, spreading outwards from the hot touch of his husband's hand. He looks down at the scar and then uncertainly at Lex. What if his husband thinks it's ugly? He asks shyly, "Does it bother you? Do you think it's ugly?"

"No. Do you?"

Clark looks down at his chest with a doubtful expression.

"Look at it," Lex's fingertips glide along the curved lines. "Look at the graceful sensuality of these curves, coiling like serpents between the diamond lines of the angles. See how the spread of the design draws attention to these," he pauses to pinch each beaded nipple, "to the width of your chest, and then arrow down to draw attention to this." Lex shoves back against the thick invading cock.

"You really think it's attractive?"

"Yesss." Lex pulls Clark closer. "I need this. I need you. Fuck me, Clark. Fuck me so hard. Make me scream so loud that half the castle runs in here."

Clark glances warily at the next bedroom. He relaxes at the reassuring racket of his dad's snores. He gathers Lex closer, and begins thrusting gently into the tightness clenching around him. "No screaming."

Lex laughs breathlessly as he rocks into his husband. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

"This is all the adventure that I need." Clark pants against Lex's sweat slicked chest. He mouths the temptation of the freckles splashed over the other man's shoulders. "You're all the adventure that I want."

"I'll try – to – uuugh – live up to my billing. Come on, Clark," Lex urges. "Do it. Fuck me. Harder. Harder. More. Or I swear, I'll yell so loud – oooooh, godgodgod, yeesss!"

Clark collapses on top of the damp, slippery length of his lover. He's never felt so exhausted in life. Not even when he'd lost his powers. He presses a kiss on the closest freckle. He drifts off to sleep as he wonders how he's gonna tell his parents, friends, and the Justice Team.

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Alexander frowns as he stares down at his dead double. This not the one that he'd been spying on. That one had been a few years younger. This one is either quite a few years older or the double had spent way too much time on the party hardy circuit.

At least his double is conveniently out of the way. He owes someone an appropriate thank you. His double lies at his feet, tuxedo stained with scotch and other fluids. Alexander glances at the decanters gleaming on the mini-bar, and the single glass resting on its side on the floor.

Had it been his – the double's dad this time? Or some other enemy? He'll find out in time, but for now – Alexander folds the expensive rug over his double's body – he's got a body to hide. Time for a trip to the Luthor crypts in the castle chapel, followed by a little mop-up operation.

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Cat Grant sits at her desk, studying the digital pictures neatly lined up across her monitor screen. It'd taken the better part of the night and many promises to protect her source, but she'd managed to get Oliver Queen's private cell phone number. Lois has been flaunting that handsome blond millionaire long enough. If she sees one more photo of Queens smiling face looking over Lois' shoulder, she going to puke all over the ladies room floor.

"Cat," Lois shoves open the door. She stops, staring at the pictures glowing on the laptop. She holds up a silver bucket filled with tequila bottles and lemons. Two glasses dangle from her other hand. "Look, I come in peace. Can't we talk about this?"

Cat enlarges the image of Lois wrapped around Clark like a hungry python swallowing a wild pig. "This one is my favorite. What do you think?"

"I think that's one of those oh-my-god-what-was-I-drinking moments. Come on, Cat. Don't."

"Don't? Don't what? What are you afraid that I'll do with these pictures?"

"You want an 'in' to the next Luthor event, don't you?"

Cat caresses her mouse as she watches the woman who had just gotten her pass to Luthor Party Land permanently revoked. Where does that idiot think she picks up the hottest gossip if not by cultivating the people that she met through those parties? "After the shit you and the hick himbo pulled at tonight's party, there's no 'in' to be had for any Daily Planet reporter."

"Sure there is. Let's not be hastily here." Lois glances nervously at the pictures.

"Why not?"

"I can get you in the next party. Courtesy of being a friend of a friend of Luthor," Lois winks, "if you follow my drift."

"I suppose you mean your cousin." Cat sighs. She had noticed that Sullivan seemed to be very tight with the rumored Ms. Luthor-To-Be. Two ditzs in a pod if anyone asked her. Could she swallow accepting a favor from the hyper blonde twit who'd beat her out of the job at the Inquisitor?

"So, we're good?" Lois smiles brightly. "I get you an invitation and you don't – do anything rash?"

"Rash? You mean something like crashing a Luthor party with a guy who roughs up Lex and kisses Lex's new girlfriend – that kind of rash? No, that's not my style, Lois." Cat smiles, wide and cold. Cat taps her mouse. She widens her eyes in mock innocence. "Ooops. I wonder where those went."

"Cat! You're going to pay for that."

"I can handle anything you've got. Bring it on, chickie."

"Oh, really?" Lois sets her bucket on the desk with a thunk. She smacks the two glasses down. "I bet you can't."

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He's so damned hot. How can he be this hot when a shrieking wind is splattering snow against the windows, Lex wonders sleepily. He pushes at the blanketing heat and his hand slides off a muscular arm. What? Oh.

He opens his eyes and discovers Clark's tousled head crowded on to his pillow. A strong arm is curled over his chest and a possessive thigh is locked over his hips. Lex squirms. He pushes more firmly at Clark's arm, but he might as well be trying to move an elephant by strength alone.

Oh, well. He doesn't have to go to the bathroom that bad. Yet. And this is very nice. Lex kisses the edge of his lover's shoulder. He's awakened to much worse situations than being weighted down on a bed by a ton of Clark. Devilicus and Warrior Angel are beaming at him from their perch on the mantle. Lex shifts his hips the scant amount of space that his husband's thigh allows.

There's only a pleasant ache to remind him of earlier activities. How can Clark sleep like that? So deeply and peacefully. Lex twitches restlessly. His feet shift beneath the sheets. His fingers tap against Clark's arm. His mind fills with lists of things that he needs to do. Check on his guests. Get a status report from security. Check on the weather. Check on Alexander. He turns his head and eyes the cell phone sitting next to the lube bottle on the nightstand. Can he reach it? He stretches his arm toward it. His fingertips just brush the case.

He turns his head as he hears sounds coming from his bedroom and then the door is flung open, and he sees Lana outlined against the lights that he'd left on. Lex pats Clark's shoulder soothingly as his husband frowns and makes grumpy noises. Devilicus scowls and even Warrior Angel watches with a frown as Lana stands there. Lex sighs. "What, Lana? Is the storm getting worse? What?"

"How could you – what – what are you and Clark doing?" Her long dark hair slides over the shoulders of her white satin robe as Lana moves into the room. Her eyes widen as she stares from his bare chest to Clark's. "What is going on?"

Clark rolls over, taking all the sheets and blankets with him. He buries his dark head in the pile of pillows that had mysteriously accumulated on his side of the bed. His big feet stick out from the edge of the bundle.

"Lex?" Lana squeaks.

"Mmmmm." Lex stretches luxuriously, making no attempt to conceal his nudity.

"You and Clark are – you're –" Lana draws in a sharp breath.

"Uh-huh." Lex yawns. "We are indeed."

"You were supposed to marry ME!"

Lex sits up. "What gave you that idea?"

"But – but – you sent me to Paris. You told me to look at wedding gowns! You give me rooms full of red roses. You gave me diamonds!"

"Oh, diamonds." Lex shrugs. On the mantle, he can see Devilicus making go for it gestures at him while Warrior Angel gives him a look of shocked disapproval. "I thought you understood, Lana. Didn't you read any of the newspapers when I was framed for murder? I give all my casual fucks diamonds."

"How could you."

He muses aloud, "I'm thinking of a platinum band for Clark. Or perhaps white gold. We really haven't had chance to discuss it."

"You asked me to move in! You gave me a Valentine's party!"

"Does the word 'beard' mean anything to you?" Lex asks over the sound of Devilicus' sniggers.

"You – you bastard," Lana hisses. She stomps out the door and slams it.

"Huh?" Clark stirs beneath the sheets. "Whazzat?"

"Nothing, love," Lex croons soothingly. He strokes the tangle of dark curls sticking out from beneath the hem of his sheets. "Go back to sleep."

Warrior Angel frowns.

"What? I haven't forgotten about your new frame – silver, right?" Lex sighs in mock aggravation as the hero continues to stare at him. He gives Warrior Angel a sly look from beneath his lashes. "Oh, all right. I'll send her some diamond earrings tomorrow. Happy now?"

Warrior Angel folds his arms over his chest as Devilicus giggles happily at his feet. One of these days, Clark is going to give Lex the villain ass pounding of the century, and when it happens, he is going to laugh.

"If you think that's going to discourage me," Lex trades a smirk with Devilicus, "have you got a lot to learn about villains."

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"Well, well, well, if it isn't Ninja Barbie Babe."

Chloe groans and leans her forehead on the locked door leading to Lex's private office. Normally she would fiercely resent the Barbie comparison, but considering that she was busily attempting to break in Lex's office, maybe she should let it go this time. She turns with a hopeful smile. "I don't suppose you would believe that I'm here to repair something."

"Believe me, there's nothing wrong with that lock."

