Operation Disguise

Notes: Another clex futurefic a/u. Hints of Chloe/Lana on the edges of the story.

Credits: Thanks to Lursa for posting.

Disclaimer: Based on characters owned by DC Comics and Smallville.

Warnings: All activities were performed by professional characters under controlled conditions. This is erotica featuring m/m activities. And this is one of those alien mating drive kind of stories. I couldn't help myself.


"So? What do you think?" Chloe circles like a diminutive Dr. Frankenstein admiring the newborn creature. A dark raspberry tee shirt molds the curves of her breasts before vanishing beneath her jeans.

"I don't know." Clark frowns at his image in the mirror. Over his shoulder, he can see Pete sprawled across his bed, watching them. It's almost like being back in Smallville again with the three of them spread around the bedroom of his tiny apartment.

Chloe circles him again, pausing to glance over his shoulder. "What do you think, Pete?"

"Oh, I get a vote in this project?" Pete pops the top of his beer can as if the act requires his entire attention.

"Only if you vote 'yes'," Chloe snipes back in the same tone of fake lightness.

Clark flexes his shoulders under the loose black cotton shirt, ignoring the half-amiable squabbling going on around him. The black jeans that Chloe had liberated from the far reaches of his closet are Kal's and significantly tighter than anything that he felt comfortable wearing. The memory of that time makes his skin crawl with revulsion as the firm grip of the denim and the soft touch of the tailored shirt remind him of other touches. He should have known better than to give Chloe a free pass to rummage through his wardrobe. Trust her to unearth Kal. At least she hadn't found the box where he buried the rest of Kal.

Not that he could count on Kal staying safely buried. Kal was always threatening to rise from the dead. Those clips of his showy debut as bank robber periodically resurfaced as did occasional appeals for information on the still unidentified Metropolis ATM Bandit. So far, Morgan Edge, who could tie him to both crimes, had chosen to remain silent. Clark's gaze drops as he remembers the clubs and the people that Kal had ruthlessly used to assuage his needs and discarded. Every day in Metropolis held the risk of running into one of them.

What if Lex found out? Or his parents? How could he tell them that the red k ring and the haze of uncaring that it'd wrapped around him was what had enabled him to survive Lex's absence? Without the ring, he would never have been able to endure all those strangers' pawing him. Every touch of strange skin, every unsatisfying taste and scent of those he'd fucked in the bathrooms, and alleys, and backrooms had been something to be tolerated and transcended the same way he'd endured the burn of the ring. A hostile Kal hadn't just fucked, he'd counted coup, and taken a malicious delight in watching his admirers splat and sizzle under his withering disdain. And still they had lined up in the clubs, trying to catch his eye.

It was bad enough that his parents knew about the robberies, but if they ever found out about the rest of it...Clark sighs. He can only be grateful that Lana and Chloe had shown up during moments of relative control, and he'd managed to chase them away fairly quickly. Things could have gotten much more mortifying if his dad had found him and made him surrender the ring before the storm of need had run its course.

Once home, he'd promptly broken up with Lana, and stopped dating altogether. Then he'd begin deliberately obscuring his body, wearing the loosest, baggiest clothes he could find, and piling the ugliest flannel plaids he could find on top. He'd turned aside the questions that those changes had drawn from his parents with an arsenal of blank stares, and pointed demonstrations of his strength, and speed as he threw himself into familiar chores. Chloe's bluntness had been more difficult to defuse, and dancing around Lex's subtlety and implicit offers of help without confirming or denying anything when he'd longed to accept the offered comfort had been worse.

Clark touches his chest, feeling the ridges of his scar beneath the shirt. Does it show through the thin fabric? The man reflected in the mirror looks too much like Kal dressing to prowl the clubs again. Only the body language is still his. Kal's eyebrows would never have been crimped into an uneasy line. Nor would his eyes hold that uncertain gleam. And Kal wouldn't be tugging at the tails of his shirt in an effort to conceal the bulge prominently displayed by the tight jeans.

"Clark, stop tugging on the fabric like that. It would be a shame to ruin the lines of a nice shirt." Chloe readjusts the hang of Clark's shirt with a quick twitch of cotton. "There, now. You almost never wear black so it shouldn't make anyone think of you. Come on, Pete, what do you think?"

Pete waves his beer can toward the closet. "I think we should burn all Clark's plaid while we have the opportunity as a kindness to the Met U student body. Clark is as bad with that as Lex is with purple."

"Lex looks good in purple," Clark responds absently as he tries rolling the sleeves up, wondering if that would make him look less like Kal. It irks his fugal side to have perfectly good clothes that he never uses.

Pete groans. "Get real. There's Lana with her pink princess fixation. You’re the local monument to plaid, and then the prince of purple moves into town and stays. It's enough to make me wonder if there's something in the corn."

"So what if Lana likes pink?" Chloe narrows her eyes as she turns to stare at Pete. "There's nothing intrinsically wrong with pink, or people who like it."

"Oh, yeah?" Pete stares back at her over his beer. "How come you never wear it?"

"I refuse to play into blonde stereotyping by wearing the traditional girlie shade."

Nope. The sleeve rolling isn't working. He still looks too Kal. Maybe if he wore the shirt over a tee shirt? Clark ignores the sharp looks that Chloe and Pete are trading behind his back as he takes refuge in contemplating Lex and purple. He particularly likes the lavender shirt, all that lavender and white skin makes him think of parties, and the creamy texture of birthday cake icing. And the red-purple shirt, that one makes his tongue tingle with the delicate sweetness of red grapes when he sees Lex in it. Then there's his absolute favorite, the dark purple shirt reminds him of high school, and dinner at the castle, and the crisp plum taste when he'd stolen a curious sip from his friend's wine glass one night. "But I look…"

"Hot." Chloe grins as she pats his shoulder. "Very hot."

"Chloe…" Clark sighs. What if he went out like this and got recognized as Kal? In his short time in the city, Kal had made a lot of enemies and no friends. The thought of one of Kal's discards spotting him is one of the reasons he sticks so close to campus. What if he can't convince them that he isn't…that it wasn't him that did all those things before the ranting starts? What if one of them corners him, wanting those things from him again? The idea makes him feel like he just found a meteor rock in his sock drawer.

"He does, doesn't he, Pete?" Chloe asks.

"Are you trying to damage my brain? I'm a guy. Other guys do not get a rank on Pete's Scoreboard of Hot. Don't make me go there. I might never recover."

"Okay, try stretching your imagination this way, if you were a girl, like…oh, say, Lana…" Chloe looks closely at Clark, watching for a reaction to the name, "and he asked you out dressed like that would you accept?"

"Which part of my last comment did you not hear?" Pete scrunches his face up in exaggerated disgust. "I'm so not going there with you. I have a test tomorrow and I need my brain intact."

Clark turns his back firmly on the image reflected in his mirror. "I don't think this is going to work as a disguise, Chloe. I look like me wearing black. It won't fool anyone."

"Clark, you know I think this Operation Disguise that you and Chloe cooked up is crazy, but in some ways she is right." Pete sits up, crossing his legs on the blue blanket covering the bed, as Chloe strolls past him to rummage in the closet. "On the upside, anybody can have a few black shirts and jeans lying around so you don't have to hide 'em like you would if you had some flashy costume. And they don't require any special care. I mean, you ever think about Batman dealing with his laundry?"

Chloe's muffled voice, chimes in from the depths of his closet. "And he'd have to do it himself; he can't exactly send it out to the drycleaners. But with the jeans and shirt combo, you can easily replace old or ripped up clothes, and you can wash 'em anywhere, any time without anybody noticing."

"That's true." Clark fingers his cuffs, fighting the urge to rip Kal's clothes off and throw them out the window. Wouldn't explaining that move to two curious friends be fun? And Chloe and Pete are right; fighting meteor mutants is tough on his clothes, and he doesn't exactly have a big budget to work with when it comes to creating a costume. "But it doesn't disguise me."

"So we add a few things. Here." Chloe emerges with a black domino mask and cape. She hands them to Clark. "Put these on."

"Chloe, that's what I wore to the Halloween party. People will remember."

Pete waves his beer in a dismissive gesture. "Clark, people at that party were drunk. Not to mention busy trying to get laid. Nobody will even remember that you were there, much less what you were wearing. And you were hardly the only Zorro roaming the campus that night."

"And nobody recognized you at the party, did they?" Chloe smiles encouragingly.

"Nooo, but that was my first semester here…I mean who would've known me except you guys?" Clark pulls the mask over his face as he reluctantly turns back to the mirror. He stares at himself with resignation. Big feet. Birdnest hair. Big mouth. Yep, still looks like him.

"There is that." Pete drains his beer and crumples the can.

"I look like me in a mask," Clark complains.

"That's because you know it's you. Other people will see a mysterious masked man." Chloe fastens the black cape over his shoulders, and arranges it at a dashing angle. "They'll be making writing articles about you in no time."

"Chloe!" Clark protests, his eyes wide with alarm.

"Clark, you cannot expect reporters or the police to ignore stories of a mysterious masked rescuer. The best thing to do is to create a disguise and a persona to deflect that interest. We've discussed this."

"Or drop the rescue routine," Pete suggests.

Clark turns to meet his friend's worried gaze. "I have to, Pete. What good are all these special abilities of mine if I don't use them to make things better?"

Pete shakes his head. "The more people you rescue, the more likely it is that somebody is gonna figure out who you are. It might be somebody who is perfectly happy to keep quiet about it in exchange for using you. It might be somebody who'd sell you out to the highest bidder. I don't want to see that happen to you, Clark."

"I don't want to see it happen either, but I can't ignore people who need my help. I have to try to find a way."

"Okay, then." Chloe sits down next to Pete. "So take the costume out for a trial run. See how it goes."

"I won't know if it really disguises me or not until I wear it in front of someone who knows me." Clark takes off the cape and folds it up, tucking his mask between the folds.

"Then follow Lex around," Chloe suggests.

"What?" Pete turns his head sharply to stare at her. "Are you crazy? Luthor is the last person that Clark should risk that with."

Chloe shakes her head. "Lex is the perfect test."

