AUTHOR'S NOTES: For Dana on her birthday, `cause she's a sick, sick puppy, but she's my sick, sick puppy and I love her forever and always and all that sappy stuff. Plus, you know, we're really the same person, so I guess I'm a sick puppy too. Special thanks to Hyper for the early-morning preview/beta. xoxoxoxox
"He's baiting you, Clark. There's no other reason my father would send for you."
Clark eased back into the seat opposite Lex, the glass desk a barrier he welcomed just this once. "You don't think I know that?"
"He'll intimidate you. You can't let him."
Clark shook his head and folded his hands, inspecting a hangnail. "He won't get to me. Besides, we don't have a choice, do we? You need this acquisition for the company and there's no other legal way."
Lex's eyes narrowed at a paper on his desk, then darted up to meet his, skepticism and wariness evident in the shining grey. "Go then. He'll never forgive you if you're late."
Clark pushed up out of his seat and stalked from the room, throwing a quick, reassuring smile over his shoulder at Lex. But Lex was gazing out the window of LexCorp, hands tucked into his pockets, shoulders low.
"Ah, Clark Kent. You have impeccable timing, son."
Clark shook his head and stretched out a hand to the offered one. "You can thank my father for that."
"Yes, well, he's not the one I'm interested in today."
The hand released his and Clark stepped back a little, then sat at the direction of a long, gesturing arm. Lionel crossed his ankles and leaned back against his desk. No barrier of oak or glass between them, then.
Well, he wasn't waiting for Lionel's games to begin. "Why exactly did you want me to come here, Mr. Luthor?"
"Straightforward, too. I like that. Such an important quality in a young man, wouldn't you say?"
"Sure, I guess so. Mr. Luthor-"
"Clark, I won't waste your time. You and Lex need something that I consider very valuable." Lionel pushed away from the desk, walking slowly in a circle around Clark's chair, fingertips pressed together in thought.
"I'm aware of the little arrangement you and my son have, and I am prepared to offer LexCorp my full cooperation if you are willing to come to a similar arrangement with me."
"I don't- understand..." Clark curled his hands over his thighs, rubbing the beginning of sweaty palms on his good pants.
A cool, thin finger hooked under his chin and lifted it, catching his breath in his throat.
"I believe you understand me perfectly, Mr. Kent."
The room darkened as Lionel's face inched closer to his, the mane of hair framing his weathered face silver in the white light filtering in through drawn curtains he hadn't noticed before.
"Mr. Luthor, Lex and I- we're... you can't do that to him. You know what it would do to LexCorp - to his future."
"Perhaps you don't understand just how much this would be to Lex's benefit."
"No, of course I do. I mean, it's important, but it's not the end of the world if he doesn't get the contract. You can't expect him to just roll over and not find another way to make it work."
Lionel's breath, brandy-laced, breezed over Clark's lips as he laughed softly. "Let me clarify. Metropolis would find a homosexual politician's secrets amusing for a year or two, don't you think? Especially if they included an extraterrestrial lover."
Clark all but leapt to his feet, not even standing all the way up before Lionel flipped the latch on a small cabinet in the corner and smiled wide as a green glow emanated from the slit of the tiny doors.
Clark squeezed his eyes closed against the light and flopped back down into the leather of the chair, his body draining of life and energy, his mind screaming in protest as he tried to sit normally, to not react to the fire coursing through his veins.
They'd known that Lionel had figured them out years ago, that he knew more than enough to put two and two together about Clark's secret. They'd wondered for months why Lionel hadn't made his... move yet. And this was it - this was what he'd been waiting for. The chance to... to what? Watch him die? Hold him hostage? Experiment on him?
Clark swallowed hard and shook his head. "You can't - you can't do this."
"Then, Mr. Kent..." His own name whispered by those lips so close to his ear sent chills down his spine. "... stop me."
As wet, thin lips touched his, Clark jumped back, hands flying to Lionel's shoulders, fingers grasping the material. He moved Lionel a couple of inches before clutching fingers closed around his chin and an icy stare froze him where he sat.
"Think carefully, Clark. You can have neither of us, or endure both of us. I'd say the choice is alarmingly simple, wouldn't you?"
Clark shrank back into the chair, weighing options he knew he didn't really have, choices he could never make against ones he knew he had to. Lionel's small, knowing smile grew in front of him and the hand on the arm of his chair slid down to grasp his thigh. He closed his eyes and let his thighs fall open, telling himself they hurt too badly to keep locked together as the fingers slide up between them and fondled him through wool that would never be thick enough again.
"You don't have to watch." Lionel's voice, right on top of him, already becoming breathless as Clark's body reacted to his touch. "But Clark? Do remember to breathe."
Clark's eyes snapped open as Lionel's presence disappeared in front of him, and he watched as Lionel drained his snifter of brandy and turned to him, the casual, cool demeanor of a panther on the prowl.
He approached Clark slowly, setting down the glass as he passed the desk, then curling a cold hand on the back of Clark's neck, guiding him up out of the chair and across the room, pressing his hips to the edge of the large oak desk and pushing his face down on the smooth, polished wood.