Chloe feels strangely breathless as she meets his eyes. She had always thought she preferred men with black hair and blue eyes, but this man's dark chocolate eyes, tousled cocoa hair, and pale skin makes her lick her lips and think of hot chocolate sprinkled with marshmallows and cinnamon and chocolate shavings. "Oh? Tried it already?"

Lucas shrugs, flexing his wide shoulders against the wall. "What can I say? I got bored."

Chloe slowly looks him over. His jeans are loose, but fit perfectly, hinting discreetly at an intriguing series of muscles and bulges beneath. A brown sweater molds his solid shoulders and biceps. Her gaze snags on the heavy links of a black metal chain. The flow of the links is broken by a circle that rests just below the hollow of his throat.

It looks like a collar, a real collar, a serious collar; the kind that she'd spent hours looking at online, and used to fantasize about snapping around Clark's throat. Lucas tilts his head back against the wall behind him and the thick circle falls perfectly into the hollow of his throat, drawing her gaze to the pulse throbbing beneath. Chloe forces her gaze upwards to find his stare intent on her face. "So did you get in or not?"

"I got in."

Chloe waves toward the door. "How about getting me in?"

"What would I get out of it if I did?"

"The satisfaction of doing a good deed?"

"I think you have me confused with someone else. What are you hoping to find in there?"

Chloe shrugs. "Maybe I'm looking for a tennis bracelet to go with my diamond earrings."

"You aren't the diamond earring type."

"I would look fabulous in diamonds." Chloe sighs softly. Unfortunately on her current salary, it will be a long, long time before she can buy herself that sort of thing.

"I'm sure you would, but you aren't the sort that my brother would send diamonds too."

"No? Maybe you don't know him as well as you think. Maybe he has a secret fetish for blondes."

"There's no secret about Lex's preferences in partners. Leggy brunettes only need apply. What are you expecting to find in his office?" Lucas asks.

"Oh, chairs, desks, safes – the usual."

"Sounds boring. I found a note suggesting that I entertain myself some other way, and a list of recommended escort agencies in his office safe." His gaze wanders slowly over her. "But I'm not in the mood to check out his recommendations."

"No?"

"No." Lucas pushes away from the wall. "You want some coffee?"

"I always want coffee." Chloe pads down the hall, following him to the kitchen. She measures the width of his shoulders beneath the sweater, before her stare follows the flow his body to his narrow waist, and hips. The swagger makes her smile even as she wants to touch him and feel the relaxed power rolling through his muscles with each stride. She'd never managed to meet the lost Luthor heir when he was in Smallville, but Clark and Lana had had plenty to say about him. "Why haven't you been back to Smallville?"

"Places to go, things to do. You know the drill."

"Lex is your brother. Don't you want to spend time with him?"

"Don't worry. I get plenty of quality fraternal time. Just not here." Lucas holds the kitchen door open for her.

"Why not?"

Lucas glances at the shadows pooling around the dim glow of the few lights that were always left on. "It's safer for both of us if Lionel thinks he can play us off each other. United we'd eventually be too big a threat."

"Oh." Chloe touches his arm, feeling the warmth beneath the brown wool. "I'm sorry. Having Lionel for a dad must be – difficult."

"We manage." Lucas walks opens a cabinet and looks over the sealed rows of bags. "So what blend do you want?"

Chloe eyes the selection and finally taps her finger against one of the packages. "The Columbian."

"Coming up." Lucas measures the beans into the grinder. He hits the switch and dull rumble fills the kitchen. He shuts it off and reaches for the coffee pot. He glances over his shoulder. "Don't expect anything fancy. No frothing. No steaming. Just a plain, solid cup of java."

"Solid's good."

"I think so." Lucas crosses his arms over his chest. He leans against the counter as the coffee perks.

"Why did you start cyberflirting with me?"

"I was looking for someone solid." Lucas looks at her. "I know you thought that I was playing you."

"At first." Chloe nods. "It seemed a little too coincidental that you happened to run into me in a chat room. I had a feeling that you knew exactly who you were talking to."

"I did. I paid someone to get me the list of different screen names and email accounts that you used."

"Why?"

"I was curious. I didn't spend much time with Pete or Clark, but your name came up frequently. My brother and father had a few things to say about you as well."

Chloe stares at him in dismay. She had been a topic of conversation among the three Luthors. That could not be good.

"You have courage and intelligence. Those are qualities that my brother and father admire, even in the opposition." Lucas gives her an amused look as he pours coffee into the pair of the white, gold rimmed cups. "Would you like milk? Cream? Sugar?"

"No, thanks." Chloe breathes in the wonderful scent as she accepts the proffered cup from Lucas. She takes a sip. "Perfect. Is that why you kept in touch with me? Because I've gone up against your father and brother?"

"Because you survived." Lucas stirs cream into his coffee. He lifts the spoon to his lips and slowly licks away the lingering traces of cream as he stares into Chloe's eyes. "Anyone smart enough to score a victory over either of them, and to survive long enough to savor it, is worth some – service."

Chloe blinks, dragging her gaze away from the promise of his full mouth. Is Lucas hinting that he wants to do the kind of things that she's secretly read about for years? Where had this man been when she had been in Smallville? She glances at his necklace, admiring the strong curl of the metal again the sturdy column of his throat. "Service?"

"If you could demand anything, what would you request?" Lucas takes a drink of his coffee.

Chloe tilts her head and considers. "I always wanted to drive one of Lex's Porsches."

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Lex steps out of the shower stall, and grabs a big lavender towel. He dries himself off and drops the towel in the hamper. He turns to grab the black sweater and trousers hanging from the clothing rack, and then pauses. A certain amount of ache is only to be expected after taking a cock as big as his husband's, but why is there an ache higher up?

He puts his back to the mirror and stares over his shoulder. What the fuck had that alien done to him now? The same diamond shaped symbol that's on his hand is on his ass, parked directly at the base of his spine with the pointing edge nestled into the shadow of his cleft. Instead of barely there lines, this time the symbol gleams in bold royal blue strokes. Lex tentatively sweeps his fingertips across the bold royal blue. All he feels is smooth skin. "Damn it, Clark."

Devilicus juggles the soap bar and stares at Lex. Wow. That's – different.

"Shut up."

Warrior Angel cranes his neck for a better view. Pretty. He likes blue.

"That makes two of you. Clark could have at least had the courtesy to use an imperial color like purple. Besides enough is enough. I already have a mark on my hand." Lex stares down at his hand, and then at the symbol on his ass. "That does it. He's getting a cock ring as well as a wedding ring."

Warrior Angel delicately clears his throat. He happens to know a store that carries that sort of thing. Came across it while looking into suitable collars and gags.

"Oh?" Lex pulls on a pair of gray boxers and then black trousers. He reaches for a gray sweater. "Tell me about it."

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Clark walks slowly down the Crater Lake pier, his bare feet padding softly across the sun warmed wood. He takes a quick glance around the tree-shadowed shoreline and tugs off his loose red trunks. He poses on the edge of the pier, ready to dive into the soft blue water, but suddenly there are light footsteps behind him.

“Hello, Clark.” Lana moves around him, a white lace teddy hugs her figure. Her slender fingers glide over the muscles of his chest.

He jumps as something icy-wet and sticky smacks into the center of his back, sliding down his spine. Clark looks sharply around to see Chloe. His old football jersey clings damply to her curves and she's holding a plastic cup. Glittering pink letters spell 'Try the Talon's Cherry Ice!' across the white cup. He shudders as the shaved ice of her frozen drink slithers messily down his spine and gooses his ass. "Chloe!"

She gives him a wide-eyed stare. "Oops. Sorry, Clark. I tripped."

"Tripped?" Clark directs a pointed stare at the unobstructed width of wooden planks between them. "On what?"

"Don't be sore." Chloe drops her empty cup on the wood. She reaches for the hem of the jersey. "I'll be happy to clean up my spill. But all I have to wipe it up with is this."

"Chloe!" Clark gasps in shocked protest, but he can’t stop himself from staring as the hem clears her thighs, then a neat vee of gold topped by her pale stomach, and – Clark swallows heavily as he sees soft, white curves, ripe pink nipples puckered tight and then her shoulders, and smiling face as she pulls the shirt completely off. He flushes with the mingled heat of embarrassment and desire.

Lana glares at Chloe. "That's not necessary. A quick dip in the lake will take care of it, won't it, Clark?"

Talking? She's expecting talking? When there's bare Chloe? Clark's gaze slides back to Chloe as she walks toward him, hips and breast swaying as his jersey dangles carelessly from her hand.

"I said, 'won't it, Clark?'" Lana snaps. Her eyes narrow as she looks from Clark's flushed face to Chloe's grin. “Clark? Clark!”

"Huh?" Clark manages as Chloe walks into his chest, the rich roundness of her breasts pressing against him. Droplets of lake water bead over the whiteness of her skin, making her shimmer in the sunlight like some ancient goddess as her cool hands slide down his stomach.

Lana huffs. "You spilled it on his back, not his front."

“Is that right, Clark? Should I be rubbing your back or your front?” Chloe purrs as her hands dip lower.

