Quirky part-time jobs were supposed to stop after college, right?

Right. That's what he'd stopped telling himself two years ago, when he was six months out of college and still working there to supplement his income. He had a nice respectable job as a writer for the newspaper, but it just wasn't enough sometimes. The job was one that let him work weird hours when it was convenient for him. Mostly early Saturdays, sometimes an hour or two here and there.

It kept him from driving himself nuts doing patrols in every waking moment of his free time, and it kept him in touch with humanity. As a reporter it was hard sometimes. Detached, not supposed to get overly involved in his work, and it was bad enough that he wasn't human without making the gap a wider one.

But clerks in a porn video store in the older part of town? They saw everything about humanity, the good the bad and the really unbelievably freaky. The quirky, too, and Clark rarely commented on any of it.

He couldn't, not without being the kettle calling the pot caked over with lime. Because there were odd jobs, and then there were jobs he still wished he'd never taken out of desperation for pocket money. The farm hit hard times without warning sometimes, and he couldn't ask his wonderful parents for support; and sometimes part-time work to support him through college had been hard to find.

So his muscled body, tight ass, big throbbing cock were in exactly eight videos, seven of which were stocked in the store's shelves.

It had been a case of being in the wrong place at the right time. Or maybe it had been the wrong time. Either way, he was desperate, and the farm was desperate, and it wasn't like they were asking him to do anything he couldn't do. Clark couldn't get sick. He couldn't share human diseases the way that so many people could. It was a whole lot easier than it should have been, especially when they had said that they wanted him for gay porn, and not straight porn.

Straight porn made him think of home a little too much, of the Ross boys and nights spent over at their house peeking at Pete's big brothers' porn collection. Straight porn made him think of Lana and Chloe, and in the end, it all made him feel dirty. Gay porn was just easier. It was simpler. Clark didn't mind so bad when it was other men, and the other men all practically salivated once they'd had a good look at him, anyway.

And it had all felt really good.

Men still salivated when they looked at him, at least, when they checked out the videos. Not that they got checked out often, though there was apparently one customer who checked them out so regularly that he might as well have bought them. His coworkers had theories on that one, but they had theories on everyone.

No one had ever recognized him as being from those videos, in the same weird way people never connected Clark Kent to Superman, to the guy who rented out porn to the masses on Saturday morning.

People were incredibly blind when they wanted to be. He'd never understood how a pair of glasses could make people miss the fact that Clark Kent was Superman, or how a pair of jeans magically changed Clark Kent into C.K. the porn store clerk. He wasn't even going to offer a theory on why most people didn't connect the latex molds of his cock and balls that were sold out of the back half of the room to him.

Well. Maybe that was a little more understandable. It wasn't as if he had his dick hanging out of his jeans as he stood behind the counter, watching over the little room. There were security cameras, but he didn't need to glance to the TV set where they showed up to watch any suspicious figures.

Most days, his powers still struck him with a 'gee, that's neat' feeling. Except when he caught some scroungy guy in the corner whacking off over 'Titty Teens' or something dirty.

But it was a good Saturday so far, quiet and unremarkable.

The guy who usually came in with a towel and walked back out half an hour later hadn't even showed up yet this morning. Maybe it was just going to be a really good day, Clark decided, head lifting as the bell on the door handle jingled a cheery little sound strangely incongruous to the surroundings.

The customer who strode in after that little noise was just as irreconcilable to the surroundings. There was something... something a little off about him.

His jeans were too clean and too crisp, like they'd just been pulled off of the rack and still had the stickers and tags attached. His boots were too polished. And his t-shirt was 'hip', but he just didn't seem like a t-shirt sort of guy. Just like he didn't seem like a ball-cap sort of guy. The clothes didn't carry well on him, but he carried himself well as he rolled in, hips swinging smoothly as he walked in with the familiarity of someone who'd been there before.

Clark had the damnedest sense that the guy was pulling a disguise from the Superman-Clark Kent-C.K book of disguises.

"Good morning. If there's anything I can help you with," Clark offered faintly, faking a lack of interest. That was more difficult than it looked, especially since his heart was a wild trip-hammer in his chest as he looked at the guy. He was... Well, gorgeous was the word. He was soft around the edges of the face just a little, and his mouth looked like the kind Clark would love to sink his dick into.

Pink, and firm-looking, curved into the faintest of self-satisfied smiles as he walked further into the store, towards the front desk. "Thanks, but I'm all right." His tone was off the cuff, relaxed and easy-going, but his voice was better than that. Smooth and firm, and it made his mouth seem all the more fuckable. "I'm just browsing."

Clark could feel the fire rising up in his face, his entire body shivering slightly. Wow. Nobody had affected him like that in years, and the last time it had been a girl with a Kryptonite necklace, not a guy who'd given him an instant boner. "Um. Okay. Just call if you need anything."

"I will," the man said firmly, and slipped his hands into the pockets of nicely tight jeans before heading, unerringly -- yes! -- for the section where the gay tapes were kept.

Clark's day was so looking up. In fact, it was quite entirely possible that his day had just brightened so much that he was gleaming like something out of a David Eddings novel.

It was okay to peer at him through the stacks, he reminded himself. The guy might be a regular there, but Clark had never seen him before -- god, there was no way he could've forgotten that mouth -- and there was no way that he wasn't sure the guy wasn't back there doing anything dirty.

Clark really hoped he was back there doing something dirty.

That didn't seem to be on his mind, though, at least not like Mr. Towel Guy. No, he was just walking down the aisle almost as if he had a specific destination in mind, as if he knew where things were.

And then Towel Guy walked in, and fuck if that didn't force him to distract himself from the man who was in the gay section.

He supposed he'd have to come up with a name to call him, and hope he became a regular.

By the time Towel Guy was done and had chosen a rather sticky video case to take home with him, Clark had been busy for almost half an hour. Half an hour wasted to keep an eye on Towel Guy. So much for today being a good day, because any day he had to watch Towel Guy fondle himself over the softcore porn wasn't a very good day. Still, he politely rang up the rental for Mr. Towel Guy, took his money, and managed not to touch anything. Maybe the new customer would spend a little more time and Clark would be able to watch him then.

Half an hour. He hadn't walked out, so what was he doi--

Walking from the gay interests section with three DVD cases held in his left hand, along with the tastefully decorated box that had to hold a dildo. He flashed Clark a smile as he neared the register with his rentals in hand.

Clark's knees were so melting. "I see you found what you were looking for," he said, giving a bright grin that was damned near a trademark. "Have you got a rental account with us?"

"Wally Whitman," he drawled, and set everything down on the counter so he could fish his wallet out of the tight ass of his jeans. It gave Clark a chance to look over what the guy was getting. Because sure he looked hot, but maybe he had some creepy fetish.

Man of Steel, three, four, and six, and a vibrating purple Penis, model C.K.

The sound of the button on his jeans ricocheting off and slamming into the counter with a faint thud made them both startle.

"Er. Right."

A quick tap of Clark's fingers brought up the name. "Account number?" he requested. God, God, God. Hot guy DID have a fetish, and it had a name, and it was HIM, and oh. GOD. Purple. Vibrating. HIS dick. Clark's. Dick.

"9091337." He leaned on the counter with one hip, leafing through his wallet to pull out a few twenties. Which was nice, because hot guy's smile wouldn't have gotten him far if he was going to hand Clark a handful of sticky quarters as payment.

"That's you," Clark agreed, quickly tapping in the appropriate numbers for the Man of Steel videos. "Seen those before?" he asked, heart hammering just a little. He could have brought up the guy's rental history, but his hands were shaking a little much for that because his brain was caught up in thinking about the other box he held.

"All of them," he admitted far easier than other customers would've. And he was staring at Clark, right at his face. He had gorgeous blue eyes, even if they were shaded by the ballcap. "They're really something, and the guy? Doesn't look like he's hopped up on steroids. It's a nice change."

Clark wanted to say that he knew for a fact that the guy wasn't; after all, he did know it. Instead, he took the box, giving 'Wally' another smile, and tapped in the appropriate price. "Those must just be your favorites, then," he decided. "Your total is $88.21, Mr. Whitman."

The guy didn't pay in credit like a lot of customers did. He just fished another twenty out of his wallet, and handed Clark eighty. "You work here often?" he drawled, glancing first from the dvds and then to Clark's face again.

"Most every Saturday morning. It's sort of a job away from job," Clark joked, mouth twisting up into a little smile. "The money's not that great, but you meet a lot of interesting people. Okay, and some scary ones. Like Mr. Towel Guy."

"I bet." His pale eyebrows went up a little, and then he drawled, "Job away from job -- sounds like a pretty smart idea." And then he was tucking his wallet back into his pocket before Clark could hand him his change back. "I'll see you next week."

"Sure thing," Clark agreed a little faintly, smiling at him. "Um. Do you usually come in on Saturdays? Because I haven't seen you before..."

"Usually I come in on Sunday morning, but my schedule has been a little fucked up this week. Not that it's a bad thing." And he winked at Clark as he reached for his bag. Charlotte worked the Sunday shift, and she also came in later on Saturdays. And she was going to get her pretty little ass grilled by Clark wanting tidbits of info on 'Wally Whitman'. "Keep the change -- I'd buy some hand sanitizer if I worked here."

"Under the counter," Clark assured him, lifting a fairly large container of antibacterial sanitizer from Bath and Body Works out from underneath the register. "It makes me feel a little better. See you next Saturday," he said with a hopeful grin.

"See you --" His eyes dropped to Clark's name tag, and then shot up to his face to grant him another gently curving grin. "C.K."

The little ring the door gave when it opened had never before sounded so sad. And Hot Guy had a beautiful ass.

Clark was so going to have to lock up long enough to step into the bathroom and wipe himself up, because the words 'Wally' had given him had been enough to make him come all by themselves. Never mind that sexy grin, and that incredible ass.

He was interrogating Charlotte into the ground.

"Look, Lois, I know you're excited and you want to out the guy's evil to the whole entire world," Clark sighed, "but shouldn't you... yanno, make sure he's totally evil before you go outing him?"

"Smallville..." There she went with the cruel diminutives again. Clark loved his co-worker like a sister, but she was really annoying when she was feeling condescending and hadn't had enough coffee yet. Particularly the way she huffed the word at him.

"I'm sure. How can you not be sure? They have a family history of evil!"

"Not everybody with a family history of evil turns into Hitler at the first opportunity, Lois," Clark sighed. "I mean, think about it. If that was true, today's British royal family would be evil despots instead of incompetents."

"Inbreeding got to them," Lois told him seriously. "It has a magical effect on intelligence levels when you keep marrying your cousins. There's a reason why they all hit a certain age and turn hideous."

She handed him the folder that she'd been waving tauntingly around for the past hour. "Now, look at all of the information I've gathered."

"I've seen the information, Lois. There's nothing conclusive," Clark sighed. "You haven't managed to prove that Luthor knows anything." The likelihood of him not knowing what was going on under his own nose was admittedly slim, but even snooping around in black as Superman hadn't gotten him any answers that were solid. Maybe he could fly up and spy into Luthor's apartment later in the evening and learn something.

"He's just not getting his hands dirty," Lois excused. "He's a delegator by nature, and that's why there's nothing conclusive. Look, Clark... just go interview him. Ask the gentle questions and ease your way to the big ones -- you know, if he knows the Vincotti family, and what his business investments in Gotham are, and about chemicals."

"Right. Vincotti, Gotham, chemicals. Uh-huh," Clark agreed, writing it all down. "I'll go. You're the boss." Well, not really, but she did make more money than Clark did.

Glass ceilings, his pert ass.

If anyone was under a glass ceiling, it was the smalltown bumpkin, apparently. "You have to go. The bastard apparently has an S.O.S. out on me," she muttered.

"Standard Operating Sabbatical?" Clark asked with a grin, gathering his pen and pad together. "You know. His secretary sees you coming, and suddenly he's on vacation..."

"Exactly," she sighed. "Though I have a feeling if I ever confronted him publicly, it'd be Shoot On Sight. His bodyguards hate me."

"Lois..." Clark trailed off into silence. No point in telling her that if she'd just stop harassing them, they probably wouldn't hate her so much. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he finished weakly.

"Don't chicken out on me, Smallville," she prodded darkly. "If something comes up, call my cell."

"Bok bok bagack," Clark sighed, and headed for the elevator.

It was a quick enough trip to the bottom floor of the Planet, and LeXCorp Towers were only about two blocks down. That wasn't too much of a walk, and Clark didn't drive anyway, so he set off on foot for the Towers. They overshadowed everything in the area, including the LuthorCorp building that took up most of the first block. That had been the fight of the century, according to Lois, and Lex Luthor must be evil because he won it. Apparently, Lionel Luthor was Satan, and Lex could only be worse.

Frankly, Clark couldn't bring himself to give much of a shit. Lionel Luthor was definitely evil, only he could pull off that teddy bear -- evil teddy bear -- look that threw people off, and just like the data in the file Lois had handed him, nothing ever quite traced all the way back to him.

It was probably a bad omen that, as he strode through the doors of the LeXCorp building, he was humming Smooth Criminal.

Pausing, Clark looked upward. The lobby was huge, ceilings vaulted overhead and filled with glass to allow in immense amounts of light and a feeling of air. It was much cooler inside, and he gave a faint breath of relief before heading towards the reception desk.

"Hi," he said, catching the attention of the young woman on duty. "I'm Clark Kent with the Daily Planet. I've got an appointment with Mr. Luthor at 2:30?"

The receptionist glanced down at the clock on her desk, then back up at him. "You'd better hurry -- third elevator on the left side, the doorman will key you in. It's 2:27, and he hates for people to be late."

