Four Stories About Lex Luthor Inspired By The Elements

I Touch Of Fire

Whitney's sitting with his back to the window, afternoon sun throwing long swatches of color across him, painting his white shirt and pants in unequal streaks. He turns his hand in the light, watching the color shift, but his expression doesn't change, he doesn't seem to be really interested. He just...has nothing else to do. He looks up to a sound across the room, and a shadow blocks the door way briefly.

Lex stalks into the study, an expression of mild surprise flits across his face when he catches sight of Whitney and then he's smiling. "Feeling better? I'm surprised you're up."

"Yeah, I'm up. Listen, why am I here? Why would you want to bring me here?" He makes an abortive movement with his left shoulder and he shuts down. The stump his left shoulder ends in twitches and he frowns at Lex, resists the urge to touch it. "What do you want from me?"

He stands and walks around until he's between Lex and the door, standing a little sideways so he has a clear view of the door and of Lex. It's almost instinct now, keep exits in sight, sit with your back to the wall....

"Not that I'm not...grateful, but we were never friends. There's no reason for you to be concerned for my welfare. To do what you did. " He tosses his head back, dark blonde hair lifts off his forehead and he's angry for a split second-the movement is. Not what he wants to project. The lines that shouldn't be there yet fan out from his eyes, bracket his mouth and deepen with his frown.

Lex watches the play of emotion over Whit's face, he's sure the boy thinks he's unreadable but to Lex-Ah. How different he looks now than when he'd been Lana's 'Quarterback', Smallville's golden boy...he smiles as a tight warm rush spirals out from his gut. He strolls over to the bar, mixes himself a drink, scotch with a bare splash of soda-"Care for a drink?"

Whitney shakes his head, still frowning. "I can't-pills."

"Of course," Lex smiles, glass already resting on his lower lips. Pulling it down slightly and he rubs the crystal against his lip, watches Whit watch the movement.

"Well," he says after a swallow. "You want to know why you're here. I think of it as an act of deference to a mutual friend of ours. Someone you love, and someone I cared for very much."

Time twists and Whitney's not sure what's happening. He blushes angrily. "What do you mean? You mean you cared for--"

Lex leans against his desk, Whit watches his hip slide against it, caress the glass-he rubs a hand viciously over his face. God, it s too much, the pain, the pills, it's just--Shit.

When he opens his eyes again, Lex is smiling at him, more a small smirk that barely turns up the corners of his wet mouth. "I brought you back for our mutual friend. I can give you back what you lost...if you want it."

Whitney barks a laugh; he looks almost surprised as it bursts out of his throat, as if it's something he'd forgotten he could do. "Everyone knows it's Lana and Clark now. I'm a big boy; I know how to cut my losses." He swings toward the door-fuck Lex and his little puzzles. Whatever he's doing this for, in the long run, it's going to hurt everyone-but not him damn it. "Thanks for finding me, thanks for bringing me back-now let me go."

"If you don't want what I'm offering, then let me give you something else you've lost back." He steps closer and reaches out his hand, barely lays it on Whit's arm, the stump-his fingers are light as air on him, quivering slightly, they dance over the skin, the scars, before floating away, back to rest at his side.

"I can do it, you know. I can make you whole."

"You can make me whole." Whitney shakes his head, and then pales, remembering a long ago Fall, remembering what it was like to be a god, on top of the world, in control, invincible, burning, remembering Wade holding him down....

"You figured out more uses for what Wade had, that tattoo stuff. You kept messing with that stuff." Not questions. Certainty. He knew, it's what Lex would do.

Lex steps back from him, shoves his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels slightly "Yes. And you can't begin to imagine what amazing things are possible with it, incredible things. Trust me, Whitney; I can make it better for you. I can make you a new man." He laughs.

Late that night Whit jerks awake, sweat running from him in rivers, the linens under him are soaking wet and twisted, he's breathing hard and a nightmare is echoing in his ears, the last echo of it bouncing from the stone walls.

He levers himself out of bed, standing on the icy floor, he doesn't pretend to be in control, he doesn't care--lets himself pant loud. He's fucking scared, about what he's not sure, but his heart is racing and a desire to run is thudding in his chest.

'Fuck!' He jumps and curses when he's startled by a knock loud as the crack of doom at the door. "What!" he barks. Who the fuck...

"Whit-are you okay?"

Lex. Of course.

"Yes," he snaps, "Now go the hell away," and Lex walks into the room.