“Chloe. Please. I can't," Clark protests.

"You look like you can to me," Chloe whispers as she strokes him.

Clark groans. "I can't. Please."

"Why not?" Chloe nuzzles his shoulder.

"I –" Clark bites his lip. Can he tell them yet that he's a married guy now and this isn't right? He looks around for Lana, but she's gone. "What about Jimmy?"

"Jimmy who?" Chloe leans up to kiss him. She draws back and stares over his shoulder with an annoyed expression. "Eeeew. Could you get some clothes on? Some things I prefer to save for my nightmares."

Clark tries to turn and see who's behind him, but he can't. He waits, feeling the pier vibrating with the confident stride of whoever is approaching. Then hands settle on his back. That touch he would know anywhere. His skin shivers under as the caressing warmth spreads over his shoulders, exploring the flow of his muscles, and easing down his waist to boldly cup his hips. He moans and melts back against Lex.

"Damn it, Clark." Chloe is staring at them, blue eyes snapping with aggravation. "When I think of all the time I spent wondering why you didn't want me. You coulda just told me!"

Clark opens his mouth to call after her as she stomps off, but the words evaporate as Lex licks his back.

"Ummmmm, cherry Clark. My favorite flavor."

Clark gasps as Lex moves down his back, sucking and licking the melty cherry ice from his skin. The warmth of his lover's mouth pauses at the base of his spine. Surely Lex isn't going to go any lower because that would be such a bad, wrong thing; the kind of thing that he hadn't been able to get enough of when he'd been spending his nights in Atlantis. Clark trembles with anticipation as his cheeks are spread apart. Lex's wicked tongue strokes over him, licking away all traces of cherry ice. The slow, soft strokes gradually change into a circling firmness that makes him beg until he's silenced with a slick, wet thrust inside.

"Lex!" Clark yells as he falls back on the mattress. Red flannel sheets flutter around him as he bounces. He elbows a pillow aside and rests there as his pounding heart gradually slows. He looks around in the dim glow of the light falling out of the bathroom. Is Lex in there? A quick peek reveals that the bathroom is as Lexless as the bedroom. He squints at the bedroom next door. Still no Lex. Where is his new husband? What time is it?

He peers at the glowing dial of the clock. Midnight. Shit. He sits up running a hand through his hair. Clark bites his lip. What if he's a snorer and he drove Lex away? How do you know if you snore? His dad's a real roof rattler and his mom's used to the noise after so many years so it's not like they would've noticed. What if he's got some sort of super snore?

Maybe he should bundle the sheets up, and sneak down to the laundry room so Lex will return to fresh clean sheets. Clark wipes himself off with the sheet's hem. He could simply leave these in the laundry room and go looking for a linen closet, but washing them won't take much time, and there shouldn't be anyone else roaming the halls at this hour.

Is anyone else up or it is just him and Lex? He sweeps a quick scan over the surrounding floors and bedrooms. Sleeping. Sleeping. Talking. Reading. Talking. TV. Sleeping. TV. Internet. Reading. Sleeping. TV. Walking. Talking. Talking. Reading. Fu – oh, god, that's his parents! He claps his hands over his eyes. Oh, God! Ohgodohgodohgod. Now he's traumatized for life. His eyeballs will fall out. He did not want to know that his mom and dad even knew about that, much less did it.

He lowers his hands at the quiet sound of footsteps. Is that Lex returning? Maybe his husband had staged a kitchen raid. His stomach rumbles hopefully. Clark squints through the door and sees Lois. Shit. He freezes in dread as he watches the doorknob turn. How much of the night does she remember? Flying to Metropolis? Drinks at Atlantis? Oliver's office couch? The flight back to the castle? Clark clutches the sheets against his bare chest as Lois opens the door. "Lois, what are you doing here?"

"There you are. Do know how many bedrooms I've looked in?" Lois grins at him and closes the door behind her. "God. You wouldn't believe some of the things that I saw."

"Lois," Clark protests. What if Lex comes back and finds her in here with him while he's naked? That wouldn't be good. "This isn't the time."

"What's wrong with it?" She tosses her hair over the shoulder of her robe and staggers slightly with the motion. "It's not that late."

Clark breathes in and smells tequila. "You're drunk!"

"Hah! Shows what you know. Takes awwwaaayyy more than a mere bottle or two or," Lois strolls crookedly across the room and sits, almost missing the foot of the bed. She frowns, and pauses as she counts on her fingers, "well, more to get me sloshed. But that Cat, she can't hold it. Ya' know what I mean?"

"You were drinking with Cat Grant? I thought that you didn't like her."

"I don't. Bitch." She pats Clark's toes in reassurance. "Her. Not you. But I got her back. Drank that skinny skank under the table. She's gonna be soooooo sick tomorrow. Even sicker when she sees what I did with her email account while she was out."

"Does Chloe know that you're running loose in the castle like this?"

Lois sniffs disdainfully. Her eyes widen. She sniffs again and then gives him an evil smile. "I'm sorry, Smallville. Did I interrupt – something? A personal moment?"

Clark glowers at her. "Why are you here? Can't you get enough of me at work?"

"In your pitiful dreams."

"What do you want, Lois?"

"I want to know what you know about tats."

"Tattoos? Why would I know anything about tattoos?"

"Nice try, Clark. Are you going to tell me why your name was on my boob? Or do I have to beat it out of you?"

"What – what makes you think I know anything about it?" Clark asks warily.

"Don't make me call Chloe."

Clark gives her a blank look back. "I don't know anything about your tattoo or your – umm, boobs."

"With any other guy, I'd think he slipped me something, and I would already be beating his ass."

"I wasn't the one running around drugging people with lipstick," Clark protests. "I was minding my own business when you pounced on me. Didn't Chloe fill you in on that?"

"She told me. How was I supposed to know that lipstick was freaky? It wasn't like there was a warning label on the tube."

Clark stares at her. "How long have you been living here? It feels like a century or two at least. Lois – "

"Don't look at me like that. What? How was I supposed to know it was bad lipstick? Do you check your shaving cream for unauthorized additives?" Lois sighs loudly. "Halibut, give it a rest. I already got that lecture from my cousin. I'm trying to apologize here. I'm sorry that I kissed you while under the influence."

Clark narrows his eyes at her. "I'm sorry that I kissed you, too. Are we done now? Don't let the door slam on your way out."

"Now, don't be like that. We can't all be worthy of the hot fudge sauce rating." Lois slaps his calf. She stands up and hesitates, "Umm, Smallville, there wasn't any – we didn't – no fish stick got dipped in hot sauce tonight did it?"

"No, Lois." Clark glowers at her. "The fish stick had better things to do."

"Of course, it did." Lois gives him a patronizing smile. She glances at the room. "How come you got a biggest bedroom than I did?"

"What can I say, Lois? I found someone who knows a quality fish stick when he sees it."

"Oh, really? So where is he? Hiding under the bed? Really, Clark, who'd want to get up close and personal with your –" Lois stares at the ghostly white marble busts of Alexander, Julius Caesar, and Napoleon arranged on the bookcase. She leans closer, peering at the action figures frozen in a lewd pose on the mantle. "Oh. That explains a few things. Does Lana know about this?"

Clark winces. "I'm not sure."

"Your parents?"

"Not yet. I'm gonna tell them tomorrow."

"Breakfast was never my favorite meal, but now I can hardly wait." Lois grins as she opens the door. "Let the games begin! See you tomorrow, Halibut."

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Chloe pulls onto the parking slot. That had been amazing, even if it was just a slow drive around the levels of Lex's personal garage. Just being in such a car is a fantasy come true. Driving it, and feeling all that sleek power moving so responsively to her lightest touch, is an erotic experience in itself. She gives the stick shift an affectionate squeeze. "That was amazing."

Lucas shifts in the passenger seat. His gaze goes to her hand on the stick. "I liked watching you drive."

"Did you?" Chloe turns her head alertly at the hoarse note in his voice. She studies the dark heat simmering in his eyes and smiles slowly. Most guys she knew would have been watching her every move with nervous eyes, and giving a list of cautions and instructions instead of relaxing into the passenger seat.

"Not everyone can handle such a powerful car with such control."

Her smile widens at the faint emphasis on 'control'. Chloe trails her fingers suggestively around the tip of the stick. "It was so strong and responsive. Who wouldn't love to drive a car like that? This isn't going to get you in trouble with Lex is it?"

"Lex doesn't need to know everything that happens in one of his cars."

"No, I suppose not." Chloe looks in the waiting darkness of his eyes. She could just melt into that dark chocolate gaze. Her glance sweeps over the lean lines of his body, noting the subtle tension spreading through his muscles. Does he hunger for the same things that she does?

"Driving is good, but some prefer to be passengers, providing they can find a driver good enough to take them where they need to go," Lucas suggests softly.

"Tell me something. Are you still wearing that collar you had on earlier?"

"Yes."

"Who gave it to you?"

"I did. It's waiting for the right leash, just like I'm looking for the right driver."