"Thanks," Clark said with a quick smile, turning and hurrying towards the indicated elevator. A man stood beside it, and looked at him suspiciously until his radio was keyed and the word came to let Clark go up.

The president probably didn't have that much security. Then again, the president probably didn't have that much money to flaunt. Lois did have a few points -- what kind of stinking rich egomaniac would build a monstrosity like LeXCorp Towers?

Ohh, right. One that wanted to overshadow his father from right next door. Nothing wrong with that, Clark figured snidely, if you were a size queen.

"Thanks," he told the doorman as he stepped into the elevator. The doors shut and the thing nearly rocketed upward, making Clark's knees shiver. He wondered how people who weren't made of steel handled that sudden rise.

Probably by dumping the contents of their stomachs all over the shiny steel-coated walls. But it least it wasn't claustrophobia inducing; no, that was kept from happening by the fact that the entire back wall of the thing seemed to be glass or something stronger, and he could see out into the city.

Out and down.

Those were some serious intimidation tactics, weren't they? It said a lot about the man he was going to see. Though Lois probably wouldn't agree with him, Clark would bet good money that there was some severe inferiority complex going on there.

He bet the man's desk was going to be eight feet wide and ten feet long, and that he was going to find himself sitting in a little tyke's chair while Luthor loomed at him from some grand carved monstrosity. It would've gone with the security and the elevator ride from hell, which just didn't end soon enough. It stopped, and the doors snapped open.

And there was yet another secretary to get past.

This one was tall and blond, and if Clark had been into women, he'd have probably fallen to his knees panting with lust at the sight of her. It was almost a shame that he wasn't. "Hi. I've got an appointment, Clark Kent? Daily Planet, 2:30."

She even had a dapper little hat sitting on her desk to go with her sharp black pantsuit. And she didn't double-check that he had the appointment, but instead reached a hand out to him. "May I see your ID?"

That was simple enough to pull out and hand over, a picture ID from the Planet. "I don't drive, or I'd offer you my license, too," he noted, giving a winning smile. It didn't seem to help.

She was as warm as polar-ice, even when she smiled crisply at him, and moved to open the office door to let him in. There was every chance that she was packing heat, though he didn't want to ogle her with X-rays to check his hunch. It was just a little too scary.

"Mr. Kent. You're right on time," a voice greeted him smoothly. Clark could see the back of a bald head, wide windows open so that the man could peer out over Metropolis, and the room wasn't nearly as scary as it could have been. Clear glass desk, industrial metal everywhere, but the seats looked remarkably comfortable.

"I try," Clark answered dryly. "It's very nice to meet you."

"When I agreed to this interview for the Planet, I stipulated that they not send Miss Lane. And since you sound like you aren't her..." The chair pivoted idly around, revealing a very muted, cultured-looking man who didn't have a speck of hair on his head. He smiled at Clark, a sly vague thing. "It's nice to meet you, too, Mr. Kent."

"Sometimes Lois can be a little abrasive. I'm here to make sure you get what you want, Mr. Luthor, and that the Planet gets its interview," Clark said, smiling back at him.

He was... vaguely familiar, for all that Clark had never seen the man in person before. "Good. By all means, please take a seat. I'd prefer you used a tape-recorder along with notes. I do hate to be taken out of context."

Lex Luthor was demanding without being too obnoxious. That was a point in his favor. And the seat he was offering did seem comfortable.

"I don't think you have to worry about being taken out of context with me, Mr. Luthor," Clark answered, seating himself easily before the desk. It surprised him by being as comfortable as it looked. "I like to have everything straight."

"I'm sure you do. Start when you're ready," he instructed, and watched Clark like a hawk while Clark unpacked his tape recorder and settled himself in. Luthor definitely wasn't a trusting man, that was for sure, particularly the way he kept keenly scanning Clark.

"Right. Getting down to business, then," Clark said, pulling out his notebook and turning the tape recorder on. "We have evidence suggesting that LeXCorp is planning to come to some sort of agreement with Vincotti Industries." Might as well start off with the hard hitting questions and see where that got him. "Would you like to make any comments concerning that?"

"No," he answered with an enigmatic smile, head tipping down a little as he tented his fingers in front of him. "I prefer to keep any information regarding the veracity or the lack of veracity of that idea confined to my board room."

"That's an understandable practice," Clark agreed. "Did you know about their experiments on human subjects concerning their latest medical trials? They didn't wait for FDA approval, and they didn't test in Europe beforehand."

"No idea. I can see where this is going, Mr. Kent, and I must commend you for your tenacity. However, I prefer to not reveal my business practices, and prefer to not respond to rampant rumor." He was slick; the chorus of Smooth Criminal came to mind again. just from the way he was smiling. The man was definitely the sort who'd redefine the word 'is' if it was necessary.

"It's not a rumor... at least their fines certainly weren't," Clark said seriously. "That aside, there are also rumors about your plant in Gotham and a plan to start making certain chemicals requested by the government there..."

"Government Contracts are usually in the public record. Yes, LeXCorp has secured a government contract." His eyes were probably as sincere and open as a taxidermied dog's.

That or Clark had been listening to Lois too much. Luthor definitely had a nice smile.

There was no way he could have an ass as nice as Wally Whitman's, though, and that was damned near enough to make him grin. Instead, Clark ducked his head slightly and peered through his glasses, fingers rumpling the pages of his notebook. "Right. I have a notation here that you're going to be making some form of chemical weapons that will be a little dicey considering the Geneva Convention...."

"A law that many nations alternatingly dismiss and bandy about as a banner when it's most convenient for them," he drawled, and most unexpectedly the man in the crisp black tie and jacket, white shirt, rolled to his feet to pace. "But even with that as a consideration, we're working with the Pentagon's specifications. I trust our nation to not be breaking the convention so ruthlessly as that, don't you?"

Okay. Maybe Luthor DID have a nice ass, and Clark swallowed. "Well, I'd like to believe that they wouldn't, but that's the thing about being a reporter. It's important to be impartial, and it's important to give the populace the truth. Just because I'd like to believe something is true doesn't mean that it is, Mr. Luthor."

"How very unpatriotic." He arched an eyebrow briefly, glancing over his shoulder at Clark. "LeXCorp is an international company, and we would only stand to lose by breaking the Geneva conventions."

"So you'll be personally making sure that everything is held to the appropriate standards?" Clark asked.

That would've nailed the man to a corner, just where Lois wanted him to be. A remark like that in an article, and if they were proven true... "You'll have to discuss that with the Pentagon, Mr. Kent. So much consolidation of knowledge in one person during such an undertaking would be... dangerous to say the least."

And fuck, he was slick.

"So you're not making any guarantees about what your company may or may not do while holding this contract, Mr. Luthor?"

"I guarantee that LeXCorp will do its utmost to not disrupt stability in the world's military situation." He leaned against the floor to ceiling window, arms folded over his chest, looking at Clark with a stern, yet slightly cocky expression.

The smirk clashed with his tie.

"They say war is good for business," Clark answered. "The Luthors seem to have been upholding a personal war between them -- LuthorCorp and LeXCorp."

"And I'm sure you have an opinion on who has won that war," the younger Luthor deadpanned from where he stood, apparently comfortable in his lean. "I won't deny the long-standing competition I've had with my father."

"It would be sort of difficult to deny considering the two of you are pretty regularly at one another's throats," Clark decided. "There are rumors that LuthorCorp is also interested in the Vincotti matter..."

"As tempting as it is, I have a little more honor than to spread blatant rumors about my father's company." He flashed teeth, pretty, bright and white; the man was a definite improvement from his father's generally ruffled appearance. "I can't say either way."

"Because you don't know, or because you're both filled with fervor?" The question was out before Clark could stop it, and his cheeks lit up with heat. "Um. Sorry. That probably wasn't an appropriate question, just, uh. I'm from Smallville, and, well. We all know the way that Lionel Luthor does business. Always with a vengeance, and never a small one."

"I think I can top being from his personal pissing ground. I grew up with him." The flash of teeth faded, and he meandered back towards the glass-topped desk, though he didn't sit down yet. "Mr. Kent, I sit on the board of LuthorCorp. I run LeXCorp. So I know what's going on in both companies, however... There are always things going on in the background, plans that aren't officially on the table."

"Plans that might never be on the table. Maybe underneath it?" According to Lois Lane, anyway. Clark loved Lois, but God, she was at least as bad as Chloe. It came naturally in their family, apparently.

"That's not the kind of company I run, Mr. Kent," Lex cut in sharply, leaning to rest one lean hip against the edge of his desk. "And I am deeply offended by the accusation."

"It was really meant more by way of implication than accusation. Investigative journalism being what it is, and some of the nefarious details being what they are, I'd be hard put not to doubt the possibility that the implication might well be true."

"Then investigate, Mr. Kent. Give me facts instead of flouncing insinuations and implications. Despite what you 'journalists' think, the world does not run on rumor alone." Oh, and there were his teeth, not smiling back at him but in the man's words, trying to go right to Clark's throat. Lex had an intense snarl, a flippant edge to his words, and it was more than a little hot.

"No wonder Lois likes you," Clark blurted out before he was able to stop himself. It was because Lex could dance rings around her, probably, and it frustrated her, and it made her mad, and it made her want to bring him down. At the same time, it probably gave her a towering obsession with him.

Clark could understand obsession.

Lex laughed.

He laughed at the idea, or maybe it was at Clark, an easy, nice sound, and then fell away, half-retreating to sit in his chair again. "I really hope you're being sarcastic, Mr. Kent."

"In a really weird kind of way? No, I'm not. I shouldn't have said it, but... You're the type of person she'd respect, even though you probably drive her crazy, too. Which is why she'd want to find some reason not to respect you." That made sense, didn't it?

The man was nodding, but that was no assurance to whether or not Clark was right or wrong. He reached his left hand up to his throat, and loosened his tie minutely. "I wish her the best of luck, Mr. Kent, on that. I've stopped short of having a restraining order put out against her."

"She calls it S.O.S.," Clark remarked, smiling. Hopefully the loosened tie would lead to loosened tongue. "Shoot On Sight. I figured it was more like Standard Operating Sabbatical. Most folks hear 'Lois Lane' and go running for vacation."

If Lois ever got the tape, she'd kill him.

"Can you blame me if both of them were true?" He inclined his head towards the door that Clark had slipped in through. "That lovely lady outside is one of my bodyguards -- Miss Mercy Graves. She's quite good at dealing with pushy reporters of Miss Lane's ilk, though I've never had to deal with one quite as... invasive before Lois."

"That explains why she's so scary," Clark answered with a grin. "She must be pretty serious, then. I mean, very good at what she does. I take it that you feel the need to have protection most of the time?"

"If you were in my position, wouldn't you?" he asked casually, picking up a Mont Blanc from his desk. Clark's smile was starting to work its charm on the man, or else he was looser-lipped about things that weren't directly related to his precious business. "I've been shot twice this year, and there're still a few months to go."

"Twice?" That startled Clark. There had been nothing about it in his notes. "You've been shot twice?"

He just had another sly, enigmatic smile to answer Clark; it was starting to get annoying, as nice a smile as it was. "When a man has private security and private doctors, things simply don't reach you 'journalists'."

"Your quotation marks are showing," Clark said sternly, one eyebrow raised. "And you said twice this year. That means you've been shot before. Mind telling me about it?"

"Not at all. It's merely a matter of having made a lot of enemies in my rise to the top. Jilted women, employees who took their firing as a personal matter, members of the business community who happened to take a disliking to me..." He was comfortable with the topic, still smiling vaguely at Clark while he toyed with his expensive pen, rolling it over his knuckles and under the palm of his left hand.

"How many times have you been shot?" Clark asked him, fascinated. "And out of all those, what were this year's shootings about?"

"Seven times," he went on, still off the cuff sounding. "This year was one sadly unstable fiancee and an equally unstable former employee. I pressed charges against neither, and both are currently receiving the best of medical attention for their... illnesses."

"Why wouldn't you press charges if they shot you? I mean, anybody would. Half the time, the DA would press charges whether you wanted to or not," Clark pointed out to him, frowning.

"What good would prison time do for a woman or a man who was mentally disturbed?" Luthor asked him pointedly.

Clark's look was just as sharp in its own way. "Not a lot, I admit, but without the court system looking into their mental disturbances, how do you know for sure that they're disturbed and need to be locked away in some mental hospital?"

"Mr. Jenkins was already under the care of a physician for a complete mental breakdown at the time he tried to kill me. And Miss Bryce..." He tsked gently. "Believe me. She was disturbed."

"Ahh, I guess I'll have to take your word on it. Do women try to kill you often?" Clark asked him.

"Money like mine attracts all sorts, Mr. Kent. Mostly fiancees who jump the gun a little too soon. Before they make it into my will."

"I can't imagine killing anybody, for their money or for anything else," Clark admitted. He couldn't. He was even careful with criminals, with murderers. Clark had never wanted to hurt anyone. Even accidentally. Even when it was tempting and would've saved the court-system a hell of a lot of trouble, he'd never hurt a criminal on purpose.

"Would that you were wearing high heels and had a lovely rack on you," Luthor smirked idly, eyelids falling playfully half-closed.

Color spurted wildly into Clark's face, his eyes becoming huge behind the lenses of his glasses. "Er," he stammered for a moment, ducking his head. Boobs? Clark Kent so didn't do boobs.

"Sorry. I have an odd sense of humor," came the vague, not-quite apology that didn't have even a hint of remorsefulness. "I suppose some day I'll be able to stop worrying about dying too soon."

"Seems to me dying at all would be the kind of thing that would come too soon," Clark responded, still a little flustered. The mere mention of boobs made him think of Lana and the way she'd fallen out of that dress their sophomore year and her boobs had touched him. He'd squealed like a girl.