Clark propped himself up on his elbows, willing his strength to return, seeing the familiar deadly glow in a corner by the door. The source was hidden in that cabinet, but it seemed too powerful to be such a small amount of Kryptonite.
Lionel pressed hard against him and he glared at the cabinet, focused every thread of his fiber on it, narrowed every thought he had to the pain and torment of the stone as Lionel's hands reached around to unzip his pants.
He glanced down, watching his waistband go slack in Lionel's fingers and panic surged alongside the pain in his marrow. He raised his head as much as he could, looking frantically around the room for anything he might use, any way out without walking past that cabinet. The windows were too risky - he might not be able to get through one with his diminished strength, might end up bleeding to death right here on Lionel's floor.
Lionel hissed as his hand slid inside Clark's pants, and Clark buried his face in his arms and prayed, fast and hard and with the penance of pain expanding through his body, wiping coherent thought away.
"So young, so hard for me, Clark." Lionel's voice was low in his ear and a hand stroked into his boxers, fingers threading through the hair there, opening in a v around the base of his cock and rubbing back and forth until Clark realized he was rocking with the slow, warm motions of Lionel's hand.
Another zipper opened and Lionel's skin pressed flush against his ass, his free hand stroking almost soothingly up and down Clark's spine as he rolled his hips, pressing his length into the cleft of Clark's ass.
"I can't... Jesus. I can't do this- stop." Clark began to turn and an open palm slammed over the back of his neck, shoving his face into the wood.
"The substance in the cabinet won't be as forgiving of your resistance as I will, Clark."
Clark's muscles screamed as he fought against the weight on his back. "Kryp- Kryptonite."
"Yes. The cabinet is lead-lined and is barely open at the moment, but that can be remedied if need be."
The unspoken threat was too much, more than Clark could fathom, and he collapsed onto the desk, body spent and shaking with the effort to resist, now slack and pliant across the expanse of wood underneath him, legs wobbling a little as Lionel moved tighter against him, pinning him into position.
"Just relax, Clark." It sounded like hope, Lionel's rough voice honeyed by Clark's confusion and the vague, unexpected, soft admiration in his voice. Clark had no choice but to latch onto it and cling to it, hoping he would live long enough to make it back to Lex. God, Lex.
"Lex will... ohhh, fuck-" The dull prodding of two long fingers inside him bought reflexive energy to jellied muscles and he jerked back, head half-turning over one shoulder to make sure he wasn't already dead, to make sure the cabinet was still glowing faintly.
"That is not a name I care to hear right now."
The fingers slid deeper, the pain exquisitely sharp, stabbing and cutting, ripping him open though the fingers moved slowly, almost caressing inside him. It was too fast, too careless like this, weakened and worn out already, strength slowly decomposing as his body drank in the poison of the rock inside the case.
He breathed deeply as the gentle probing stopped, the fingers sliding slowly out of him. Lionel was gone and Clark pressed a hot, fevered cheek into the cool wood, straining to watch as the man stripped his jacket off and opened his shirt. Clark scrubbed his face roughly on the wood, tears blurring his vision.
Lionel set a small bottle on the desk beside his head, bent to look into his eyes, then turned, walking casually to the cabinet and inching it closed just a little.
Energy and relief flooded Clark's body, his veins still pulling towards the source of the rock, but he felt more whole now, stronger.
Lionel crossed back to him, resuming his position behind him, the warm flesh of Lionel's thighs pressing into the backs of his.
"I didn't realize you were in pain." Lionel's fingers pushed the fabric of his shirt up over his back, an open palm rubbing slow lines up and down his back. "Apparently your tolerance must be measured in smaller increments at this level of concentration. It's unfortunately necessary, but... let me know if you're too uncomfortable, Clark."
Clark closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the desk between his arms. Lionel didn't understand, and he didn't want him to. Right now, Kryptonite was the only thing that could save him from this.
He shivered as breath heated moist along his spine, then bucked forward, slamming his cock into the edge of the wood as Lionel's tongue slid down the cleft of his ass, wet and hot, lips vibrating with moans that Clark could feel in the small of his back, in his weak thighs if he let himself.
The tongue disappeared and Lionel's skin connected with his, covering his lower back. Clark hissed at the first contact of Lionel's cock on his ass.
"Shhh. I'll go slow. You're a virgin, aren't you?"
Clark raised his head, lips parted and eyes still closed, head holding motionless for a second before nodding slowly.
He wasn't. Not for a long time, and Lionel had to know that, had to know that Lex always came deep inside him, because as he dropped his head back down, Lionel slicked himself and pushed slowly against him, unprotected, nudging him open in centimeters, the walls inside stretching and pulling with a thickness his body rebelled against.
Lionel wasn't Lex, and every inch of Clark felt it.
Lionel's arm circled his waist, pulling them together, holding Clark still as he penetrated him. Clark squeezed his eyes closed and tried not to move, willed his body to disconnect and let him leave, release him from this.
But Lionel held still, deep inside him, and deft fingers rubbed hard over his nipples, finding them easily and playing with them, teasing them into pleasure. Clark curled his lips in over his teeth and bit hard, fighting a moan with everything inside him. He shook his head, despising the intimacy of the strong arms wrapped tightly around him, of the time that was passing more and more slowly.