"And if you find one?" Chloe asks slowly. What exactly kind of 'driver' is Lucas hunting for? There are some roads that she isn't willing to drive down, and others roads that hold no interest for her, and some routes that leave her feeling like she can't get out of the car enough.

"I would be interested in a something long term and exclusive – assuming I found the right driver for my vehicle." Lucas looks steadily back at her.

"Oh. I could agree to that – assuming I found the right car to drive."

"Are you currently driving one that suits?"

Chloe shrugs. "I've looked at several, even kicked the tires on a few, but I haven't found the right car for me yet."

"Oh? I had the impression that you had been evaluating the same car that my brother is interested in."

Chloe stares at him. "You think I'm interested Lana?"

Lucas snorts. "You think that Lex is interested in Lana? No, he's interested in the truck next door."

Lex wants Clark like that? Chloe stares at Lucas as she readjusts her thoughts. "Are you sure?"

"I know my brother." Lucas leans his head back as he studies Chloe. "How do you feel about the truck next door?"

"That particular truck did have its attractions, but I find that my preferences in vehicles have changed. I'm much less interested in trucks these days, and more interested in test driving more exotic rides." Chloe reaches for the belt on her robe and slides it free of the loops. She watches as the pulse beating in Lucas' throat speeds up.

"Yeah?" Lucas reaches out and touches the trailing end of her belt. "I could go for a test drive."

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Clark drapes his washcloth over the warm yellow counter in his bathroom. There's blue porcelain bowl filled with shaved ice and studded with bottles of water and fruit juice. He takes a bottle of water and sips it as he studies at the various pairs of pajamas fanned out across the counter.

All in his size. He'd assumed when he first walked into the bathroom that Lex had merely grabbed some random pajamas from the emergency guest closet. But a second, longer look had made it clear that these had been purchased with him in mind. How long had Lex had these?

A smile tugs at his mouth as he eyes his choices. There's two flannel numbers and two silk. And all four of them are enough to make him wonder if he will find clothes in his size in the closet tomorrow morning. Clark shakes his head at the yellow flannel printed with cartoons of little green men piloting flying saucers. "Very funny, Lex."

The next pair is blue flannel printed with Warrior Angel figures. Clark touches the bare curve of the hero's head and admires the gray slashes of eyes. The last two pairs are silk; one each in his favorite red and blue. He's not really in the mood for red right now, but the blue, blue's always good.

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Lana squirts raspberry whipped cream onto her finger and sucks it off. It's so sad the way that no one really understands her, or appreciates the sacrifices that she'd made to save the world from Zod. And after all that, all that she'd suffered, Lex and Clark – Clark! She can't bear to think of it. She jumps as a shadow falls over the kitchen table. What is that? Is it an alien? She stares suspiciously at the short, skinny guy hovering in the doorway.

Oh, it's – oh, what is his name? Chloe's boyfriend. Johnny? Jamie? Jimmy! That's it, Jimmy. Why did Chloe waste her time on such a loser? At least, Zod had picked someone who knew fashion as his host; even evil aliens had standards. Lana sniffs. No one knows all the sorrows that she's seen. She treats herself to another consoling squirt of whip.

"Hi, Miss Lang."

Is that loser still there? Lana looks up as she licks a fresh squiggle of whipped cream from her finger. She forces herself to smile at him. It was so much easier to smile sweetly at losers back in high school, knowing that Whitney would see to loser eviction, enabling her to retain her rep as the sweetest girl at Smallville High while still not having to actually talk to one of them. "Jimmy. Did Chloe send you down for a midnight snack? We've got plenty of leftovers."

He flushes and straightens his yellow pajamas. "Oh, no. Chloe and I broke-up."

Squooosh. Lana lines up another row of pink whip on her finger. "On Valentine's Day? That's awful, Jimmy. Sit down and tell me all about it. Poor, poor, poor Chloe."

Jimmy sits down and reaches for the can of whipped cream. "May I?"

Lana nods and sucks her finger.

He squirts a dot on the back of his hand, and takes a lick. A big smile spreads over his face. "My god, this is Dawson's new raspberry, isn't it?"

She looks at him with surprised approval. She'd never met anyone else with her palate for whipped cream. "You've never tried it?"

"Not yet. My February Whip of the Month hasn't hit my mailbox yet." Jimmy squirts a bigger glob on his hand. "God, this is good. Where did you find it?"

Lana leans toward him. "There's a store in Metropolis where the pastry chefs go."

"In Metropolis?" Jimmy frowns. "I wonder why Chloe couldn't find it when I asked her to do a search for me?"

"She didn't find it?"

"No. She got this weird look on her face when I started telling her about different whipped creams and about Dawson's. She – she suggested that I try the grocery store brand."

Lana gasps. She knew Chloe was strange, but really! Grocery store brand whipped cream! "She didn't?!"

"I know." Jimmy rolls his eyes. "I've tried. God knows, I've tried. Whipped cream tastings. Blind taste tests. I even gave her a subscription to the Whip of the Month club."

"And it didn't work?"

"Nope. She can't tell the difference between generic whipped cream and Dawson's. I don't know what's wrong with her palate. She gave me back all the cans that I bought her and asked me not to bring any more over; said she was on a diet."

Lana sucks her finger. Give up whipped cream?! She'd run ten miles everyday before she'd do that.

"What am I going to do with the tropical kiwi-mango whip? The almond vanilla? The caramel chocolate? The cinnamon sugar cookie cream?" Jimmy sighs mournfully. "I brought them with me when I drove here with the stuff for Lois. I hoped that maybe I could romance Chloe back into dating me, but she turned me down."

"You did?" Lana sits up, eyeing him with interest. "I've got Dawson's new marbled strawberry chocolate vanilla whip in my room. Plus I even managed to snag a can of the blackberry cordial cream."

Jimmy licks the last of the cream from his hand, and smiles. "Wanna have a taste test?"

Lana nods. It'll be just the thing to distract her from her troubles. At least for the moment. "I'll run grab my cans and meet you back in your room."

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Clark walks out of the laundry room, and pads down the dimly lit hallways toward the kitchen. He can't tell Oliver the truth. Well, not the alien truth. Should he tell Oliver that he'd been exposed to a drug, and he really, really didn't remember anything at all about Lois, or her breasts? No. Probably best to stay far, far away from any explanations involving Lois' breasts.

Besides he might be worrying about nothing. Maybe there are no cameras in Oliver's office. Maybe no one sent Oliver any photos of him and Lois kissing in the ballroom. Clark walks inside the industrial chrome and white brightness of the kitchen. It lacks the air of comfort that his mom's kitchen has, but it's satisfyingly empty of other guests.

Maybe he should simply keep his mouth shut and look stupid if Oliver asked about Lois. Looking clueless had worked fairly well for most of his life. Or he could go for broke and tell Oliver who he really wanted since none of it sounded remotely believable. It's not like he isn't going to have to tell Oliver about Lex any way.

Clark pauses in front of one of the shiny silver fridges and addresses his reflection. "You thought I wanted Lois? Don't be silly, Oliver. No, I want Lex – you know, the guy that you and the rest of the team thinks is evil incarnate. Yeah, that Lex. Lois' breasts are all very nice, and everything, but have you noticed Lex's ass?"

His reflection stares sardonically back at him. Clark sighs and opens the door. Party leftovers. Excellent. The first thing he always wants after coming down from Red K is sleep, and after that – food. He eyes the selection with interest.

There's an assortment of mushrooms stuffed with different things. Tiny individual potpies. Bite-sized quiches. A variety of tiny cheesecakes and cupcakes and tarts. Vegetable dips. Seafood dips. Crab cakes. Salmon slivers. Bitty sandwiches cut into fanciful shapes. Fish eggs. He wrinkles his nose. He'll leave the fish eggs for someone else.

Clark grabs a platter of sandwiches and piles other platters on top. He munches as he explores the contents of the next fridge. Oooh – jackpot! Beer. Tonight is more a beer sort of night. Clark grabs a bottle and thumbs the cap off. He takes a drink as he sits down at the table to demolish his loot. He polishes off the stuffed mushrooms, and begins alternating the vegetable quiches with the seafood quiches; cucumber sandwiches with the turkey and ham sandwiches. At last he's full. Clark drains his beer and sighs with satisfaction.

Now all he needs is some Lex and he'll be a happy alien. He cares his platters over to the sink and pauses, staring at the assortment of rinsed and dirty dishes sitting in the big white sink. Looks he's not the only kitchen raider to strike. Clark rinses his platters and adds them to the stack. His beer bottle goes into the recycling bins hidden beneath the sink.

He turns back to the fridge, and opens the door, grabbing a fresh bottle. Clark bends over the rows of shelves, studying the selections. Maybe he should bring a few drinks up for Chloe and Lois as a peace offering. Couldn't hurt. Lois could use a little something to sober up. What should he get? There's fruit juices and water. Milk. Hmmm, are those bottles of flavored coffee drinks?