It was a good thing Whitney had liked it when he did that.

And Luthor had succeeded in throwing him right off of his train of thought, because now Clark was left flooded with thoughts of boobies and Whitney, while Lex Luthor, evil Lex Luthor, smirked gently to himself and twiddled his pen obscenely.

"That's how I see it. And that's why I have such tight security."

"They're very good at what they do," Clark answered. "A little scary, even." He had said it before and he would say it again. "We still have half an hour left, Mr. Luthor. I just have a few more questions..."

But it wasn't a hard half-hour that Luthor faced. He'd already distracted Clark really great with the high heels and boobs comment.

It was one hell of a cold night, even for a certain alien who didn't feel the chill quite like everyone else. Still, the wind chill factor combined with the fact that he was 207 stories off of the ground had a lot to do with that.

Superman was wearing black on this particular occasion -- black jeans, black sweater, black Docs, black cloak. If he got desperate, he could certainly change into the primary-colored uniform in mid-air without giving anyone an eyeful, but he was hoping that he wouldn't need to do that this particular evening.

This night was set aside for spying on Lex Luthor.

Lois hadn't been satisfied with what he'd pulled out of the interview, and he hadn't been about to hand his tape over to her. It just wasn't worth the risk of death-by-being-yelled-at that he'd face if she ever got her fingers on it; he wished he didn't have to keep the thing to back himself up in case Luthor challenged anything in the article.

Slander suits were always fun, and Luthor had a personal team of mad-dog lawyers on diamond-studded leashes.

Luthor, Clark thought, would also look nice on a diamond-studded leash.

He'd been floating outside of the LeXCorp penthouse for almost forty-five minutes. It had been almost boring, watching through the walls as the man himself had eaten dinner, done a little light reading, flipped on lights here and turned them off there. Luthor had poured a drink, fiddled about a bit with a Gameboy and was just now coming naked out of the shower to snuggle himself into bed.

Who knew Lex Luthor had an ass like THAT!? How Clark had resisted looking at it earlier in the day was impossible to know.

It was a tight, full thing, firmly sculpted and fully deserving of being molded and made into a sextoy for lonely gay men. It was sad that he liked titties, Clark decided as he watched the man turn down his bed. He turned when he did that, and without knowing it gave Clark a good look at the pretty soft cock that hung down between his legs.

Luthor slept in the nude, it looked like. He wasn't sure what good it would do Lois to know that, and he wasn't sure he'd ever share it.

He might come back to pull the peeping Tom act a little more often, though.

Clark was so busy looking at the man that he didn't even notice the doors of an armoire sliding open with the touch of a remote, not until Luthor had climbed into the bed and was pointing the thing at the television. Maybe he liked to watch the news before he slept, or maybe...

"FUCK me!" Clark yelped, and then clapped both hands over his mouth as if he might get caught.

Gay porn, carefully selected from the 5 disc dvd changer that was attached to the expensive plasma screen. Not just any gay porn, though, but the opening -- and particularly lame -- credits of Man of Steel 6.

And while that played, Luthor pulled a dildo out of a rubbermaid container beneath the bed, and a tube of lube. He didn't do anything with the dildo yet, just shifted the sheets out of the way with the heels of his feet, and idly fondled his cock with his agile left hand.

Oh, God, oh, God. Superman was suddenly flying around with a hard cock. A swollen appendage of pulsing manmeat in a way that very few men could ever imagine.

The button popped off his jeans and embedded itself in the side of the building. It was all MUCH too reminiscent of Saturday morning, and, Jesus, fuck, Christ, Saturday morning, Wally Whitman, and ohmyGOD, Clark knew it was, he knew it was!

The dildo that laid beside Luthor on the bed was a purple vibrator, and with his eyesight, Clark could tell it was the C.K. model. Too too much of a coincidence. And Lex was definitely enjoying what he was watching onscreen, because he drew one leg up to his chest and was starting to fingerfuck lubricant into his ass, eyes intent on the screen.

Where the Man of Steel was getting his cock sucked off by two pretty boys at once.

Superman was going home with cumstained jeans, at this rate.

Clark knew he shouldn't stay and watch. He knew that it was a violation of privacy more intense than anything he'd done before. He knew that he wasn't going to find out anything that would excite Lois much except for maybe more of Lex's masturbation habits. The problem was that the man had two fingers in his ass, and a big purple silicon version of Clark's cock rubbing up against his own dick, and there was just no way that Clark could drag himself away from that.

If he tuned his hearing into the place, he could hear Lex groaning quietly. It was just one more violation of privacy, and by then, just one more didn't matter much. Not when Lex started to almost hump the two fingers he had up himself, pressing the length of Clark's cock-model down against his own.

He was an idiot for not having realized the Lex Luthor - Wally Whitman connection sooner.

Admittedly Wally had been wearing a hat and jeans, and Lex Luthor wore silk and wool and showed his bald head to the world, but honestly. It was hiding in plain sight even more than Superman-Clark Kent-C.K., and how could anyone BE That stupid?

Oh, God.

Oh, God, oh, GOD.

And Lex was lubing up the vibrator.

Clark whimpered.

Lex didn't just lube it up. He stroked it like he would a lover, fingers circling the width loosely and spreading the lube carefully all over it. Then he drew one muscled leg up to lay his foot on the bed for traction, eyeing the fuckfest that was just starting on screen.

From where Clark hovered, his hole looked so tiny that there was no way that monster of a toy was going to go in him. He'd admittedly seen a lot of men take things that had surprised him, but God. And the man dated women, so how often could he have done it?

There was no way Clark could keep his hand from sliding down to cup his cock in response, just imagining how tight that fucking ring would feel if it was really his dick. How maybe Lex would clamp around him and yell and shout prettier than any boy Clark had fucked for a movie, and maybe even cry a little.

Lex had such a pert ass, and it looked even better when he tipped it up and positioned the dildo's head right against his hole. His erection was still steady and firm, flushed red and drooling eagerly onto his stomach as he teased himself with the head of the latex dick. It couldn't have been going more than a centimeter in, just pressing hesitantly, as if Lex were realizing the dilemma he'd put himself in with his choice.

Clark's legs pressed tightly together and he gave a strangled moan. He wanted to see it go in. He wanted to hover over Luthor on the bed and slam his own fleshy flugelhorn in so hard that the man screamed and begged him to fuck him just a little harder. The thought was enough to almost make Clark's eyes roll back in his head, and he whimpered faintly. Had to keep looking.

Had to.

He heard the sweetest hitch of breath when Lex's determined left hand kept pushing, a strained gasp when the head of the toy slipped past that tight hole. Then he moaned, and twisted it, rocking faintly and watching the video with half-glazed eyes.

The vibrating part hadn't even been turned on yet.

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. His. That was his cherry splitter opening Lex Luthor's butt, and Clark was going to come in mid-air. He wouldn't even have to rub himself at this rate, not when he saw a shaking right hand lift and stroke Lex's cock as he watched the television with an intensity that belied the writhing motions of his body.

Talk about multitasking.

Lex was babbling to himself, incoherent half-phrases and the soft sighs of 'fuck' and 'good, so good'; nowhere near as slick and articulate as he'd been during his interview. Of course he hadn't been working an imitation sausage of a cock into his ass during the interview. And little by little, he was doing it. Fraction by slick fraction was going into him.

Clark couldn't help it. He had the stamina of a horse and a cock that just wouldn't quit, but there was something about Lex Luthor. Okay, specifically, there was something about Lex Luthor sobbing and pushing a purple imitation of Clark's dick inside of himself, and... Oh, and THERE was the vibration, and damn, Lex nearly arched up off of the bed entirely, those soft pants and whispered breaths turning to yells.

It was a good thing for Lex Luthor's pride that he had the top three floors of LexTower all to himself, and that his bedroom was probably sound-proofed to normal hearing. Because he could howl in pleasure, limber body arching up to his own hands as he fucked and stroked himself off. The vibrator looked like such a tight fit, and somehow through it all, he was still half-watching the scene on the screen. Clark, fucking some faceless man doggie style, while sucking off another guy.

Clark's shorts were fucking wet.

Hell, the side of the building was probably wet, and anybody on the street below was lucky as hell that he hadn't pulled himself out to address congress. Hell. He wondered if semen falling that far would kill somebody when it struck the ground.

He wondered if he'd care, so long as Lex kept twisting that latex cavalier up his ass.

Rotating and turning, and finally Lex stopped with it pushed up so that the thick purple balls were vibrating against his ass. Then he started to fondle his own heavy, bare globes with his free hand, twisting and groaning frantically as he rushed towards orgasm.

There were trained whores who couldn't take Clark all the way in, men who complained about his length even while they envied him, who whined about his girth when they'd been fisted. Just watching Lex writhe, trembling hand stroking frantically between his legs, was enough to make Clark hard again. Or maybe he'd never even softened, maybe he'd been hard the whole time. His brain was shutting down, couldn't take in any sight or sound that wasn't Lex Luthor jerking off.

So prettily. He arched, panting and yelling, almost sobbing with relief when he came, hard spurts that painted his stomach and chest with streaks of sticky glossy white.

Then he laid there limply on the bed, half-fondling himself while the vibrator continued to torture him. It must've felt good, from the way he was groaning and hesitating to turn it off.

What Clark wouldn't have given for it to be his dick shoved deep up there and not just some cheap... well, all right, EXPENSIVE... imitation!

He wondered how he was ever going to keep himself from coming back again even as he reached down and slowly stroked himself. God. Felt so fucking good, and Lex still had it in him, yes...

Lex gave a shudder, groaning, and then reached down to turn the toy off. He laid for a moment, watching the DVD on his plasma screen and catching his breath, then started to work the long latex toy out of his ass.

So much for him still having it in him.

Still, all things considered, there was something just as deliciously erotic about Lex pulling it out as there was about Lex pushing it in. Clark was sure about one thing, even as he watched Lex weakly lay back in the bed, the fat royal violet schlong laid out beside him.

After Lex Luthor, nobody else would even be able to compare.

Saturday morning had taken a painful forever to come. The article had been printed without any problems, and Lois had been pissed at him for not having dug up any more than she had -- which was nothing -- but there was just no way that Clark had been going to share with her the joy that was seeing a replica of his cock seated deep in the ass of her Greatest Personal Thwarter.

Somehow, he didn't think Lois would appreciate the absolute beauty of that moment.

Still, Clark didn't care that she wouldn't. Not really. Not when he was scheduled to work the six-to-twelve morning shift Saturday and he had infinite hopes that Lex-cum-Wally would be coming.

And maybe even coming.

It added a brighter tinge to his whole morning. Even when Towel guy breezed in, he didn't get too nervous. Except that 'Wally' had been in the store sooner, and maybe he'd come in on a different shift.

Maybe he was going to have to find a way to work the Sunday shift instead. He had to do better for himself than staring at the man through his bedroom window.

Maybe if he begged Charlotte enough, she'd let him at least come in and hang out with her, he decided, sighing deeply as he leaned forward to rest an elbow on the counter. Maybe if he bought her some more of those pina colada flavored Lusty Lickers...

She was fond of them, liked to wrap her mouth around them. Mmm, and that made him think of mouths, and Lex's full lips stretching tight around the girth of his cock. No wonder the man had been shot by a fiancee -- he obviously wanted cock.

Clark's cock.

By the time he realized that the doorbell had jingled, he'd been standing there grinning like an idiot for several minutes, and whoever had come in probably thought he'd lost his mind. "Er."

"Looks like a good day-dream, C.K," 'Wally' drawled. Wool and silk looked nice on him, but the tight denim that hugged his ass was a definite change for the better, and that baseball cap was still distracting from the fact that he didn't have a sliver of hair under its concealing fabric.

Three dvd cases were dropped onto the counter with a smile, and he had two more in his hand. "I'm dropping these three off."

Clark gave him a grin so high-powered it would have knocked anyone lesser off their feet. "Actually, I was just thinking about you," he confessed, peeking out from under his lashes to see the reaction to his words.

But it just made 'Wally' smile as him bemusedly, and he laid a hand on the desk to lead forwards. "Really? That's pretty funny..." Leaned forwards more, and Clark could smell a dash of expensive cologne from his neck. He probably put his street-clothes on somewhere that wasn't LeXCorp Tower. "I've been thinking about you all week, Kent."

Clark's breath caught in his throat, green eyes becoming huge in his face. "Wow," he said when he finally found words again. "You're good. Nobody else ever even notices. Not," he admitted, "that it surprises me that you would. It took me a little longer to figure it out, I'm ashamed to admit."

"I watched you in the tower's security cameras," he drawled off-handedly, leaning in closer so his whisper could be easier to hear -- or at least that seemed like a good excuse for the way he was hovering towards Clark's neck like a starving vampire. "When do you get off work?"

"Twelve," Clark managed dreamily. "There's a diner around the corner. I was going to ask you if you wanted to go for a cup of coffee..." But fuck, it was sounding like maybe he wanted to go for something else, and there was no way Clark was going to say no.

And even if it had been a little tempting to say no to more, the thought of refusing him anything ended when Lex let his tongue dip out, just darting a lick to the side of Clark's neck. "I'll meet you there at twelve, then?"

"On the dot," Clark agreed, voice nearly shivering in a way that his skin could understand. "Um. Oh, yes. Right. Right at twelve."

"Mmm. I don't think I'll be needing these two dvds, then..." Lex was leaning so far over the counter that he had a knee at the edge, and he definitely had both hands on the counter, ass out and in the air as he nuzzled and nipped slowly at the cords of Clark's neck.

"O-okay," Clark stuttered, eyes drifting closed slowly before the clearing of a throat was heard behind him.

Caught in the act.

