by Ice and Pablo
Lex pulls the car into the only space he can find at the Farmer's Market. He's still not entirely sure why he's here, but he did decide earlier that morning that if he was going to make the most of Smallville he should at least attempt to assimilate into local life.
//Yeah, and if you believe that Lex, you'll believe anything.//
Something about being up at this time of the morning, already out of bed for two hours already just seems, wrong for lack of a better word to Lex. He's more accustomed to stumbling home around about this time. If his time in Metropolis has taught him anything, it's that he should never leave the apartment without his sunglasses. Even if he's leaving said apartment at one o clock in the morning on his way to a club.
So, yeah, being cognisant, let alone surrounded by rejects from Green Acres at this time of the morning is something that's going to take a lot of getting used to.
Lex climbs out of the car, closing the door behind him. Locks it and takes a few moments to survey the scene before him. A young couple wandering hand in hand past the car The young man (of course) carrying in the crook of his arm, a brown-paper bag (of course) filled with, what Lex can only assume is home-grown produce, (of course).
Lex, and not for the first time today has to marvel at how living in Smallville is going to be a shock to his system.
He checks again that the car is locked, probably doesn't need to considering how open and honest everyone seems around these parts. //Everyone except Clark?// Threads his way through the crowd, joins in the flow of people moving from the parking lot to the market proper.
Ignores the glances and barely whispered comments he gets from the people standing around. Knows exactly how many of the people in this backward town think about him.
Not Clark though. Despite the bad reputation he has, a reputation that has preceded him, of course //Thanks Dad.// Clark doesn't seem to be interested in the gossip and opinions that the townspeople have about the Luthors, and that alone marks Clark as standing apart from the crowd. Not a common thing in a town such as Smallville. Small town America doesn't exactly nurture originality and people, that don't adhere to the norms.
Perhaps that's why he had found Clark strung up in that cornfield last night, stripped, sweat-slicked and looking for all the world like the victim of a hate crime. It took him back to that fateful day back in '89, same prank but different location, and in all honesty a much, MUCH superior body strapped to that post. Lex can definitely see why Clark was chosen as the victim for this year's "scarecrow" and that particular thought makes that ever-present smirk even more pronounced.
//Speak of the devil.//
Comes to a halt when he notices Clark on the other side of the market, walking like he's desperately trying to get away from something, or perhaps, someone. It seems to be the latter, as he notices that quarterback, Whitney something-or-other, running to catch up with him.
Lex stops walking and just takes a few moments to appreciate the view. He hasn't so far been afforded the opportunity to watch Clark. He'd been too out of it when he'd regained consciousness and Jonathan Kent hadn't wasted any time, had swooped in like a mother hen as soon as Lex had given his name, rank and serial number. Not that that's unusual given his history with this town. Most people in Smallville seem to think that they know him and if this is the only way he can get to observe Clark, he'll take it.
Not exactly in the way he'd like to // Clark, jeez ... who did this to you?// considering the way he seems to be arguing with the quarterback. Given how Lex found Clark last night at least some of the mystery is now solved. There seems to be no love lost between the two of them and when Clark pulls away it's obvious, even from this distance, that Whitney doesn't receive the answer he was hoping for. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that there's something there, hurt look on Clark's face, head dipping down and shoulders slumped. In an even more pronounced way than usual.
Maybe all that early rising hasn't been in vain. There's something amiss here and it's setting off flashing lights and loud bells in sections of Lex's brain. Just because Clark doesn't seem to want a confrontation doesn't mean that Lex shouldn't make one on his behalf. At the very least, he probably owes it to him to in some karmic sort of way.
Lex may barely know Clark, but he's without a doubt that the boy's not capable of forcing his feelings to the surface.
//What exactly is he hiding?//
Lex moves out from the shadow of the stall he's been partially obscured by, tries to look nonchalant, and then decides he probably doesn't really need to try too hard. Most of the locals would barely recognise the word let alone the action. Lex subtly moves through the crowd, makes sure his path will cross that of Whitney's as he storms away. Doesn't want him to calm down before Lex confronts him.