Something gooses his balls and Clark squeaks. He jumps, and whirls around to find Cat Grant leering drunkenly at him. Oh, god. He's only distantly aware of the fridge door slamming shut behind him as he stares at the tall redhead. "Miss Grant! You have to stop doing this."

"Call me, Cat." She makes a purring noise at him.

Oh, god. He's gotta get out of here now. Clark presses against the smooth metal door of the fridge. He measures the distance to the exit with a quick glance. "Miss Grant, please don't make me have to report you."

Cat tosses her hair over the shoulders of her leopard print pajamas. "You know, you didn't look nearly so prim when you were sticking your tongue down Lois' throat in front of the important half of Metropolis."

"That – that was business," Clark lies desperately. "Undercover operation."

"Business, huh?" She slowly looks him over, lingering at his groin, before making her way back up to his face. "Business works for me."

Clark stares blankly at her. What does she mean? He flinches as she steps forward and reaches toward him, but her long-nailed hands only settle on his shoulders. He stands, frozen as she straightens the lapels of his pajamas, and smoothes them over his chest.

"In fact, a business relationship suits me perfectly. Before we talk price – how do you feel about free samples?"

"Miss Grant," Clark begins sternly only to freeze in shock as her hand snakes down to boldly cup his cock and balls. She draws back, startled as his cell phone rings. Clark slithers away from between her and the fridge, clutching the dubious protection of his bottle and phone. He skips quickly out the door. "Gotta take this call. Gotta go."

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Lex pours two snifters of brandy and walking back to his glass-topped desk. Devilicus and Warrior Angel are already there, keeping a stern eye on his latest guest. And Ollie is certainly worth looking at tonight. He smiles with satisfaction as his gaze goes to the bedraggled looking man sitting in a chair in front of his desk.

Ollie is sitting with careful stiffness of a guy who's been nicely battered and banged up. Red scratches decorate one tanned cheek, and the cropped hair has the slightest mossy green tint. The long olive coat draped over Ollie's shoulders is intriguingly tattered, particularly around the hem. His guest's matching trousers appear to have suffered a similar fate.

"Here." Lex pauses next to his guest's chair. He offers a snifter and a benevolent smile. "You look like you could use one of these. Rough day at the office, Ollie?"

"Oliver. And what do you know about my day?"

"You sound like you think that I should know something about it. Sorry to disappoint, but I've been much too busy with my own affairs to be concerned with those of minor competitors."

"Queen Industries is not minor."

Lex circles his guest, amused at the way Ollie shifts stiffly around to keep him in sight. "I'm afraid you're too late for the party."

Oliver tilts his glass and studies the dark liquid suspiciously. "I didn't come here for the party, Lex."

"No? That's too bad." Lex moves around his desk and takes a seat in front of laptop. Warrior Angel leans against it, and the way the hero's stare drifts ever so slightly toward the snifter seems to hint that in his opinion it's rather early for that sort of thing. Lex ignores the hero and takes a sip. "You missed a memorable one."

"I'll get over it."

"Of course, you will." Lex gives Ollie the sort of distant, pitying smile that says he knows better, but he'll be polite and pretend to buy it. He hides a grin at the flex of muscles along his guest's jaw. "Perhaps your busy schedule will permit you to attempt the next one. I have a very big event coming up soon. You wouldn't want to miss it."

"Oh? Some new business deal to announce?"

"No, no. This is more of a personal event. Not to say that it won't impact LexCorp in a positive way."

"Otherwise what's the point, huh?" Oliver takes a very tiny sip of his brandy.

"What indeed."

"I take it that I need to send my secretary shopping for a wedding gift. Did Lana decide on the traditional June wedding with all the works?"

"I'm not sure which month Lana intends to honor with her wedding, but June seems like a safe bet." Lex nods amiably. Which month will Clark want? March wouldn't be sufficient time to arrange the kind of large scale event that he has in mind. Even April would be pushing it.

Perhaps May. It's an equally traditional month. Definitely before November; he can't wait to attend his first family holiday meal at the Kent house as Clark's husband. Will the Kent's invite Ollie? Then he can have twice the fun looking at those two long faced blonds moping over their turkey. It will be the best family holiday that he's had in years. Lex winks at Devilicus. He can't wait.

"Perhaps Lana would like some guard dogs. Not that your peacocks don't do an excellent job." Oliver takes a bigger drink of his brandy.

"Peacocks?" Lex blinks. He studies Ollie's tatters with renewed interest. Had the Luthor Manor peafowl mutated? He'll have to get one of his scientists out to take a look at the pests. "I believe my dad did acquire some when after he finished rebuilding the castle; the farmers weren't very happy about it, but my dad didn't care. I haven't noticed the birds doing anything particularly interesting."

"I was ambushed by a flock of the bastards between your gates and your front door. You expect me to believe that you know nothing about it?" Oliver demands.

"Mostly they scamper around the grounds shrieking. Are you seriously suggesting that I have trained attack peafowl?" Lex shakes his head pityingly. What a splendid idea! If mutated peafowl were smarter than the usual creatures, the things that he could do with them. "I believe that they do eat frogs. Perhaps all that green you're wearing confused them."

Oliver finishes his brandy and sets the snifter on Lex's desk. "Never mind the damned birds. I came to take Lois home."

"Even Lois has more sense than to go out into a storm with you when she already has perfectly adequate shelter. And if you think she's going to leave her cousin behind –"

"Of course, I know she wouldn't leave Chloe here. I would never expect her to. I want both of them safe."

"Both girls are perfectly safe here. Or as safe as they want to be."

Oliver sits up and stares hard at his host. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Chloe seemed to be enjoying my brother's company at the ball. Of course, like all the Luthors, Lucas is an excellent dancer."

"Probably all that tap-dancing practice you Luthors get in with the media." Oliver narrows his eyes. "Not to mention local politicians and zoning boards."

"It never hurts to be a well rounded individual." Lex smiles mockingly. "Shall I have one of my staff show you to Lois' room?"

"Are you out of guestrooms? In this pile of rock?"

"Oh, like that is it? Shall I assign you bodyguards as well?"

Oliver glowers. "I realize that this might be difficult for you to understand, but not everyone incites their girlfriends – or wives – to homicidal mania."

"We all have our burdens. Mine is being a man who inspires great passion. Some times in the most unlikely places. Would you believe there's a guy who likes to dress up in tight green leather and blow," Lex allows only the faintest of pauses and emphasis, "up my assets? He must be quite desperate for my attentions."

Oliver breathes in sharply and turns red. "I think you over estimate your attractions. Not everything is about sex."

"So says the man who drove through a blizzard to protect his girlfriend from – is it my wiles, or Clark's wiles, that you are concerned about?" Lex looks into Ollie's angry eyes and smiles. "Clark and Lois put on quite a show in ballroom, but you already know that, don't you? How many calls did you get about? Fifteen? Twenty?"

Oliver sets his jaw. "My relationship with Lois is none of your business."

"Perhaps not. But your relationship with Clark is of great interest to me. And I will not have you upsetting him tonight."

"Me? Upset him!"

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Clark drinks the last of his beer and sets the bottle on top of the washing machine. He smoothes the neatly folded squares of flannel sheets one last time. He eyes the bottle; he hates to simply leave it for Luthor staff to clean-up, but he can't face returning to the kitchen and risking another encounter with Cat. He's already had to reassure his parents that his absence from the bedroom is due to a harmless case of the munchies.

He opens the door and strolls out of the laundry room, carrying his sheets. His eyes widen in horror as he spots Cat leaning against the wall. Oh, god. He'd thought that she would be sleeping on the kitchen table by now. Clark hugs the sheets to his chest like a shield.

"Heellllooo, handsome. I've got a little something for your big something." She loses her balance as she waves folded bills at him. Cat catches herself against the doorframe, and makes purring noises at him.

Oh, god. Ohgodohgodohgod. Clark picks up his pace as she adds a porn star lip lick to her repertoire. He uses a burst of speed to zip past her groping hands.

"Don't get shy on me now, Clarkie. How much for a peek at the goods?"

Clark glances over his shoulder. She's staggering along behind him, still waving money. Oh, shit. Where's a meteor freak when you really really really need one? Preferably one that likes drunks. Clark hurries into the closest bathroom and locks the door behind him. He flinches as she scratches the door and makes rrraaowing noises.

He sets his sheets down on the toilet lid, and flips open his phone. His finger hovers over the number pad. Not Lois; she's probably sleeping off whatever she'd gotten wasted on. He could call his parents, but if they decided to go for round two after checking up on him – no. Seeing his parents engaging in non-parental acts in full x-ray vision splendor had been bad enough; he does not want the surround sound version.

Chloe or Lex? Lex or Chloe? It's almost like fate the way his choices so frequently narrow down to those two. Either one would rescue him, but he will never be allowed to forget being trapped in a bathroom by a drunken woman. Clark flips his phone closed as he imagines his future. He'd be getting cat plushy toys that mewed. Cat cards, cat calendars, cat tee shirts, and cds of cats meowing Christmas carols.