It couldn't even be Charlotte, could it? No, it had to be Mr. James, didn't it? And, wow. They weren't supposed to be fraternizing with the customers, were they? Clark couldn't remember if they were supposed to or not.

Lex/Wally/man with a gorgeous ass and beautiful dick didn't stop right away. He left a parting kiss, then slipped smoothly back to his side of the counter, and went on quite clearly for show, "And that's what happened. So, going to ring these two up?"

Clark was so dazed it would be a miracle if he could answer ANYTHING. "Right. Um, right." Easy enough to bring up Wally Whitman, choose the account number, check them out for him. Man of Steel 2 and 5 this time. Hrm. Those were the ones with the fake vampires and the handcuffs, as Clark recalled. "Er, that'll be twelve eighty-four."

Wally tossed him a brilliant, sharp smile, and fished a twenty out of his tight back pocket. "Here you go."

Clark's button popped off.

Again.

At this rate, he wasn't going to have any jeans left by the middle of the week!

He opened the drawer to make change, eyes sparkling. "I'll see you at twelve. Sharp," he said, looking over every inch of the man that he could see. Mmm, mmm, good.

And that last button? His displeased supervisor had to have heard it hit the counter. If Lex heard it, he feigned ignorance and reached for the two dvds that Clark had slipped into a bag.

And wet his upper lip with a dart of his tongue. "Absolutely."

Higher brain functions? WHAT higher brain functions!? There was only Clark, and Lex, and dick right at the moment. Wow. Oh, definitely, wow.

And maybe at the end of his shift, he had Clark Kent, Lex Luthor, a bottle of lubricant and two dicks to look forwards to.

Oh yeah. Superman desperately wanted to work his super sex-drive on that ass.

Lex turned, glancing slyly, smugly, over his shoulder as he headed for the door.

DAMN. He wasn't going to come in his shorts again. He had more stamina than that, he knew he did! Maybe Lex Luthor threw off some bizarre alien pheromone. Well, human but alien to Clark, and...

"Care to explain what that was about, C.K?" the supervisor demanded sharply, cutting through his haze at the signal of the little bell ringing the door closed.

"Yeah," Clark said with a sheepish little smile. "Um. I think I'm in love?" Oh, that was one really bad explanation. Unfortunately, it was better than being in lust, wasn't it?

Maybe not in this business.

"In love, CK?" The Manager glanced out towards the window and the barren street beyond it. "Whatever. Don't let it get in the way of you doing your work."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Clark agreed, and went right back to daydreaming as Mr. James wandered off to polish his coin collection in the back room.

Charlotte had been early, thank God, and he'd managed to sneak off a full three minutes before twelve. Mr. James had stopped polishing coins to give him the evil eye a time or five, but at least Towel Guy hadn't wanted to shake his hand on the way out the door. Add his coffee-lunch with one very gorgeous bald man, and Clark really should have been floating on air.

It seemed like the Celestial Order had aligned itself tidily for Clark. Coffee-lunch-sex, he could hope. Maybe sex on the coffee place's table while covered in coffee and lunch served afterwards. The Celestial Order was apparently happy with him, so maybe... maybe...

Maybe there was a gorgeous man sitting mannequin-still in the window, with a cup of coffee in hand already, at a two-seater with one empty seat.

Just for him.

"You know, there's just something about you," he greeted as he slid into the seat. "Something you throw off the way some people throw off 'leave me alone' vibes, except with you, it's 'please sex me now' vibes."

As far as hellos went, it was probably one of Clark's smoother ones; Lex glanced up, eyebrows raising at Clark with a smile to match. "Really? I've had to fend off a lovely girl who was behind the counter, so it's a good thing you got here."

"So that I can protect your virtue," he agreed with a brilliant smile. "I'll bet you have a million and one questions, don't you?" Lex seemed the type.

"Million and two," he agreed, and took a sip of his coffee. "You have to admit it's a pretty interesting job to moonlight at."

"It's different," Clark agreed. "I've been doing it since college. It provides a little money and takes your mind off of things. I mean, when you're dealing with something as amusing as Towel Guy, you really can't help but laugh at yourself when you need to." A waitress came by and dropped off a cup, eyeing them both as she poured coffee for Clark and then wandered back to the counter.

"It sounds like a good idea," he admitted, still smiling at Clark. "If I could do something like that for stress relief, I might. But I have to ask, C.K... Those, ah, toys in the back...?" His mouth was curling as he waited for Clark to catch his implication.

The flush that crept into Clark's cheeks was charming and extremely false. "Accurate down to the very last detail," he admitted shyly. "Um. Did you...?"

"It was quite impressive," Lex chuckled, and there was his answer. Not that Clark didn't know the answer already, he'd watched it intently, but the vague admittance was alluring when it slipped out of Lex's half teasing, half sophisticated mouth. "You're single, right? I'm not barking up a tree that's planted in someone else's lot, am I?"

"Oh, no," Clark answered hurriedly. "I'm a very single sort of tree. The kind of tree that doesn't belong to anybody at all, yet," Clark told him, beaming with delight.

It sounded terribly stupid and amazingly lame.

Maybe letting himself talk when his dick was so swollen was a bad idea. Lex leaned towards him, smiling at Clark's stumbled words. "The kind of tree that's not likely to try to kill me?"

Clark's mouth tilted in a little smirk. "Lex. I had problems watching my dad wring the chickens' necks, when I was twenty. I suspect the likelihood of me attempting homicide would be... Oh, slim and none."

"I should make up a questionnaire." Lex set his cup down, peering intently at Clark's face -- as if reading... something. Something that he liked, something interesting and irresistible in the lines of Clark's cheeks and strong jaw, Clark guessed, because Lex smiled. "I read the article you wrote -- it wasn't flattering, but you didn't take creative liberties, either. You're really a respectable writer."

"My dad used to say that it was better to be able to respect yourself, than it was to make a lot of money doing something that would make you feel like you didn't have any value left. I guess I've applied it a little strangely," Clark admitted, shrugging, "but I don't feel devalued if I keep to the truth of things. Even, uh, on my weekend job."

"I'm not quite sure how you could not keep to the truth of your weekend job," he teased a little. "Seems like a pretty straight forward thing."

"Well, it's not like it's the most respectable line of work," Clark pointed out with a grin. "But the money's useful, even if it's not a whole lot. It was much more useful in college, but back then, it was, uh..." Clark turned a little sheepish. "It involved a little more action."

"Would it be rude of me to say that I'd already guessed as much...?" Lex sounded a little sly as he offered that, setting one almost-anxious hand on the small round table. The other one was clutching onto his coffee cup.

"I think it would be fair to say that we've both more or less got the idea as far as that's concerned," Clark said. "Just at a guess. How many times have you rented those things, anyway? Not that you have to tell me if you don't want to."

"I'm amazed you didn't look at my account -- what kind of investigative journalist are you?" His lips thinned a little, but he was still smiling relaxedly. "I don't honestly remember. Often enough that if they were videos I would've worn them out personally."

"There's investigating and then there's investigating." Clark's head tilted to the side. "Since it's really more along the lines of a personal question, I figured it would be preferable to get a personal answer."

A reporter with morals -- the very idea seemed to surprise Lex Luthor as he peered at Clark from under the brim of his ball cap, and his smile grew. Surprised and amused him. "Does my personal answer bother you?"

"No," Clark admitted. "Though I think it's gonna make it really difficult to get up from this table. I'll bet you knew that, though."

Slow smile slipped towards a slow smirk, and Lex shifted his chair forwards so that his knee rubbed against Clark's. "Why? Embarrassed?"

"Nnno," Clark declared, relaxing his leg so that it slid along Lex's. "But you've cost me two lost buttons, and I'm afraid that if I stand up with you looking at me, I'll end up without a zipper, too. With my luck, it'll be called in as indecent exposure and splashed across the front page of the Daily Planet because Lois won't be able to stop laughing at me."

"I think my body guards could get you out of here before anyone called the cops." A serious and playful offer, as he intensified the rub of denim to denim by shifting his leg idly against Clark's. There was so much promise in that touch, as much promise as the way he'd seen Lex stroking himself off to the tapes.

"The scary lady from the interview?" Clark teased. He didn't look around visibly, but he was suddenly aware that she was present, seated across the diner with a black woman who was just as visibly gorgeous. "I'd wilt enough not to scare anybody, anyway."

"I wouldn't consider it scary. Impressive, yes..." He trailed off as the waitress neared them again.

"Can I get you anything?"

"No, thanks," Clark answered. "I've got a better idea...that is, if you have an entire afternoon to waste away, Mr. Whitman?"

"Even I have to take time off -- I'm at your disposal," he drawled, and finished off his coffee.

A flourish of blanket covered a faint hillock that was hidden between protected bushes in Centennial Park. Lex's bodyguards looked faintly abused, and it made Clark want to laugh. "Here you go. Promise it'll keep your jeans from getting grass stains," he said, slipping his hands into his back pockets. One quick side-trip to change his own jeans and pick up a picnic basket, a second trip to the local grocery store, and everything was coming up roses.

No quick one-night-fucks for Clark Kent when it came to Lex Luthor, oh no. Clark wanted a hundred years of fucks out of that ass.

"They're not designer. Jeans are supposed to get dirty, right?" It was funny, because he sounded like he was asking Clark that question as he sat down on the blanket, stretched out. "That's why they sandblast them."

"MY jeans are supposed to get dirty," Clark agreed, kneeling and beginning to pull things out of the basket. "Somehow, I can't imagine you ever being dirty, Lex. At least, not in the ways I'm accustomed to. I can't picture you shovelling cow manure."

"It's funny -- my father spent a good few years of my life threatening to send me to run LuthorCorp's Smallville Shit Factory. I could've been shoveling cow manure." He watched Clark unpack the whimsical basket, surprised to see that there was actually food in there.

"Or you could have been enjoying the local wildlife," Clark teased him, handing over a box of ripe cherries. "I'll bet you would have loved Smallville. So," he said, rubbing his hands together. "The next question is simple. Smoked gouda, or provolone?"

"Provolone." The cherries made him smirk even more, and Lex toyed the lid of the plastic container open to de-stem one. "If I'd ever been exiled there, I don't think I ever would've founded LeXCorp. Although the... 'wildlife' might've been worth it."

"Never lay doubts on the things that might happen in Smallville." It wasn't a lecturing tone, exactly, and the way that Clark peeked up at him as he fixed a sandwich for Lex certainly took any pretense at lecturing away from it. "It probably beats out Sunnydale, California, on the 'weirdest place in the world' list."

"So my father frequently complained," Lex smirked. "Apparently at one point something was eating the employees? It was blamed on a... shit, what was it? A wild pack of boars."

"Well, they were wild boars. Technically," Clark admitted with a little smile. "Actually, it was old man Farrell's pigs. They'd got something really bizarre in their slop, and it turned them feral. Man-hunting pigs aren't exactly something you see every day," he admitted, handing over Lex's sandwich. The bread was deliciously crusty baguette, and it seemed to be holding a metric ton of provolone, chicken, turkey, tomato and lettuce in there somewhere. There was even a little mustard drip running down the edge.

"Man-hunting pigs? My God, he wasn't kidding, then..." From the way Lex was eyeing Clark, he was obviously thinking that they grew them strong in Smallville, right down to the freakish actual wild-life.

Broad shoulders shrugged. "Things in Smallville are a little wild sometimes," he admitted. "My friend Chloe used to have this thing she called the 'Wall of WEIRD', where she cut out tons of articles about the things that have happened there. I mean, things have been off in Smallville for centuries," Clark said, beginning to put together his own sandwich. "I picked up cokes and bottles of water. Is there something you'd prefer?"

He hesitated a moment in answering. "I'll try a coke. So much for the myth about small town life being quieter than city life, hmn?"

"I think the appropriate answer for that is 'dream on'," Clark teased, handing him a bottle of Coke that was nearly ice cold thanks to a quick puff of breath. "We've also got Pringles annnd I brought along chocolate. Good chocolate. Smear-worthy chocolate," Clark added, wriggling his eyebrows.

"If you follow that phrase by 'it's Hershey's', I'm calling Mercy over to shoot you," Lex drawled, and relaxed as he cracked the seal of his bottle of coke. There was an art to juggling picnic food without setting it on the ground or the blanket, and Lex was awkward but learning fast.

Hopefully he was joking.

Even if he wasn't, there was no way that he could get past those gorgeous, pleading green eyes. "You wouldn't have me shot," Clark pouted. "Then who would make you sandwiches?"

From the way his eyes gleamed when he looked at Clark, it wasn't just sandwiches he was interested in. "I suppose you have a point there... So I suppose I won't have to shoot you for using Hershey's and quality in the same sentence." He took a swig of coke, then leaned in towards Clark. "You look really kissable, do you know that?"

"Hmmm." Oh, yeah, that was just what Clark wanted to see. "Really? Because I'd love to kiss you. You've got a gorgeous mouth," he said, leaning in a little closer. He could feel Lex's breath skate across his chin.

And then against his mouth, when Lex tipped his head back and up a little. Idiotic grins had to be contagious, because Lex looked close to wearing one as he leaned in to press a kiss to Clark's mouth that started out soft but held obvious intentions.

"God," Clark whispered breathlessly when they broke apart. "Jesus. You're incredible. I'm going to be lucky if Superman doesn't fly by, scoop you up, and take you off to some big alien love-pod in the sky."

"That's weird, Clark. Utter non-sequitur, with shades of Colridge," Lex murmured and leaned up for another kiss. He tasted like Coke, and smelled like nice expensive cologne, and was snaking a hand up under the hem of Clark's T-shirt.

They were never going to get to actually eating lunch.