Lex slows his pace, pretends to be intrigued by a stall selling baked goods, leaves his back facing where he knows Whitney will be walking, turned slightly to the side so he knows he'll be easily spotted. Ignores the rather frumpy woman with a large smile plastered to her face behind the counter, and just waits. Counts the seconds in his head and is barely surprised when he gets no further than two.
'Uh, Mr. Luthor?'
Lex has to hide the smile he can feel taking over his face, instead he acts disinterested. A look he's perfected because he learnt at an early age if you wanted something, the last thing you ever do is admit that you want it.
'Hi, I'm Whitney Fordman, I, uh, go out with Lana Lang. I understand you know her aunt Nell?'
And could this be going any better if Lex had orchestrated the thing right from the start? Whitney moving his weight from one foot to the other, eyes darting around nervously and if Lex didn't have his mind so set on getting to the root of the problem that smile alone would distract him. //No wonder Clark LET him tie him up.//
'Pleased to meet you, Whitney. I've heard a lot about you.'
Smile, cranked up another couple of notches, and Lex finds himself smiling back in response.
'Really, Mr. Luthor?'
'Please, Whitney, call me Lex.' Whitney's body language is relaxing and Lex is sure that he has the boy eating out of his hand already and he can't help but feel just a tiny bit guilty considering how easy it's going to be to get the truth out of him. Not guilty enough to stop, of course.
'Of course. My family owns the Metropolis Sharks. It's my responsibility to know these things.'
Whitney's almost salivating now. Lex can see him swallow, Adam's Apple bobbing up and down, and Lex can't help but notice the lightly corded muscles in the boy's neck as he does. Lex really isn't into blondes. He generally prefers them darker, //Like Clark?// but he can see this conversation becoming more and more productive.
Whitney's eyes lighting up, Lex just rolls forward on the balls of his feet, Patrick Cox loafers rather out of place given the fact that he's standing in what is essentially an open field. Moves slightly into Whitney's personal space and is pleased when the boy doesn't move back, Lex has to wonder exactly how much Whitney would do to ensure a place on the state football team.
Inappropriately close before he starts speaking and Lex doesn't fail to notice that Whitney lets his head dip down, doesn't meet his gaze.
'So, Whitney since I'm new in town, do you think you might like to show me around?. Tell me what part of the market to avoid, and where all the ... good buys are.' Noticeable pause when he's speaking.
Lex starts slowly moving past the line of stalls, away from the direction he saw Clark leave in. He's pleased when Whitney follows, but is only barely listening to the boy rattle off things that he really couldn't care less about. Lex just pretends to act interested, nods occasionally. Past another set of stalls and the two of them now approaching the space where they're selling a seemingly infinite variety of fruit pies.
Whitney's already managed to start talking about the local football team, under the guise of mentioning one of their local fund-raising initiatives; and Lex has to hand it to the blonde, he sure is determined.
The quarterback, cut off mid sentence, mouth still open, eyes darting up to Lex's smiling face.
'The only person I seem to know around this town is Clark. You want to let me know what Smallville has to offer in the way of night-life?'
Whitney has to shake his head at that one, lets out a bit of a laugh before he answers. 'Well in all honesty, ... Lex ...' stumbling a little over the name that still sounds a little uncomfortable even to his own ears, '... I'm sure Smallville's not exactly what you're used to.'
'Now, Whitney. Don't sell this town short, let me know what you got up to this weekend.'
Whitney can't tell if that statement should frighten him, Lex is still smiling widely at him. Like some bald Cheshire Cat, and judging from the feeling welling in Whitney's stomach he should at least consider the fact that Lex knows. That maybe Clark told him about last night and more importantly what almost happened after he ... after, Clark was tied up.