No. No, he's an adult. He can deal with this. If he can face down mutants and aliens and criminals, he can deal with one drunk, purring, arroawing woman. He can do this. He can. Clark straightens his shoulders, and strides out only to end up pressed back up against the wooden door with Cat plastered against him. "Miss Grant!"

"I thought we agreed that it's 'Cat' -- rrrrroaw."

"Miss Grant," Clark responds firmly. "You have to stop this."

"Want the money up front, hmmm? A wise policy."

Clark watches in stunned horror as she holds up a folded bill. Why, oh, why had Met U seen fit to make him take a whole semester of Philosophy of Journalism, but hadn't offered any classes on dealing with workplace perils like this?

"I should think that would be enough for a quickie." She tugs at the hem of his flannel top. "Take my advice, baby, and put it into your advertising budget. Buy yourself a nice suit. Some silk boxers."

"Miss – Miss – " Clark squeaks and scrabbles desperately back against the wooden door as he feels her fingers fumbling at his waistband. The door gives away behind him and they hit the floor with a wall rattling boom.

Clark groans and closes his eyes as he hears the surge of running footsteps and then the rising sound of whispers, sniggers, and giggles. He is not opening his eyes. He might never open them again. There's sudden silence, and a familiar voice.

"Clark?"

He reluctantly opens his eyes to see a ring of Luthor security staff, putting away various weapons, standing around him. Oliver and Lex are standing at the forefront. His gaze skips over Oliver's tanned face and stunned brown eyes to focus on Lex. He instantly feels more confident. "Hi, Lex."

Cat rrraoowws and sits up. Her hands spread over his chest as she struggles for her balance. "Wha-wha happened?"

Oh, shit. He's gotta get rid of her before she revives enough to start groping him again. Clark gives Lex a pleading look. "Could someone do something about her?"

"Looks like someone already is." Oliver smirks. He glances at the thick door and his smirk deepens as he looks at Clark. "Wow, that's thick door. How did it get knocked down like that, Clark?"

Oh, shit. Someone had sent Oliver photos of him and Lois. Shit, shit, shit. Clark tries to think of something, anything to tell the semi-circle of watchers. Weak hinges? Bad door knobs? Drunks? "Ummm – It – you see, I was –"

"Kalotermitidae," Lex announces firmly.

"Kal-whatsis?" Oliver turns his stare on Lex.

"Dry wood termites."

"Termites," Oliver repeats with a frown.

Lex smiles with slow condescension. "Yes, Ollie. Termites. The door clearly shows the characteristic signs of infestation. These little gaps in one's knowledge will occur if one passes one's classes largely by way of purloining –"

"I know what termites are!" Oliver glowers. "And it's Oliver!"

Clark grabs Cat's wandering hands. "Ummm, Lex, help? Please."

Lex catches the eyes of a man with dark, curly hair. "Have someone escort Miss Grant to her bedroom. See that she stays there." He turns a smirk on Oliver. "And escort Mr. Queen to Miss Lane's room."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Alexander coasts up the familiar drive, engine silent, and headlights off. He parks near the barn and gets out, staring up the weathered building. Like Luthor Manor, this too is familiar, and not. The loft doors are firmly closed, and he turns his head as spotted mare pokes an inquisitive head over the fence. He doesn't remember the small herd of horses. A large white stallion joins the mare. Alexander takes an involuntary step back as the stallion eyes him in disconcertingly predatory fashion.

He looks around at the sound of a quiet thud and sees a fluffy white cat making itself at home on the hood of his black Porsche. He frowns. Clark has a cat? He always thought of Clark as more of a dog kind of guy. Alexander stills at the sound of a low, rumbling growl coming from behind him. He slowly looks away from the cat to see a blocky white dog standing stiff-legged between him and the yellow farm house.

Sskkkerrrcchhhittt. Alexander whips his head around to stare in disbelief at his hood. Rough curls of thin black metal wobble over his formerly pristine hood. The white cat looks back at him and stretches its paw over the hood again. Ssskkeerrcchhhhittttt.

"Stop that!" Alexander takes a step toward the cat, only to stop as the dog's growl gets louder. The entire herd of horses is now lined up at the fence, watching the show with interest. The big stallion shakes his head; his gaze seems almost mocking as he peers through his forelock. The cat stretches and yawns widely, revealing a mouth full of sharp teeth.

The loft doors swing open overhead and a youthful voice calls down, "What? Why are guys making all that racket for? Just because my dad likes to get up at the crack of dawn doesn't mean – Luthor! What are you doing here?"

Alexander looks up, straining to see more of the shadowy figure leaning out of the loft. Perhaps the angle is throwing his sense of perspective off, but the youth doesn't look as tall as the Clark that he knows or as heavily muscled. The voice is similar, very similar, but something is not quite –

"Answer me, Luthor!" The boy lobs himself from the loft and drops lightly to the ground. The dog promptly trots over to lean against the kid's denim clad legs. The boy scowls at Alexander. "What do you want?"

Alexander catches his breath as the first rays of dawn hits the boy's face. This, this he had never expected. It had never entered his calculations as the faintest, remotest, wildest possibility. Not after that long ago meteorite had rendered him sterile. All his careful plans go spinning away as he stares intently, his artist's eye picking out the traces of his gawky teenaged self. Does the boy know?

Those eyes – the bright blue is all Clark, but the long narrow shape is all Luthor. The full mouth is Clark's, but the angry scowl twisting it is his. The high cheekbones are Clark's, but the faint roundness that softens those edges is his. The chin is his, but the stubborn angle is pure Kent. The boy's skin is almost as delicately smooth as his, but the paleness of it is warmed with the rich golden undertone. And the boy has hair, but it's straight and black instead of red, and straight instead of falling in soft waves like Clark's. How? How had this happened? How had Clark and his double in this universe managed to have a child together?

"I asked you a question, Luthor!"

"Conner." Clark walks around the barn. "You're going to miss the bus."

Alexander smiles at the wary way that Clark's teal gaze goes from the boy to him and back. Conner might not know what he is to the boy, but Clark does. Good. He'll deal his way into their lives with any card that he has. He's not giving up this chance to have a family of his own. He had sought out a universe that held a tender young Clark to seduce and play head games with, but this is so much better.

His gaze goes to the flannel clad farmer staring back at him. The heavy shoulders stretching the red plaid shirt look deliciously biteable as do the shadowed circles of dark nipples showing beneath the sweat damp white tee. Dark stubble dots Clark's cheeks and gives the alien an intriguingly raffish air. Loose jeans successfully conceal Clark's lower body from him.

"What are you smirking at?" Conner snaps. He reaches down to pet his dog, never taking his stare from Alexander.

Clark walks between the two them. "Conner. School. Now."

"I'm not leaving you alone with him. What if he's got a box of – you know – stuff?" Conner gives his dad a significant look.

"Then we're both in trouble, aren't we?" Clark runs a hand through his curling hair. "Conner –"

"Oh, for god's sake! Look," Lex holds his black suit jacket open, "no, Kryptonite." He ignores Clark and Conner's sudden twitches at the word. Alexander turns a commanding stare on the boy. "I'm only here to talk to Clark. That's it. I promise. Now go catch your fucking yellow bus."

"Lex!" Clark glares at him.

Alexander sighs. "Trust me, Clark, by his age, he's not only heard the F word, but he's used it too. Perhaps even already performed the very act."

Conner's smirk disappears as Clark turns an alarmed glance on him. The boy glares at Alexander. "Gotta go, dad. School's important. You wouldn't want me to miss any of it. See ya'."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Clark glances around at the sound of a lock clicking closed. Lex is leaning against the library doors, staring at him. No, staring at his – Clark blushes. His first impulse is to yank his pajama top down to cover his cock. His second – he leans back against the glass top of Lex's desk, and watches from beneath his lashes as the other man blatantly stares at the drape of snug blue silk over his shaft and balls.

He indulges in some staring of his own, admiring the loose-limbed grace of his husband's body beneath the soft lines of charcoal sweater and black trousers. He loves the way Lex moves, like moonlight flowing across the floor like moonlight. His gaze rises to Lex's face. There's a faint beguiling flush on pale skin that makes him think of ripening apples at dawn, and the scarred quirk of Lex's lips make him want to bite and suck and taste. Clark sighs with longing. "I'm really sorry about the door – everything."

"Are you?" Lex walks closer, his smoky gaze drifts upwards. He curves his marked palm over Clark's cheek. "Everything?"

"Maybe not everything." Clark turns his head and kisses the cool palm. He touches the tip of his tongue to the tiny ridges of the mark.

Lex shakes his head. "You come to my party with Lois wrapped around you, and now I have to pry Cat Grant away. What am I going to do with you?"

"That's wasn't my fault!" Clark straightens his pajama top with a snap of fabric. To his horror a hundred dollar bill drifts to the floor, landing between the toes of Lex's black leather shoes. Oh, god. He stares at it. How's he gonna get that back to Cat without further embarrassment or groping? Maybe he can slip it under her door and speed away.

"A little short on the rent this month, Clark? You should have said."

"Lex!" He looks up, outraged and red-faced. The quirk of Lex's mouth does nothing to soothe him.