"Go away?" Lex smiles, stops a few feet away with his hands on his hips. "It is my house, you know." He's wearing-barely--a pair of steel gray silk pajama bottoms and nothing else. Whit hisses air between his teeth, his 'arm' is throbbing and he's in pain. He reaches for it and sways when his hand has nothing to stop against, his fingers scrabble against air and he curses again silently. Sweat runs cold down his sides, gathers in the creases of his neck. It feels cold and slimy and he wants a shower so bad it makes his stomach flutter.

Lex takes one look and marches over to the nightstand, shakes a few caps out of a bottle and pours water into a glass from the carafe, put there just for him and Whit is seething

He doesn't want that guy waiting on him, taking-care of him. Bastard.

"Here." Standing as far from him as he can, Lex hands him the pills, waits and hands him the glass and watches him swallow with a little paternal smile. He just keeps smiling, smiling and it's driving Whitney crazy. He knows what Lex wants now, what he wants from him Lex wants from everyone. He wants-everything.

Suddenly he's too close and too hot, right there in the blink of an eye. He almost drops the glass, because his cock decides suddenly now is the time to come awake. He wants to cover himself and he can't, fuck, fuck. It's been too long and his body chooses that moment to come the fuck back from the dead. His cock is heavy in his shorts, throbbing...damn. He tries to take a step back but Lex stops him with a hand on his shoulder, his bare shoulder. His skin twitches under Lex's warm smooth fingers, calluses faint where fingers join the hand, palm smooth as glass.

"Does it hurt?" His voice is low, and private, like he's asking the most intimate thing and in a way he is, a question spoken just between them, words fill the space between the two. He steps fractionally closer and nods. Yes. Lex's head tilts slightly. "Let me feel."

Whit shakes his head no, his mouth dropping open and then Lex's hand is on him, painful, sharp, soft, it hurts, it feels soothing, hot and chill. His knees are weak and horribly, he feels grateful--pathetically, weakly, grateful. Before he can bite it back a whimper escapes his mouth.

Lex puts the barest pressure on him, a feather touch urging him back, slow, close steps backward, graceful as a dance. Telling him with every touch, you can stop this, it's your choice, end it if you choose, and then he's on the bed. Lex was so close, speaking softly and evenly in his ear, "You're very beautiful."

He tries to shake his head and Lex holds him still. "You are. You'll see."

He runs that supernaturally smooth hand over his chest with the same soft, slow movement, urges him to his back on the bed. Whit's breath comes heavier, rasping through dry lips. "I...I..."

Lex's hand drifts on its steady downward path, fingertips barely in contact, almost...worshipful, Whitney thinks and wants to laugh. Air escapes him in a burst and a gasp, Lex's fingers curve around the swollen head of his dick. He feels his ass flex, hole clench in response. It's got to stop; now, he needs to move-Lex's hands reach into Whit's boxers and peel them away from his over heated skin. His fingers slip around, tighten on his dick and squeeze. "Now?"

Whit groans and hisses, clamps his lips together. He's lost the will to stop but he won't make any noise, no more. Heat, wet, roughness, sucking-"Clark!" he gasps and a chuckle explodes against the head of his cock, he jerks. No!

"That's fine; it doesn't mean a thing..."

Slick warm fingers press against his hole, coaxing it open, sliding around the sensitive pucker and it flexes open, hungrily. Whit feels wave after wave of sensation, warm bubbling in his blood, he thinks he loves it, loves Lex's fingers in him, sliding in and around, touching him inside, touch and press, rising, they find the spot inside, that place that sends white shocks through him, Whit loves the heat it generates -for a moment he loves Lex passionately and wants more, wants to be filled like Clark filled him. Should have.

Lex groans, backs up and squirts lotion into his hand. "Watch," he rasps and Whit raises himself to his elbows. God yes. Lex's cock is long, slim. Elegant as he is, the head flares red, the shaft is pale still, his fingers curl and stroke and Whit's jealous, he wants those fingers back on him, in him-Lex tells him to hold his legs and he grunts in frustration.

Lex is on him, grabbing the leg Whitney can't hold, pushing it over his shoulder. "You hold that one," he says, his voice low and smooth and as always in control. He pushes against the ring, pushing steadily until the head pops in, Whitney mouths a groan that starts in his toes, rushes through his body like rapids, bursts out of his mouth in a torrent of sound.

Lex lowers his head and begins fucking him like the world is going to end in a few minutes and he's got to experience this so it'll last him an eternity in hell....

It's so good, so good, it makes his eyes water, makes his muscles clench makes his cock jump and drool and he feels like he's going to come without being touched and then he is coming, hard, moans spiraling away, a pulse of heat hits him under the chin, hits his chest, heat splashes against his legs, Lex groans and touches his flailing cock. Whitney can feel him inside, the swell, his cock lifts, he can feel it jerk once and then heat floods him, for just a moment he can feel everything and then individual sensations are swept away.