Whitney just swallows, tries to smile but his heart's not really in it, maybe he's just imagining it. Clark had told him that he hadn't let on, that he understood how these things worked. The tradition of the scarecrow, and for a moment Whitney's forgotten all about Lana's necklace, about trying to get on Lex Luthor's good side. Because the way Lex is looking at him now, wide-eyed and innocent, makes Whitney think he may be in more trouble than he can handle.
'Uh ... uh well ...' Whitney, still having trouble speaking, can't gauge Lex's intention, he just hopes for the best. He looks around, makes sure nobody's close, listening, and Whitney's surprised to find how far they've walked. He'd been too caught up in talking to Lex to notice that they're right at the end of the row of stalls, relatively quiet, not many people buying food at this hour.
'Last night? Well, there was the game and then after that, there was the homecoming dance. That's pretty much the extent of it really.'
Whitney tries to smile at Lex, and is a little put off by the way that he's just listening. Whitney's not really used to that, he's more used to someone just talking over the top of him and not really paying much attention to what he's saying.
'Really? Is that all you got up to?'
'Uh-huh ...then I took Lana home.'
'I would have thought that the team would have been celebrating. I understand you won the game.'
'Uh yeah well, we, you know, had a couple of beers and ...'
'And what, Whitney?'
They're standing so close to the side of the stall, the shade painting stripes across Lex's face, half of his face hidden in shadow. It's surprisingly dark and Whitney has to look closely to try and work out exactly what Lex is meaning. He doesn't want to intimate anymore if Lex doesn't know anything. He knows how he's friends with Kent and there's no way he wants to jeopardise any potential future opportunities by misreading the situation.
Whitney's fighting with his conscience and he doesn't really notice when Lex takes half a step forward, till he's totally in Whitney's personal space. He can feel Lex's breath faintly on his face when he begins to speak.
'What happens if I tell you that I know that you did more than just have a couple of beers to celebrate? If I tell you I know exactly what you got up to before the dance?'
Even though Lex is barely whispering, his voice seems so loud. More due to the way he's speaking than the volume. Close proximity making the hairs on the back of Whitney's neck stand up, like they do when Lana touches him, back of her hand stroking the inside of his arm. The way they did last night when he ...
Shock forcing Whitney out of his reverie and he rocks backward slightly on the balls of his feet. He knows he should be surprised when Lex mimics that movement, comes even closer this time, almost touching, but Whitney just can't find it in himself to be surprised at all. In fact, he's almost disappointed when Lex moves back slightly.
Whitney's eyes drifting closed, he can't remember the last time he took a breath and he gulps in much needed air and opens his eyes slightly. He can see Lex, still so close //Not close enough// through his eyelashes. Smile still on his face, but now it looks different. Cocked slightly at an angle, and Whitney can just see the tip of his tongue sneaking out between the contrasting white of his teeth.
'A particularly barbaric tradition, this scarecrow ritual, isn't it, Whitney? You could've really hurt him, you know. He could've died out there...'
Whitney's blushing now, head bowed down, avoiding Lex's eyes, mutters softly, "It...it was just a game. I would never have hurt Clark, never.'
And Lex can barely hide the smirk that appears like clockwork. 'No, I should imagine not. Special to you, isn't he?'
'I don't ... I'm not sure what you ...' Whitney can't even finish his sentence, when he sees Lex's eyes open wider. One eyebrow raised slightly and that's a challenge Whitney's not prepared to take. One he knows he can't win. Realises that somehow Lex has manoeuvred him so his back is against the stall.
'Let me see if this is how it went. You've been noticing him for a while haven't you? The way he moves. He's so tall. Long legs, you can just see the strength in him, can't you? All that hard work sure is paying off, right? Skin, tanned so dark, all those hours in the sun, and do I even need to mention that mouth?'
His eyes are tightly closed now. He can hear Lex's voice, knows he must be close to him. Whitney can't seem to breathe properly, instead he's just taking in short gulps of air. Like he can't get enough no matter how quickly he breathes. Even if he tries to do it in time with the rough staccato beat of his heart, thumping quickly in his chest.