"Are they pumping crazy in the air over at the Inquisitor? Or is it in the water?" Pete rolls his eyes. "You've totally lost it, girl."

Chloe begins counting off on her fingers. "One, Lex is really sharp, so if Clark's costume gets past him then we can safely assume that it will work on Joe Average. Two, Lex is a trouble magnet, so Clark won't have to follow him around long before he gets a rescue opportunity. Three, even if Lex does recognize Clark, he'll think that Clark's another meteor freak just like Lex is, so he won't say anything: it isn't in Lex's best interest to make the meteor freaks public knowledge."

"Clark, man," Pete turns back to his friend. "Tell me that you aren't considering her crazy ass idea? Test the costume by all means, if you have to go around rescuing people, but not in front of Lex. It's too big a risk."

Clark tucks the cape and mask away in his dresser drawer. A faint smile edges his mouth as he remembers the crumpled square of Porsche displayed with all the care of some exotic piece of modern art, and the wind chime effect of those precisely arranged slugs, and those enormous images of his face. How many times had he consoled himself with the knowledge that while Lex might be marrying Helen, there was a room-sized shrine dedicated to Clark in Lex's castle? "I don't know. I'll have to think about it."

Clark grabs his favorite loose jeans and the closest flannel shirt. He walks into his bathroom to change, leaving his friends arguing behind him. He keeps his hearing tuned into the other room as he unfastens the black shirt, waiting to see what they will say. Nothing good about Lex, but his friends never had understood the moon and tidal surge pull that he and Lex exercised on each other. He didn't even understand it himself, but he felt the existence of that pull and need to the depths of his soul.

"Follow Lex around! What kind of idiot idea is that?" Pete demands. "He spends too much time with that guy as it is."

"No, this is perfect," Chloe responds. "Don't you see? If Clark has an excuse to follow Lex around, then he'll find out if Lex is up to anything suspicious."

"And, maybe he'll finally see what kind of person His Purple Majesty really is. I take it all back. Girl, you are a freaking genius."

Clark shakes his head as he gingerly unzips his snug jeans and eases them off. Lex is always up to something. Lex turns being up to something into performance art of the highest caliber. It's one of the many things that make his blood fizz with excitement when he's around the older man.

++

"I want to see him."

Lucas relaxes slightly as the sound of a familiar voice carries to him through the closed door. He could get used to this having a brother business. His dad might continue to lurk distantly at LutherCorp like one of those dusty old gods from Lex's books, but he can usually count on his new brother. Not that he'd ever admit to it, but it's been good, knowing that he has someone to back his play. He likes the electric buzz that rattles the room when he walks into a club with Lex. And the instant deference when they go out to dinner and the bright flash of cameras, and the girls, and cars, and parties…oh, yeah, he could get used to this whole Luthor gig. He twists against the ropes binding him to his chair, turning his head to face the door as it opens.

"Lucas." Lex strides into the room. He frowns as he studies his brother's bruised face.

"Lex," Lucas returns in the same slightly bored tone. "What took you so long, bro? Have to go to the First National Bank of Antarctica first?"

"Something like that. I suggest you give some consideration to your own finances since I will expect you to repay me for this inconvenience."

Lucas tries to smirk and winces at the pull of his swollen lips. "You were inconvenienced?"

"I was in a meeting…with dad."

Well. Maybe Lionel will deign to descend from the halls of LuthorCorp long enough to lecture him on his shortcomings. Lucas adopts a sullen air. "Fuck. He knows about this?"

"Probably."

"Not good."

"If you didn't want him to know, why were you playing with Edge's crew?" Lex lifts his eyebrow. "Were you expecting a Christmas bonus for skulking around those fringes?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Lex sighs. "If you're bored, try attending LuthorCorp board meetings. Dad will provide you more than enough excitement to keep you occupied if you annoy him sufficiently."

Lucas straightens in his chair as much as his ropes will allow. He likes the imagined vision of a bunch of stodgy businessmen reacting in horror to his jeans and leather jacket. He grins as wide as his bruised mouth will allow. "That might be fun."

"If you chose to draw dad's fire, don't expect me to automatically bail you out."

Stung, Lucas stiffens. "I can handle myself. I don't need to be…"

Lex makes a show of surveying the thugs clumped around the room, and the thugettes lounging decoratively on various pieces of furniture. "Did I misunderstand the nature of your phone call? Shall I recover my funds and go home?"

Okay. His brother's got him there and the smirking bastard knows it. Lucas sighs loudly. "How about advice? Can I at least expect that?"

"I would be willing to consult." A secretive and unnerving smile quirks Lex's lips before he turns a cool stare on the blond man standing in front of a trio of thugs. "You've got your money, now untie my brother."

"So you two guys really are brothers, huh?"

"What?" Lucas glowers as Mitch swaggers toward them. Why did people never believe him when he said he was a Luthor? Even when he was standing next to Lex or Lionel, people still kept looking like they were waiting for the punch line of a joke. He looks over his shoulder as one of Mitch's guys cuts the ropes. Lucas stands flexing his hands. God, it feels good to stand up again. "I don't look like a Luthor?"

Mitch snorts as he looks from Lucas' leather jacket, tee shirt, and jeans to Lex's expensive black suit. "Not particularly, no. You can go now."

Lucas walks next to his brother, matching the calm pace that says that they are in no hurry whatsoever as they stroll out of the cheap motel room, past Mitch and his hangers-on, and into the parking lot. The measured tap of his brother's dress shoes against the pavement seems loud against the muffled sounds of traffic coming from the highway. His shoulders twitch at the shrill of Mitch's phone. His thighs ache with repressed urge for a fast sprint to his brother's car.

He can almost hear his father musing aloud about him being only a Luthor born, a mere pretender to the throne instead of a ruthlessly honed heir to empire like Lex. Could that explain the way, that no matter how many times his brother gets shot, stabbed, beat up, or kidnapped, Lex still radiates an air of assurance and mastery? Is it a front? Is Lex really scared and angry beneath that lord and emperor attitude just like he is beneath his own badass strut? Is his brother really as different as Lionel likes to hint? Or is that more of Lionel's patented wedge driving techniques?

"Wait."

Oh, shit. Lucas can feel his shoulders tensing as the curt command. He puts his best menacing scowl on his face as he sees the thugs spreading out.

Lex turns slowly, one hand in the pocket of his jacket. "What?"

"I changed my mind." Mitch taps his phone. His blue eyes gleam with delight. "I just got a better offer. People aren't that interested in buying your brother, but when I offer them you too…the price goes up dramatically."

"I suggest you change your mind again." Lex shifts his hand slightly. "Do you really think I came here alone?"

Lucas glances around at the shadowy parking lot. Could there be men hiding behind the few cars scattered there? Or stationed on top of the building? He doesn't see anyone. Is his brother bluffing?

"He's lying. Get them," Mitch orders.

Lucas braces himself as Mitch's guys move toward them, but between one blink and the next, Mitch and all the thugs are unconscious on the ground. His brother is staring, narrow-eyed over his shoulder. Lucas turns and follows his brother's gaze to a figure standing at the base of the neon glow, painted pink, blue and green with each flash of lights. There's something bizarrely familiar about the outline of long legs, wide shoulders accented with flaring black cape, and masked face crowned with black hair. The only things missing from the image were the sword, and horse. He turns to look at his brother's completely expressionless face. "Did we just get rescued by Zorro?"

Lex spares him a glance. "Stay."

"Hey! I'm not a Saint Bernard or something," Lucas protests as he watches his brother stalk up to Zorro. He peers through the distracting neon flashes as Lex comes to a stop in front of the masked man. Is this guy Lex's personal wild card bodyguard?

Maybe he should hire some of his own men too. He has his doubts about how effective his LuthorCorp issued guards are. He couldn't help but notice that there was a considerable difference in the level of professionalism exhibited by his bodyguards and the ones who guarded Lionel. His reluctant dad probably considered surviving incompetent bodyguards some sort of life lesson.

Lucas takes a step closer, angling himself to see if any money changed hands. They didn't seem to be talking, just standing there having a stare down. Nothing very interesting there. Lucas glances down as one of the unconscious men stir and groan. He promptly kicks the man's head. A strange hoarse sound makes him look around sharply. Now which one of the bastards is coming to?

"Oh, shit." Lucas stares in disbelief. His brother had Zorro backed up against the base of the motel sign and was apparently doing his best to crawl down the other guy's throat. "Oh, god. My brother's frenching Zorro. That's just wrong. Really wrong. Hey! Hey! Knock it off! Lex, these guys ate starting to wake up. Let Zorro have his tongue back so we can get outta here."

++


Clark grins as he strolls through the doors of the Inquisitor. He absently scratches his chest through the fabric of his white tee shirt as he bounces lightly down the stairs to Chloe's desk. Lex had kissed him. Lex had kissed him. It's all he can do to not float away in a haze of giddy delight. Lex had kissed him. His grin widens.

"You know, you keep standing there like that and my boss might actually begin to believe my story that you are my personal desk decoration instead of a visitor."

"Oh. Sorry." Clark blinks and looks down at Chloe. He frowns as uncharacteristically delicate color of her shirt registers. "I thought that you didn't like pink."

"This isn't pink, Clark. It's…it's…" Chloe scowls at him. "It's a gift. Okay? I'm told that this color is seashell, not pink."

"Seashell," Clark repeats dubiously. Seashell looks an awful lot like pale pink to him, but if the dangerous glitter in Chloe's eyes is anything to go by he'd better not mention it. It might not even be safe to say that she looks good in it. Or wonder aloud who gave her a silk shirt.

"What?"

"Nothing. Nothing. I thought maybe we could go to dinner."

Chloe smoothes her shirt as she glances down at the bottom of her computer screen. "Sorry, Clark. I already have plans for dinner."

"Oh? Anybody I know?"

"Lana."

"Ah, one those girls' night out things, huh?

"Something like that." Chloe tilts her head back looking up at her friend. "I've got to leave in a few minutes, what did you need?"

"I did it." Clark glances around and leans closer. "It's a good thing that I followed Lex tonight. I rescued Lex. Oh, and Lucas, too."

"Tell me you were wearing the costume, Clark."