It didn't matter. Lunch could wait, and Lex's bodyguards would keep anyone from seeing anything they shouldn't see. Clark grinned, pushing Lex onto his back and sliding over him. "What can I say? I'm feeling very lucky, which makes me feel equally paranoid. I'm an investigative reporter," he teased. "Luck and danger go hand in hand."

Lex pushed the soda bottle out of the way with one hand, and then settled comfortably on his back, smiling up at Clark while both hands slipped with surprising skill and ease up Clark's sides. "We're as safe here as we are in LeXCorp Tower."

"Somehow, I don't doubt that," Clark decided, tugging Lex's shirt loose from his jeans. "You have the scary lady with you today."

"Hope," Lex corrected gently. "She's Hope." Hope and Mercy, and that was either a freakish coincidence or something worse. Clark would worry, wonder, and ask about that when he didn't have sleek muscles and pale skin just beneath his hands, or fingers tracing whimsically over his ribs.

"It's hard to believe that you really do feel as good as you look," Clark told him honestly, nuzzling just beneath Lex's chin. "I don't think I've ever touched anyone who felt quite as good as you do." That was true. Impossibly tender skin covered hard muscles, Clark's hand stroking slowly over a flat belly. It felt so good, too good, and the memory of seeing Lex naked was breathtaking.

"Here, move back," Lex prodded softly, and his fingers clutched at the hem of Clark's shirt to peel it off of him.

It was easy enough for Clark to prop himself up on his hands, letting Lex tug his t-shirt up and over his head. He shifted to help get it off, and then settled back down slowly. "I don't mean to pry," he murmured, fingers lingering at Lex's waistband. "But I have to ask. How familiar are you with other men, Lex?" God. If he said very, Clark was going to have him naked and on his hands and knees inside of a quick five minutes.

"Ever read the society pages?" It was impossible to get a straight answer out of the man, a fun but equally annoying trait. "Not very."

"Then I promise not to flip you over and fuck you blind just yet," Clark told him huskily, leaning down to kiss him again.

Kissing Lex was something like heaven, especially with his hands beneath Lex's shirt, slowly teasing at nipples, pinching them just enough to make Lex whimper for him. It felt good to grind himself down into the cradle of his hips, too, cock pressed to cock. Teasing Lex was a worthwhile project. It was better to do that than to jump right into the sex, Clark figured. Especially since he wanted the sex for a very long time, if Lex would let him have it.

Lex moaned and sighed sweetly for Clark, rocking up against the pressure of his hips, with every press Clark gave. His fingers crept down along Clark's smooth muscled back, playing over Clark's spine like he were a piano in Flight of the Bumblebees; and at the end of their journey, Lex's hands each clutched a healthy portion of Clark's ass.

With some care, Clark's fingers made short work of Lex's jeans, opening them and sliding inside so that his thumb could rub at a hipbone. "I'm going to take off your shirt," he told him slowly. "I want to suck your nipples. I'll bet they're so pretty, Lex, all deep pink next to your skin..."

"Fuck... do it, then." Lex's crotch seemed to be radiating heat, and he was squirming at the mere suggestion of Clark sucking on any part of him. Solo play didn't allow for much sucking, and Clark had an inkling that 'not very' translated to 'only in my wet dreams'.

Clark was so the luckiest alien in the galaxy.

It was easy enough to get the shirt off, thanks to Lex's wiggling. Clark tossed the t-shirt towards the bushes and settled down slowly, a thumb rubbing over one of those prized, perky bits of flesh. "God, yes," he sighed, leaning down and taking a nipple into his mouth.

It tasted even better than it had looked when he'd been spying, and it was made better than that by the way that Lex's hands spasmed and moved to clutch at the back of his head and neck. "Uhn... that is fucking good..."

"Just wait 'til I get to your cock," Clark moaned, nipping sharply. Lex's dick. Art deco ice cream cone, fuck, he'd treat it like one, lick and suck and make Lex never want to go back to women.

Lex whined again, and slid one leg over both of Clark's to cling to him. "Fuck, can't wait," he half-panted, and half chuckled, arching up to Clark's mouth. There was something sweet about the way his hands clutched at Clark's neck.

"You don't have to wait long," Clark promised him. There was a faint, damp trail following his mouth from nipple to nipple. Tongue laved at breastbone, teased and nuzzled, and his hands were shifting Lex free of his pants.

A shift and Lex lifted his hips for Clark, head lolling back on the blanket. "Yeah... fuck, Clark, you're beautiful, you move like something out of this world..." And the mere idea that Clark was pulling his pants down from his hips, over the curve of his ass, sent a jolt of electricity right through his crotch cobra.

"Have you thought about it?" Clark asked him. Lex could feel the smile that spread over the reporter's mouth as he moved down to fuck Lex's navel with his tongue, a slow in and out motion that made grey-blue eyes cross with pleasure. "Have you thought about me sucking you, Lex?"

"Often," Lex panted, and pushed his hips up so that he ground himself against Clark's chest through his boxers. Even though they were boxer-briefs, they were tenting up a little with the sheer need of his dick. "You have such a pretty mouth..."

Clark grinned. "Not as pretty as yours," he insisted, stripping Lex naked with smooth, practiced gesture. "...wow." Wow, because that was probably the reaction Lex was looking for from him. Clark's tongue darted out, tasting smooth, hairless skin. "Wow, Lex."

"Uhnn! Fuck, you're a tease..." After all, Lex didn't know he'd been spying on him. And his skin felt better than it had looked, no shaving bumps to be felt. "Does... mmm, that bother you?"

"Sexy," Clark breathed against the fold where leg met groin. "Hot. All you." His tongue caressed faintly over that line, making his way further down even as his nose nudged at Lex's sex. "Mmmmmmm. Smell good." Faintly sweaty and sticky in a good way.

Lex had probably been hard or half-hard since he'd come into the store and crawled over the countertop to kiss his neck. "You dog," Lex muttered, and rocked a little to rub himself against Clark.

"Grrr," Clark growled playfully, nipping Lex's inner thigh. "Arf. Roll over."

"Are you sure you want me to yet?" Lex drew one lean leg up, planting his foot on the blanket like he'd done to his mattress. His cock bobbed, and it was threatening to drool against Clark. Now who was the dog? "Suck me, just for a little bit..."

"Say please," Clark teased him, hands shifting to Lex's hips. He wasn't going to suck him. He had other plans altogether, but if it made Lex happy to ask, he certainly wasn't averse to hearing it.

He laughed a little, and stroked fingers through Clark's hair, tugging at him with obvious need. "Please suck me, Clark. Please suck me."

"You ask so pretty," Clark whispered. Oh, God, yes. So pretty. His tongue was slipping between his lips already, laving over Lex's sweet plums with a low groan before darting back slightly and lifting Lex up to his mouth. The skin behind them was just as soft as the rest, and tasted even better, all salt and faint remnants of scented soap.

"Oh, Christ, Clark -- you're not going to do that, you can't, I wouldn't, Jesus fucking, it..." Lex's words had picked up speed like a freight train going downhill without brakes, and then he slammed into a verbal brick wall when Clark's tongue darted just too close to his hole.

It felt so good that he squirmed, and whined softly.

"Shhh," Clark whispered. The faint hissing sussuration of the sound tickled, made him squirm again despite the strong hands holding him still, and oh, God, oh, fuck, oh, fuck, he was saying those words and hardly able to recognize it because Clark's tongue was there, there, there, and in, and oh!

It was a thousand times better than the most sophisticated of wriggling, jiggling, twisting sextoys. Slick wet skin and heated muscle, probing and twisting and darting and licking there, there of all places.

Lex Luthor hadn't felt so wonderfully mindless in years, as he squirmed and humped up to Clark's mouth. Girls didn't do that. Hell, women didn't do that. Just Clark, and Clark treated it like it was some special delicacy, a prize that only he could have.

Maybe it was, especially with the way that fingers were sliding inside along with that tongue, making Lex's eyes roll back in his head.

There was no way Lex was going to let anyone else ever do that to him, because there was no way it could feel quite so good as the way Clark was doing it, so devotedly, so knowingly. His cock drooled and twitched with almost every perfect motion and slide of fingers; it he hadn't been trying to hold himself steady against Clark, he could've already been jerking off furiously.

The feel of Clark's mouth pulling away from him brought a frustrated yelp that was almost agony. "I want you to come for me," Clark told him, stroking his fingers in more deeply as he kissed behind Lex's balls, taking one into his mouth and sucking lightly before letting go to kiss the trembling length of Lex's fuck muscle. "Come for me, Lex," he murmured, tongue lapping across the head.

He didn't even have to say the words, but shit it just made everything hotter when Lex heard them. Two fingers up his ass, spit slicked and so careful, and a wonder of a mouth teasing over his cock, and enough built up frustration and want to overflow Fort Knox, and Lex didn't need the words.

All he needed was that tongue, and he felt like he was almost spraying semen he came so hard.

Clark sucked it down like the professional he was, though, letting Lex come just as hard as he liked and gentling him down from it slowly before he ever removed his fingers or his mouth. "You taste good," he said huskily as he lifted himself up on one arm, sucking his fingers clean. "I could do that twice a day."

"You could, but I think I'm dead," Lex said a little hazily as he tugged a little, sweetly, at Clark's hair. He was still breathing roughly, and laying limp, spread out and tempting for Clark. "Let me kiss you..."

"Wish granted," Clark purred, coming up over him to press close, lips searching out Lex's. The kiss was slow, tasting of musk and salt, just a little bit like milk going vaguely off or hot. "God, you're beautiful."

Lex licked his lips, almost beaming up at Clark through the sated haze. "Let me try to return the favor?" Right there in the bushes.

Clark nuzzled at him slowly. "I think I'll keep," he decided. "There are some things that shouldn't be allowed out in public, Lex. I'd scare your security."

"You mean I don't pay them to be scared on the odd occasion?" Lex stretched languidly against Clark, trying to get what he wanted. Shifting a little, teasing Clark to get him to agree. It wasn't fair or right or any of a hundred other words. "If you're sure."

"I can wait," Clark promised. "I get the feeling that you're worth waiting for." It felt altogether too good to rub against Lex steadily, but he sighed finally and pulled away from him. "You can feed me grapes. I'll lay back and languish away on the blanket."

"Maybe... I should put my pants back on before we do that," Lex chuckled languidly, sitting up when Clark moved off of him. It wasn't fair that he should be bare if Clark wasn't going to be.

Clark gave a faint huff of a sigh. "Fine. Deny me my naked boy, feeding me grapes. See if I care." He peeked up at Lex from beneath his lashes, smiling slowly. "Well. You're right. Maybe not in the middle of Centennial Park. But..." Maybe later, that voice implied.

"I think maybe a nice leather couch would be a better place for that," Lex decided as he sat up more, and then proceeded to take his sweet time grabbing his boxers and squirming them on. He might as well have wiggled his ass in Clark's face.

Again.

He was just damned lucky that Clark had a little more control in his 'old age' than he'd possessed during college. Ten years earlier, Clark would have jumped him and pounded his ass. Lex was meant for more than that, however, so Clark managed to hold himself back.

Barely.

"You'd be a beautiful naked grape boy," Clark told him huskily, leaning over to press his mouth to the bare flesh at Lex's hip, still available.

And then Lex squirmed a fraction more, and started to slip his pants up, too. "You're so sweet," he sighed almost wistfully, and stroked a hand suggestively through Clark's hair.

"Hm. Yeah. Sometimes. When I'm asleep and not having bad dreams," Clark agreed, reaching into the basket and pulling out a grape. So what if Lex hadn't even eaten his sandwich yet? It was still altogether good to pop one into his mouth.

"It's funny -- you always strike me as a damned cutthroat at city council meetings." Lex smirked crookedly and slowly buttoned up his jeans before he laid back. "Now, even if someone manages to thwart my guards, we won't be arrested for indecent exposure." Indecent acts, maybe, but he had a barnful of lawyers so it didn't matter much to a Luthor.

"Who, me?" Clark snorted. "You hide from Lois, Lex. There's cutthroat for you." It was a crying shame to have Lex clothed again. "Want your sandwich back? You need to keep up your strength."

Well, at least he hadn't put his shirt back on. That was nice, and shirtless men in jeans always reminded Clark of the soft-porn calendar that Lois had given him over Christmas for a gag gift. Particularly when Lex folded his hands under his head for a pillow momentarily, before moving to get his soda. "Sure. What's lunch without a little... eating."

"Swallowing," Clark agreed, lightly laying his own coke against Lex's belly just to watch him jump. It was worth a laugh, especially when Lex squeaked. Who knew Lex Luthor could squeal like a girl?

"Hey, that's cold!"

"I'll kiss it better later." Such a sweet promise as Clark shifted to sit up, wincing slightly as his love muscle caught awkwardly in his pants. He reached down and shifted himself with a firm grip, careful not to let his hardon rip through his pants. That would be a bad sign, wouldn't it?

There was eager, and then, shit, there was eager. Popping buttons was almost understandable, but ripping a cock sized hole right through his pants would've been hard to understand. Steel underoos seemed like a great idea just then, even if they would've chafed worse than the time he got a cork-stalk down his pantleg.

"You want me to help you with that?" Lex offered while taking a swig of his coke.

Clark considered the matter, eating a bite of his sandwich as he thought about Lex's offer. "To be honest, I want a lot more time and a lot more lube before you help me with it. I want to be four fingers in you, Lex, and then deeper."

Like any sane man, Lex groaned at the thought of that -- but he certainly had an eager tone, and shifted himself in his own jeans. "You're not even going to let me taste you before that, are you?"

The slow, sly spread of Clark's smile said a lot. "You can taste me all you want. Later," he said simply. "I wonder... Have you tried it on that purchase you made last Saturday, Lex?"