"A mere hundred, Clark? Shame. It doesn't seem quite adequate for indulging a kink that involves cat noises."

"I did not – she just shoved that money," Clark stops and stares into the cool silver of his husband's eyes. "Lex, you aren't going to – do anything to her, are you?"

"I hear that Alaska is lovely this time of year."

Clark shakes his head. "Lex."

"Am I making a mistake? Were you enjoying yourself out there?"

"No! Of course not, but Alaska, Lex? Everybody in the newsroom knows how much Cat hates Kansas winters. Sending her to Alaska would be cruel." Clark touches Lex's shoulder. "Lex –"

"Very well, I can comprise."

Clark eyes his husband suspiciously. "You can?"

"I'll send an invitation to the wedding, and a brochure for Alaska to her. She'll get the message."

That he can live with. Such an unusual willingness to compromise like that deserves a reward. Clark leans in for a kiss. He touches his tongue to the scar on Lex's upper lip before pulling back slightly. "Lex, I need to know about something. Oliver says –"

"Oliver." Lex sighs. "I might have known. You've listen too much to him. What does dear Ollie have to say?"

"That you have secret projects."

"Of course, I have secret projects. Otherwise know as R&D. You think Queen Industries doesn't have a Research and Development division? At least, I don't go around blowing his buildings up. Although I may begin doing so, if Ollie doesn't stop destroying LexCorp assets. Perhaps I should start sending out itemized bills," Lex adds in thoughtful tones.

Clark blinks at the implications. If Lex knows about Oliver and the Justice team's activities, does Lex know that he was involved in some of that? His heart sinks as he imagines the look on his dad's face if a bill for blown up LexCorp stuff shows up in the farm mailbox. He'd never really been comfortable with all the destruction that Oliver claimed was necessary, but it hadn't occurred to him to wonder if Oliver might have other reasons for targeting LexCorp. "Is Oliver a business rival, Lex?"

"I wouldn't deign to dignify him with that description. On his best day, he's no more than a minor pest."

Oh, shit. How much of the stuff that they'd done had been more about causing LexCorp problems, and less about destroying evil Luthor research? He should have asked more questions, but it'd been so easy to believe Oliver and he'd been so excited to find the kind of camaraderie that he had with the Justice team. Oliver seemed so open and friendly and warm compared to cool closed face that Lex had been showing him lately. Now he doesn't know what to believe.

What if Lex had been trying to do something good instead of something bad? When had he forgotten that while many of Lex's projects went off on freaky tangents, it had been a desire to make things better that had given birth to them? Had Oliver been a little to ready to assume that Lex had bad intentions? Had he been a little too ready to listen in his hurt over Lex's sudden interest in Lana? "Lex. Are you – doing things?"

"I plan to be doing you." Lex begins unbuttoning Clark's pajama top. "Possibly on top of my desk. Maybe the couch. I haven't decided yet."

"Lex, please. Are you doing stuff? With Kry – meteor rock?"

"Okay. Yes, Clark, I'm 'doing things' with mutants and kryptonite."

Clark twitches at the word. Where had Lex heard it? How did Lex know that was the proper name for meteor rock? He's certain that he'd never used the term around Lex. He nervously clears his throat. "Kryptonite?"

"Interesting how the same substance has so many different effects."

Clark frowns as it suddenly occurs to him that Lex has asked him very few questions about anything tonight, and seemed surprised by very little of it; as if Lex somehow already knew. "Lex? How do much do you – what do you know?"

Lex nibbles at the fullness of Clark's lower lip. He whispers against the pink curves, "I know about the planet that you came from."

Clark shivers.

Lex plants a kiss at the edge of his husband's mouth. "I know what Zod had planned. And I know that nobody – nobody – is ever going to possess me, use me to destroy everything that I care about like that again. No matter what I have to do."

Zod? Lex remembers being Zod? Remembers what Zod knew? Damn. Clark makes a small distressed sound and slides protective hands over the beautiful, fragile curve of Lex's head. "Lex, I would never –"

"Idiot." Lex bites the younger man's earlobe. "Of course, you wouldn't, but Zod – he was going to use me to kill you, to destroy the world. I was so – I didn't think I could stop him."

Clark gathers his husband close. He can feel the fear, the remembered horror in the fine tremors running through Lex's muscles. God. With those memories driving him, no wonder Lex had been walking into darker and darker places in search of weapons and answers. Clark scatters soothing kisses over the bareness of his lover's head, and wraps his arms tighter around Lex's slim body. "He's gone Lex. Zod's gone. You don't need – you don't have to do stuff with meteor rock."

"Are you telling me that he's dead?"

"No. I sent him back to – he's in a prison."

"People get out of prison, Clark. And you can't tell me that Zod doesn't have followers, or that all the aliens out there are like you. Earth has to be ready to defend itself."

Clark hesitates over the assurances that he wants to give. Lex is right. All the aliens out there aren't good ones, and as much as he'd like to promise protection, he isn't sure that he can make good on it. He'd come so close to losing the fight with Zod. But he can't sit and watch Lex harried deeper into darkness by fear and anger. "I can understand that, and I don't disagree with it. But Lex, you have to promise me –"

Lex lifts his head. "Promise you what?"

Clark looks into haunted gray eyes and whispers, "That you'll be careful about what you choose to study and how. Careful about which projects you put your resources into. That you will stay out of – questionable areas. That you won't do anything that will force me to leave you."

"Yes."

"Good."

Lex smiles, suddenly radiating seductive temptation. "In fact, why don't you leave the Daily Planet and work for me? You could be in charge of my R&D division."

Clark snorts. "With a journalism degree? Right."

"You could go back to school." Lex places a kiss at the base of Clark's throat. "Take more science courses." His tongue dips teasingly into the hollow. "Business classes."

"Because statistics and economics are loads of much fun." Clark slides his hands down to spread over his husband's flanks.

"I'd create a special position, just for you." Lex runs a fingertip down the center of Clark's chest. He circles the dip of navel, and follows the narrow arrow of dark hair leading downwards.

"Wow, and I'd be ever so popular at work too." Clark tries not to whimper at the slow, curious brush up and down the fine line of hair. His stomach muscles ripple with the need to push into Lex's touch. "Almost as popular as I was in high school. Plus my dad would be so proud."

"You would see every project and have access to all the details. You would be the guy who gives the final green light to which avenue of research is approved and which isn't. Complete oversight of all projects, including the secret ones. And you wouldn't be the only one with a proud dad to deal with, you know."

Clark hooks a finger in Lex's sweater, pulling the neckline askew to bare pale skin. He sucks the sweet white flesh into his mouth. Yeah, Lex putting a lover in charge of a large division of LexCorp would really draw Lionel's fire. "You don't have to offer that Lex. I wouldn't ask for your promise, if I didn't believe in it, and in you."

"Maybe I'm the one who doesn't quite trust myself in this. Whenever I think about Zod, I get so enraged." Lex pauses before quietly adding, "And so afraid. I lose perspective."

"You really want this? You want me to be your perspective?"

"I want it. And think of the perks, Clark. You can set your own hours."

"Sex with the boss."

"Free college classes."

"Lex." Clark arches as his lover's hand slides lower, cupping him through the silk. "I just got out of school. That's like saying I get to plow fields when I'm not at LexCorp. That's not a perk."

"It could be. With a little imagination." Lex squeezes lightly. "Every test you get an A on, we'll do something – extra special."

"Now that's a perk."

"It feels like something else is perking." Lex eases down the blue silk bottoms.

"Lex." Cark groans. His hands tighten possessively over the hard arc of his husband's ass. He runs his fingers down the cleft.

"You do know that the whole lack of tentacles is a severe disappointment to me," Lex whispers as his hand closes around the velvet length of his lover's cock, and strokes. "I had expectations, Clark."

"What sort of expectations?" Clark gasps as he pushes into the teasing looseness of the other man's fist.

"I expect a lustful and wanton alien love god chase me around the castle at least once a day."

"I could do that."

"I expect to you to rip off my clothes and do wicked sexy things to me until I faint from the force of my orgasm."

"Oooh." Clark blushes as he thinks of all the things that he wants to do with Lex. He leans forward to kiss the fading mark that he'd left on Lex's throat. "That – I can do that. I think. I'm willing to practice every single day."

"That's the kind of attitude that I believe in encouraging." Lex slides to his knees. He rubs his cheek against Clark's stomach. "I fully expect to be compensated for the whole lack of tentacle."

"What I want to know is what have you been watching?" Clark gives Lex as stern a look as he can manage as the tip of his lover's tongue damply teases his cock. "That's it, mister. No more wandering around the science fiction section of the DVD store by yourself."

"That wasn't the DVD store; that was the porn channel. Alien Kink Week always gets me hot."

"You're making that up. There is no Alien Kink Week."

"Oh? Are you sure about that?" Lex curls his tongue over the crown..

"Ohhhhh, god." Clark slides his hands around Lex's head. "Of – of course, I'm sure."

"Shows what you know. It's on after Meteor Mutants Gone Wild."

