Lex looked up from his computer when he heard the terrace door open and close. It was just after midnight and Clark had been on patrol for about three hours. The television was softly babbling in the corner of his office; the local news channel was still blithering about the new baby tigers at the Metropolis Zoo, the exhibit courtesy of LuthorCorp, thankyouverymuch.
The last few hours worth of sports and baby tiger coverage was comforting, the only hard news interruptions had been about an attempted burglary and a foiled kidnapping. Their cameras hadn't even caught a glimpse of him tonight, only the thankful gushing of the non-kidnapped debutante and her parents had passed for live coverage.
Lex waited for a few minutes, but when there was no sign of his blue and red clad lover, he saved his documents and went out into the hall.
No Clark.
Hmm.
Lex continued down the hall and into their suite, wondering what had gone wrong. He opened the door and stuck his head in, and catching a flash of red reflected in the windows, slipped into the room. "Clark?"
Clark was standing in front of the full-length mirror just off the dressing room. He looked at Lex in the mirror; the dull blush on his cheeks became more visible as Lex came closer. "Hey, Lex."
"Clark, is something wrong?"
"No, nothing's wrong."
Well, that was just wasn't true. Clark hadn't looked this mopey, in Lex's recollection, since he was sixteen. His body language was all wrong, slow (read non-violent) nights of do-gooding usually made for a happy Clark. Instead, the broad shoulders were hunched in, the angle of his head was downright hang dog, his gait as he crossed to the French doors reminded Lex of those early, Lana-stalking days of their relationship. Something had gone wrong. Lex began to tense, wondering just whom the hell he was going to have to order Meglo'd.
"Clark." Clark was lost in his own thoughts and didn't respond. Lex crossed the room and stood in front of him, reaching out, but stopping just before his hand wrapped around a blue spandex covered arm. "Clark, tell me what's wrong."
"Lex..." Clark began, but stopped and shrugged, falling silent.
Okay. Well, that was one word, Lex hoped more would follow quickly, before he Meglo'd the whole damned city just because.
"Lex, do you think I'm... girlie?"
Lex looked up and down, taking in all six feet, three inches of his lover. The dark hair, the muscles -- all right, the lips were close. But the package, both *the* package and the sum total of the man, were sure as hell not girlie. "Clark, what the hell are you talking about?"
Clark sighed again and went to sit down on the sofa that sat opposite the fireplace, carefully sweeping the cape over the back. "Mrs. Huffnagel. Her cat was up in the tree again."
Lex sat next to Clark, turning so he could look at his face. He should have known; Harriet Huffnagel was a regular on Clark's rounds, always complaining that he broke branches in her trees when he rescued her cat. Apparently, she was working overtime at being a pain tonight. "And?"
"And she and her neighbor were talking when I got there. She said that it was nice of me to come and rescue Socrates, but that I'd be so much more effective if I wasn't dressed in tights..." If possible, Clark went a little more mopey. "... like a girl."
Lex growled softly. He hated the outfit, but really, it didn't make Clark look like a girl. An extra from the missing superhero dance number in 'Priscilla', sure, but not a girl. Lex had decided, early on, that he'd think of it as a body condom. He'd peel it off, and there would be his Clark, all ready and waiting underneath. "No, it doesn't make you look like a girl."
"You hate it."
"Not because it makes you look like a girl! And you hate it too."
"Well, yeah. But my mom made it for me from the traditional designs of Krypton."
Lex thought for a minute. This might just be the perfect time...
"Clark, I don't think your mom would want you to wear it if you weren't feeling comfortable in it anymore."
Clark looked up, green eyes searching Lex's. "What else would I wear?"
"Hmm," Lex began to run his fingers over the collar, finding the little hidden zipper. He threw a leg over Clark's thighs, angling his groin close, his erection growing as Clark pushed up to grind against him, his hands sliding around to cup Lex's ass. "How about you give me a week to think something up, okay?"
Clark leaned back and looked at him, a smile finally curving his full lips, replacing the mope. There was really nothing Lex could do but lean forward and kiss the waiting lips, his tongue licking over the soft skin until Clark opened and Lex thrust inside. When they broke for breath, Clark only nodded, his hands sliding up to pull off Lex's sweater.
Lex had the zipper down by that time and was working on the trunks, his hands sliding under the tight spandex, stroking the soft skin and hard muscle he found there. Clark's hands were everywhere, his scalp, his back, running up and down, following his spine. His lips returned to Lex's, mocking him, fucking his mouth as his fingers stroked, breaking the kiss to let his tongue trace wet, warm paths along the smooth skin of Lex's neck. A soft whimper from deep in his throat when Lex slid down to take care of the rest of the uniform.
Lex was wearing only his leather slippers and unzipped slacks by the time he finally got the rubber boots off Clark's feet. A part of his brain made a note that red galoshes were not the way to go for the new look. Clark was sprawled on the sofa in a sexy slouch, pulling at his cock, the rest of the costume around his knees. Lex threw the second boot over his shoulder, not caring where it landed and pulled the spandex down and off. Clark's hand never missed a beat.
He used his real hand to slide the foreskin down, licking the head gently, tonguing the slit. He could see one large hand clenched around the leather sofa cushion out of the corner of his eye. Momentarily surprised when Clark thrust forward, it took Lex a second to remember to swallow, but all was good when Clark responded with a very non-heroic whining sound.
Lex stilled when a long finger glanced over his temple, tracing down over the shell of his ear. The touch was light, erotic in its tease. Clark continued to touch him as Lex pulled back, letting his tongue and lips do all the work of driving Clark insane.
