On the Road to Gotham

Thank you, Lucy, for your review!
***

On his way out of the precinct Whitney called his lover. Though Lex was in Metropolis, the detective knew someone had to have told him of the day’s earlier adventure. His cellphone didn’t show any recent calls, but that wasn’t Lex’s style. No, he’d wait for Whitney to phone him. If he didn’t he’d be sure to somehow be censored for it later.

“Whitney.” It was difficult, trying to read a man as mercurial as Lex Luthor over a couple thousand miles. Whitney rubbed his forehead, recognizing Lex’s neutral, ‘I haven’t decided to be furious with you yet’ voice. Amazing how much that man could stack into one word.

“Hey, Lex. Thanks again for this watch. The thing’s damn near indestructible.”

“I’m thrilled to hear that,” Lex drawled, his stress on the ‘thrilled’ making Whitney wince. “Too bad the same can’t be said of its wearer. I’d have less stressful interruptions during meetings.”

So he most definitely knew. “It wasn’t a planned adventure, Lex, believe me. And I’m fine. Not a scratch.” Thanks to mutant healing powers. “I had two great hulking superheroes to baby-sit me.”

“Two?” How did the man imply the eyebrow lift in a single syllable? Whitney nodded at the officers he recognized passing on the street, his long legs eating the sidewalk. The precinct’s parking lot was at the end of the block and he flashed his badge at the security guard to be let through the gate.

“Yeah, Metropolis must be crime free because Superman’s taken to patrolling the sewers of Old Gotham for wayward police officers. Ol’ Batface was less than peachy with him homing in on his rescue business. Janet and I are both fine, the Joker was arrested, and the kid he was hunting is safe. The Captain gave us four days off and I can go back to work once I get a doctor’s sign off.”

“I’ll contact my physician here in Metropolis to swing by the offices this afternoon,” Lex said after a minute of silence. “Mason can send a car to your apartment to take you to the airport. Thank you, Margaret,” his voice faded a moment, speaking to his assistant. “The jet will be waiting on the tarmac at 4 o’clock.”

He’d be home in time for dinner and the blond grinned as he jiggled his keys out of his pocket. “Can we have lobster?”

Lex chuckled softly. “Am I spoiling you, Mr. Fordham?”

“No, Mr. Luthor, you are not,” Whitney cheekily rejoined. “I’m at my car so I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Call when you’re at the airport.” The phone clicked, Lex not being one much for ‘good-bye’s, and Whitney pocketed his own. It was going to be nice, no matter Lex’s current sulkiness. He’d do a little begging, act appropriately tired, and Lex would practice some of his tantric sex shit on him for four days. Could a guy ask for more?

Apparently, yes. The soft thump on the hood of his car made Whitney jerk back, looking up to see Superman standing there. Getting a worm’s eye view of his crotch made the blond blush, but he was more angry than aroused and silently hoped the one state masked the other.

“Hey! Get off my damn car!”

Superman didn’t twitch, staring down at him in open appraisal. “Detective Fordham, you’re not who I expected to be dating the crime lord Lex Luthor. Frankly, I was surprised a police officer was involving himself with such a man at all, but you certainly don’t seem the type.”

Crime lord? “Where the hell do you get off? Lex has never been charged with anything, mister, and just what type am I?” Whitney sneered, clenching his fists tight enough his keys were threatening to gouge open his palm. What kind of fucked up game was Clark playing at? “Don’t I look like the type who likes to take it up the ass? Is that the type we’re talking about, or are you just bashing gays in general? Is this your big secret? Superman’s a homophobe?”

“Detective, your . . .activities,” Clark bit out after a struggle, glacial blue eyes furious, “are not the issue of concern.”

Whitney‘s sharp hand gesture cut off the rest of the superhero‘s speech. “Okay, first of all if you can’t say it, then, . . . no, you know what, it’s none of your business anyway. Whitney Fordham’s sex life is none of Superman’s business.”

“Whi- Detective, please, I’m just trying to protect you.”

“Protect me?” Whitney scoffed. “I’m a police detective, Supes. I carry a gun. I’m a decorated combat vet. I don’t need your protection.”

“A gun won’t protect you against Lex Luthor. He’s manipulative and lying, and he’s using you. Eventually he’ll grow tired of you. Please, I know where you’re at.”

“No, from what I hear you always liked it the other way.” On-lookers were starting to congregate at the fence of the parking garage, filling Whitney’s peripheral vision. Someone out there was going to have a camera. “Shit. Look, we can’t have this conversation here. We can’t have this conversation at all. My life is none of your business. Get that through that thick Kent skull of yours and leave me alone. And get the fuck off my car!”

For a brief moment the blue eyes flickered green, but in either shade there was a world of hurt and surprise in them. Whitney wanted to care, but dammit, Clark was a grown man. A last wounded, frustrated look and Superman sped off, a blur that quickly blended into the blue sky. With a tired shake of his head, Whitney yanked open the door to his car and slumped inside. Four o’clock couldn’t come soon enough.

***

“Lex.” The tall blond strode into the boardroom like he owned the building, the arrogant confidence bringing a pleased smile to the billionaire’s lips. He liked the territorial assumption, a mirror of his more possessive nature. “Did I manage to beat the news crews?”

The question threw the older man. “News crews?”

Whitney stopped at his chair, close enough that Lex had to tilt his head to maintain eye contact. The room was empty, the detective having waited before announcing himself until the last peon had scurried away, but he glanced back to the doors anyway. A quick reassurance before he kicked out Lex’s chair and straddled him. Lex’s hands automatically went to his hips to steady him.

“’Latest amour of billionaire Lex Luthor seen arguing in the street with Superman.’”

“Superman?” Lex dumbly repeated, unconscious of his tightening grip.