"Of course, I had the costume. The whole point was testing the costume. Why would I be following Lex around without it?"

"I don't know, Clark. Why do you follow Lex around?"

Clark opens his mouth to deny that he frequently followed Lex around on general principle, then pauses as he notices that Chloe is watching him with the air of a Kent barn cat eyeing a mouse. "Lex needs me."

"Lex needs you?" Chloe leans back in her chair. What did Clark see when he looked at Lex? She didn't get this at all. Is it a side effect of Clark's invulnerability that allows him to look at Lex and see…what exactly? A charming and cuddly tiger cub when everyone else saw a saber-toothed predator?

"Lex needs protecting. I mean just look at tonight. It wasn't like he was up to anything bad; he was only trying to save his brother."

Chloe shakes her head. Pete might have been right. Maybe she shouldn't have suggested Lex as a rescue candidate for Operation Disguise given Clark's obsession with the man. "Clark, Lex needs all the same tender care and protection as a velociraptor."

"Chloe!" Clark levels a reproachful stare at her. "Lex could have hurt. Killed. And Lucas, too. Although the way, Lucas keeps dragging Lex into trouble, I didn't particularly want to rescue him."

"Did they recognize you?"

"Lucas didn't. Lex…"

"Lex?"

Clark grins helplessly. "Lex kissed me."

Chloe stares at him, wondering which part of that sentence to address first…the kissing part, or the me part, or the Lex part? Since a pissed Miss Diamond Earrings of the Week had framed him for murder, Lex had become much more careful about random fucking around. He still fucked around just as much, but Lex seemed to be limiting himself to professionals or selected candidates from his own circles. Clark didn't fit in either category. She couldn't see him as a potential member of the Mr. Diamond Cuff Links Club. And now after years of ignoring every come-on to come his way, Clark is glowing after being molested by Luthor. She did not want to see the look on his face if a messenger with diamonds showed up on his doorstep one morning. "Clark, focus. Did he know that it was you?"

"I'm not sure. Lex called me a few minutes ago, and invited me to meet him for breakfast tomorrow morning. I guess I'll find out then."

Chloe levels a stern stare at him. "You need to get sure, and until you do, no more rescues."

"But…"

"Clark, you can't help anybody if the wrong person figures out your secret. You have to be careful."

"Lex isn't the wrong person."

Chloe studies her friend's face. His lips are set in a stubborn line, but the way his teal gaze slides away from her own makes her think that he isn't completely confident about that announcement. Her eyebrows lift in slow astonishment. "You want him to know. He kissed you, and in blaze of fireworks and violins, he was supposed to just know that it was you. Clark…you're as bad as Lana. No wonder she dated you longer than she did any of the others. I bet you two even secretly enjoyed all the angst and drama of the big break-up."

Chloe's eyes narrow as Clark develops a sudden fascination with objects littering her desktop. "Don't tell me that all the time that Pete and I spent talking to you and Lana and trying to get the two of you to act like sensible people; you were collaborating on high drama days."

Clark clears his throat and stares down at his feet. He peeks at Chloe from beneath his bangs. Better for Chloe to ferret out that old secret than to discover that Lex already knows The Big Secret. "Ummm…Chloe, about that."

"Clark…"

"It took attention off my return home." Clark glances at Chloe. "We did break-up. Lana was hurt, but she understood, and was willing to help me. Even my parents didn't know. We'd sneak out and meet at the cemetery and have scheming sessions. Mr. and Mrs. Lang were silent partners in all our plans."

Yeah, she can easily imagine Lana carefully dressing to sneak out to her parents' graves; the thrills of a secret horseback ride in the moonlight for a meeting amid the tombstones. Lana would have loved it. Some days she wonders how a mere pragmatist like herself can compete with all the drama and romance that a mysterious alien brimming with secrets could offer. On the other hand, she was the one that Lana had bought a silk shirt for and then devoted two days to talking her into wearing pink. The soft pleasure on Lana's face had been worth pretending to buy the seashell argument. "You have any idea how mad Pete is going be?"

"Pete isn't going to find out, is he?" Clark asks hopefully.

"That depends."

"On?"

"There are some things that I want to know."

Clark perches on the corner of her desk, slanting a wary look at Chloe. "Like?"

"What did you tell Lana when you broke up with her?"

Clark blinks in surprise, the tension around his mouth easing. "I told her that I'd run away because I was confused and upset."

"I wondered how you had explained your personality change to her since you couldn't tell her about the ring. But Clark, that sounds more like the beginning of an apology than a break-up."

"I let her think that I'd been using drugs." Clark shrugs. "It's not that far from the truth. I told her that I had discovered that I preferred guys, but that I wasn't ready to tell anyone else."

Chloe nods. She can see Lana savoring the star-crossed lovers drama of it all even while hurt that Clark's interest had turned in another direction. She taps a pencil against her lips, trying to think of a way to phrase her next question. "So you and Lana…you never…"

"Things never got that far with us. I think she was kind of relieved when I told her. I…when I was in Metropolis that time…I did a lot of…" Clark sighs heavily and runs a hand through his hair. "I suppose you could call it comparison shopping. I strongly downplayed the amount of…umm, shopping…that I did when I talked Lana. I didn't think that she would understand it. After that, I knew what I wanted, who I wanted. Lex touches me on levels that no one else does. He…fits. I don't know how else to describe it."

Chloe frowns. "It's such a risk, Clark. What if he…"

"I don't know," Clark cuts off the question. He tilts his head and sweeps a considering look over his friend, lingering on the pink shirt. "Why are you so interested in Lana and me? It's all old news."

"Just because something is old news, it doesn't mean that it's obsolete news as well."

Clark leans close and whispers, "Chloe, why are you wearing pink?"

She folds her arms under her breasts and glowers at him. "Why are you so fond of things purple?"

"I don't wear purple, Chloe. I just admire it on those who do."

"Give it time."

++

"Wow. Zorro, huh?" Clark slowly licks icing from his fork, savoring the melting vanilla creaminess of it. He watches Lex from beneath his lashes, staring longingly at the pale column of throat rising from beige sweater that clings to the solid contours of Lex's chest. He can just glimpse a teasing hint of the scattering of freckles hiding just beneath the neckline. He frowns at a pretty brunette who stares at Lex as she sways past their table; is she looking at Lex's freckles? Her dark eyes widen as she catches his cold stare and she scuttles away. Clark relaxes back against his chair, and smiles at Lex. "Did the mystery rescuer look like Zorro to you too?"

"Lucas watches too many movies."

"Oh." Clark cuts off a piece of his giant cinnamon roll and stuffs it in his mouth. Maybe Chloe was right. His costume had passed with Lucas, successfully concealing his identity from someone who knew him slightly, and had no reason to expect to see him. Had he glided by the Lex radar as well? That will be the real test of whether tolerating the cling of Kal's clothes is worth the skin-crawling twitchiness. He glances warily at Lex. "Who did he look like to you?"

"He looked…familiar."

"Familiar?" Clark asks weakly. Oh, damn. He knows that deceptively musing tone. It's the sound of him going splat on the Lex radar. But if he'd told Lex that he was going to do it wouldn't have been a fair test of his disguise. "Familiar how?"

"Familiar in that…" Lex pauses for a thoughtful sip of coffee as his gaze flickers over the dark cloud of Clark's hair. How many hours had he spent sitting across from Clark envying his friend possession of that tangled softness? He knows that hair like he knows his own skin; the gleaming straightness after it'd been neatly brushed for an evening out, and the tantalizing tousle of darkness that it morphed into under the influence of wind and rain. "He reminded me of someone."

"Someone that you think you know?"

Lex studies Clark over the thick white rim of his mug, seeing the hopeful appeal in his friend's big eyes. He'd thought that he'd finally won the battle for Clark's trust when his friend had shown up late one night with an amazing confession. He'd thought that he'd proved himself when he moved immediately to protect Clark. First by betraying Helen's location to her stalker to keep her occupied while he stole Clark's blood and records from her. Then she'd found his secret room, and marriage had been the price of her silence. He'd eventually emerged the winner of that private war, but on his triumphant return he'd found Clark still shadowed by secrets. The sadness in Clark's eyes had kept him from pushing then, but perhaps now, it's time to push. "Someone that I think I know…that's an interesting way to phrase it, Clark."

"Clark, are you okay?" Pete strides up to Clark, holding a plate of bacon and pancakes in one hand and a tall glass of orange juice in the other. His dark gaze narrows suspiciously Lex. "You look kinda pale."

"I'm fine." Clark doesn't shift his gaze from the cool, remote blue of Lex's eyes, desperately trying to read his friend. Is this it? Is Lex hinting that he knows about Kal? Or is this just the usual Lex pissed about being rescued? As far he could tell Lex seemed to see needing to be rescued as some sort of obscure slur on his friend's scheming skills. "Lex was telling me about what happened to him and his brother last night." He finally glances up at Pete. "What are you doing up so early?"

Pete grins widely, debating whether to ignore the unspoken 'and why are you here?' or let Chloe take the fall for it this time. Oh what the hell, it's her turn to take the blame for crashing a Clark-Lex conference. "Chloe asked me to meet her for breakfast here before she has to go to work. And who should I spot when I look around, but you."

"Something happened to Lex and Lucas while we were at the movies?" Chloe strides up to the table, long blue skirt swishing energetically around her legs. She holds a coffee mug in one hand and a plate piled with strawberries and waffles in the other. "Hi, Clark. Lex."

"Don't remind me about that movie. Next time, you want to see one of those three hanky chick movies warn a guy would you?" Pete edges around to the other side of the table to sit down. "You guys, don't mind if we join you, do you? It's starting to get kinda crowded in here."

"Hey, I treated both of you to ice cream afterwards. What more do you want?" Chloe sits down across from Pete. She slides her blue canvas tote off the shoulder of her white cotton sweater, and carelessly kicks it under her chair. Chloe frowns with mock displeasure. "You don't hear Clark whining about it, do you?"

"Between you and Lana, Clark's been dragged so many three hanky movies that he doesn't know any better." Pete cuts into his stack of pancakes. "But I'm willing to sacrifice as much time as it takes to re-educate him into the joys macho movies filled with car crashes, sex, and violence. All the good stuff."