"Lex. Please..." Clark begged, his hand slipping around to hold Lex's head.
Smirking around the hard flesh in his mouth, Lex began playing with the sensitive skin surrounding Clark's balls with his real hand. He cupped the weight, then extended two fingers to play with the skin under the sac. He got the reaction he had been expecting, a curse, his name, and a plea for mercy. With a jerk, Clark lifted his hips, his cock deep in Lex's mouth, then fell back onto the sofa, groaning, and Lex felt a tremor in the muscles under his arms as he followed Clark back.
Clark was still deep and Lex was swallowing convulsively, his nose buried in the sparse dark hair, one hand still taunting beneath. Lex hummed and the shiver that sped through Clark didn't end in the quivering cock in his mouth, but shot right down Lex's spine to his own cock.
Lex slid his prosthetic hand into his own slacks, wrapping around the base of his cock, not wanting to come yet. Needing Clark to come, he extended his fingers again, pushing the tip of one inside Clark, rewarded with a moan. Semen slid down Lex's throat, his heart beating in time with the pulse on his tongue.
When Lex looked up at Clark again, doing an interesting trick of catching his breath and licking his lips at the same time, Clark had an utterly fatuous expression on his face as he stared down at Lex. His fine muscle control seemed to be lacking as he slumped back against the sofa.
Deciding that the best way to catch his breath was to steal Clark's, Lex climbed onto his lover's lap, leaning in for a kiss. Clark wasn't helping much to calm things down, his hands everywhere, gliding over sweat-slicked skin.
Lex's cock was pressing against Clark's belly, diamond hard, shaking as he was pulled closer. The friction of being rubbed between them tore a groan from Lex, and he pushed Clark back, trying to regain some composure. Cheating, Clark pulled him back, smiling as Lex nipped his jaw.
"Lex," Clark muttered against the smooth skin of Lex's temple.
"What do you want, Clark?"
Clark kissed the skin he could reach without moving. "Some of that red-hot Nietzchian lovin'?" Clark managed to ask before he began to laugh into Lex's shoulder.
Lex gave into the private joke with a pained smile. He closed his eyes, trying to gain enough control to last long enough to find his satisfaction. Sliding back, Lex let Clark choose the position, grinning widely when an endtable was kicked halfway across the room and Clark leaned over the low, soft arm of the sofa.
As Lex watched, alternately stroking and gripping his cock, Clark turned and gave him an inviting look before he braced himself, ass outward, waiting for Lex.
Gathering as much strength as he could not to come at the sight before him, Lex moved to stand behind Clark, stopping only to grab one of the tubes they had hidden in every room they frequented in the penthouse. Two busy schedules meant sometimes they'd find one another asleep on a sofa or at a desk, and when the urge came, they had learned to always be prepared. They were like Boy Scouts, or like the guys thrown out of the Boy Scouts.
Lex had his cock slick by the time he slid his hands over the taut flesh of Clark's ass, stepping closer to let Clark feel his erection, sliding the head along the cleft. Clark shook, more mortal in this than in anything else. Squirting a bit more lube into his hand, Lex slipped a hand between leather and skin, coating the cock that started to come alive in his glide covered hand. The reaction was all Lex could have wanted, a soft whimper and Clark pushed back against him, trapping his erection between them, wriggling deliciously as he alternately thrust forward into Lex's hand then back against his cock.
While Clark's growing erection continued to slide through his hand, Lex slid a lubed, leather-covered digit between Clark's cheeks, a quick tease and a push inside. Clark went rigid as the finger pushed deeper, Lex knew the feel of leather would drive his lover insane as he added a second finger. Clark thrust forward into his hand again, but Lex followed him, fingers scissoring against the prostate.
When Clark was hard again, Lex pulled his fingers out, removing his hand and pushed the slim hips down. Opened the muscled cheeks and in the same movement lined himself up and pushed into the hilt, sighing as his balls rested against Clark's ass.
Clark was scrabbling; first against the burning push, not having time to balance himself, but then, getting a hold on the sofa, he finally found his bearings and used his arms to push back, seating Lex deeper. He rested his head on his folded arms and began moving in time with Lex's thrusts, allowing Lex to push him into the sofa, his cock sliding against the lubed sofa leather as Lex moved.
Lex could hear him muttering nonsense words of deeper and more, pleading for release into the sofa cushion, but wanting to come with Lex, not on his own again. Clark tight and hot around his cock, their bodies moving together, Lex lost himself in the rhythm, striving to reach the pinnacle before his heart could explode first.
His hands were tight on Clark's hips, guiding the answering swing to his thrusts, slamming Clark against the sofa, howling when he was deep inside and muscles contracted around him. He could feel the tension in Clark, from balls up his spine and knew they were close. A second later, he was deep and it was good, and he didn't have any other choice but to come, knowing from the way Clark's body bore down that he was doing the same. Time wasn't a relevant concept or even necessary as they both saw stars, so inside each other that maybe they were seeing the same ones.
When Clark went limp, Lex stayed with him, and they fell onto the sofa, draping himself over the strong back, sighing as the muscles beneath him rippled as the aftershocks flowed through them.
Lex rested his cheek against the warm, sweaty flesh, still inside him as he traced patterns on the shoulder with a lax hand. When he could move again, he shifted slightly, pulling out, then collapsed again, dotting kisses around Clark's jaw until with a slight turn of his head, Clark's lips found his. While they kissed, Clark used a bit of that strength to lift him, adjusting their position enough that Lex was on the bottom, lying against soft, sticky leather.