"I did..." It was Lex's turn to lean towards Clark, taking a brief, tidy as possible bite of his own sandwich. "And it tasted like plastic. Do you taste like plastic?"

"Not last I checked," Clark drawled. "But you'll find out later, I think. Did you like it?" he asked, nose brushing Lex's cheek faintly. "Did you like sucking it? Did you think about what it would be like if I was there with you?"

The talk was hotter than just thinking about it, Lex decided as he exhaled against Clark's cheek. "Yes~s...It's so fucking thick, but I couldn't stop thinking of how it would taste, how you'd feel -- warm veins and skin to pump my fist over..."

Clark's thumb slid up and over Lex's lower lip. "Your mouth would be so pretty wrapped around my dick, Lex. I'd be able to feel you groaning, and I'd try hard not to push it down your throat and fuck you whether you liked it or not..."

Lex groaned again, and his tongue darted out to lap at Clark's thumb. "Is that a promise?"

"Would you like that?" Clark asked, smiling. "Would you like to be all mine, Lex?"

"Yes..." He had Lex wrapped around his fingers. Or cock. Or both, from the way the billionaire was smiling easily at him. "You have a gorgeous body... a keen mind..."

"And the added benefit of not being Lois Lane?" Clark teased him. "This is probably the most bizarre of possible interest conflicts in the world, considering how it's come about. I don't think I care much, Lex."

"Not a whit. We'll figure out later if we met at a porn shop or my office," Lex winked, and shifted back to set his sandwich down and fish through the basket for grapes. "Now, about the grapes..."

"Lois. I don't care if the governor is about to be executed for sex with a six year old," Clark informed her flatly over the cellphone. "It's Saturday."

"So? What do you do on Saturdays, Kent?"

"I have a personal life, Lane. You know? That thing where you meet someone nice, take them home to meet your mom?" Clark asked, shaking his head. "I'm pretty sure you have no idea what I'm talking about."

"Wait, hold on a minute, Kent -- you're dating?!" Oh, and damn if she didn't almost cackle down the phone.

"It's not nice to laugh at the gay man, Lois," Clark chided. "Just because you don't date..."

"I do, now and then," she protested. "I've dated some very fine men, in fact."

"Name two," Clark replied. He sounded audibly smug.

"All right. I will. That Barrister -- you know the one -- and I had one really great date with Luthor when I first came to the city. Now YOU name two."

Clark's mouth spread in a feral grin. "Whitney Fordman and Bruce Wayne," he replied. He sounded supremely smug, and why shouldn't he be? Whitney was the current quarterback for the Metropolis Sharks, and Bruce... well, Bruce wouldn't mind a little subterfuge. They had gone out on that one date to make Dick jealous.

"You..." Lois gasped into the phone, then sighed. "All of the really pretty ones are queer. It's your fault."

"MY fault?" Clark protested. "I didn't make them gay! It's not like I shoot out magic gay rays, Lois..." Well, he wouldn't think about his painfully primary blue and red suit. No, he would not.

"Sure you don't. Bruce Wayne, Clark? Why aren't you still with him? I've seen your apartment. You could use a sugar daddy." Now she was teasing, and it was just mean.

"There's nothing wrong with my apartment!" Clark protested, feeling fingers creep around his hip. That meant that Lex's faint afternoon doze was obviously done. "It's nice enough. I painted. The bugs are under control, and! I even threw out the old pizza in the fridge. Honestly, Lois. Whatever it is, don't get in any trouble. Take Jimmy if you're going to do something ill-advised."

"I can show you ill-advised, Kent," Lex purred near his ear, nuzzling just behind it, uncaring that Clark was on the phone. Either still sleepy and oblivious, or just being mean.

"Hey, is that your date I hear...?"

"Yes," Clark squeaked. "I have to go, Lois. Be careful." His eyes were crossing.

The fingers on his hip were crawling down, down down towards his crotch, curious and happily exploring him. "Hang up," Lex whispered.

"All right, Kent, but if you change your--"

Goodbye, Lois.

"It's good to see you fully awake," Clark moaned, rocking his hips slightly into that touch. "Unh. God, Lex. I think it's time to go somewhere private. Soon. Please?"

"Mmmhmm, I think so, too." Being allowed to doze off in the midday shade had been a treat for Lex, and he was comfortable spooned behind Clark, rubbing idly against the other man's back. "Let's pack things up and find my car."

"Sir." Subtle as she came away from the bushes, yes, but the faint gleam in the dusky-skinned woman's eyes made Clark shift a little nervously. "Mercy will have the car ready momentarily."

Lex didn't even flinch under the weight of her gaze, or blink as he started to sit up. "Thank you, Hope. I trust you kept yourselves busy...?" he asked wryly.

"Yes, sir." Clark noticed the faint twitch by the side of her left eye and wondered about it.

"Here," he said. "I've got everything back in the basket, Lex..."

The twitch was noteworthy, and Lex stood smoothly while straightening his t-shirt. "Great, let me help you fold up the blanket." Why would Hope develop a twitch?

"I can get that, sir," Hope hurried to say. Clark's hands were straying perilously close to mussing Lex's shirt again even as he stood up off of the blanket.

"It's okay," Clark demurred. "It won't take us long. We'll just stick it in the basket." And why not? It was mostly empty. Lex was amazed at how much Clark could eat.

He'd eaten everything but the plastic bottles their coke had come in, and for a while there Lex had been waiting for him to gnaw on those. Lex moved to grab one end of the blanket, ignoring Hope's offer to do it for him. The twitch, well, he'd have to mull that one over, and Clark was probably doing the same.

"Still scary," Clark whispered to him, nodding slowly. She and the blonde were admittedly pretty, but he thought they'd both do well in a women's prison flick.

There was no point in arguing that both of them were scary, so Lex didn't. "The twitch? That's new even to me. I'll have to ask her what that's about later."

Clark gave a wide grin. "I'll bet Lois makes her twitch." Lois made a lot of people twitch.

"They're bodyguards and trusted employees," Lex tried to explain as he helped Clark fold the blanket, then flipped the basket's lid open with the toe of his shoe. "They probably get edgy when someone gets too close and they're not bearing obvious motivations. You're not political, business, or trying to get my money. I'd bet she doesn't know what to do with you."

"Maybe they're more edgy than usual because I'm a reporter," Clark suggested, pushing the blanket into the hamper. "That's probably more dangerous than the other three combined. Honestly, though, Lex?" He grinned. "It's all about you and naked you."

"Naked me, hmn? Can I trade that for a little naked you?" Lex winked as he bent to pick up the basket, and after a moment of staring at it shoved it at Clark instead.

"Let me put it this way..." Clark paused, eyeing Lex slowly up and down as he took hold of the basket. "I'm losing the buttons off my jeans at an alarming rate thanks to you, Mr. Luthor. I think you're going to just have to save me from myself by getting me naked."

That was a wonderful, hazing thought apparently, just from the way Lex's eyes threatened to glaze over as he started to walk out of the high bushes. "So I can claim this as altruism?"

"An act of charity," Clark agreed with no small amount of delight, watching Lex's ass as he moved away from him. "Mmmmm, baby."

Lex stopped, glanced over his shoulder at Clark with a crooked smirk. "Was that directed at me?"

"Yes," Clark agreed, a little dazed by sheer lust. "Yes. Definitely. Has anybody ever told you what an incredible ass you have, Lex?" he asked.

"A few people, but not with the same sincerity you have." Lex paused, mouth curling at the edges as he eyed Clark. "Come on, the car's waiting."

"Coming," Clark intoned, smirking at him. And he would be.

Very, very soon.

"It's a little humble, but I like it..."

Lex Luthor was lying through his straight white teeth, and grinning like a sly fool while he did it, all but beaming at Clark as he led the man into the front room of his expensively decorated home. It was designed much like the office had been, tasteful but decidedly expensive. Everything, from the thickness of the carpet beneath their feet after Lex had Clark toe off his shoes and socks, to the furniture that they were walking past, seemed to be there for pleasure and indulgence.

And Lex's bed was no different, but Clark knew he wasn't supposed to have seen it yet.

"Humble?" The mere notion was laughable. Clark didn't try to stop the chuckle that rippled from his chest. "I'd be scared to show you my apartment, Lex. I'm pretty sure you'd pass out the first time you heard a mouse trap go off," he teased.

"You have mice?" Lex eyed Clark a little, one eyebrow cocking warily. "Now I understand why the second job. Are you sure they're not rats?" The idea of mice was an abstractly horrifying one, because how could mice survive in a city like Metropolis unless they escaped from someone's pet store?

"Mice happen, Lex," Clark explained patiently. "They're just little grey mice. They come scavenging for food out of the dumpsters in the alley six floors down and then if they don't find anything, they sneak into the building. It could be worse. It could be rats. Have you ever seen a wharf rat, Lex? They're ugly things."

"Actually, I have. And I'd rather not see them again. Nothing like having one of those run over the toe of your shoe." Not that Lex should've been anywhere that a rat like that would've had opportunity to run over his shoe. "Do you want to sit down...?"

"That depends," Clark hedged, eyeing Lex thoughtfully. "Will you sit in my lap?"

"Sir," Hope let out a strangled cough. "Er. Sir. Cook said that dinner will be at seven."

"Thank you, Hope." Lex was so accustomed to having his assistants cum bodyguards around that he barely noticed they were there sometimes. "Would you and Mercy like the night off?"

"Thank you, sir." Clark could practically feel the relief radiating off of the gorgeous black woman. "We'll be downstairs for the evening if you have need of us." Yeah, where Mercy was already hiding, most likely.

"I'll keep that in mind." He smiled at her, and then moved towards the tidy bar in the corner. "Do you drink? Other than soda, I mean."

"Not really. I don't like being drunk," Clark admitted. "It involves too much of a loss of control, and I like being in control."

"Oh? You wouldn't last long as a businessman. I'd give you a week to be drinking like a fish and popping Xanax," he teased, and moved away from the bar. His hands wandered to his thighs, one rubbing nervously as he circled back towards Clark. It was endearing to see him a little unsure of what to do next; Clark wasn't a woman, so the approaches needed were different.

Lex Luthor's personal dating script was proving perfectly useless with Clark Kent.

"Xanax, huh? Too much of that in combination with your fish-drinking can't be good. Are you going to come and sit in my lap now?" Clark invited again, leaning back slightly and patting both legs in a childish invitation.

"Since I don't think I'll give Miss Graves a heart-attack now that she and Hope are gone..." And out of hearing distance, something Clark was damn glad to know. The way Lex turned so smoothly back towards the sofa made him want to hum a reprise of Smooth Criminal again. His hips moved perfectly, and jeans were just as nice as business wear on him when he moved to straddle Clark's lap slowly. "Like this?"

"Oh. Yeah," Clark breathed. Was that him whimpering? He didn't whimper. "Just like that, Lex. You're so fucking incredible..."

"It's time for turnabout, and fair play," Lex purred, slipping forwards against Clark, pressing them groin to groin through denim. Clark's pants were tenting, and maybe it was going to finally be the time that his dick just ripped through denim.

"Oh, God." That felt very, very good, and if Clark was a lucky boy, it wouldn't stop. "Yeah. This is so much better, Lex. I want you to touch it," he whined, pushing against Lex with short little shoves of his hips.

"I want to suck it," Lex promised as he leaned in to kiss at Clark's neck. "Just lay there for me and let me touch you. You're so gorgeous..."

"Anything you want," Clark agreed, tilting his head back to make things easier for Lex. Hrm. Lex. Sucking. He wondered if the bald man would manage to get much more than the first few inches into his mouth.

There was pretty much no question that he'd try for more. Lex Luthor was well known for being a determined man, driven and skilled at everything he tried to do. But it was a chance to see how much of that idea was real and how much of it was Lois-Hype, so she felt less frustrated about being regularly thwarted.

"Mm, then I want to get you naked first," the other man murmured, and his fingers were tugging at the edge of Clark's shirt to pull it up. "Since you so rudely refused in the park."

Clark laughed. "I told you. We would have scared the squirrels. Well, and your Hope and Mercy. That's some kind of bizarre joke, isn't it? I warn you, though, if you rename me Chastity..." He helped Lex with the shirt, lifted his hips to make it easier for Lex to get him bare.

"No, there's a Charity who works at the front desk. And I might... might explain it to you sometime. We'll see." Decent evasion, and Lex shifted backwards and then off of Clark's lap so he could slowly unbutton his jeans.

"Tease," Clark answered, tongue darting out to moisten his lips. Just the sight of Lex's hands shifting those buttons was hot. "I should take you over my knees, Lex."

And he was taking his damn time popping them open. "One step at a time, Clark, one step at a time -- don't you think we should try things vanilla for a while, first?"

"Oh, yes." The answer was out of his mouth before he actually considered it. "Um. Lex. Oh, please. You don't fool me, you know," Clark tacked on breathlessly. "Six is your favorite, Lex. I'm going to make you scream so hard when you come..."

The fingers that moved to pop one more button were trembling, and not a scared tremble. Then Lex tugged at Clark's jeans, pulling them slowly off of his hips. "I hope that's a promise."

"A solemn one," Clark agreed, helping by giving a faint wriggle. "God, Lex. Please. Just watching you, I've been so hard..."

"Jesus." Lex slid Clark's jeans down to his knees, and just... stopped. Stopped breathing, stopped moving, and stared at the monster that was tenting up the leg of Clark's boxers.

"Make you nervous?" Clark asked him gently, allowing his mouth to curve up a little at the edges. "I've had somebody run shrieking in fear before. It's okay."

"Shrieking in joy, I can see..." There was something alluringly predatory in Lex's eyes as he leaned in to press his mouth against its shape through the fabric of Clark's boxers.