"Ignore him. He's just scared I'll tell you about his secret crush on Marilyn." Chloe tells Clark as she lifts a strawberry to her lips.

"Manson?" Lex suggests with barely concealed annoyance as he watches the pair settle themselves protectively around Clark like a pair of determined duennas.

"Monroe," Chloe corrects.

"Old news, Chloe. Clark already knows all about me and Marilyn." Pete glances dismissively at Lex. "So your brother is in town, is he?"

"I thought Lionel sent him off to pillage Europe or something." Chloe sections off a bite of her waffle.

"Dad recently recalled Lucas."

Pete snorts. "What? Like a defective car?"

"Does that mean there's some truth to the rumors that Lionel intends to bring Lucas into LuthorCorp management and train him in the ways of big business?" Chloe asks.

"Lucas' pillaging techniques could use some polish." Lex glances at the faces turned toward him. Pete is barely interested. He can almost see Chloe making mental notes to herself regarding a possible story. And Clark is all troubled disapproval. Despite, or perhaps because of, their relative closeness in age, his brother and Clark remained on terms of bare civility. He rather suspected that things rapidly degenerated whenever he left the room if the quality of some of the silences that greeted him on his return were anything to go by.

"Was that what happened last night?" Clark leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Did Lucas pillage his way into more trouble than he could handle, and drag you along for the ride?"

Lex frowns at Clark. Lucas' activities last night had been fairly mild on the Luthor scale of things. Almost innocuous compared to certain of his activities at the same age, and absolutely benign compared to his dad's shady past. Despite his annoyance at being interrupted during one of his office duels with his dad, he'd felt almost nostalgic when he'd walked in his brother surrounded by thugs. "Lucas, like many young men, is still looking for his niche."

Pete straightens from his casual slouch. "So what happened?"

"Yes, what happened?" Chloe sips her coffee as she glances from Clark to Lex. "I didn't notice any Luthor headlines boldfaced across the tabloids this morning."

"You surprise me," Lex murmurs. The edge of his mouth curls into a disdainful smile. "I would have thought that the Inquisitor would have been the first one out with such breaking news as a derivative vigilante snoop."

Chloe stiffens. Her fingers tighten around her white coffee mug. "The Inquisitor is not a tabloid."

"No? My mistake then." Lex eyes Chloe over the rim of his own mug. "All those articles about UFOs and other assorted oddities quite mislead me."

"I would expect anyone who lived in Smallville to be a little more open-minded about things like UFOs and the appearances of random oddities." Chloe makes a show of slowly inspecting Lex from the toes of his dress shoes, to the fine brown fabric of his trousers, and sweater, upwards to the pale curve of his skull. "After all, one never knows when a mutant meteor freak might wander into view."

"Vigilante snoop?" Clark leans forward, uneasy at the way Lex and Chloe are staring at each over their coffee mugs like rival gladiators assessing each other over a shield's rim. The words hurt. Is that really how Lex had seen him last night? Okay, so he had been following Lex around, well, for years, but he hadn't been snooping into Lex's business. Not really. All he'd been looking for last night was a chance to test his trial costume. And make sure that Lex was safe. That was always the most important point. "'Vigilante' seems a bit strong. If the guy hadn't been there, it sounds like you and Lucas could've been in serious trouble."

"The situation could become more difficult to contain if he hadn't intervened," Lex admits slowly.

Clark grins with relief. "Aha. You just didn't like being rescued."

Pete asks, "Did you say 'Zorro wannabee'?"

"Lex and Lucas were rescued from criminals last night by a guy dressed like Zorro." Clark pops the last of his cinnamon roll in his mouth.

"Zorro? Really?" Chloe spears another strawberry. "He had a sword and everything?"

"Fortunately he didn't go as far as dragging a horse and sword around the city, but the resemblance was sufficient to inspire Lucas to a running commentary all the way back to his place," Lex murmurs absently as he watches Clark licking icing then sliding the fork between full pink lips. He sits very still as Clark's teal gaze catches and holds his stare, feeling strangely breathless as the teal darkens and slowly slides into a magnificent smoky jade. The music and buzz of voices and clink of china fade into distant unimportant sounds as Clark swirls his fork again in the remains of the icing clinging to his plate and lifts it back up, his tongue stroking slowly over the metal.

++

Clark funnels through the doorway with the eager crowd of students escaping the notorious tedium of the world lit professor's lectures. He positions himself in the herd and follows the flows down the hall, three flights of stairs and across the echoing lobby. The steps leading from the building to the quad were coming up next. Just in time for the Kent Special. He flings himself into a controlled fall, scattering papers and books in his wake to the sound of mock applause from his fellow freshmen, as he ends up sprawled at the foot of the steps.

"Way to go, Kent."

"Ten bucks says the cafeteria gets him next."

"Are you alright, Clark?"

"Yeah, need me to call the paramedics, Kent?"

Clark ducks his head with assumed bashfulness and begins gathering up his belongings. He can see Pete sitting on a bench, waiting to meet him for lunch, and watching the show with amusement. Clark picks up his legal pad and black pens. There's his red paperback dictionary. Where had his lit text gotten to?

"Here."

"Thanks," Clark takes the book and looks up, smile freezing in the on position. It's the guy from last night; the one who'd been threatening Lex and Lucas. Could the guy be a student? This had to be some bizarre coincidence. There's no reason for the guy to take an interest in him, and no way that the guy could know that it was him last night.

"So you're going by Clark now, huh?" He cocks his head, blond curls gleaming in the sun. "You can call me, Mitch. I'm going to be your new best friend."

Clark rises to his feet, drawing himself up to his full height to stare down at the shorter man. The way the stranger's pale blue stare is moving over him reminds him uneasily of the same way his dad stared at a potential new addition to the farm's small herd of cattle. "What?"

"I think Kal suits you better. Good choice of stage name."

Oh, god. This can't be happening. Not here where he felt relatively safe. He had nightmares about it happening when his parents came down, insisting on taking him out for dinner. Is Mitch one of Kal's discards? Clark studies the man's face closely. No. He's never seen the guy before last night. He tries his best blank look. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I think you do."

"Look, mister, you've made a mistake." Clark increases the density of his blankness. "I'm not this Kal person you keep talking about."

"I thought you might be difficult." Mitch smirks. "Take a look at the pictures I tucked in your textbook. Maybe those will jog your memory."

Pictures? Someone had taken pictures of him doing…stuff? Clark reluctantly flips open his lit book. Oh, god. There's no doubt about the first one being him, or what he's doing. He stares down at the close-up of his face, eyes closed and mouth wrapped around a cock. The next photo shows him, back arched, ass upturned, staring off into the distance; his empty, determined expression a sharp contrast with the need twisting the other man's features. Maybe a pretense of indifference is the best way to handle this. He shrugs. "Okay. I fucked guys. So what?"

"I have a few more, but I thought those were the most interesting." Mitch glances down at the photos. "You like you might as well be doing your laundry, but your…what do you prefer to call them? Customers? Clients? They're clearly happy with the services rendered."

Clark shuts his book with a snap. Actually Kal had thought of them as more like tissues that he sneezed in; fragile conveniences to be used and tossed away. And Kal had never taken money for any of it. That hadn't been about money. He'd financed his new lifestyle in other ways. "No laws against one night stands, and that's all it was. I never took money from them."

"But do you want your parents to see them?"

Clark stares down at his book, the big hand wrapped around it. It would be so easy to grab Mitch, and snap his neck. Just like a chicken for dinner. Kal wouldn't have hesitated, but he isn't Kal. He could tell Mitch to fuck off, but he imagines sunset spreading over the farm, his mom walking down to the mailbox to find a brown envelope, the looks on his parents' faces, and his stomach knots into painful tightness. "What do you want?"

Mitch grins, radiating smug triumph. "Don't look so glum. I'm not asking you to do anything you haven't done before."

"I want all the pictures and the negatives."

"After you do a little favor for me."

Clark stares back at the other man seeing the amused conviction that he is stupid enough to believe that Mitch will actually give him the negatives and photos later instead of stringing him along for as long as he is useful. Later he'll follow Mitch, and find the pictures, but for now, there's no choice but to play dupe. "What?"

"I want Kal to make a return appearance. Relax, kid. It's just for one night." Mitch reaches beneath his sports jacket and pulls out a pass. "Here. This will get you anywhere in the club you need to go. It's a new club, before Kal's time so maybe the mark won't know your reputation. Of course from what I've heard about him, the teenage slut thing you had going might just make you more interesting. I'm sure a young man of your extensive experience can figure out which way you need to play it to snag his attention."

Clark tucks the pass in his text next to the photos. His lips tighten with distaste. "You want me to fuck someone?"

"Like I said, nothing you haven't done before. I want you to get his attention, and get him to take you home with him. You do whatever you have to. Give him anything that his perverted little heart wants. Just get into his place."

"And then what?"

"He's got one of those home offices. I want you to sneak in there and download some files. Look for anything to do with bids on WrightCo. I'll meet you here tomorrow. Same time. Same place." Mitch's grin widens. "You give me the files, and I'll give you the photos."

"And negatives."

"Sure, kid. Negatives too."

Clark tilts his head, frowning. "Why go to the trouble of blackmailing me when there are plenty of people who'd do it for money?"

"I needed someone special for this. A beautiful dangerous piranha to go swim with the sharks. I asked around the clubs and one name kept coming up consistently. Kal." Mitch sweeps a long look over the other man. "I don't get the whole guy thing. Give me a juicy cunt and a sweet pair of tits every time. But even I can see what you're trying to hide under all those baggy clothes. Yeah. My informants got the beauty part right, but the dangerous…I don't see it. Doesn't matter thought, you'll do. You're motivated, experienced, and beautiful enough to draw in the most jaded customer."

"Who am I supposed to draw in?"

"Only the best for you, kid. How'd you like to fuck Lex Luthor? That's another reason for going with you. He pissed me off, screwed up a sweet deal that I had going so I'm gonna return the favor. Be at the club at midnight."