When they broke apart, Clark rested his head against Lex's chest, one finger idly poking and stroking a nipple. "Shower?"
Lex laughed, and Clark smiled against the vibrations under his cheek.
"Definitely."
Clark stood and held out his hand, pulling Lex up. Lex groaned slightly, but let Clark push him in the direction of the bath, letting Clark take the initiative, relaxing as Clark washed him. He was energized enough to return the favor when Clark finished, unable to resist when Clark got down on his knees and handed him the bottle of shampoo. He lathered the dark hair, removing the bits of twigs and other things that collected as Superman did his do-gooding, washed the tanned skin, warm, humid air thick around them.
After drying each other off with fluffy towels, already warm from the heated towel rack, they slid, naked, between the sheets of their large bed. Lex spooned Clark, his hand over Clark's heart, listening as his breathing evened out, feeling the rhythmic beat of his lover's heart beneath his fingers.
A few hours later Lex woke from his doze. His internal alarm clock protested, letting him know it wasn't the usual wake-up time, but obeyed his will anyway. He was still tired, but he had to take care of something. Unwinding himself from Clark, Lex got out of bed, stopping at the foot, listening carefully, satisfied when Clark mumbled and turned over, but didn't wake.
Lex closed the bedroom door softly behind him and padded, still nude, down the hall to his office. Walking to the desk guided only by the lights of the city on the other side of the French doors, Lex sat in his ergonomic chair and flicked on a desk lamp. Picking up the phone, he dialed a familiar number.
"George?"
"Yes, sir?"
"I want you to do a little job tonight."
"Yes, sir?"
"Harriet Huffnagel. 1845 Merry Lane."
"What setting, sir?"
Lex thought. He couldn't kill her, Clark would get pissed, and besides, the woman had started the ball rolling to get rid of that awful spandex. But still, she had hurt Clark. And nobody was allowed to hurt Clark if Lex could help it. "Mice."
"Very good, sir. How many?"
"I would think fifty would do, wouldn't you, George?"
"I would think fifty would be an excellent number, sir. We'll prime the Meglo," Lex heard George say something to someone, but he had covered the mouthpiece of the phone, so it was muffled. "Frank says we'll have her rodentized in a half an hour."
"Very good, George. And make sure they're not rabid this time."
"Yes, sir. We'll make sure to avoid another rabies incident."
"Wonderful." Lex hung up the phone. Huffnagel could find out if her cat was worth getting out of a tree once a week.
Feeling much more pleased with the world, Lex turned off the light and headed back down the hall where bed and Clark were waiting. Tomorrow he would start his search for the perfect look for his Superman.
A week later, Lex was waiting in their suite when Clark returned from his rounds. "How did it go tonight?"
"It was quiet again." Clark looked thoughtful. "But I think Socrates has gained about twenty pounds in the last week."
Lex stopped himself from smirking -- barely. "So, are you ready to see what the designers thought up?"
Clark gaped at him. "You hired designers? Don't you think that's a bit... stupid, considering the whole 'secret identity' thing? I mean I know the group all knows, but Lex... the general public?"
"Relax, Clark," Lex said as he got up, crossing the room and resting a hand on Clark's blue and red caped shoulders. "These guys are the tops in their field. They make the suits for Batman and the X-Men."
Clark sighed and headed toward the shower, still shaking his head. Lex went down the hall to his office, leaving the door open so Clark would know to follow. Pulling a wheeled clothing rack, upon which three garment bags were hanging from the corner, he waited for Clark.
Lex turned as Clark entered the room, wrapped in a robe, toweling his hair dry. "Feel better?"
Clark nodded underneath the towel. "Yeah, good to get all that grime off. Anyone who tells you this town doesn't have a smog problem is lying."
Wanting to distract Clark before the lecture could begin on what corporations, including his own, were doing to the environment, Lex pulled one of the heavy garment bags off the rack. "Environmental woes can wait until tomorrow. And LuthorCorp has nothing to do with it."
"Off the clock, Lex."
"Yeah, right." Lex placed the garment bag over the back of the sofa and pulled the zipper open. The dark blue was matted and Clark came over and held it by the hanger as Lex pulled the bag off.
"Batman, right?"
"Yes, what gave it away?"
"The rubber, the nipples," Clark tapped the crotch, which made a hollow thudding sound, "the padding."
"That's Bruce for you, always trying to make an impression."
Clark dropped the robe and Lex unzipped the zipper of the costume. Sighing, Clark sat down to pull it on. It was obviously cut to be tight, the rubber sealing tightly against his skin. He frowned as he pulled it up over his shoulders, zipping it up.
"What?"
"I feel like I'm wearing Tupperware. Kinky Tupperware, but still, feels like we could store cakes in here to take to a picnic."
Lex hid his smile, ignoring Clark's complaints. "It looks... different."
And it did. The dark blue set off Clark's eyes as well as the bright yellow S in the middle of his chest. The rubber was skin-tight and Lex knew every time Clark inhaled by the shimmy of the rubber nipples. Turning around, Clark stared in the mirror at how the back of the uniform creased in at the cleft of his ass. Lex looked up to see Clark frowning again.
"What?"
"Do I really want to look like I'm auditioning for 'Superman does San Francisco'? I think Mrs. Huffnagel would call the cops."
"It comes with boots and gloves."
"Well, if there's a hat, I can wear it to church on Sunday," Clark replied, already pulling down the zipper. "Besides, it chafes," he added, flexing uncomfortably.
"Hmm. Maybe that's why Bruce orders baby powder by the case."
"Why do you know that?"