When he speaks again, Whitney can feel Lex's breath against his face. He's beyond caring about whether or not anyone is watching them, the thought skimming the edge of his mind but then Lex is speaking again and it's lost.
'It's been awhile now, since you've wanted to see more of him. To see if what was hidden underneath those clothes was anything as hot as what you see when you're home alone. When you're jerking off, imagining him naked ... did he look like you thought he would, Whitney? When you started to strip the clothes from him. Peeled the last layer of fabric off his chest until you could see it, touch it ... taste it. Did he look like he does when you're hand's wrapped around your cock, Whitney? When you're screaming out his name when you come?'
Whitney can feel himself, so hard now. Excitement coursing through his body and the answer is out of his mouth before he's even thought about it. Hard to understand at first, throaty and guttural, far too many vowels to resemble normal human speech.
'And then you started on his pants. Made the others hold him so all he could do was struggle. Thrash against you while you undid his belt, slid your hands inside his jeans and pulled them right off. Over his shoes until all he was wearing was boxers. And you wanted to keep going didn't you? You wanted to be alone with him, to not have him struggling to make you stop. You wanted him to be begging for it, like he does when you dream about him?'
Whitney can feel the coldness of the stall behind him, against his back, and he's arching forward, slight contact against the hard length of Lex's body. Whitney's not sure what he's doing, but he's not really thinking when he pushes up against the other man in front of him, eyes tightly closed and his head thrown back. When he can feel himself pushing against Lex's body he can see clearly in his mind the image that he knows will be stuck there, burnt into his memory. Able to be recalled with frightening clarity.
//Clark Kent, tied to that cross. His tanned body slick with sweat, boxers hitched down slightly on one side, small patch of pristine white skin where the tan line finishes. Whitney swears he can see a slight patch of dark hair under the waistband, curling enticingly, the first glimpse of so much more. //
But this time Clark's smiling, he's not struggling like he was last night. He's smiling and whispering Whitney's name, full lips parted, tongue darting out and removing the moisture from his lips before he says it again, 'Whitney.'
Telling him not to stop.
Lex's voice shattering the image.
'When you'd stripped him, you made an excuse to the others, got them to leave because you wanted to be alone with him, to see if the real Clark wanted you in the same way that the one you dream about does. You told them you wanted to wait to make sure he didn't get down or was ... rescued'
'I said I wanted to make sure he knew to stay away from Lana.' Whitney can barely recognise his own voice, the fact that he's just said his girlfriend's name isn't enough to make him stop, he can feel Lex pressing against him, leaning his body weight on him.
He can hear a loud gasp escape his mouth. When he feels Lex's fingers slide under the waistband of his jeans, he rocks forward even further as Lex holds him like that. Fingers so close to the hard length of Whitney's cock and when he speaks again, Lex pulls him forward slightly. Grinds himself against Whitney and when his cock is pushed against the rough fabric of his jeans and the hard muscled expanse of Lex's thigh, Whitney's sure he's going to come.
'Then it was just the two of you alone. You were the one to paint the "S" on his chest, weren't you, Whitney?'
All he can do is nod. He has to stifle the moans that he's making when Lex starts tracing a slow "S" shape on his chest, through the cotton of his shirt. Flat of two fingers pressing hard enough to make it feel like the touch is still there, like Lex is still touching him. The other hand's still pulling him closer. Lex, grinding Whitney against him and when Lex's fingers dip low down, completing the bottom part of the letter he's tracing, so close to the waistband of his pants, Whitney's moaning gets even louder.
'But you wanted more than that, didn't you? You were just too scared to ask for it. You had Clark just the way you wanted him, sweat coating his body, chest rising as he breathed in, nipples hard and the way his skin felt under your hands when you touched him. Just the way you wanted him but you couldn't quite bring yourself to ask him could you?'