Clark sinks down to sit on the steps as he watches Mitch swagger away. What is he going to do? He doesn't have much time. He could tell his parents. They know that he's different, but hearing a strongly edited version of events, and seeing the actual pictures of their son offering up his ass…Clark flinches.

"Clark?" Pete walks over. "Are you alright?"

He looks up and forces a smile. "Fine."

Pete looks after Mitch. "Who was that guy?"

"He was just lost and needed directions." Clark stands up, smile firmly locked into place. "You ready to grab some lunch?"

++

Lucas strides into his brother's office. He shuts the door behind him and looks around, assessing the clean lines and open spaces. "Your office is bigger."

"I'm older, richer, and prettier." Lex leans back in his chair with a smirk. He lowers the screen on his laptop. "Of course, my office is bigger."

Lucas rolls his eyes. "So who was that masked man?"

"Masked man?"

"You know. The other half of the Great Face Suck Off?"

Lex shrugs. "What makes you think I know?"

"Oh, jeez, I dunno…the fact that you seemed to be doing your best to crawl down his throat?"

"You think I have to know someone to be willing to kiss them? A kiss is the traditional reward for a rescue."

"No wonder you're so popular with the Smallville police." Lucas strolls over to look out the wide window and survey the skyline of Metropolis. He turns back to face his brother. "I guess that explains why they rush out in force every time a rabbit trips one of your alarms."

"A mouth like that…so ripe, so succulent," Lex muses aloud, trying not to grin at the way Lucas' face is scrunching up. "Soft and sweet as a peach. How could I resist?"

"You know I'll never be able to eat a peach again after that?"

"That's too bad. My chef can do wonderful things with peaches." Lex smirks. "Ready for your first board meeting?"

"Sure," Lucas lifts his chin to a confident angle, hoping that his brother can't see the nerves twitching beneath his skin. "Nothing, but a bunch of cranky geezers in there, right?"

"Here," Lex slides a folder across the table. "Read this."

"What is it?" Lucas walks over the desk and picks up the folder.

"Background on the board. Not the PR fluff that we have on LuthorCorp's website and brochures. Study it. Add to it. Keep it hidden."

Lucas drops into the chair across from his brother and begins reading as Lex returns to brooding over his laptop.

++

Clark slowly pulls out a sealed box from beneath his bed. He sets it on top of the navy coverlet. He stares at the black metal with all the enthusiasm he'd feel for a box of meteor rocks. He'd rather open a box of rocks than this container of Kal, but he doesn't know what else to do. He brooded over the problem through the rest of his classes. If he didn't show up at the club, and go through the motions of picking up Lex, those photos would go to his parents. If he did go, even if he refused to discuss what he was being blackmailed about, Lex would find out. Then in the middle of his last class of the day, he'd felt the dreaded tingly itchy sensation spreading slowly over his chest.

That had tipped the scales toward going to Lex. His freakish alien biology left him with no choice. If Lex had been accessible the first time, if he'd known how to fly then…why had Jor-El gone on endlessly on about things like world conquest instead of mentioning the more immediately important facts of his biology? It would have been good to have had some warning instead of waking one day filled with a relentless and overwhelming need directed at a man that he'd always thought of as a friend, a man who'd just gotten married and left for a honeymoon.

Jor-El had told him that his sudden sexual awakening had been earlier than expected, and speculated it might result in his cycles of rut either happening frequently than the norm for his people. The only warning he would have...Clark touches his chest, tracing the tingling lines. He can feel only the ridges swelling beneath his skin. How long before he loses control? He should have told Lex earlier. He should have warned Lex. With his strength and abilities, Lex wouldn't have a chance to get away from him. Clark cringes at an inward of vision of crashing through windows and walls to molest Lex. Begging Lex to…and what if Lex can't? What if Lex isn't interested in him like that? Could he manage to burn it out as he had before without the ring's help?

Clark unlocks the box. He takes out a small plastic box and flips off the lid to stare down at the contents. Pots of gold, silver and blue glitter wink at him. A bright handful of lipstick and lip gloss samples still shine behind their protective plastic. Sticks of kohl and wands of mascara rattle next to smoky squares of eye shadow. He snaps it shut and downs it back on top of the clothes. He crosses his arms over his chest as he stares down at the neat folds of fabric and leather with growing repulsion.

He can't. He won't be like that again. Clark thumps the lid back down and locks the box. He tucks it under his arm and hurries down to the dumpster, shoving the box over the green metal sides. He backs slowly away, watching the dumpster, half-expecting the box to clamber back up the sides and come lurching after him.

++

Lex leans back against the second floor bar, surveying the dancers below through the soft glow of the clear floor. The effect is rather like watching fish in an aquarium, and oddly peaceful despite the frenzied motion as the dancers move with the music that he can feel pounding against the floor, but not a trace of the sounds escapes to mingle with slower rhythm smoldering across the dance floor flowing around the second level. Lex watches with idle interest as a model in a barely there skirt struts past him to the ladies room. He catches the bartender's eye and asks, "The people below, what do they see if they look up?"

"Not a thing, Mr. Luthor. In here, we can see them, but they can’t see us. But say you see someone interesting down there," the bartender grins as he admires a young redhead's jiggling cleavage, "you tell me, and I'll send someone down with an invitation. It's also good for spotting people that you'd rather avoid."

"I see." Lex drinks the last of his scotch and sets his glass on the polished wood. He tugs his silk tie loose and unfastens his collar, ready to relax after seeing off the last of the business associates that he'd been entertaining. He pushes his glass toward the bartender. "Another one."

"Yes, sir."

Lex accepts the fresh glass and resumes his slouch against the bar, ignoring the model's flirtatious smile as she wanders back across his view on her way back to her huddle of friends and fellows. He pauses in the act of lifting his glass as the elevator slides open and Clark steps out. How had Clark gotten in dressed like that? Not that Clark didn't look good in jeans and loose red tee shirt, but his friend looked ready for an evening on campus, not a night of clubbing. And not at all like the kind of customer that a club like this would be interesting in encouraging.

"How'd that kid even get in the club? Much less on this level?" The bartender reaches under the bar.

Lex glances over his shoulder. "Don't. He's with me."

"Sorry, Mr. Luthor."

Lex turns his attention back to Clark, offering an encouraging smile as he meets the nervous teal eyes. He opens his mouth to greet his friend and loses all power of speech as Clark moves boldly between his spread thighs. He's intensely conscious of the warmth of Clark's flanks against his inner thighs, and of the scant inches separating their bodies. Lex takes a sip of his drink and tries again. "Clark? What do you—"

Clark squeezes his eyes shut and presses his face into the soft black fabric covering Lex's shoulder, hungrily breathing his friend's scent. He'd known that facing Lex would be difficult, but he hadn't thought that it would be this bad. All he wants to do is rip away the plum silk and revel in the skin beneath. He'd drastically under estimated the effect that merely being in Lex's presence would have on him right now. He takes advantage of his friend's startled stillness to rub his face against the creamy sweetness of Lex's throat. "Lex, I'm sorry about this. Just play along for now, okay? I promise I'll explain later. Please, Lex."

"What…what's wrong?" Lex wraps his arm around Clark, stroking his fingers soothingly over the soft skin of his friend's nape as he arches his throat into the shiver inducing rasp of Clark's shaven cheeks against his skin. He threads his fingers through dark hair, encouraging Clark's explorations. His eyes narrow into vicious slits as he continues the soft stroking. Who had figured out how he felt about Clark and dared use the boy against him? "If someone made you do this, tell me, Clark. I promise I'll take care of whatever is going on."

"I think he's got people watching." Clark whispers. "Can you act like I'm…like you want me?"

Lex sighs softly. This isn't how he intended to introduce this topic to his friend's attention, but with Clark nudging closer his reaction to being touched by Clark won't be a secret for much longer. He nuzzles the dark softness of his friend's hair. "I won't have to act, Clark."

"You want me?" Clark pulls back, teal eyes wide.

"Yes." Lex drinks from his glass. He presses the rim lightly against the fullness of Clark's lips. "Here. Drink. It will help."

Clark drains the rest of the scotch and pushes closer as he leans forward to set the glass on the bar. A fine flush of pink rises along his cheekbones as he tips his head to dare a delicate nibble along the curve of Lex's ear. "You really want me?"

Lex laughs huskily. "Get any closer any closer and you won't have any doubts about that subject. What changed Clark? I didn't think that you were interested."

"I'm…different, Lex." Clark glances cautiously around the bar. "For a long time, I didn't have those kinds of feelings. I didn't understand what all the fuss was about, the things that the other guys talked about. It was like listening to people talking about eating apple pie when you weren't quite sure what apples were or why anyone would want to eat one. Then things happened…changed…and I wanted you. Just you, and I hoped that one day, you would see me."

"I always saw you, Clark. I can't claim that I only felt friendship for you. I always wanted more, hoped for more." Lex draws a fingertip down the center of Clark's chest, frowning as his finger drifts over a strange raised line. Even as he parts his lips to ask, Clark groans softly and closes the gap between them.

"Lex. Lex…god…that feels so good. So good."

Lex shudders at the sensation of Clark pressed fully against him. He brushes a soft kiss over the pink mouth. "Now that we have the important issues settled, do you want to tell me what's going on? Who's got people watching?"

"Remember Mitch?"

"Yes."

Clark snuggles closer. It's hard to think, hard to care about the photos, with Lex's body so close, with Lex's scent in his nose, Lex's taste on his mouth. "He said that you'd messed up a deal for him. He wanted me to get you to take me home with you and steal some files from your laptop."

"This is what I get for leaving things up to Lucas."

"I knew he'd dragged you into it."

"Clark, he's my brother." Lex sighs. It would be nice if Clark and Lucas could learn to tolerate each other. To be fair, he hadn't given his brother a deadline for settling with Mitch, but is he in the mood to be fair? No. Fairness had left the building as soon as Clark had gotten dragged into Lucas' mess. "What files did he want?"

"You're supposed to look like you're enjoying this. Not like you're going to yell 'Off with their heads' at any second." Clark kisses Lex, stroking the tip over his tongue over the scarred upper lip.