"You'd be surprised by what you find out in business."
Clark finished pulling off the rubber suit, wincing at the sucking sound made by breaking the vacuum created by rubber against skin as he pulled it down over his ass. "I think this type of thing is better suited for the not-that-ambiguously gay duo of Gotham. Unless we're going deep sea diving or something."
Lex perked up at that, looking thoughtful. "Maybe Aquaman would like it? I bet he tears a lot of uniforms, what with that spear for an arm."
"What, we're going to have a uniform garage sale? And don't mock Arthur, it's not funny. Anyway, " Clark motioned to Lex's black glove clad prosthetic hand, "it's not like you don't have hand issues."
"I don't run the risk of stabbing myself when I jerk off."
"When do you have time to jerk off?" Clark asked, his eyes narrowing.
"There's always ebay," Lex said, returning to a safer subject, and Clark stared at him for a second, until his lips lifted in a grin. "I'm just kidding, Clark."
"Right. And now many fake Superman uniforms have you auctioned off over the years?"
"There's a market, Clark."
Clark sighed and threw the rubber over on the sofa, where it sat, the legs stiff, the torso inside out. "That's just creepy."
"Reminds me of Bruce," Lex said, pulling the next garment bag off the rack.
The next uniform was black, with blue and yellow lines crosshatching the padded leather. The lapels were inlaid with triangles filled by an S, as was the belt buckle.
"Why does it have a belt?" Clark asked holding it up, the black leather uniform, which was one solid piece.
"Well, it's based on Xavier's people's uniforms, so I'm guessing it's so he could put his initial on them again."
"The rich really are different, aren't they?"
"Definitely."
Clark sighed and started to pull on the leather as Lex watched. Long, long legs in leather. Something pinged inside Lex's brain, reminding him how much he enjoyed Clark in leather. Even if it was this strangely cut. He clenched his fists as Clark pulled up the pants, dressing to the right, as always, but somehow more... sexy than when he was putting on his wool gabardines for work.
Leather. Clark. Good.
Surprising how easily a MENSA level IQ can turn into Rainman with the proper trigger.
Zipping up, the leather closing over the wide expanse of his chest, Clark muttered as he tried to move, the leather creaking as he did. "Lex?"
"Hmmm?"
"Why don't they just get uniforms made out of corduroy? Be less noisy than this. Jesus, now I understand why Wolverine's so damn grouchy all the time."
"Maybe we shouldn't go with this one, you'll probably go back to wearing flannel, going after girls just the right side of jailbait..."
Clark gave Lex a half-threatening look as he creaked his way over, a stiff-legged walk in the unbroken-in leather. "As if. And looking at sixteen-year-old boys was your thing, not mine. Don't be facetious. "
"Big words, almost would think you wrote for a living..."
Clark grinned as he pulled Lex to him, leather-clad arms sliding around Lex, pulling him against the leather as he lowered his head. He devoured the smart mouth, faint taste of brandy on the tongue that slid along his own.
He was nipping his way down Lex's throat when he chuckled against the smooth skin.
"What?"
"Just surprised you didn't have them put LL on the emblems," Clark said as he sucked on the divot where Lex's throat met his chest.
"I thought about it," Lex's voice hitched as large hands started unbuttoning his shirt, his own hands sliding into Clark's hair.
"Like I didn't know that? I'm just surprised you didn't * do * it."
"And have to fight off every leather freak from here to Gotham? Forget it." Lex stopped thinking with a moan as Clark pushed his shirt off his shoulders and started sucking on one nipple as clever fingers started fumbling with his belt. Lex ran his hand up and down, from the dark hair down to the leather covered curve of Clark's ass.
Clark had Lex's belt open and was licking his way back up the smooth chest and throat for another kiss. He never broke the kiss as he slid his hands down Lex's back, and holding him close so Lex could feel that leather all over his chest, Clark half carried him to the desk.
"Clark, what are you doing? We have one more to try..."
Clark was ignoring him, but Lex was finding it hard to be annoyed with him when he was stripping off Lex's shoes and socks, lifting him off the desk with one hand while pulling slacks and boxers off with the other.
No, he definitely wasn't hard with annoyance. Lust, definitely, but never annoyance.
"Clark?" Lex inquired evenly when he was sitting naked on his desk, pushing a few sharp objects off the desk and on to the floor, just in case. He frowned as the letter opener landed upright and stabbed the antique Persian rug under the desk, but shrugged it off as Clark pulled him upright again.
He was still wearing the black leather, but he had unzipped it to his navel, his eyes shining with amusement and something a bit deeper. "Clark?" Lex asked again, wrapping his legs around Clark's hips, holding him still.
Clark still didn't answer, choosing instead to hold Lex 's head in his hands and moving in for another kiss as Lex played, letting his hands glide from Clark's shoulders to his hips, squeezing between the leather and the skin to stroke the soft skin of his abdomen.
"Clark?"
"Close your eyes."
"Clark, what are you up to?"
"Please?"
Lex sighed, but looking at Clark, rippling muscles, leather opened to the crotch of the silly uniform and a promise dancing in his eyes, he accepted the challenge and closed his eyes.
He could hear Clark moving around the room and resisted the impulse to look, shivering in surprise when something heavy landed around him; first against his shoulders, sliding until he was covered from neck to waist. He fought to keep his promise as Clark moved behind him and started fastening straps against his back.
"Clark?"
Clark grunted, then Lex could hear him moving back around to stand in front of him. "Open your eyes."