“Ye-ap. Landed on the roof of my God damned car. Wants to protect me from the big bad wolf Luthor.”

“So he came to you as Superman?” It was something they never talked about, Clark Kent. Either his place in Lex’s past or as the Man of Steel.

“Yeah.” The blond head cocked to the side, mischief, anger, and something more elusive to words warming him. “Could have shown the guts to come as Clark. Still would have told him the same thing, to fuck off.”

“You told Superman to fuck off?” Lex grinned.

“Pretty much. But we’d drawn a crowd, so I thought I’d better try and warn you first that your blue collar lover is picking fights with superheroes.”

“What am I to do with you?” Lex murmured against the smooth column of throat, bestowing gentle kisses where he wanted to leave dark, claiming bruises. He should have suspected Clark would try something like this; the boy was convinced his first lover was the devil incarnate. It was an opinion Lex had carefully cultivated, but it still rankled when it was thrown in his face. Clark thought he was undeserving of Whitney, and he was probably right, but Lex had taken the field and won the wiggling passion in his arms fairly. Anger at his ex-lover’s attempts at sabotage burned just beneath his perfected façade of nonchalance, but he viciously reined it in, not wanting to frighten the delightful creature in his grasp. Whitney’s arms twined about his shoulders, mouth hovering teasingly over his own as narrow hips rocked their groins together in rhythm to music only the blond could hear. Maddening, and Lex lifted a hand to grip the other man’s jaw and force that smirking mouth to open to his tongue’s entreaty.

Whitney moaned, hands cupping Lex’s head as he tried to press himself through the hard muscle and bone of his lover’s body. Devouring each other and a small voice in the back of Lex’s drowning mind reminded him there was a camera in the room. That someone in security was getting quite a show. The thought made him painfully hard and he suddenly wanted the room to be filled again, for the entire board of LexCorp to see beautiful Whitney like this, wanton and entirely his.

Breaking the kiss to gulp in much needed air he glanced over his lover’s shoulder to see they did indeed have an audience. One hundred and forty stories up and there, hovering outside his window floated Superman, his face thunderous. Lex didn’t know who the glare was directed at, and in truth he didn’t care. His anger boiled over and he grabbed a handful of hair and yanked Whitney’s head back. The lean blond gasped, and then again as Lex put his lips and teeth to that golden throat and began to suck and bite, staking his claim for all the world to see. For Superman to see.

“Lex,” Whitney gasped, rocking his hips into his lover’s, his arousal at the aggression plain. A fumble of his fingers along the console under the conference table and Lex switched off the cameras and mirrored the windows. If Clark wanted to continue to watch he was welcome to, but Whitney didn’t need to know of their voyeur as Lex lifted him to the edge of the table. Leaving off that pale golden throat Lex dived back into Whitney’s mouth, taking possession of every breath his beautiful lover gasped for. Whitney stretched out beneath him, hand on the back of his head urging him to follow. Which Lex happily did, hands shoving up the blond’s thin t-shirt and expertly opening his worn jeans. A hard cock was eagerly waiting for him, hot and tight against the cage of Whitney’s underwear. Lex rubbed him through the cloth and the blond threw his head back, breaking their kiss to loose a sharp scream.

“Lex,” Whitney panted, his head rolling as his hands fumbled uselessly at the table’s glossed surface, “the doctor.”

“Can hardly be expected to evaluate anything with you in this condition,” Lex smirked. “Don’t worry. I pay the man good money to wait.”

Straightening, Lex caressed the beautiful young man spread out on his conference table with his free hand, continuing to elicit sharp cries with heavy pressure on his lover’s desire. Was Clark watching this? Could he see the exquisite lines of Whitney’s sculpted abdomen, the soft firmness of his belly? Did his eyes follow that blond pleasure trail down from his innie to that heady thatch Lex bared with a sharp tug? Was he able to admire these tempting hollows, the skin so very thin and soft Lex feared to break if he bit too hard? And there, rubbing against his cheek as he mouthed his way closer, did Clark see the purpling evidence of Whitney’s want for him? Did Clark see what was his? Did he remember the possession by which Lex used to worship him?

Whitney lifted one foot to the edge of the table, using the leverage to roll his hips. The boy was too good at that, making his bones and joints move like liquid. Lex nestled a hand into its carved place on the blond’s hip and swallowed down his penis. Above him Whitney gave a hoarse shout, guttural and lustful, causing Lex to smile around the meat filling his mouth. Fingers dug into the expensive cloth covering his shoulders, Whitney’s thighs trembling as he did not thrust so much as gyrate against Lex’s face, moaning his bliss as Lex took him down to the root and swallowed. No one in Lex’s long and sordid sex life had ever moved with such exotic sensuality as Whitney did and the billionaire luxuriated in the pleasure of knowing this body and the sexually innocent yet so very adventurous man it contained.

A low pitched hum and he pulled back to feel Whitney’s climax shoot into his mouth. The body beneath him strained, tight and vibrating for three pulses before collapsing back onto the table. Lex carefully licked him clean then gently tucked him back into his underwear and jeans. After a few minutes Whitney sat up, reaching out to draw Lex into a languid kiss.

“You did that cause the doc’s got a rubber glove with my name on it, didn’t you?” Whitney murmured against Lex’s mouth, foreheads pressing together.

“Idiot. I should order he give you an enema,” Lex laughed, tugging on the hair curling at Whitney’s nape.

The blond shuddered lightly, but his smile did not dim. “No thanks, but can I return the favor?”

The offer was tempting, especially if Clark was still watching, but he wanted Whitney checked over so he could take him home. “Later.” Taking Whitney’s hand he tugged the blond to his feet, helping him to straighten his clothes. Another kiss and he led Whitney out of the room, uncaring if his employees or Superman saw their clasped hands.

***
TBC.