"This, I'm enjoying," Lex murmurs. He nibbles at the plush fullness teasing Clark's lips further apart before sinking slowly into the velvet heat, stroking and curling his tongue along his friend's as he savors the tremble of Clark's body against his. When he finally pulls back, they're both flushed and breathing quickly.

"WrightCo bids," Clark whispers in a dazed voice. "I'm supposed to hand over the data to him tomorrow. I…Lex…please. Can we leave now?"

"Absolutely." Lex steals a quick kiss as he eases off the bar stool. "Limo's waiting in the VIP parking garage."

++

Clark splashes cold water on his face, blinking away the droplets clinging to his lashes. He grabs a plush purple towel and buries his face in it. The cool softness feels so nice against his hot skin. He drapes the towel back over the rack and stares at his reflection in the mirror. He looks normal if he ignores the flush of pink on his cheeks and the glittering brightness of his eyes.

"Lex wants me," he whispers to his image. He grins, still giddy at the thought of Lex wanting him back. He reaches for the hem of his red shirt, rolling up the cotton to stare at his chest. He can see the mark rising in tender, puffy lines that are beginning to take on more definition. Clark yanks his shirt down and walks back out into the living area.

He leans against the doorframe, hungry gaze sliding over the lean lines of his friend's body as Lex stands in front of an empty fireplace, cell phone cupped to one ear as he sips from a bottle of water. The black jacket is gone, leaving purple silk softly skimming the muscled lines of Lex's torso. The tie is gone as well and the shirt's collar is open, baring a delicious stretch of pale throat.

"The time table on that project has just moved up. I don't care. Handle it. Now," Lex snaps into the phone. He turns, folding his phone closed as he sees Clark watching him. He tosses his phone on the coffee table. "Clark, would you like something to drink?"

"I'll have some of what you're having."

"Have a seat." Lex walks into his kitchen and returns a few minutes later with a second bottle. He hands it to Clark. "Here."

"Ummm." Clark opens the bottle as he shifts on the couch to face Lex. He drinks, trying to ignore the tight swollen sensation spreading between his nipples as he stares at the loose sprawl of Lex lounging on the opposite end of the couch. "I thought you wanted me. Why are you lurking way over there?"

"Because if I lurk on your end of the couch, I don't think there will be much talking going on, and there are things that we need to discuss."

"I know what I want, Lex."

Lex lifts an eyebrow. "You wanted to accost me in a bar tonight?"

"I would be more than happy to accost you anywhere, any time."

"There will be no accosting until I know how you got dragged into Lucas' foray into the local criminal elements."

"Mitch had no idea that I knew you. But he knew about…" Clark stares down at the bottle in his hands, trying to figure out how to say it.

"Clark?" Lex leans forward, eyes narrowed and dangerous. "What does Mitch know?"

"No." Clark straightens his eyes widening as he realizes what Lex is thinking. "Lex, no. Not about that. He doesn't know about that. It's something else. He had photos of me."

"Photos of you doing what exactly?"

"Exactly?"

"Clark."

Clark gulps the rest of his water, and sets the bottle aside. "He had photos of me with guys…fucking guys. He told me that he had more. That he would send them to my parents if I didn't do what he wanted."

"That's it? No alien superpowers? Just a couple of college guys having a little fun? Clark, your parents would probably be so relieved that the photos had nothing to do your being alien, that they'd get over discovering your preferences fairly quickly."

"It wasn't like that." Clark reluctantly tugs the two photos from his back pocket and sets them face down on the couch. He slides them toward Lex, and looks away. He doesn't want to see his friend's face when Lex looks at the pictures. At the edge of his vision, he watches his friend's long fingers reach for the photos. "It happened when I ran away to Metropolis."

"While I was having a lovely tropical vacation courtesy of my late wife." Lex stares at the photos. He doesn't like seeing Clark with someone else, but the thing that disturbs him most deeply about the images is the complete lack of pleasure on Clark's face or in the lines of his body. He gets up and walks over to the fireplace, setting the photos alight and tossing them inside. "I wish I had been there to help you."

"I'm not sure that would have been a good thing, Lex."

"What?" Lex glances over his shoulder, hurt in his eyes. He looks away as Clark gets up and walks toward him.

Clark stands next to his friend. He glances from the curling photos to Lex's profile. "You don't understand."

"No, I don't." Lex turns to face Clark. "Tell me about it. Make me understand."

"Lex," Clark eases closer, eyes pleading. "If you had been there then, I'm afraid that I might have hurt you. I didn't understand what was happening to me. What I was doing in those pictures, it wasn't sex. It was something else."

Lex moves away to pick up his phone. He flips it open and taps in a number. "I have a revision to add. Tough. I want a thorough search. I want every photo, every negative, every camera, and everything that any images could be saved on. That's your problem. Do it." He snaps his phone shut and drops it back on the table.

"Lex, what are you doing?" Clark asks uneasily.

"Making sure those photos will no longer be a problem for you." Lex settles back on his end of the couch, watching Clark stare at the phone like it's a snake waiting to strike.

"Lex, did you…? It's just the photos, right?" Clark takes a step toward his friend, searching the neutral blankness of Lex's face for clues. He's been a Lex watcher for far too long to trust that look.

"Of course, it's just the photos," Lex infuses his voice with just the right amount of annoyance to make his friend relax. Time to change the subject before Clark probes any further into Mitch's state of health. "I can see why you wouldn't want your parents to see similar photos. You didn't look like you were enjoying yourself."

"I wasn't. It wasn't about enjoyment."

"A guy's gotta eat," Lex suggests softly.

"It wasn't like that either. I didn't need money. Money, I had plenty of. More than I'd ever seen in my life before. I rented a luxury apartment, drove a car that could match anything in your garage, and wore designer clothes."

"Sounds like you landed on your feet."

"I stole it all." Clark laughs at the startled twitch of Lex's eyebrows. "I robbed banks and ATMs. I'd never seen that much cash in my life. It was amazing."

"A lot of people go a little wild when they first discover sex. You were fairly young, not even out of high school, and there you were in the big city with lots of money and no restrictions."

Clark shakes his head slowly. "It wasn't about curiosity either. I called myself 'Kal' because I was feeling especially…different."

Lex leans forward, eyes curious at the coded reference to things alien. His gaze drifts briefly downward to the front of Clark's jeans. Is that Clark's way of saying he's got something unusual there? That hadn't occurred to him before, the rest of Clark looks so human normal that he always assumed that the rest of his friend's equipment met standard specifications as well. He offers an encouraging smile. "You mentioned that in the club. Something about developing differently."

"Jor-El was too busy planning my path to world conquest to bother explaining some basic biological facts to me. I knew that I didn't feel things, respond to things like the humans around me did. I thought that maybe my people reached sexual maturity later."

"Did you ask Jor-El about that?"

"I got desperate enough to try asking him. There was a lot of sneering about inferior species, and assurances that I was normal for my kind, but no real facts or guidance about what to expect other than I shouldn't expect to develop an interest in sex until I older."

"But you needed to fit in so no one would suspect anything."

Clark nods. "So I pretended to be interested in Lana in that way. I could tell from the way that other guys talked about her that they might snigger at me for thinking I had a chance with her, but no one would question why I was interested in her."

"So if it wasn't pleasure, curiosity, or money, what was it?"

Clark sits down on the couch, fingering the hem of his shirt. "You know how some species go into rut?"

Lex's eyes widen. "Are you telling me that you went into rut? Like a moose."

Moose. Clark sighs. It's not the most flattering comparison. Especially since he does feel hulking and hairy next to Lex's sleek gracefulness. "Yeah. At first I was delighted that everything seemed to finally be working like it was supposed to, but it wouldn't go away for very long. And the more I touched myself, the worse it got, and it was never enough so I went to the clubs."

"I doubt it took you very long to get a number of volunteers to help out with your problem."

"I didn't want them. They felt wrong, smelled wrong, and tasted wrong. I hated having to allow them to touch me, but I was desperate for any kind of relief."

"Were they able to provide you with relief?"

"Enough." Clark stares down at his hands. "I survived it."

Lex frowns. "Is there some question of your not surviving it?"

"No." Clark snorts. "And you talk about Lucas watching too many movies. It's not exactly something I can ignore, but it won't kill me any more that it would those moose that you were talking about."

"You said that you were afraid that you might hurt me."

"I wanted you. Only you."

"I heal fast, Clark. Promise me that next time, you will find me."

"Ummm, Lex…"

"You're…in rut?" Lex stares at his friend. "Now?"

Clark rubs his chest, trying to ease the ache throbbing on his chest. "It's not bad yet. I can wait if you don't want to..."

Lex laughs huskily as he admires the fine flush of pink tinting Clark's golden skin. He slides closer and cups his friend's face, feeling the rasp of shaven cheeks against his fingers as he studies the dilated pupils and smoky jade eyes. For a second an orange-bronze haze clouds the iris only to vanish as Clark blinks. "Oh, I want to. Very much."

Clark tilts his face into the relative coolness of Lex's palm, pressing a kiss into the center and nibbling his way down to taste the delicate skin stretching across the wrist until his explorations are halted by the cuffs of Lex's shirt. He unfastens each cuff, dropping the silver cuff links on the table. Clark searches the smoldering darkness of Lex's eyes, and trembles at the images that stare invokes in his mind. He strokes his fingertips over the smoothness of Lex's jaw and down the strong lines of throat to trace the tempting hollow at the base. "I want your shirt off."

"That can be arranged." Lex smiles slowly. "Do you want to take it off or rip it off?"

"You'd let me rip your clothes?" Clark asks as he trails his fingers over the placket, sliding downwards to linger where the plum silk vanishes beneath the black trousers. He tugs at the fabric, easing the shirt's tails free.

"You know you want to."

Clark stares into the cobalt blue of Lex's eyes as he hooks his fingers into the placket and yanks, sending a shower of buttons rattling around the room. He rips the sleeves away next, stroking the fabric down the muscled length of his lover's arms, and planting a kiss in each palm as he tugs the sleeves over Lex's hands. He snaps the shoulder seams and pushes the shredded silk away, spreading his palms across the lush vanilla skin. Clark dips his head to press possessive kisses across the constellations of freckles gracing his lover's shoulders and chest. "You're so beautiful. I'm jealous of everyone who has ever seen you like this."

