Title: That Which We Call A Rogue
Author: Myownspecialself
E-mail: myownspecialself@yahoo.com
Pairing: Whitney/Lucas
Warning: m/m sex, implied bondage
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None, really.
Date: February 2003
Disclaimer: This story is for entertainment only. It is not for profit. Smallville is the property of Alfred Gough, Miles Millar, Tollin-Robbins Productions, and Warner Bros. Television, and based upon characters originally created by Jerome Siegel and Joe Shuster. Notes: Written on the occasion of Reetchick's special day - Happy Birthday, luv! The boys have a surprise for you. Acknowledgments: Thank you to Autumnyte, Philtre, and Gothphyle for the great and thoughtful beta on short notice. And a shout-out to Miss Windy's "Jar," one of my favorite het-fics and the source of Whitney's alias.

"Do you realize that I'm completely naked underneath these clothes?"

Whoa. Even for him, this conversation is moving rather fast.

His head jerks up and he squints at Lucas' smirk, at the way those lush eyebrows lift so insolently as green eyes assess his reaction. Giving Lucas a twisted grin, he raises the bottle of mineral water to his lips and then turns to glance at the crowd on the dance floor.

"You sure know how to sweet-talk your way into a guy's heart." He looks again at Lucas and wills his eyes to twinkle.

It works: Lucas smiles broadly and leans casually on the bar, slightly closer than before. "Actually, I was aiming for sweet-talking my way into a guy's bed."

"Yeah?" He toys with a coaster for a moment and then places the bottle on it. "Not wasting any time, are you?" He tilts his head in what he hopes is a more subtle flirtation. "You only introduced yourself a couple of minutes ago."

A moment goes by as he tries to decide whether he wants to be the cat or the mouse. Another moment passes and he'll settle for either, because Lucas is pretty. Very pretty.

". . .I don't believe in wasting time," Lucas is saying, ". . .certainly not if I walk into a gay bar and catch sight of a blond soldier boy. . ." He feels Lucas' eyes run over his face and his body, feels the eyes alight on his dog-tags. ". . .especially a handsome blond soldier boy."

He ducks his head at the compliment and softly exhales a bashful laugh. They both know his modesty isn't completely genuine, and they both also know it's part of the ritual.

"Navy?" Lucas asks, and he looks up again. He can't help but be fascinated by those well-shaped eyebrows. He lowers his gaze into the big, beautiful eyes that offer him invitations, promises - maybe even apologies. Anything except the truth, but then, he hasn't come to Edge City seeking the truth anyway.

"USMC," he says. "Private first class. Day Two of a sorely needed leave." He watches as Lucas, nodding at this information, sucks hard on his beer. He takes in the sight of the big hand that holds the bottle and lets his eyes drift to the bobbing Adam's apple, the gold chain around the smooth neck, the broad shoulders that threaten to stretch the short-sleeve purple silk shirt.

"A marine. I didn't see any tattoo that said 'Semper fi,'" Lucas takes another swig of beer, "but I was pretty sure you weren't army."

"I do have a tattoo," he says in a stagy, confidential tone as he leans closer, "but if I showed it to you right now, they'd kick us out of this bar. In this place, only the strippers get to yank down their briefs."

"If you show it to me back at my place, no one will throw you out." Lucas may have intended a wicked grin at this point, but his expression is sweet and impish. It suddenly occurs to him that Lucas is even younger than he is. Seventeen? Maybe eighteen.

"Speaking of getting thrown out: if anyone with a good flashlight asks for your ID, they'll see it's a fake."

"You think so, soldier boy? Mine's a top-of-the-line counterfeit. Probably from the same guy who sold you yours." He knows Lucas genuinely believes that the cockiness is sexy, which would be the reason for the sudden switch to that card-sharp-cum-wannabe-gangster tone of voice. And yes, it is sexy.

"Touche," he chuckles, and then stops when he feels Lucas' fingers brush his forearm.

"So, um, want to come over and play? I have lots of toys."

Lucas' expression has turned solemn and wide-eyed. Almost pleading. He's sure it's all part of the young man's act, but who is he to criticize, because, ". . .including some brand-new handcuffs. . ." hell, because it works.

"I'd love to. Let's go."

As they emerge from the bar, he turns and says, "You know, I was yours back at 'Hi, I'm Lucas.'"

Lucas looks up and down the street and then kisses him on the lips, quickly, but it's enough to make him light-headed. "You had me when you answered, 'My name's Jack.'"

A discreet hand rubs briefly against his denim-clad crotch, and he feels a hum of pleasure in his cock. He knows that Lucas is a lot older than he looks when it comes to, well, this.

They start down the street, and every three or four steps he lets his hand brush against Lucas'. Right at the moment when he suddenly no longer feels the contact of Lucas' hand as he should, he turns and sees Lucas peering down a long, narrow side street - an alley, really.

"This way," Lucas pulls him into the dimly lit alley, "Shortcut." They pass a back door and a naked light bulb casts a weak glow that lets him see the smile on Lucas' face when the young man looks at him. His cock twitches at the hunger and the need in that look.

