On the Road to Gotham

The ten foot window had been left open, the pale curtains gently billowing with the warm wind that swept past. He was uncertain as to what force landed him on the windowsill, but when he found himself there he had to step down from that forbidden threshold. With the weak light of the half moon behind him, Superman violated the sanctuary of Lex Luthor’s bedroom.

They were there in the four poster bed and his breath stopped at the sight. He had not known Whitney was allowed to Metropolis until this afternoon, but that beautiful visage was unmistakable, peacefully resting upon his lover’s breast. Their limbs were intertwined, a sensuous folding of pale flesh into golden that spoke they had fallen quickly to sleep in the aftermath of their lovemaking. Arms possessive even in sleep, Lex held the angel he had wickedly seduced in a tight clasp, one hand splayed over a rounded ass cheek, fingers curving into the crevice. A few steps closer and he could see those long fingers resting against Whitney’s reddened, glistening hole. The smell of sex thickened in Superman’s throat, making him convulsively swallow. This was an intimacy he should not see, but he could not tear his eyes away. His cock swelled painfully against its protective cup and he swallowed again.

Entranced, he missed the first betraying movement, but then Whitney was rising, protectively blocking the vital areas of his lover’s body with his own as his gun arced the air. Intruder targeted dead center in the chest without recognition and beneath him Lex smiled into Superman’s stunned expression. His hand shifted to the detective’s hip, making no other move beyond that.

It took Whitney a moment of disbelief to register their interloper, the gun immediately lowering as his breath exploded out of him. “Clark?”

“In all his spandexed glory,” Lex snidely added.

The barb tensed the superhero’s shoulders, his libido subsiding as old wounds were viciously, easily, clawed open. “You’ll never understand, will you?”

A slim, long fingered hand made a proprietary sweep across Whitney’s bared muscular ass. “That you choose to belittle yourself in such a public manner by wearing primary colors in such dreadful combination? No.”

“Lex,” Whitney began, looking back at the older man with a clear warning in his eyes.

“I help people!” Superman shouted.

“Said like a true six year old,” came the acerbic rejoinder.

“Want to see me tear you limb from limb?” the hero snarled.

“Both of you, stop it.” Sliding away from his lover’s clutch, Whitney tucked his gun back under its pillow. Lex rolled the other way, gathering two robes from a nearby brocaded chair. He tossed the royal blue one at the blond and shrugged into its violet twin, his movements tight with anger. Propping himself up on one arm, Whitney let the silk pool in his lap. “Don’t you ever get tired of the constant hate?”

“Whitney, pet, I thought Superman already had this conversation with you. I’m evil incarnate.”

Whitney gave an indelicate snort. “Bullshit. Clark does not think you’re evil. Do you, Clark?”

Angry, desperate blue eyes sought his own, but Clark shook his head. “Whitney, I don’t know what lies this Luthor has told you, but you cannot trust him. He’s only going to use you.”

“That’s enough, Clark. I think it’s time you left.” Cold hard voice and Superman flinched as he watched the lithe detective slip into his robe and slide from the bed. He was as beautiful as he’d always been, striding towards him with inborn grace. Immodest over his nudity, he didn’t tie the sash, the straight curtains of heavy silk swaying with his movement. Somehow the glimpses of masculine flesh were more erotically tantalizing than when it had been on display across the satin bedsheets. Or maybe because it was finally coming within his reach. Had it been only today he was able to hold that lean body to his own under the pretense of an attack? Clark Kent did not envy Lex Luthor his wealth, political influence, or financial acumen. It was all dirty, ill-gotten, too easily made and Superman was near as equally accomplished anyway. But for the creature coming towards him. In all his sordid life, Lex had seduced into his greedy grasp one clean, virtuous thing, and that Clark envied him.

“Whitney-“ and he reached to touch that golden cheek, to somehow break his bewitchment, but his curled fingers fell short as he froze under that frigid blue stare.

“Get out.”

“Are you listening?” A pale arm snaked around the trim waist to snug Whitney tightly to the hard length behind him. Burnt grey eyes glared at him from over one broad shoulder. “You’re trespassing, Superman.” The tone suggested far more than just the billionaire’s bedroom.

Superman fled.

***

Crooked hands shoved him back to the bed, but Whitney fought the savage spreading of his legs. The wild blank look in his lover’s eyes frightened him. If Lex wanted rough sex, then Whitney would take it, but he refused to be a mindless fuck, another convenient hole for Lex to ram his dick into.

“Lex, no! Dammit, look at me!” The differences in their height and weight were inconsequential as Lex pressed him down, manicured nails scoring his ass and hips, trying to force him onto his stomach. Not willing to hurt him, Whitney grabbed at his shoulders and shoved him back. “Look at me!”

For a strained moment Lex remained blind to him, the hatred in his eyes promising a swifter end to their relationship than Clark Kent and all his misguided heroism could bring to bear. Whitney never wanted to hurt this man, but he wasn’t going to let himself be raped so Lex could exorcise his demons. Staring up into that blank face, he prayed he wouldn’t be forced to that choice.

Then, Lex blinked. A sharp inhale and his lover returned to him. Face paling as the enormity of the betrayal he’d prepared to commit lashed into him and he violently flinched. “Whitney,” a ghost of his name, but it was enough. Lex was seeing him.

“It’s okay, baby.” His forehead, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, Whitney shushed his suddenly trembling lover with a shower of kisses as he drew him gladly to his breast. “You stopped, Lex. It’s okay.” The erection that had been stabbing into his thigh was drained to softness, as limp as the rest of the body that collapsed into him.

“Whitney, I, oh fuck, I almost . . .” the words were muffled into his neck and quickly lost coherency, but he didn’t need to hear them. He was going to have bruises from Lex’s death grip and his feet were getting cold hanging off the side of the bed; small sacrifices easily given to the sound of his lover whispering his name with the reverence of prayer. A mantra breathed into his skin until exhaustion pulled them both to sleep.
sSs


TBC.

Thank you to Kiana and Lucy for your warm reviews!