"There's no need to be." Lex strokes his fingers through Clark's hair, savoring the silky texture. He drops a kiss into the dark waves.

Clark pulls back to search his lover's gaze. "Are you saying that none of them meant anything to you?"

"Some of them were just for fun and games. Like Victoria." Lex relaxes back against the couch, pulling Clark down with him. He massages the tension tightening the strong lines of his lover's shoulders. "Some were pure lust. Like Desiree. Some were a matter of strategy. Like Helen."

"Lex, you married Helen and Desiree."

Lex sighs. "I wasn't exactly myself when I married Desiree. Under normal circumstances, she isn't someone that I would have married."

"And Helen?"

"Are you jealous of Helen?" Lex blinks at the sound of a low growl rising from Clark's throat. He strokes his fingers through his lover's hair, smiling as the growl shifts into a rough purr. "I'll take that as a yes. I didn't care about Helen. I married Helen to buy her silence, but I underestimated her ruthlessness. I thought she was planning a divorce and a fat settlement, not murder and a life of merry widowhood."

And instead, Lex is the merry widower. Clark presses his face into his lover's shoulder, nuzzling into the reassurance of scent. He smoothes his hand over Lex's chest, easing away the traces of tension as Lex waits for the next questions, all the ones that he will never ask about Helen's death. He's too glad that Lex is safe and alive to ever press for details about Helen's accident. "Do you think you will ever get married again after two bad experiences?"

"My dad is already pushing assorted matrimonial candidates at me. He wants heirs."

"What do you want?"

"Oh, I want heirs too, but I can acquire them without marrying their mothers. I won't marry again, unless someone that I can trust completely throws their hat into the candidate's arena."

"Lex." Clark leans up on his elbows to study his lover's expression. "Is that an invitation?"

"Do you want it to be?"

Clark bites his lip as he considers the difficulties that stretch before them. His mom would eventually accept Lex, but his dad never would. His friends would be dubious at first, but they would come around when they got know Lex better. And, oh, god, Lionel as his father in law, the idea is appalling. And Lucas would be his new brother. And who knew what other secret Luthors were blithely creating havoc out there in blissful ignorance until Lionel decides to acknowledge them? "Yes. My hat is in the ring."

Clark groans as Lex kisses him, neatly reversing their positions to settle sweetly between his thighs. He opens his mouth eagerly as Lex deepens the kiss. Nothing had ever felt as perfect as the fit of those lips against his own. And Lex tastes better than anything he'd ever tasted before. Lighter than his mom's birthday cakes. Crisper than the stolen sip of wine. More meltingly rich than the icing on giant cinnamon rolls. Smoother than a glass of milk. More lushly sweet than ripe grapes. He can't give this up. He won't give this up.

"Are you sure, Clark?" Lex whispers against his lover's mouth. "If I pick up your hat, I won't give it back."

"I don't want it back." Clark arches his chest into the touch, silently pleading for more as Lex's hands glide slowly down the tender skin of his throat to investigate the line of his shoulders and trace the length of his collarbones,. He makes a muffled desperate noise as Lex's hand skims across the swollen line running between his nipples. When the curious touch immediately returns, tracing the tender length, Clark throws his head back, crying out as he convulses under Lex.

"Clark?" Lex pulls back to stare down at the flushed, limp alien beneath him.

"Ummmm?"

"What was that?"

Clark widens his eyes and adopts a look of mock dismay. "You mean you don't know?"
"Very funny." Lex hooks his fingers beneath the hem of Clark's shirt and eases it upwards. He stares down at the swollen lines slanting and curling in strange designs on Clark's chest. When had this happened? It looks almost like a burn scar. He gently brushes his fingertip over one line, feeling it pulsate as Clark groans. "What is this?"

Clark lifts his head and squints down at his chest. He drops his head back against the couch. "It's the symbol of my family. The House of El."

"How did you get this? It looks like someone burned you."

"Someone did. You know how Jor-El is always getting mad at me for refusing to follow his script? He decided that I needed a reminder of who I am. Or who he wants me to be. He burned this on my chest."

Lex scowls. "And you still won't allow me to infect him with virus that I created just for him, why?"

"He's the only link I have to where I came from."

"There is a risk with using it, but the virus should only target the Jor-El persona, not the data."

"I'm not comfortable with taking that risk yet, Lex."

"He's dangerous, Clark. He despises humans. We're one step up from garden slugs in his opinion. He's even abusive with you. How many times has he hurt you when you refused to do his bidding?"

Clark drops his gaze but keeps silent.

Lex traces the lines of the symbol, feeling Clark tremble beneath him, the renewed lift of Clark's cock against him. He isn't going to get anywhere pushing that topic right now, but one day Jor-El will go too far, and when the A.I. does his virus will be ready. "It feels good to you when I touch it?"

"Oh, yes."

"And how about this?"

"Lex." Clark shudders at the damp velvet sensation as Lex retraces the scar with a series of teasing licks. He squeezes his eyes shut as a bronze haze spreads across his vision. He clutches his lover's shoulders. "Lex, if you keep doing that I'm gonna…oh, god…oh, god…Lex!"

"Wow." Lex sits up with a bright grin as he surveys Clark. His possessive gaze sweeps from tousled hair to flushed face and sleepy eyes to the sweat dampened sheen of gold skin. "More fun than a new Porsche."

"I think it's my turn to play." Clark grabs his lover's wrist as Lex touches his scar again. He kisses the graceful hand. Clark floats them off the couch, laughing at the way Lex's thighs tighten around his waist.

"Clark?" Lex finds his balance and cautiously sits up. Not so different from a horse once he gets used to the smooth glide. "Where are we going?"

"You're overdressed." Clark slides his hands up Lex's thighs, exploring the tight muscles beneath the soft black wool. He reaches up to unfasten the waistband and ease the zipper down. "We need to get rid of these."

"Then get rid of them." Lex gasps as the wool is ripped abruptly away from him, baring his skin to the cool air. Now he can feel the heat of Clark's skin against his thighs and the roughness of denim through his lavender boxers. He groans and squirms against the hard rise of his lover's cock as warm fingers slide slyly up his thighs. "Clark, please."

"Definitely more fun than a Porsche." Clark brushes fingertip up the long, thick outline of Lex's cock, smiling at his lover's gasp and shudder as he delicately strokes over the damp silk clinging to the crown. "I have this reoccurring fantasy."

"Tell me," Lex orders hoarsely.

"Actually I have lots of fantasies about you, but this one is my favorite." Clark traces another light, teasing circle with his finger.

"Oh?" Lex squirms against Clark's jeans.

"I think it would be more fun to show you than to tell you. Do you have a hot tub or sauna?"

"In…in the master bathroom."

++

Clark splashes water over the hot rocks, soaking in the heat as the water sizzles and turns to steam. He scoops up a second dipperful of water and tosses it on the rocks, then drops the wooden dipper back in the bucket. At the edge of his vision he can see the row of wooden benches bordering the white and indigo tiles lining the room. He turns slowly around.

Lex sits on the bench, lounging bare and perfect on a towel of imperial purple. He looks like one of the more degenerate emperors waiting impatiently for the orgy to begin with his toes tapping against the floor, and his eyes narrowed against the steamy heat as he stares at Clark. "Does something ever happen in his fantasy of yours or do we just stare at each other all evening?"

"I like looking at you." Clark walks across the small room. He stands in front of Lex, openly staring. "Seeing your beautiful skin flushed and burnished to a warm creamy glow, and imagining how it will taste. It makes me want to lick every inch of you."

"I like looking at you too."

"Good, because that's all you get to do. No touching." Clark gives Lex a stern look as he kneels between Lex's spread thighs.

"Fine, no touching." Lex sighs loudly and gripes the edge of the bench. "Who has fantasies about not being touched?"

"Wait until my fantasy is over before complaining about it." Clark rubs his cheeks against the tender skin of inner thigh, smiling as Lex groans and spreads wider, offering more of himself to the caress.

"I…suppose I should be glad that no whips and chains were included with it."

"Would you like that?" Clark slants an assessing glance over his lover's arching body. He eases back and begins licking his way up each thigh, soothing the pink flush that his stubble had roused. "You taste so good. Better than anything."

"Steam wouldn't be good for leather or metal."

"I don't need chains, Lex." Clark pauses to admire the heavy roundness of balls at the base of a big cock straining high and flushed dark rose with need. "I’m stronger than any metal chain. If I held you down, you wouldn't be going anywhere."

"But would I be coming?" Lex snipes. "Sometime this century perhaps? You know for an alien who claims he's in rut…"

"We're just getting started with the rutting," Clark warns. "It's more like running a marathon than a sprint. By the end of the week, you'll probably be more than tired of my attentions."

"No." Lex hooks his fingers in damp black curls and tilts Clark's head back. He brushes a reassuring kiss over his lover's mouth. "I'll never be tired of you. Never."

Clark smiles. "You promised not to touch me."

"I lied." Lex releases Clark, and slouches back on his towel. He adopts an insolent expression. "What are you going to do about it? Punish me."

"It's a thought." Clark slides his lover's long, muscular legs over his shoulders, and pulls Lex's hips to the edge of the bench. "Would that deter future misbehavior?"

"You could try it and find out." Lex tries to shift his hips. His eye widen as he realizes that the gentleness of his lover's gripe is deceptive.

"I warned you that you couldn't go anywhere if I held you down." Clark lavishes kisses over the tempting roundness of his lover's balls then eases back down to kiss the quivering thigh muscles, ignoring breathless threats and promises alike as he leisurely works his way back up to lick the trembling thickness of rosy cock. He swirls his tongue delicately over the crown, savoring the taste. He slides up and down, taking his time, exploring every slick inch, investigating every variation in taste, as he holds Lex's hips motionless.

"Clark…I swear, if you don't let me come." Lex pants as he hangs onto the bench. He wraps his legs around his lover's shoulders, vainly trying to force Clark to speed up. "No! Don't stop! Don't…oh, god…god…" Lex clenches his legs around his lover's shoulders with renewed force as Clark's tongue teases the length of his cleft. "Clark, please…I take it all back…just…please…" Impossible not to squirm and beg as lingering licks and slow swirls change to a relentlessly demanding wet thrusts inside him.
"Clark!" Lex arches and spills dampness over the trembling muscles of his stomach.