Whitney's shaking his head, the momentum as Lex pulls him forward is making him even harder as he pants and gasps before him, hands still hanging uselessly by his sides.
Now Lex is holding him close, body pressing against him, he can feel Lex's chest pressing against his own, where his hand had been, the other hand still between their bodies, sandwiched there. Lex moves his leg slightly and now Whitney can feel him rocking against him.
'All you have to do is ask. To tell me what you want.'
'Pl-please Lex ... I want ... I want it ...'
As easy as that, he can feel Lex's fingers against his erection. He thrusts forward as Lex cups the hard length of his cock, slightly repositions himself and then he can feel those fingers on his belt buckle. Seemingly so slowly and once it's undone he can feel the cool air against his body. Still gulping in air as Lex slides the zipper down. He's already so hard and he can feel how slick he is when Lex starts touching him, sliding his fist around Whitney's cock and this feels so much fucking better than when he does it himself, when he's imagining another man's //Clark's// hand surrounding the shaft of his cock.
He begins to pump forward, now, no longer caring enough to stifle his moans and he can hear Lex's voice in his ear, his momentum pressing the other man's face against his own. Whitney's still struggling for breath as he feels Lex stroking him, roughly gripping him, not in any way gently, and that's what's making it so much better for him. The way Lex is twisting his cock as he thrusts forward, slick with pre come and sweat, Lex's hand pushing back and forth into the opening of his pants as Whitney fucks himself against the warmth of Lex's skin.
'This is what you wanted last night, isn't it? You wanted to untie Clark to have him touching you, to feel his hand on your cock, maybe his mouth, that's what you wanted, isn't it, Whitney?
Lex's grip tightens, and Whitney leans forward, resting his weight against him. He can feel himself coming, his cock pumping into Lex's hand, he doesn't care if he's making a mess because this feels like nothing else he's experienced before.
Lex, now more gently stroking him, he can feel himself starting to get soft, still so slick in Lex's hand. Whitney lets his eyes drift open, shock of sunlight, even in the relative darkness where the two are partially hidden behind the last stall. Whitney's shocked with himself for letting Lex do this, for admitting about last night and for letting Lex knows how he feels about Clark. He wouldn't have normally let him, but as soon as he felt he other man's hand touching him, he was unable to say no.
Lex pulls away slightly, Whitney still can't quite move and when he looks down he can see the mess he's made, most of it on Lex's hand and Whitney can't help staring at the way Lex is coated in his come, the way his fingers are slick with it and the fact that Whitney's now soft cock is still exposed through the fly of his pants.
His heart rate increases again, this time in shock, and Whitney fumbles with his pants. Tucks himself in, and zips up as quickly as he can. Is redoing his belt when he notices Lex moving closer again, same smile back on his face as he leans in, Whitney's hands no longer moving as he waits for Lex to do something.
Whitney's attention is drawn away from that smiling face when he feels Lex's hand slide in under his jacket, can feel him wiping himself on the inside of Whitney's letterman jacket, he's so close now that he can smell Lex, strongly and he can smell himself too.
'Lex, I'm sorry I didn't mean to ...'
Lex is wiping the last of his hand clean, no outwardly visible sign of what he's just done. Whitney has to marvel at how controlled he seems to be, not at all like Whitney feels. Belt, still not completely done up and he's sure if he had to move now he'd fall flat on his ass at the first attempt.
'I'm not the one you should be apologising to am I?'
One eyebrow raised again, perennial smile back, and an image of Clark flashes into Whitney's mind, naked, strapped to that cross. Skin glistening in the moonlight as he breathes. Then of Lana, at the dance, smiling as Whitney kissed her. Back to Clark, this time an image from earlier. Fully dressed when Whitney had tried to tell him it had all been a joke, nothing more than a prank.
'Thanks for showing me around the place, Whitney, it's been ... educational.
And Whitney can only stare, mouth opening and shutting like a fish, as Lex walks away.
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