"Now that's a show I'd like to see."

"Would you?" Lex takes Clark's cock into his mouth.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Oliver tests the rope again, but he's firmly tied and stretched naked across the massive four poster bed. His phone rings tauntingly from the wingchair on the far side of the room. He lifts his head. He can't even see his phone; it's buried beneath the careless jumble of his clothes. It's been ringing with increasing urgency for the last hour. Either he has a business deal going down the tubes, or the Team ran into trouble on their mission. He yanks his wrists hard, but only succeeds in dislodging the silk scarves that had been protecting his skin from the roughness of the rope. "LOIS!"

"Yes, Oliver?" Lois steps out of the bathroom. Her long legs are covered with sheer thigh high black stockings. There are a few inches of bare tanned stomach between the top of her tiny pair of emerald velvet panties and the bottom of a black lace corset. Her breasts shift enticingly in the cups as she sways toward the bed.

"Lois," Oliver breathes hoarsely. He groans as she leans over him, giving him an even better view of her breasts. He hates to discourage this, but he's got to get her to let him have that phone. He'd known when he chose this double life that he'd have to face some tough choices, but he'd never expected them to be this tough. "Lois. Please."

She smiles and sways over to the bed. "'Lois, please'? I like the sound of that. I expect to be hearing a lot of pleases before this is over."

Oliver reluctantly looks away from the goddess standing next to him to the chair hiding his frantically ringing phone. "Lois. I really need to answer that."

Her smile cools. "Tell me why?"

"It's – complicated."

"Isn't it always?" She sets her pail on the nightstand. Her hands settle on her hips. "Try explaining it to me then."

Oliver glances at the pail. His eyes widen as he sees a pair of small silver spoons stuck in the shaved ice amid cartons of chocolate cheesecake yogurt. He whimpers. "Lois, I – I –can't."

"Unhuh. Much too complicated. Got it." She smirks as she climbs on the bed and kneels over him.

"I didn't mean it like that, but I need to answer the phone. It could be important."

"We're important. We've had this discussion before, Oliver." Lois slides her hands up his chest and leans closer. She brushes her lips lightly over his. "I'm the most important thing that's ever going to happen to you. More important than your cell phone and any call that you will ever get."

"Lois." Oliver twitches as his phone rings again.

"No. This phone addiction of yours is going to stop. Nothing is going to come between us and Jamaica. Except," Lois teasingly rubs her hips over the heat of his cock, "my velvet panties if you keep being bad."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Alexander sits very still at the Kents' kitchen table. Clark's warm hand cradles his as the alien stares down at the mark on his palm.

"It's real," Clark murmurs in a dazed voice.

"Of course, it's real," Alexander snaps. He tries to jerk his hand away, but Clark doesn't release him.

"But how? When? I don't remember –"

Alexander adopts a hurt expression, and tries to channel Lana. "You don't remember? How can you not remember? Everything I've done, I've done to protect you, to protect our son."

Clark frowns. "But what about –"

"I can't believe you're going to sit here and quibble over trifles. After all I did for us so we could finally live openly together as a family. And you don't remember!" Alexander bounces out of his chair and turns his back on Clark. He pretends to stare out the window as he checks Clark's uncertain reflection. The other man wants to believe him. He can see that in the softening teal gaze and the considering tilt of black brows.

He allows his shoulders to slump. He slowly bows his head, listening to the creak of the wooden chair as Clark rises. Alexander adds a very faint sniff and lifts a hand from a quick brush over his eyes. Too much? Not enough? Yes! He keeps his gaze lowered to hide his triumph as big hands settle lightly on his shoulders.

"Lex. I, umm –"

"Alexander! You said that I would always be Alexander to you."

"Well, uumm, okay. Alexander, I –"

"I suppose you don't remember this either!" Alexander turns and wraps his arms around the wide shoulders. He takes advantage of Clark's surprise parted lips for a slow deep kiss.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Oliver lies, limp and exhausted, on the big bed. He's been teased and taunted, blown and ridden until he's lost count of exactly how many frequent fliers' miles to Jamaica he's accumulated. He hasn't felt this relaxed and at peace in – well, forever.

He yawns as his phone rings again. If the Harker deal had gone down the tubes, that's cool. He can always get more deals, but more nights like this with Lois – that's priceless. Oliver yawns again and closes his eyes. Maybe a quick nap while Lois is raiding Lex's kitchen for more yogurt. More chocolate cheesecake would be too much to hope for, but surely she can find something. Oliver opens his eyes as the door creaks open. His smile evaporates as he stares at the shocked looking group standing in the doorway and staring back at him.

Bart darts across the room and into the bathroom and back before announcing, "We're alone."

Victor shakes his head. "Damn, man. That's more of you than I ever wanted to see. At least A.C. usually stops with his shirt."

"Speak for yourself, Vicky." A.C. steps closer to the bed, tilting his head for a better view. He tucks his hands into the pockets of his orange hoodie. "A natural blond, huh? And I bet Clark that you dyed. Now I gotta work on his dad's farm for two days. Damn."

"Stop calling me, Vicky, you mutant chicken of the sea." Victor steps toward the bed and stops as a yogurt carton crunches under his foot. He stares at the other cartons, and sighs loudly. "Chocolate cheesecake yogurt. I guess that answers that question, but just to be sure – this is a consensual situation?"

Oliver glares at his team. He's never, never, never going to hear the end of this. "Of course, it is. Now, go away."

Bart adjusts his red hood. "Now that's some gratitude for you. We bust our humps breaking into Castle Luthor, thinking something awful happened to you, and you've been getting yogurt massages."

A.C. nods beneath the concealment of his cowl. "Not cool, dude. When we couldn't get you on the phone, and found out that you had gone here, we were worried. Not even the view makes up for that."

"Oh, for god's sake." Victor snatches a sheet from the floor and flings it over Oliver's waist. "There. Now will you focus, A.C. I thought you said that you weren't gay."

"I’m sorta bi, if you gotta know."

Victor sighs. "I know I'm gonna be sorry I asked, but sorta? How can be you be sorta bi?"

A.C. smirks. "You ever read about amphibians and how they can switch sexes under the right circumstances?"

"Nooo." Victor groans. "I knew I was gonna be sorry. Why did I have to go there? Why?"

Oliver sighs. "Did the mission go well?"

"Ooooh, yeah." Bart grins. "Boom-a-rama."

A.C. sniggers. "So it was good for you too, huh?"

"God, yes. I looove blowing things up. It's almost as much fun as a good race with –"

"Who the hell are you?" Lois stands in the doorway, glaring at them. She holds an ancient mace at a business like angle, ignoring the way her green silk robe falls open. "Get away from Oliver."

"It's okay, Lois." Oliver smiles warily at her. "They're friends."

"Friends," Lois repeats doubtfully as she stares at the concealing hoods and masked faces. "Do all your friends wear masks?"

Oliver squirms, flexing his arms against the ropes. "Not all of them. Just some."

Lois narrows her eyes as she stares at the guy in the orange and green. "You look familiar. I've seen you somewhere before."

"They came by to check on me because I didn't answer my phone, but they're going now," Oliver announces.

Bart smirks. "What? We don't even get a tour of Castle Luthor before we go?"

"I'll be happy to show you the battlement." Lois sweeps a cool stare over the group. Her hand tightens around the mace as she steps into the room.

Victor pushes Bart toward the doorway, keeping both them between Lois and A.C. "You heard the man, guys. Don't let the door hit you on the ass on the way out."

Lois locks the door behind the retreating guys. She turns to face Oliver who smiles weakly back at her. "You've got some explaining to do, Yogurt Boy."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Alexander lies, limp and flattened, beneath the pinning weight of his lover. He idly caresses wide sweat-damp shoulders. While there's a certain charm to being deflowered of his last vestige of virginity on the Kent family table, it's not the most comfortable location.

Despite all Clark's gentleness, his poor ass had taken quite a pounding against the stolid oak top. In lieu of a hot tub, which the Kent Farm no doubt completely lacked, he would be willing to accept a nice hot bath. A massage would be good too. Alexander rubs his chin against the top of his new husband's head. He glances out the window as the late afternoon sun slides behind a cloud. There's something that he should be remembering. Something about afternoon, but he's sated, and pleasantly tired. It doesn't seem terribly important any way.

The kitchen door abruptly bangs open and whirlwind rushes into the room with a thud and a thump as it disgorges a backpack. "Dad, you'll never what happened at school – OHMYGOD! DAD! On the KITCHEN TABLE! With HIM! What's wrong with you?!" The screen door blasts open and the whirlwind vanishes.

"Conner! Son! Wait!"

Alexander sighs as Clark is suddenly gone. He carefully levers himself off the table. Looks like he's going to have to take that bath alone. Ah, well, all the more time to decide which of Clark's buttons to hit next. He gathers his clothes and walks across the room, pausing to look at his reflection in the shiny metal surface of the fridge. Alexander strikes a tragic poise. "I feel so – so used!"

He giggles all the way up the stairs. This is going to be so much fun.


The End