Clark tugs the limp tangle of Lex's body down onto his lap. He dusts kisses over the curve of his lover's head and nibbles at the delicate curve of ear. "Lex, can we…do you feel ready…can we do that again?"

Lex lifts his head from Clark's shoulders and smiles as he wraps his hand around his lover's cock, stroking. "I want you to fuck me in the shower first. That's my fantasy. I think about it and jerk off every time I take a shower."

"Lex." Clark shivers, swelling harder and higher as his lover pumps him, clever fingers teasing. "Yes…I…yes. I want that, please."


++

A week later, Lex sinks into his hot tub. He leans back against the tiles with a groan of relief. The heat flowing around his sore thighs feels wonderful. He massages the quivering muscles. He'd just barely avoided cramping up at an awkward moment earlier this morning. He flexes his aching hands. He feels as sore as if he'd spent the week engaged in a fencing tournament instead of pleasuring himself and his lover.

Lex raises damp fingers to rub his jaw. Does he look as exhausted as he feels? That would be a plus in persuading the office gossip mongers that he really had been sick this week. His dad would never believe the illness excuse, but fortunately, Lionel had spent the week in Japan, courting assorted government officials and businessmen. What he wouldn't give for a chance to sleep an entire night. Hell, he'd settle for two undisturbed hours. "To think I once believed there was no such thing as too much sex."

++

Lucas frowns at his phone. Enough is enough. It's not like his brother to not answer his call. Hell, Lex took his phone everywhere. He'd bet that Lex even slept with the thing under his pillow. All week Lex had been out of the office and supposedly sick. He'd heard enough gossip around LuthorCorp to know that the office busybodies were overcome with curiosity because Lex was notorious for never being sick.

At first he'd shrugged it off, saving up some particularly choice comments to taunt Lex with later. But as the sick day had stretched into sick days then an entire week, he'd begin to wonder. Besides he's getting tired of sitting on his collection of Mitch's photos and photographic equipment. Maybe he should take a peek. Maybe something on those photos would provide a clue to what was going on with his brother.

It certainly couldn't be any more boring than spreadsheets. Lucas opens his briefcase and pulls out a pile of fat envelopes stuffed full of pictures. He dumps the first one on his desk, and quickly sorts through the images. Mitch and assorted girls. Mitch on vacation in Mexico. Mitch and his buddies. Boring. People fucking. Whoa. Lucas sits up with a grin. "Now that's more like it."

Wow. Look at the tits on that girl. They had to be fakes, but who cared? And there's Miss Natural Blond. And, whoa, lesbos. Alright. Lucas slowly flips through more shots of Miss Natural Blond doing a sleek redhead. Oh, yeah. Now those are photos worth looking at. Lucas scrunches up his face at the next photo. Guys. Gag. Seeing his brother sucking face with another guy had been bad enough, but to see two guys doing each other. Double eeeuuwww. What a second…he knows that face. "Kent? Damn, I always knew there was something freaky about you."

Lucas shoves the photos back in the envelopes and stuff them back in his briefcase. Did Lex know about Kent's kink? Maybe Lex did know. Maybe that was why Lex spent so much time with the FarmBore. That would explain Lex's tolerance of all that tedious talk about farms and crops and cows. He'd certainly listened to enough of his girlfriends going on and on about shopping and shoes while thinking about how soon he could maneuver them back into bed.

What was Mitch doing with pictures of FarmBore fucking guys? Lucas flips rapidly through the rest of the pictures. Lots of guys. Damn. As annoying as he finds the Plaid Wonder, he has to give Kent points for stamina. Is Kent being blackmailed? Lucas frowns. The only thing that he can think of that Kent had that someone might want to use is a relationship with Lex. And Mitch is still running around loose out there. He'd better warn Lex.

Lucas garbs his phone and dials. No answer. He pushes away from his desk, shoving the Kent photos in his pocket. Lucas walks out of his office, pausing in front of his secretary's desk. "I'm going out. If Lex calls, tell him to dial my cell number. Anybody else can leave a message for when I get back."

++

Lex tugs on a pair of gray boxers and then black trousers. He pulls his gray sweater over his head. It feels odd to be dressed again after spending a week lounging around in his robe. It will feel even better to get out for a little while. As much as he's enjoyed Clark, he's starting to feel a little stir crazy. He wants to see some place beside the inside of his penthouse.

He walks out his bedroom and into the living area to find Clark lounging on the couch watching dinosaurs chasing people. He pauses to admire dark hair, curling and damp from the shower, and the muscular lines of his lover's bare torso. The jeans are too loose to do Clark's lower half justice, but its fine by him; he'd just as soon keep that knowledge on a need to know basis. And he is the only one who needs to know. "Clark?"

Clark looks over the back of the couch and grins at him. "Hi."

"You're watching Jurassic Park again?"

"It's the velociraptors. I can't resist them."

"I noticed that they seem to be exercising an unholy fascination on you."

Clark smirks. "You could call me a connoisseur of velociraptors even."

"Are you sure you will be okay if I got out for a few minutes?" Lex bends down to give Clark a quick kiss.

"I'll be fine, Lex. Being with you has made this time so different. It feels good instead of bad. And it seems to be passing more quickly."

"All the same, I'll be back in an hour. Just in case." Lex steals another kiss. "You want me to bring lunch back with me?"

Clark smiles hopefully. "Burgers and fries?"

Lex shakes his head as he walks toward the door. "I should've known."

"And a vanilla shake," Clark calls after him.

++


"There. We'll just send this picture to the buyer as proof that we have them, and wait for the money to hit my Swiss account. Then it's a nice vacation in the tropics for me." Mitch smirks as he lowers his new digital camera. "I hope you think of me while you're enjoying my client's hospitality."

Lex glowers as he watches Mitch swagger out the door. Apparently Lucas' little playmate had suicidal streak. Either that or more balls than sense. Did Mitch have any idea what was likely to befall him if he succeeded in vanishing both of Lionel Luthor's heirs? His dad might be the first to shove him headfirst into a viper pit just to see if he could climb out again, or give a whole new definition to the term 'deadbeat dad' for Lucas, but no one jeopardizes Lionel's dynastic ambitions and gets away with it. Has he been missing long enough that Clark knows something is wrong?

He glances around the room, taking in the cheap generic furniture and nauseatingly bad prints that were only one step-up from velvet Elvis paintings. Wonderful. They were being sold out of an economy motel; the same one that he'd ransomed Lucas from if the flash of neon penetrating the thin curtains is anything to go by. He can already hear the snide commentary rolling smoothly out of his dad's mouth. Lex turns his aching head on the thin pillow to see his brother stirring next to him. "Lucas?"

Lucas opens his eyes and lifts his head to study the room. "Shit. Mitch again?"

"I see you're familiar with his natural habitat. Might one inquire why Mitch still inhabits it? I thought I was quite clear about his being added to the endangered, if not extinct, species list."

"I don't have the contact here that I have in Europe. I've got someone flying in, but he's not here yet." Lucas drops his head back on his pillow. "Mitch still working the same gig?"

"He took digital pictures of us to send his buyer this time."

"So what did you do?"

"Me?" Lex twists his body, trying to maneuver his bound hands past his lower back and over his ass. "What did I do?"

"You're the one that the buyer wants. I'm just a freebie. Part of a two for one package." Lucas watches his brother squirming contortions with interest. "I bet the buyer doesn't even believe that I'm really a Luthor. Just like everyone else in this town."

"I am a billionaire," Lex tells the ceiling. "Of course, I'm worth more money."

"Yeah, well, I own a sizable chunk of LuthorCorp shares. I seem to remember a couple of guys who were all hot to get their hands on those and my vote."

"I'm the older heir. And I own LexCorp in addition to my LuthorCorp holdings."

"I could start my own business if I wanted to." Lucas flexes his muscles, scowling at the burn of rope against his skin. "I'm young and fresh."

"I am prettier."

"I haven't heard anyone complaining about my face yet." Lucas smirks. "You wouldn't be trying to tell me something, would you, bro?"

"Certainly not. Why would I bother telling you anything?" Lex struggles to keep his balance on the saggy bed as he slides his hands down the length of his legs and over his feet. "You never listen."

"Just because I wouldn't trade my jeans for some pair of designer trousers…jeez, we own LuthorCorp. What's the point of being boss if you can't dress any way you want to? Jeans go everywhere or haven't you heard?"

"And you wonder why people never believe that you're a Luthor." Lex sits up and tugs at the hem of his pants, finding the knife strapped to his calf.

"Somehow, I think a little more than a designer fetish is involved." Lucas grins. "You know, if you'd told me that one of those came with the pants, I might've been willing to make the trade."

Lex swears and drops the knife as the door slams open. He collapses back against the bed, staring up at the familiar contours of a mouth whose pink lushness became more compelling by the second. "Clark."

"Kent?" Lucas glowers at the tall man standing next to the bed. "Kent?"

"Are you just going to stand there or do something useful, like untie us before Mitch's stooge squad rushes in?" Lex demands.

"Jeez, Lex. Tell me that you aren't….not with the Plaid Wonder."

"Does that mean you aren't coming to the wedding?" Lex asks.

"Wedding?" Clark unfastens the ropes around his lover's hands and ankles. He sits on the bed next to Lex. "There's going to be a wedding?"

"Of course, there's going to be a wedding. Unless you wimp out and demand an elopement." Lex makes a low rough sound as his lips are expertly parted and molded and shaped to fit the demands of the man devouring his mouth. He doesn't care about Mitch or the stooge squad or whoever else might be lurking outside. He doesn't care that his little brother is staring. The only thing that matters is the sensuous mind melting stroke of velvet tongue against his.

"Eeuuwwww. Do you two have to do that? Look. untie me and you can have the room. Jeez, bro, are you trying to traumatize me for life? It's not enough that I get knocked over the head and kidnapped; I have to watch my brother kissing a guy too? Jeez! Stop that!"


THE END