"Nice," Lucas says, grabbing his ass while they continue walking, and he feels a surge of power. When they pass a large dumpster that blocks almost half the width of the alley, he pushes Lucas against a brick wall and plants his mouth squarely over the young man's. The dumpster shields them from view, and he feels bolder by the second as he flicks his tongue into Lucas' mouth.

A second later, Lucas' tongue retaliates and jams itself into his mouth and he exclaims in muffled surprise. They take turns sucking each other's tongue and finally pull apart to gulp air and regroup for the next assault.

Before he knows it, hands are under his shirt and working their way to his nipples. Gasping with each relentless tweak, he scrabbles at Lucas' fly and unzips and unbuttons and then sticks his hand in. Reaching in and down as far as he can past an impressive shaft, he cups one large, fleshy ball and squeezes. He looks to his left and sees that the entrance to the alley is barely visible.

Lucas moans and grips one of his nipples and tweaks some more in retaliation, and they continue their attack and counter-attack for a few seconds while Lucas unzips him. At the moment when Lucas' hand wraps around his cock, he croaks, "Let's fuck right here," and squeezes Lucas' ass.

Lucas jerks and hisses, "I don't usually like to get fucked. It's a long story. I'd rather not discuss childhood traumas right now."

"It's okay. It's cool," he says, and bucks when Lucas clamps his lips on a nipple and sucks.

"I have an idea," Lucas says lifting his head, and then he drops below eye level. Way below.

"Hold on. Not that," he protests and reaches down and hauls Lucas up, "Although that's usually my favorite."

"Let's just wait until we get to my place," Lucas whispers, and his eyes are closed as he leans against the wall. Lucas' jeans have slipped down to his knees and his cock throbs visibly. He slowly reaches down to pull his pants up.

"No. Right here. Let's make this quick." He leans forward and pins Lucas against the wall. He lets his own pants drop to his knees, and then he grabs Lucas' hand and places it on his own cock. "I need to feel you around me. Now."

"Oh. Oh." He knows by Lucas' moans that he probably won't say 'no' to the hardening cock in his hand. "I want to fuck you, Lucas," he repeats, moving in for the kill.

Lucas' eyes fly open and he sees a gleam of inspiration. "Here." An eager hand grasps his cock and guides him between Lucas' legs, in between surprisingly bulky thigh muscles, right at the point where they bulge the most. "Fuck me like that." Lucas squeezes his thighs together and draws back slightly along the hard length.

He shudders with pleasure and grabs Lucas by the shoulders as he looks down.

"You've got beautiful legs," he tells Lucas. "Like a soccer player's. A wrestler's." He thrusts again between Lucas' thighs and grabs Lucas by the hips. He jams his tongue into Lucas' mouth and in the back of his mind he momentarily thinks of how he used to jack off while touching the legs of that really hot ballet dancer.

"You're so big," Lucas moans, and he can feel Lucas' cock digging into his stomach every time he thrusts forward. "Fuck me harder."

He redoubles his efforts and pistons his hips faster and feels the heat building up as Lucas thighs squeeze together tighter and his cock ecstatically slides through the silky smooth-skin that stretches over corded leg muscles.

"Oh." Lucas' moan is loud. "Oh." Louder.

He feels the searing tension expand rapidly inside him, and when Lucas takes possession of his mouth, he opens it wide to welcome the hard, thrusting tongue again and again and again.

Then when Lucas' head jerks back and Lucas hisses, "Come for me. Come, right now," there's an explosion in his groin and he's suddenly spurting liquid heat and it's now slick and wet between Lucas' thighs and his head is floating away on harsh gasps for air.

"Mmm," Lucas sighs and then gives a short laugh. "Wow."

They both reach down to start pulling their pants up, neither one caring too much about the sticky dampness.

"Just enough to take the edge off things until we get down to serious business," he tells Lucas and runs a possessive hand under the shirt, across the smooth, muscled chest to one hard nipple. He drops his hand to Lucas' cock. "And it looks like you have something rather urgent right here. I could take care of it right now, if you want." He slides his tongue over his lips to make the offer perfectly clear.

"Let's see if we can make it to my place," Lucas suggests with a grin, "and then I'll let you do me."

He carefully finishes zipping his pants and readjusts himself. He looks up and Lucas is buttoning his own pants and eyeing him. Measuring him.

"I can't wait to see you naked, handcuffed to my headboard and surrounded by all my toys," Lucas says.

"Ah. You're obviously the romantic type," he smirks, leaning forward and licking Lucas' neck just above the gold chain, "It was the mention of the handcuffs that tipped me off." He grabs Lucas' hand. "Lead the way."

As they emerge from the alley, Lucas leans towards him and he's startled by the predatory smile.

"About the handcuffs . . . Jack. . ." Lucas growls his name in an insinuating tone, and he realizes the young man is on to him, ". . .I'm planning take them off at the end of the evening only if I find out your real name."

~End