Lex opened his eyes, looking first at Clark, whose green eyes were staring at him proudly. He looked down, already having a very good idea of what he'd find there. His suspicions were confirmed when he saw the serpent coiled into an 'S' looking up at him from the Breastplate of Alexander the Great.
"Clark, did you happen to rob the museum tonight?"
"No, but some other guy did, he blew the case, and was down the street. I told the cops I would get in contact about returning the items, but that I'd keep them safe until then."
Lex nodded, reminding himself that museum security would be a major issue at the next Museum Board meeting.
Clark was watching him carefully, his eyes almost glowing, or it could have been the reflection of all the precious gems and gold that Lex was wearing. Pulling him off the desk, Clark led him to stand under the huge mirror that was hung over the fireplace and Lex could see himself, knowing that this was what he was meant to be.
The reflection of Clark let him look at himself for awhile, then strong arms curled around him, and Lex could feel leather and skin against his bare back. Kisses that started at his temples and moved down until Clark could use his tongue to trace the lines of Lex's ears, his hands slipping around flesh that had been hard since the leather, but had gotten harder at the touch of history. A huge hand wrapped around him, just below the line of gold. He could feel Clark's erection poking up from the leather; a bit of wet sliding over his ass as Clark rubbed his cock against him.
Clark walked them backwards, mincing steps, never stopping his slow stroke on Lex's cock until they fell onto the sofa. Lex knew what he wanted now, to ride Clark, his favorite position, allowing him to top his top. Lex straddled Clark's lap, and pressing close, reached over Clark's shoulder and grabbed a bottle of lube from the decorative box that sat on the table behind the sofa. He looked back to see Clark rip the leather uniform in half, freeing himself completely, but leaving leather on his legs.
Meeting his eyes, Clark gave him a grin he couldn't help but return. Settling back, Lex made sure to brush his erection against Clark's, moaning as cock slid against cock, both hard and already leaking. Lex squirted the lube into his hands, making them slick, then began to stroke, goading them both as he leaned in to kiss Clark again.
Balancing his weight on his knees, Lex rested his head in the curve of Clark's neck, knowing Clark's skin couldn't be torn by the rough metal and jewels he wore. Smiling to himself when Clark snuck a hand between them, gathering pre-come and lube, Lex shifted, allowing Clark to reach under to slip one finger into him, pushing in hard enough that he moaned into the tan curve of warm Clark-skin.
The second finger started him bearing down, and Clark laughed softly. "No, not yet."
"Clark, I'm so not kidding here..."
Twist of two fingers, scissoring inside and pressing deeper, pressing *there*, while Clark's other hand was at Lex's cock, wrapping just above the base and holding tight. Lex tried to breathe, tried to *think*; but Clark's name was the only thing in his mind, the only thing he could whisper again and again against warm skin.
Then the fingers were gone, and Lex cried out softly, disappointment giving way to anticipation as large, strong hands wrapped around his hips, and one second of positioning and a slow, hard push, and Clark was in.
Lex began to move, pushing back, raising up on his knees until they found the sway and Clark was hitting his prostate on each thrust. Eyes wide, almost bruised, Clark bucked upward, managing to go deeper, sliding, looking up into Lex's eyes. It was silly, but Lex did feel like a conqueror as he rode his lover, his own hand stroking his cock in time with the pressure inside him.
The jewels on the breastplate were reflecting the fire light on the wall in front of them, the weight of the antiquity solid against Lex's skin, the touch of the leather Clark still on his ass on every downstroke of his body and thrust up of Clark's. The jewels were reflecting the deep green of Clark's passion-hazed eyes, and Lex knew that the pretty baubles were worthless compared to the man beneath him.
Lex's knees and thighs were killing him, but he was willing to die for this. Clark thrust up again and Lex was *definitely * willing to die for that. Clark lifted him again, pulling him back down. Lex's hips were at a cocked angle, and he rubbed his cock against Clark's skin, their sweat and the residual lube increasing friction, making the glide easy.
Large hands were holding Lex's hips, ruthlessly dictating the rhythm, too good for Lex to care about the shift of power, needing only to find release, the want becoming unbearable. Lex's hand was busy, not pausing when one of Clark's hands joined in, taunting, tormenting him with touch. Clark brushed one finger against the slit, all but purring at Lex's responding howl. Still shaking, Lex looked down to see green eyes watching him closely, felt Clark thrust up one last time, felt the warm, fluid sensation of Clark's orgasm inside him. He came with a shout -- Clark's name.
He remembered, barely, in his haze, to hold himself away from his own body, away from the precious antiquity that he wore, letting his semen land on the chest below him. He knew Clark had found the sight just as stimulating when he was thrust up again, forcing a moan from them both in time with the thrust of his hips.
Lex slumped, but remained upright when he felt the last of his orgasm push through him. It took all his strength not to collapse, and he wanted nothing more, despite the heavy jewels and gold he was wearing, to be wrapped in those strong arms.
Clark blinked, his body relaxing as he looked up at Lex. It took him another few seconds for him to realize Lex's predicament.
With a deep breath, Lex leaned over and grabbed a handful of tissues from the box on the table behind the sofa. He carefully began to wipe Clark's chest off, frowning at the amused green eyes. Clark stretched, muscles doing a fascinating progressive ripple, hips raising slightly, distracting Lex easily from the burn as his cock slid out.
"Stop that," Lex told him as he lost his balance, almost falling onto Clark.
"I don't think it'd be the first time it's gotten a bit messy like this, you know. I've read a few books on old Al."
Lex had the grace to smile, but still held himself away from Clark. "Probably. But do you really want to explain it to the curator?"