Clark breathed out a declaration that was damned near a prayer. "Ohhh, fuck, you're so perfect." Perfect, perfect, perfect, because very few people were that brave, and Lex's mouth looked so flawless teasing him that way.

Lex even closed his eyes halfway, gusting warm dampness through the fabric as he kissed slowly up Clark's length through the fabric; his fingers reached for the waistband, a little nervous but definitely determined when they circled over the muscles of Clark's stomach. "Mmm, this is so good."

There was no denying the fact that Clark agreed. "Pull it out," he whispered, rubbing a thumb across Lex's cheekbone. "Pull it out and suck it, Lex."

Lex slipped smooth office-worker's fingers down beneath the waistband of Clark's boxers, and wrapped his hand around Clark's cock. And moaned a little appreciatively as he pulled it gently out of the boxers, pushing them down and out of his way.

"This is a hundred times better than the dildo."

"That's because it's skin, Lex. It belongs to you in a whole different way," Clark murmured. "If you want it. Do you like it?" Mmm, Clark KNEW He did, knew how much Lex had appreciated the dildo. "It's not purple."

Lex gave a vague hum for an answer, but he leaned in to tentatively lick the tip, and then tipped his head back a little so he could look up at Clark while he did it. So slutty, so purposefully teasing him.

"God, you sweet whore," Clark murmured. "My sweet whore. How could anybody ever let you go once they had their hands on you?" He couldn't imagine, and when Lex's tongue lapped its way out again, Clark gave a faint grunt, eyes rolling back slightly.

It felt heavenly, particularly when Lex's fingers stole up behind his carefully exploring tongue and rubbed over the edge of his foreskin. Lex Luthor was a cocksucker through and through, or at least a cock licker. Maybe he'd spent too many years eating out women to really be much of a sucker.

Or maybe he was just trying to tease the hell out of Clark.

In any case, Clark wasn't going to let him tease for long. That was why God (or whatever deity watched over Kryptonians with foot long schlongs) had invented ears, after all. It was easy enough to reach down and gently tug Lex's head where Clark wanted it to go, thumbs tender as they rubbed against the joints of his jaw to ease them open. "Please..."

"Slowly," Lex half-requested as he pressed a kiss to the tip, and then opened his mouth properly to suck Clark's thick cock into his mouth. Or try to.

"Slowly," Clark promised, but it was all he could do to keep it. Still, he could be careful. He knew how to be gentle, how to keep from fucking straight through the back of someone's throat, and he let Lex keep his own pace. It was slow, and more than the first few inches seemed to be too much. That was all right, though.

Lex had practiced really well on that dildo. He wasn't slurping along like some of the highly practiced cock suckers Clark had experienced, but he was slurping along with a stunning dedication to things that made Clark move. His hands were stroking at Clark's base, holding and clutching where his mouth just couldn't go, and his tongue pressed and squirmed admirably.

Even if his jaw was stretched wide like a greedy kid trying to eat a whole jawbreaker.

"Oh, Jesus. Fuck," Clark whimpered. It was much more erotic than the guys who tried to swallow him whole. Lex slurping around him, jerking the shaft up towards him... God, it was indecent, it was gorgeous, and Lex just kept looking at him. He was looking at him, and it made the muscles in Clark's thighs undulate as he tried to keep from pushing his hips up to that mouth.

Looking at him either for approval -- unlikely -- or so he could watch exactly what his every motion was doing to Clark. And Lex's own hips were swaying against the sofa slowly, proof that he was getting off on what he was doing. Trying to suck down Clark's thick cock and liking it.

"So gorgeous." Prettier than that Kyle guy had been, the one who could take it all the way down his throat. Prettier than any girl had ever been, in a weird way, or maybe it was just that he was sexier.

Maybe it was just that Lex had Clark's cock in his mouth.

Either way, it made him damned special.

His cock was the first real cock Lex had sucked, wasn't it? Lex had said so, and the way he was looking at Clark and touching him, skilled but by no means perfect, attested to it.

Which also meant Lex was just a natural at it, a natural at pulling back and fondling the head of Clark's dick with his tongue.

Clark was his first, and Clark wanted to be his only, because he'd only get better from here. Because he was fascinating. Because he... He was Lex, and that was so weird of him, wasn't it? "Oh, God, yeah. Oh, suck it. Suck it, baby, you've got the sweetest mouth..."

Lex liked dirty-talk, from the way his breathing got harder, from the way he started to suck and tease harder and faster than he'd been doing before. It just went to figure, considering his taste in porn. Clark was going to make it easy for him, and so he carefully began to shift in response, giving faint grunts of encouragements, filthy little words slipping from his lips. "Cocksucker. Sweet fucking, oh, God, yeah..."

Lex shifted, and pressed his groin against Clark's leg, leaning and rubbing against him instead of the sofa as he started to suck more and stroke faster, trying to milk an orgasm out of Clark.

"C'mon, baby.." Clark mumbled. He tugged Lex's head a smidgen too hard, choking him a little, but he was so close. So close. "I'm gonna cum, fuck, god, Lex, I'm gonna fuckin' spill jizz down your throat..."

There was the oddest moan around Clark, like pleased, sated laughter that cut off in a real moan when the hips that'd been rubbing against his leg started to spasm. Perfect point to come, because Lex probably wouldn't mind the half-choked thing as much.

Ohhh, Clark loved it when his brain leaked right out of his dick. Any time it felt that good, it seemed like that had happened. He chewed out a low grunt, legs sprawling as he tensed to keep himself from pushing deeper. "Fuuuuuck," he whined, giving another shot down Lex's throat.

If he hadn't had his hands on Lex's head, the other man probably would've jerked back before that. As it was, he strained a little, coughing against him until he managed to wriggle back and lick his friction-raw lips.

"Mm, that was so good."

So good that Lex was sort-of puddled at his feet, head resting on Clark's thigh and the edge of his jeans, breathing like an over-heated dog.

"God, you're beautiful." Beautiful, gorgeous, fucking sexy. The ragged edge of Lex's breath tickled against Clark's crotch, made him want to get hard again. He could wait, though. He would wait. "Come up. I want to kiss you." Kiss him, molest him, make him scream.

It wouldn't be hard to make Lex scream, if the noises he'd heard from him already were any indication. "I'm comfortable here," Lex almost laughed.

"Ohhhh," Clark gave a faint snort of amusement. "So you want me to come down to you?" He would, without hesitation, but it was so much easier to tug Lex up into his lap and kiss him anyway.

"Give me a minute," Lex prodded verbally, and pressed a kiss to Clark's soft cock before he started to get to wobbly feet. "Let's finish undressing?"

"We could do that." Clark squirmed slightly, abandoning his jeans entirely as he stood to keep Lex from falling onto his bottom. "In fact, that sounds like the best idea I've heard yet."

An ass that pretty shouldn't bear a dent or bruise unless Clark put it there with his own hand.

Lex appreciated the gesture, because he smiled brilliantly at Clark before he pulled back to pull his t-shirt off. "I thought it was a good one, myself. I can understand why you're so careful about whipping it out..."

"Want me to tell you a secret?" Clark asked him, eyes running appreciatively over pale, bare skin. Hm, this could only get better, and he was pleased with himself as he stripped off the last of his own clothing, leaving them in a pile with Lex's. "When I was a teenager, I was in love with this girl. The local prom queen, you know what I mean. She was beautiful and sweet, and when she finally looked at me, I couldn't believe it. We dated nearly two years," he confessed, "before we, uh. You know. Decided to go all the way." He could feel heat sneaking across his cheeks.

Lex was listening to him with heady attention as he started to take his jeans off. From the hesitant smile curling his mouth, it was clear that he wanted to say something. Wanted to remark something to Clark, probably about her turning him to cock or something, but it was pretty respectful of him that he kept his mouth shut.

"She was really sweet," Clark reassured Lex, or maybe himself. "And one afternoon, we slipped up to the loft in the barn, you know, to... Well, we'd been dating two years, and we'd fooled around before, but she'd never. You know. Seen." His mouth twitched slightly, shifting into an almost-smile. "Ah. That's why I don't usually show people. Or, why I don't want to be where people can see it. I mean, it really scared her. I think she'd maybe seen one to many of those tentacle porn things?"

"Maybe. But that ruined it? That's... Hell, I'd classify that as confusing. You date a person for two years, and your penis scares them off?" Lex's eyes dropped to Clark's crotch, and lingered comfortably before he shimmied his pants off of his hips.

Clark grinned at him, one hand trailing down to rest against the faint curve of a bone. "Yeah, well. When was the last time you were a seventeen year old girl faced with a foot long schlong?" he teased. "Bet it would have scared you, too. Or maybe not, actually..."

"When I was seventeen, Clark, I might very well have killed to get face to face with a dick as big as yours." Lex was looking at Clark's face when he talked, though, smirking faintly when he leaned towards him again. "But I think it's more enjoyable to wait for one that has a person attached."

"Well, if you had killed someone..." Clark's eyes were gleaming. "I hear there are some guys in prison who could have accommodated that desire." He pulled Lex close, gave a faint wriggle against him. Hm. It wouldn't take much o get hard again. "I wouldn't mind being your warden."

"I don't remember seeing that scene on the dvds. But does that mean your dick is a billy club?" The wriggle of motion was answered by a slow languid squirm, and Lex slipping a leg so he could rub his thigh against Clark's.

"Mmmmm, yeah," Clark agreed, wrapping his arms around Lex. "Tell me what direction the bedroom is in and I'll take us there right now. You're a dangerously sexy man, Lex Luthor. You have to be locked up to save the rest of the populace from your wicked, provocative ways."

"It won't be solitary confinement, will it? I think I'd go stir-crazy if it were..." Lex rubbed his his hard cock against Clark's hip-bone. "The bedroom is at the end of the second hallway -- if you must know."

"I think... I must." Clark grinned and promptly shifted his hands down to Lex's ass, lifting him to press Lex tightly against his own chest. "The faster I get you there, the faster I can keep everyone else from falling prey to your sex rays. I know you're putting them out, Luthor," he leered happily.

"You must be immune. You haven't fallen over while jacking yourself off yet." Lex didn't fight it -- he was too damned aroused, and wow, he was probably going to start hump-jackhammering his prick into Clark's stomach if he was held there too long. And how would he explain that to anyone -- semen in his abdominal cavity?

"I have the antidote right here," Clark informed him solemnly as he pulled one of Lex's legs up tightly around his hip, his second hand holding him steady between the shoulder blades. A quick shift of hands, and he got the second leg up, too, and headed for the bedroom. "I carry it around with me, and pretty soon, I'm going to give you a dose of it, too."

"You'd fucking better," Lex countered, more sweet suggestion than demand, and if Clark wasn't mistaken, he sounded just a touch nervous about the idea. Yes, Lex was nervous, but not the bad nervous like Lana where there was screaming and tripping down the stairs.

"You've been a very bad boy," Clark intoned, heading straight for the bedroom. He stole kisses between each step. "I'm going to send you to my room. You'll have to be punished, of course. And given the antidote."

"You're such a sweet pervert," Lex purred in his ear, arms tightening a little as he leaned just enough to lick the edge of Clark's earlobe. "Are you going to probe me with your big thermometer, too?"

"Oh, yeah," Clark agreed. He was pretty sure that his eyes were crossing each time Lex managed to nibble his ear, and GOD, how far away could the bedroom be!? He finally reached the end of the hall and walked inside, kicking it shut gently with his heel. "Definitely have to make sure how feverish you are, Lex. God. You're so fucking incredible, I can't believe this is all for me."

"I hope you're not talking about the furniture," Lex groaned quietly, and he buried his face against Clark's hair.

"The furniture is nice, but Lex?" There was a faint pause as Clark paused beside the bed, bringing one knee up slowly to kneel on the mattress. "I really don't think I'd care if it was a futon in a rat-infested apartment complex, so long as it was you. You're. WOW."

"I must be losing my corporate raider touch, because that sounded like the sincerest compliment I've heard in years..." Lex pulled away from Clark, part way, so he could lay back on the mattress, looking up at Clark. And he kept his legs wrapped tight around Clark's waist.

"I'm a farm boy at heart, Lex," Clark told him, coming up over Lex slowly. "In the end, if I give you a compliment, I mean it. I'm pretty much what you see is what you get." With a few notable exceptions, but those could wait. They would wait, because there were more interesting things to do just then. Like kiss Lex back when he twisted and caught Clark's mouth in his forcefully, trying to steer and guide Clark. "You want fucking, don't you?" It wasn't meant to be a tease, but it was, a statement wrapped up in words that nipped sharply at Lex's libido. "You want my dick riding so far up your ass all you can do is scream for more?"

"If you're just a farm boy at heart... then all farm boys apparently have the sex drives of rampaging stallions," Lex groaned back at him; he didn't seem content to be at Clark's mercy, though, because his hands crept down Clark's back to squeeze at his ass and goad him on.

"Steer," Clark corrected, panting slightly. Wow. Lex's hands on his ass felt good. "Steer, Lex, oh, fuck you feel so..."

"Then do I get to steer?" Lex had the grin of a starving wild-cat as he looked back up at Clark, and beckoning bedroom eyes that clashed painfully with his pun. "I know it's rude to fuck on first dates, but let's make an exception..."

"You get whatever you want," Clark assured, whimpering as a hand snuck down and touched him in a way that was so perfect he nearly burst. "Fuck. Yes!"

Fingers, unmarred and almost idle, snuck right along the line of his ass crack and then squeezed a handful of the muscle he was clutching. The body beneath him shivered a little, probably in anticipation, and then Lex murmured, "So... please, Clark. Let's fuck. You're so gorgeous and I could do this forever."