Lionel's palm opened flat over his shoulder and pulled him up straight. Their skin radiated warmth as it pressed together, chest to back, and the hand on his chest joined his on the desk for support as Lionel began rocking slowly in and out of his ass, breathing and breathing into his ear until Clark was mad with the rhythm of it, lost in the cadence of motion and breath and low, whispered moans.
Lips and tongue scalding on his neck, Clark swallowed hard, groaning as Lionel thrust more firmly inside him, hitting deep inside until all he could see was yellow light behind his closed lids.
"Shh, Clark. I'll be gentle..." Soft, husky in his ear, and Clark tilted his head back, resting it on Lionel's shoulder as they moved together. "... brave boy, it hurts, doesn't it?"
Clark choked on his answer, could barely bring himself to believe that the person fucking him wasn't someone he knew, or someone he needed. This wasn't comfort, wasn't soothing or liberating or pure, raw need fulfilled.
It couldn't be.
"I know it hurts. Shhh, it's alright." Lionel's chest pressed hard against his back and the arm propping them up lowered, their bodies tilting forward. The arm slipped from around his waist and fingers dug into his hip as Lionel's cock slid faster, harder, pushing sharply into his depths on every stroke. "I've got you, Clark. Be... strong for me. So brave."
Clark reached across the desk, curling his fingers over the far edge of the wood, holding on and holding back, biting his lip, willing his cock to stop aching, stop reacting to the one buried in his ass.
"It's alright..." Lionel breathed hard behind him and Clark shook his head; it wasn't alright... it wasn't- "It's okay to think of him."
His eyes shot open and his teeth sliced into his bottom lip, blood copper on his tongue and breath coming hard and fast as Lionel's hips jerked against his ass, as the hand on his waist slipped down close around his cock and pump and squeeze and slide the tight sheath of his foreskin, rolling it up and down his length, sending him into a confusion of heat where thought and restraint flew in shards from his brain. He bucked into the hand as Lionel's thrust sharpened, shallower and faster, as their skin slid, rushing and rubbing together until he fell, hard, over the edge, pulsing in short, fast spurts between the desk and his belly.
Mind racing, raging against the pleasure he couldn't have taken, couldn't have allowed and Lionel behind him, somehow even more crude now, moaning and writhing in haphazard thrusts against his ass, thick cock unfamiliar and slick, sliding on muscles that Clark couldn't keep from clenching as Lionel called out and hot liquid jetted in pulsing streams inside him.
The sweaty chest that closed over his back slid, sending chills down his spine. Clark pressed himself as hard as he could against the desk, hoping for a quick end to this. Lionel slid out of him with a soft, wet noise and Clark felt the remnants of his orgasm slowly rolling down the inside of one of his thighs before it was whisked up by wool. He slid his hand down, catching the line of oozing slickness and swiping it quickly away with his fingers.
An embroidered square of linen floated onto the desk in front of him and he balled it up, reaching between his legs to wipe up all evidence. Satisfied enough to get him clear of the office, Clark straightened and fastened his pants, the ruined handkerchief tucking first into his pocket, then tossed into the trashcan by Lionel's desk as a quick afterthought.
Eyes flashing and head down, Clark slowly made his way to the door. He couldn't look - by the rolling of his stomach, he'd throw up if he did.
As he reached the door, a speakerphone clicked on and Lionel's secretary buzzed back through it. "Yes, Mr. Luthor?"
"Schedule a weekly appointment for Mr. Kent at this time." Clark cringed at the sound of his future, but didn't turn around, didn't give Lionel the satisfaction of reacting.
"...And get my son on the phone."
Clark's hand froze on the doorknob, his weakened muscles the only thing keeping him from crushing it.
The metallic sound of a button being pushed preceded a sharp slicing pain in Clark's chest.
The sound of Lex, still calm and sane and blessedly ignorant on the other end of the line made Clark's heart ache.
"Son, I've just met with Clark Kent. Very impressive young man."
"Well, *I've* always thought so." Clark squeezed his eyes closed at the laughter in Lex's voice. "What can I do for you, dad?"
"In light of Mr. Kent's visit, we have some business to discuss..."
Clark opened his eyes, forced himself to look at the man whose son he knew he'd sacrifice anything for, even freedom. Even this.
His eyes darted to the cabinet, the faint glow still enough to keep his knees slightly bent and his mind swimming sluggishly.
Stepping through the door, he pulled it closed behind himself and headed outside into the bright Metropolis afternoon, the dazzling sun pulling his chaotic thoughts into the simplicity of air and light and breath untainted, finally.
Renewed strength and relief flooded his limbs even as his mind reeled against the fading shock of pain between his thighs. His chest tightened as the burning in his body subsided, replaced by a white-hot bolt of awareness that squeezed his lungs and curdled his blood.
He fell back against the exterior of the building, fingers digging into the mortar between grey blocks of stone, then pushed off, speeding towards the one person who could always forgive him, even when he couldn't forgive himself.
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