Clark considered it for a second. "Okay, no," he agreed as Lex used another handful of tissues, then threw them back on the table when he was done. He looked concerned when Lex groaned. Holding him easily, Clark propelled them both into the air, letting Lex's stiff legs straighten out as they hovered. He had enough control to lower them so he was standing, keeping Lex easily in his arms, laying him out on the sofa. As he knelt on the floor, Clark massaged Lex's legs, starting at the hip and working down, knowing that if he didn't, Lex's muscles would cramp painfully later.
When Clark looked up into Lex's face, he was staring at him, his eyes half open, closing as Clark massaged a knot away. "Feel better?"
Lex nodded and leaned back, throwing an arm over his eyes. "Much, thanks."
Clark finished with Lex's other leg and laid his head on Lex's belly, resting carefully atop the breastplate, his hand idly tracing patterns through the jewels. Lex reached out a hand and curled his fingers in Clark's dark hair. Clark shifted on the floor and pulled Lex's arm back, away from his eyes. Looked into them as he leaned in for a soft, slow, thorough kiss, warm comfort with just a bit of tongue.
"The gay Macedonian conqueror look works for you, you know," Clark told him with a satisfied smirk.
"Some things we're borne to," Lex replied, his eyes dancing.
Clark shifted, the remains of the leather uniform creaking. Lex raised an eyebrow as he started to laugh.
"What?"
"We look like something out of a Liberace wet dream."
Lex laughed with him, sitting up and allowing Clark to unfasten the straps in back, the heavy gold and jewels falling away to reveal his smooth chest. He felt naked, but only for a second, until Clark picked him up and sped to their bedroom.
They were curled around each other, almost asleep, the ruined leather uniform on the floor over by the armoire, when Clark raised his head sleepily.
"What was the last uniform?"
"Something in between the others. A polymer I've been working on in the lab. Has the flexibility of the nylon family, but the hold of the rubbers."
"What does it look like? It's less kinky than the others, right?"
Lex smirked and kissed his forehead, the only part of Clark he could reach without moving much.
"It's very PG. Aside from the nipple clamps and the butt plug."
Clark snorted. "But does it have matching gloves?"
"Absolutely. Perfect for church."
"Sold," Clark said. He paused for a moment. "Lex?"
"What now?"
"When is it *exactly * that you have time to jerk off?"
Lex groaned as Clark rolled him over, staring down at him with eyes that were suddenly alert and shining with a reporter's determination.
Apparently, even conquerors weren't above an inquisition.
Lex was at the tail end of a late night international conference call when he heard Clark land on the balcony. In fact, everyone on the call heard Clark. If it hadn't been for the five billion-dollar deal on the table, Lex would have gone to see what was the matter.
Clark didn't usually use words like 'hell demon' and 'son of a bitch' upon returning home from patrol.
He picked up the handset, breaking the speakerphone connection and kept the meeting moving, knowing the people on the other end would ignore it just to keep this going, it was a lot of money in a lot of different bank accounts, some of them even on shore.
Ten minutes later, contracts signed and faxed and signed and faxed again, Lex quickly headed upstairs.
Silently opening the door to their suite, Lex heard the shower running, and started to strip. His business garb hanging on the clothes butler, ready for the staff to deal with, Lex pulled on a soft and worn gray t-shirt and shorts. He was looking for his leather slippers when he heard the door open. Looking over the bed, he saw Clark, a towel slung low on his hips, drying his hair with another towel.
He stopped a few paces in, looking at Lex, then darting a nervous look from side to side.
"Heard you when you came in, did something happen?"
"Nope, everything's okay."
Clark backed up until he was at the door to his walk-in closet, and without looking at Lex, he opened the door, then closed it behind him. Lex blinked again. Sure, everything was fine. Shaking off Clark's weirdness for the minute, Lex went into his own closet, finding only one of his slippers. Knowing that sometimes the staff put things in the wrong closet, he opened the door, staring at the sight inside.
Clark was pulling on a pair of sweats, and having some trouble. Lex followed the guilty look in the green eyes down to the floor.
There was a very large white ball of fluff with its claws in the sweats, pulling the hem in the opposite direction.
"Clark, where did the cat come from?"
"Ummm... yeah. Lex, this is Socrates." Clark yanked the sweats back, using a bit more of his strength than may have been advisable. The cat, its claws caught in the fabric, was hanging upright a foot off the floor as they stared at it.
"Socrates, as in Mrs. Huffnagel's cat?"
Clark nodded and finally ripped the bottom of the sweats off, giving Socrates his prize and pulling the remains on.
"Clark, why do we have Mrs. Huffnagel's cat in your closet?"
"Mrs. H went to Miami."
There was a sinking sensation in Lex's stomach. "And?"
"And she said that she needed someone she could trust to take care of him. She said that the new uniform was great, by the way, very manly, but still bright and cheery. She thought that since I was the one who always got him down from the tree..."
"That you'd be willing to take the cat?" Lex wandered back out to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. Clark followed, pulling on a red t-shirt, his sweats now one side shorts, the other side pants. Lex had another thought, a horrible one. "She's coming back, isn't she?"
"Of course," Clark was hasty to reassure him. "She'll be back as soon as her bunions are taken care of."
Lex stared at him. "She had to go all the way to Miami to get her bunions taken care of?"
"That's what she said, Lex."
"Clark," Lex paused as Socrates, who apparently had tired of ripping Clark's clothing to shreds, left the closet, Lex's other slipper in his teeth. "Clark, I don't know that we can take in every animal when its owner goes on vacation."