"Tell me you're sure," Clark whispered into his ear. "Now that you've seen it. Now that you feel it. It'll hurt, Lex." Warning, tender and sweet. "It'll probably make you cry a little. You'd be so fucking beautiful..."

"I'm sure," Lex purred; beneath the purr there was a nervousness, a giddy nervousness because, yeah, Lex Luthor wanted Clark's giggle stick badly, threat of tears or no.

Clark's tongue ran slickly down Lex's throat, teeth biting tenderly just below his ear, near his jawline. "I want you to turn on your side for me, okay? We're going to want lots of lube, and I want you comfortable while I get you wet, Lex. Then I'm going to pull you up on your hands and knees, and I'm going to fuck you. I'm gonna put my fat rock stick so far up your ass you're going to taste me in your throat, Lex."

"Oh God, yes..." Lex twisted to turn away from Clark and lay on his side, though he didn't let go of Clark. He clung with at least one hand, fingers still clutching Clark's ass. The dirty talk really worked on Lex, because he was weeping so much pre-come that he probably could've fucked Clark without benefit of lube from a tube.

If Lex had been on the pitching side, that is.

"You like it this way, don't you?" Clark murmured against his earlobe, nipping as Lex reached out to scrabble frantically at the bedside drawer. "You like to hear me talk about fucking you, don't you, Lex?" He knew Lex did, could tell it, and it made him smile even as he spread easy, wet kisses across the back of Lex's head. "You want to know what my favorite word for it is, Lex? Round pussy. I heard that once, and I'll bet you have the sweetest, tightest asshole, Lex. Tell me something. You've never let anybody fuck you, have you? Not the way you're going to let me." Clark was betting on it, and his hands were roaming over Lex, teasing him, cradling thigh and hip and ass.

"Just..." Lex clutched at the lubricant like it was a prize, and offered it to Clark. "Just that dildo..." Every kiss he gave the back of Lex's head gained him a shiver that went all the way through those muscles that Clark's fingers were roaming over. "Fuck, I don't have a... a condom that'll fit you."

"Lucky for you that I have a couple stashed with us," Clark murmured, reaching between Lex's legs slowly to tug at his balls before taking the tube. "I'll have to go get my jeans, Lex. Do you want me to go now? Hm?"

"Wish there was a way for you to get it without having to move." But even running back to get his jeans was better than having to go to a store to get a condom. Lex's legs splayed a little at the tugging at his balls, and he moaned a bit when he let go of Clark's ass at last.

Clark wished there was a way to superspeed out to his jeans and come back, but God. Lex would probably have a stroke, and it was better not to tell his secret too soon, if at all. "I'll be right back," he promised, granting one last kiss before making his way out of the bed.

It was worth it for the sight of Lex raising up on his palms, legs akimbo on the mattress, cock hard and bobbing, as he twisted to watch Clark leave and come back. He had to have chosen Lex as his name from 'Alexander' because it rhymed so well with sex, and he looked like sex incarnate sprawled there.

Maybe a LITTLE superspeed couldn't hurt could it?

Clark managed to keep himself from hurrying too much, and made it back within a perfectly normal human time frame. It was just as well. His cock bouncing at superspeed was never any fun. "Back," he assured huskily, pausing to just look at Lex, heart hammering in his chest. "God, you're..."

Stroking himself, squeezing fingers tightly around the shaft of his cock. Lex lolled a little, and finally just smiled at Clark. "I can hardly wait for you, Clark. Get back here -- I want you, I want to feel you and kiss you more..."

"Tell the truth and shame the devil, Lex," Clark teased, holding one of the little foil packets carefully between his fingers. "You just want me for my dick."

"It's an added bonus," Lex purred as he twisted around to help Clark with his condom. "I also want you for your mind. And the romantic streak..."

"Three meetings. I think I'm getting a little better," Clark sighed, pushing himself into Lex's hand. "You're in a hurry. It's okay to wait a few minutes, Lex. I'm going to work you open for a while," he promised, climbing into the bed again.

Well, if it was okay to wait a few minutes... Lex still stroked his hand over Clark's cock, but was content to lean into Clark and kiss him more, willing to let Clark tell him what to do next. It would probably be one of the few times -- if they did it again and Clark hoped they would -- that Lex would be so compliant.

"Come here," Clark whispered, laying down beside him and tugging him close. Kissing was good. Clark never got enough kissing when he was being C.K., and kissing Lex was the best. It would be easy to kiss and slide his fingers where they needed to go. He could do that, multitask, it wouldn't be difficult. "God. I love doing this with you. This... This is better than it's ever been before."

Because there was passion and maybe something else in the kisses, just like there'd been in the park, just like when Lex had napped behind him on the blanket.

"Yeah," Lex agreed hoarsely, before he sucked a little at Clark's bottom lip. "You feel so damn good..." Particularly with fingers travelling down his ass.

"It's going to feel better in a minute," Clark promised, sneaking the lube and quickly getting his fingers slick. A few quick motions of his hands warmed it up, and he slid them between Lex's cheeks. "Close your eyes, baby."

Was it something about all business men that they liked the dirty-talk? Lex arched against him, like a happy erection slapping a stomach, and then did just as Clark had told him, closing his eyes and trying to get a comfortable position where he could still press against Clark.

"There. There." Whispers between kisses, and they landed as easily on Lex's skin as Clark's mouth. The finger pressed against the little wrinkle of flesh between his cheeks added pressure, slipping inside up to the second knuckle. "Um, Lex. You're so fucking tight."

"Oh, fuck..." Lex squirmed up against that finger, shifting to dig his fingers into the expensive bedding they were laying on. He wasn't 'tight', so much that it was like... sticking a finger into a mouse-trap, Clark decided. If he hadn't seen Lex take the jiggling purple latex dick so deeply, he wouldn't even be toying with the idea of fucking him.

"Jesus." Jesus, fuck, fuck, God, it was going to feel so good in him. Clark was desperately glad that he was literally Superman, Man of Steel, because that might hurt, it was so tight.

Then again, that might be damned good.

"Oh, Lex, I wanna pump in you so hard," Clark moaned, biting his shoulder, breath gaining a faint edge. "Your ass is so fucking unbelievable, I can just imagine you riding my dick, bent over your desk. You'd leave little wet tracks, and Mercy would probably be really glad if your office was sound proofed..."

"Ohhh, fuck yes. Fuck, yes..." Lex squirmed, writing slowly against Clark and his nipping teeth. It was a glass desk, and it was a hell of a mental image for both of them. Lex's smooth balls would probably squeak on the ultra-clean surface. "I'd... Christ, I'd love to do that, to have your fat cock in my office..."

"I'll give it to you," Clark promised him, biting down on a nipple with careful teeth as he slowly teased the rest of his finger into Lex in short, smooth motions. "I'll give it to you everywhere you are, Lex, here, your office. The copy room at the Planet, if you want. Not at the shop, though," he teased. "Mister James gets upset if we dirty his coin collection. Bet I can get Charlotte to play lookout, though..."

Having someone laugh, a soft, almost-relieved noise, when Clark was sucking on a nipple, was a weird sensation. Lex spread his legs a little more, tilted his ass up against Clark's finger. "We could use a towel..."

"He'd knoooow," Clark purred, slipping another fingertip in. The temptation to shove in three, to hurry things along, was overwhelming. "He'd know, and Lex? He'd punish you." It was teasing, but meant in a weird way. Clark's boss had weird ways of making his clerks suffer.

Lex groaned and bit down on his bottom lip for a moment, almost chewing on it as he pushed back against the slight addition. "Fuck... how? I don't work for him."

"I'd have to work late," Clark groaned, going with his instinct and slipping his third finger inside, pushing deep to see the reaction. "He'd make me work all kinds of long crazy hours. I'd never get to see you... Oh, fuck, LEX!"

That third finger went right in, because Lex pushed back against him, choking on a moan. "Can't... have that." He sucked in a deep breath, fingers clutching tight into the glossy sheets.

"Jesus, you're fucking incredible! How can you be so tight and take that?" Clark groaned, pressing himself to Lex's thigh. It was all he could do not to hump himself against Lex's hip and come then and there, because, fuck, it felt incredibly good. He wanted so much to just shove in his dick, but he knew Lex wasn't loose enough yet, not yet.

Yet, but yet didn't seem so far off because Lex was obviously determined to get a ride on the Kent express.

"Dedication," Lex half-mumbled as he rolled his hips, anxious and maybe a little uncomfortable -- for all that his erection was still bobbing and eager.

"So sweet," Clark whispered, moving up to kiss Lex again. That made everything more personal, more easy, somehow, or he'd always thought so. He didn't want it to be too uncomfortable, he just couldn't help himself. He'd needed to shove that third finger in, to stretch Lex fast if he could.

Soothing the pain away with kisses -- it was a little, no, a lot trite, but it worked. Lex kissed him back, sighed against his mouth, and finally dragged a hand off of the top sheet to clutch in Clark's hair. "It still feels damn good, you still feel damn good."

"I'll feel better tonsil deep in you," Clark assured, voice deep and rough as he slowly twisted his fingers in Lex. It had to hurt some, Clark knew, but God, it felt so good to him. "You're even more gorgeous like this than when you're being all sharp and business..."

More thin groans met his words, and Lex closed his eyes in a faint wince. His legs shifted again, lifting him up to Clark's twisting fingers. He was almost ready to be turned over, certainly willing to have Clark that deep in him. "Uhnn... not trying to have sex with my business associates."

"God, I hope not. I've seen some of them," Clark panted, tenderly pressing his fourth fingertip close. Almost. Just a little while longer... "I'm gonna fuck a space in you nobody else will ever be able to fill, Lex."

That pinkie finger would be the telling one. If Lex freaked, then there was just no way he could take it. If he didn't... "Yes, that's just what I want you to do," he moaned, almost whining as he lolled his head back on the mattress.

Clark's blood pressure had to be screaming with the sheer amount of need pumping through his veins, not to mention his blue-veined root-on. The heaviness at his groin was unspeakable. "Fuck, Lex." He sounded as if somebody had used a cheese grater on his voice. "I want you to lube me before you get up on your knees, baby."

His fingers were still up Lex's ass when the other man reached for his erection. "Where's the lube...?" Most of it? Up his ass, but that wouldn't have been polite to use as an answer.

"Hang on." Yeah, it was somewhere, somewhere, and Clark was pretty sure he'd laid the condom down with it. Ahh, there they were, both tangled in the covers. "Here. Put a little in the tip of the condom. It goes on a little tight otherwise and sometimes it, uh." Breaks, but God, he didn't want to scare Lex. "Makes it easier."

Lex curled up a little, and he clenched and quivered around Clark's fingers while he took the condom and lube from his free hand. His hands were shaking while he opened the wrapper. "If you wiggle your fingers now? I'll kill you."

"Would that bother you, Lex?" Clark was trying to keep the vicious grin off of his face. "Would it make it hard for you?" He gave the faintest twitch, dragging a sound from Lex that should have been illegal.

"I, I'll rip the condom like a cheap balloon," Lex half-warned, half-threatened; he also dropped the cap of the lube, but managed to squeeze a little in the tip before he moved, still shaky, to roll it down over the huge, swollen cock that he was going to soon be on the receiving end of.

"Guuhh," Clark grumbled low in his throat, trying not to shove his hips forward as he let Lex smooth the latex down over him. "Uh. Uh-huh."

Lex leaned into him more, fingers pushing the condom down as far as it could go. Not quite far enough, but it seemed enough to him, and he laid back, trying to not move on Clark's fingers. It was awkward to try to do anything with that much of a hand up one's ass, Clark supposed. Plus, he was panting a little, though Lex probably would've denied it if Clark pointed it out to him.

"Now will you... do it?"

"Up on your knees," Clark urged, slipping his fingers out just a little. It might make movement easier. "Up on your knees and spread your legs for me. You can hold yourself up on your hands or lay your head down, whichever one you want."

"Strangest push-up I've ever done," Lex husked, eyes closed tight as he did what Clark told him to. Shifted onto his stomach and drew his knees up towards his chest, then let them slip outwards. He seemed to flipflop for a moment between on his hands and head down, settling on head down and ass thrust up, trying to not squirm or moan.

"I'm going to pull my fingers out now," Clark told him clearly, "and then I'm going to slide into you, Lex. If it hurts, I want you to tell me so. Give me a word. Tell me... Tell me french toast if you want to stop. Can you do that for me?" He was going to go slow. He wasn't just going to push himself in until Lex could feel Clark's dick replacing his spine. He was going to be slow and careful and he was going to make sure that he could do it many more times.

It was tempting to rush and just slam home and ride him hard. But he wanted to have that ass often, and that mouth, and that odd, crooked smile, and laughing conversation over picnics. So Clark Kent could be a good boy at least that one time and be glad he had years of porn-industry training in sex.

"Just tell you french toast?" Lex nodded against his mattress. "I can do that, Clark."

"Good." Good, because damn, Clark would be hard put to cease all motions for a 'stop' or a 'no'. Those words were too often confused with 'please yes' and 'harder' for him, and he wouldn't want to make that mistake with Lex.

His fingers slid out of Lex's quivering butthole. Clark moved to slick lube over the condom quickly before using one hand to aim himself even as the other gripped Lex's hip. "All right. Take a deep breath."

"Easier to say than to do," Lex murmured, but he did take a deep breath and spread his legs a little wider. A really slow deep breath -- he was nervous, and almost kneading the sheets and mattress under his fingers.

"Now, let it out slowly, and take another one," Clark ordered, waiting until Lex's lungs were nearly filled again before he began pushing at the loosened ring of muscle beneath the head of his dick.

He started to exhale at the contact of latex against his ass, still relaxed and mostly muted beneath Clark's tou