Clark gave him a beleaguered look. "It's not everyone. It's just Socrates. And it's only for three weeks."
"Three weeks?" Lex repeated incredulously. There was a rumbling sound down by his feet, and Lex looked down to see Socrates, green eyes staring up at him, his slipper between sharp teeth. The cat blinked slowly at him, then hunkered down to chew on the leather, tail waving. He looked back up to see Clark watching him, obviously trying not to laugh.
"Three weeks? You couldn't say no? Jesus Christ, Clark, it's one old woman, what are you, a pussy?"
Okay. That wasn't too bright. Lex figured that out as Clark straightened up, his expression going from amused to angry in about a second.
"No, Lex, that's the damn cat," Clark said before a blur exited their suite, the door slamming shut. Lex heard a crash out in the hallway and tried to decide what it was, before deciding he didn't care. He was resting his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands, when something large, white, and fluffy jumped into his lap.
He looked down and Socrates began to purr louder, demanding attention. Lex, following some instinct he didn't know he had and wanted even less, and began to pet the soft fur. "What am I going to do with you?" He asked the cat, not at all surprised to get a couple of claws in his kneecap in reply.
Lex had been working for an hour in his upstairs office since Clark had stormed out of their bedroom, when he heard the office door crack open. He didn't look up until blue sweats were level with his line of sight.
"I'm sorry," they said at the same time, both looking relieved. Clark gave Lex that smile he'd craved since the day he ran down a high school freshman off a bridge.
Clark snuck a look over at the other corner of the desk, where Socrates had taken up residence. The cat looked back with a definite lack of interest. Maybe he didn't recognize Clark unless he was wearing the uniform.
"I'm sorry about taking him in without asking you first, Lex. But I didn't think it'd be a big deal."
Lex sighed. "It isn't, really. It's just... That woman is so demanding of you, Clark. I hate to see her take advantage of you again."
Clark slipped behind the desk, pulling Lex up out of his chair and holding him tight. The kiss was everything a kiss should be, warm, wet, tactile, and sweet. Lex ran his hands down Clark's back, pulling him closer. When they broke, Clark rested his forehead against Lex's, their fingers entwined. "It's just for a few weeks. He's pretty self sufficient."
Lex nodded and began to pull Clark toward the door, ready to start on the make-up sex. "Okay. But this does not become a regular habit, right?"
"No." Clark was giving him a searching look.
"What?"
"Promise me you won't meglo Miami. Or anyone else, until Mrs. H is back and everything's back to normal."
Lex frowned, but Clark was already kissing his way down his jaw, talented hands doing something really quite exciting under the waistband of his shorts.
"All right. I'll grant a prohibition on megloing, but it's temporary," he agreed.
Clark didn't reply, just made a hum of satisfaction against his lips. They kissed and fondled each other as they slowly made their way down the hall. A white streak flew past their feet before the door closed behind them.
By the time they reached the bed, Socrates had taken position in the middle of it, and was watching them expectantly.
"Clark..."
"I got him," Clark said, getting in one last kiss before he picked the cat up, carrying it over to the sitting room. He gently tossed the cat into the room and closed the door. He was pushing Lex back onto the bed when the most god-awful howling sound penetrated a door that Lex had once considered almost soundproof.
Lex sat up with a growl of frustration. "Clark?"
Clark looked confused for a minute. "Oh! Mrs. H gave me..." He pulled away and went back into his closet, returning with a CD. "She said Socrates had to have this to sleep by. She said he probably likes it kind of loud." Clark slipped into the sitting room, returning a few seconds later. Socrates was still howling.
Lex opened his arms and Clark slid on top of him, his tongue somewhere in the vicinity of Lex's tonsils when a horrifying sound could be heard from the other room. They broke apart in shock, staring at the door.
Lex cringed as the music swelled, and the refrain could be heard again:
Once more, you open the door
And you're here in my heart,
And my heart will go on and on.
"Clark?"
"Oh, god," Clark was moaning in agony into Lex's shoulder.
"I'm going to kill her," Lex informed his lover as Celine Dion began to sing again. The soft, flaccid flesh of his once enthusiastic erection pressed forlornly against Clark's answering limpness.
"I'm so sorry, Lex."
Lex couldn't even work up the energy to be angry with Clark, so he just rubbed his hand gently over Clark's back.
"Never do it again, Clark."
"I won't," Clark muttered against his neck, as the song played again.
Two weeks later, life had settled down some. A call to Radio Shack had provided Lex the materials and he had built Socrates his own little Celine Dion listening room out of a cat carrier.
That Socrates liked to eat with people and listen to Celine was a bigger problem, but they found that if they ate outdoors and Socrates had his bowl in the carrier, they didn't have to hear the song too many times. And when it rained for three days in a row last week, well, they both looked better after losing a few pounds.
Lex had fired two employees who had made inappropriate jokes in his presence about his resembling the Bond villain Blofeld, with his white cat.
Socrates, with that instinct cats had for finding the person who liked them least, had taken to following Lex around like a shadow. When Lex sat at his desk, the animal began by curling around his ankles, then moving his way up to where by mid-afternoon, he was sitting on the desk, watching Lex work.
It was, Lex would admit only to himself, a little Blofeldian.
White hair was everywhere, and Lex could only thank the meteors for burning his asthma away. There were now lint rollers in every room of the house, right next to the lube, sadly enough. Once Lex had managed to dampen the sounds of Celine, they had even managed to have sex, much to their relief. Much to Lex's disgust, the cat hair that stuck to sweaty and lubed skin had itched like hell.
This particular day, Clark was home early, and Lex smiled at him as he put down the files he was inspecting, letting Clark pull him up for a kiss.
"Is that a lint roller in your pocket, or are you happy to see me?" Clark whispered as he licked along the shell of Lex's ear.
Lex dug in his pocket, pulling the lint roller out. "It's a lint roller." Clark started to pull back, but Lex slid his hands into the pockets of Clark's khakis, thanking god for casual Friday, and pulled him back. "And I'm happy to see you," he added, letting his burgeoning erection add the details.
A low rumble of feline approval came from the desk, reminding Lex of a topic he had wanted to broach with Clark.
"Clark?" He asked as Clark's cheek rubbed against his lips.
"Hmmm?"
"I have a question, about the cat."
Clark leaned back, raising an eyebrow.
"Did Huffnagel ever mention anything about Socrates being kind of..." He considered. "Light in the paw?"
Clark blinked at him, his eyes growing wider. "Lex?"
"I think the cat's gay, Clark."
"What do you mean, the cat's gay?" Clark gaped at him.
"You remember Kelsey Jamison, from downstairs?"
"Yes," Clark said impatiently.
"Her cat's in heat. Socrates walked right by, didn't even take a sniff."
Clark was still staring at him like he had grown another nose.
"So..."
"Mason Filcher's male cat, he chased and if Mason is to be believed, tried to hump it."
Clark made an odd noise, Lex assumed it was from trying to breathe, laugh, snort, and maybe even cry, all at the same time.
"Face it, Clark. He's the Christopher Lowell of cats."
Lex watched as Clark started to laugh, tears streaming down his face. It took a few minutes, but finally, he calmed. "Oh, god, Lex. We made Mrs. Huffnagel's cat gay..."
Lex shot him a look. "The cat came with a Celine Dion fetish. I think it was pretty much a done deal by the time we got him."
Clark wiped the tears from his eyes. "What are we going to do?"
"Nothing. It's not our fault. Gay cat pride and all that."
Clark leaned back against the sofa. "Think there's a website for that?"
Lex grinned. "Well, it'll teach her to get her bunions taken care of here at home." Clark started to laugh again, laughing harder as a white ball of fluff jumped off the desk to sit as his feet and stare up at him.
"Seriously, Lex. What are we going to do?"
Lex joined them at the sofa, looking down at Clark. "About the cat? Return him to her when she gets home and let him fend for himself. About the bunion issue? I've already endowed a new wing of Metropolis General. It'll be the 'Lionel Luthor Bunion Wing'."
Clark gave him an impish look, then pulled Lex down. "I love you, you know. Even if you are devious," he said as he trailed little kisses around Lex's mouth and cheeks. "... and hell on the heterosexuality of males of any species," he added with a grin.
Lex returned the look, starting to work on the buttons of Clark's plaid shirt in between kisses. He turned to look down at Socrates, who was watching them with feline fascination. "Upstairs?"
Clark nodded, and before the cat could figure it out, they were a blur and the door to the suite was firmly locked behind them.
Lex would never admit it, but he'd miss the cat. He'd not miss the hair or the smell of catfood at breakfast, but there had been something vaguely comforting about the cat's presence on his desk.
Of course, that was too Blofeld, so Lex had let Socrates be returned to Mrs. Huffnagel, along with his Celine Dion CD. Mrs. Huffnagel had given Clark pictures of her bunions as a souvenir, and Lex had to admit there was a post-operative improvement.
If he was one to admit looking at pictures of an old woman's feet -- which, of course, he wasn't.
The whole incident was still annoying him, however. A few nights later he left an exhausted Clark gently snoring in their bed, sliding as quietly as possible out of the room. He ached deliciously, he could still feel Clark in his ass, and his cock twitched at the memory of the tight heat it had been enjoying just an hour ago. He made his way down to his office, thinking. Mrs. Huffnagel had abused his boyfriend badly, but Lex knew he wouldn't get away with Megloing her twice.
Thinking for a minute about his sanity, how much he liked it, how nice it was to have intact, Lex made a decision. He picked up the phone and dialed the familiar number.
"George?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Celine Dion."
"The singer?"
"Yes."
"*Very * good, sir."
Lex grinned into the phone. George may be a geek, but it appeared he knew something about music.
"What setting, sir?"
"I was pondering temporarily replacing her vocal cords with those of a cat."
"Doubtful that would make a discernible difference, sir."
"Exactly. Any thoughts, George?"
George thought for a moment. "She's in San Madrigal for a performance. They have some right huge bugs down there in the rain forest, sir."
Lex thought. It wouldn't be the same as turning her into a toad or atomizing her backup band, but maybe it'd put the woman off singing for a bit. "That will work. The bigger the better, George."
"Right, sir. Size does matter in this, got you in one, sir."
"I'll leave you and Frank to determine the quantity."
George sounded like he had just been given Christmas in July. "Will do, sir. Have a lovely evening.
"Same to you, George."
Lex flicked off the light and padded back down the hall. As he slipped back under the covers, Clark moved, turning to him with sleepy eyes.
"Lex?"
"Go back to sleep, love."
"Mmm. Your feet are cold," Clark complained, but he was already closing his eyes, his breathing becoming regular as he fell back into sleep.
Lex kissed his Superman's forehead and closed his own eyes. His last conscious thought was that he would have to make sure to thank Clark for convincing him not to raze that rain forest.
© EAS, July, 2002
Disclaimer: All canon based Smallville characters belong to WB and/or DC Comics.
I am making no money, just enjoying playing in the sandbox.
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