Lex collapses against him, gasping out "god, god" over and over like an incantation.

"What do you really want?"

Lex sighs. Whitney has a one-track mind.

"Nothing. I don't want anything. I want you to get better and to go back to your mother, back to your life. If that's what you want."

Whitney turns to his side, looks at Lex, what he can see of him on the dark. "I don't know."

"Well. You think about what you want. All I ask is that when-if--I need a friend, you'll be a friend to me."

He rolls to his back; the ceiling feels like it's an inch from his nose. He laughs. "What are you, the Godfather? He grins even though it's scarier than it is funny. "Whatever Lex. Whatever you want."

"Good. Then tomorrow you can turn the corner, begin your life anew. But tonight...."

His hand slides down Whitney's side, curls around his hip and Whitney feels a little, just a little, like a whore, and he's not sure if he should, but he's afraid to look at Lex's eyes.

II Touch of water

Clark is almost awake when some ancient instinct warns him--nothing is right. It warns him to keep his eyes closed and freeze in place. There's a weight on him, something is wrapped too tight around him, squeezing his chest awful and then he's gritting his teeth against familiar waves of nausea, they roll over him and swamp him in misery. It's so intense it makes him moan. It's not bad enough to drown him in pain but it is bad enough to make him feel like he's sweating blood and wish he were sleeping again.

He looks around blearily and at first all he can tell is that he's in darkness, there's dressed stone under his hands and under his ass --a stone floor. His head is resting against a pillar; in front of him he can see another, a wooden post. The first dribble of fear leaks into his heart. The place he's in is Lex's wine cellar and this might be the very post Lex was chained to by Alexander--

"Good morning sunshine!" The voice is warm, and kind, the voice he's missed terribly in his dreams because awake, he won't let it hurt.

The face that's suddenly in his is so familiar, the sensuously smooth curve of skull, the eyes that always seemed to look deeper into him than was comfortable--the part of Lex that scared him, almost as much as his mouth...those are not Lex's eyes he thinks, they are his eyes, and they aren't his eyes.

"Oh, you know me," he smiles and Clark strains uselessly against duct tape, (duct tape!) his mouth wrapped in the burning sticky clutch of the tape makes it impossible for him to howl the way he wants to.

He pulls at the loops and loops of tape around Clark's chest, laughs a little. "Come on, it's funny, isn't it? Duct tape? You know, when probably the strongest boy in Smallville, hell, Kansas--a god damn super strong boy--" He stops and giggles. "' Superboy', I like that...is allergic in a lie down and die kind of way to the green shit that's all over our fair town, all you need is a few rocks and some tape and he's all yours." He yanks hard on Clark's arms and tears of pain spurt from his eyes.

"While you were out, I...experimented with the dosage. Thanks for having such illustrative skin by the way. You should be weak enough to not tear the tape, but strong enough to keep breathing and even talk without the gag--though I can probably predict what you'd say--blah blah, evil, crazy, blah-shit."

He laughs and for a moment Clark is back at the beginning of all this, when Lex was new and cool and made him feel funny, good-funny, like he knew something about him that no one else knew...he rolls his head and the movement sends a spike of pain up his spine and lancing into his head. Okay, it'll be okay, all he has to do is wait for Mom and Dad to miss him--they'll save him, he just has to hold on until then...

Alexander drops crossed legged in front of him, takes his bound wrists in his hand. "Poor Clark, you're waiting for Mom and Dad aren't you?" He brings Clark's hands to his mouth and sucks on a knuckle--Clark's confused between the stab of lust that action causes him and the knowing that something awful is about to happen to him, right now...Lex's eyes cloud for a moment, he shakes his head. "I have terrible news...Mom and Dad are dead." Clark yells behind the tape, jerks his head hard and fast. No!

Alexander pats his hands, rubs fingertips softly over his knuckles. "They had a terrible accident," and his eyes are wide and clear, bluer than the sky and his voice rises, childlike and crystal clear, the tone of a child telling a fable, "they were killed Clark, killed in a car crash." He sighs and closes his eyes with a tiny satisfied smile and a nod

Clark's head whips back, slamming into the wood pillar--he's lying he has to be he didn't kill Mom and Dad he wouldn't couldn't.... his head swoops and rolls with the pain.

Alexander opens his eyes again and says, "You're thinking I did it...oh. No, you're not. You're thinking I didn't do it." He laughs. "But I did, I killed them." He rises to his feet in one smooth move and stalks off to the racks, selects a bottle and pulls a little knife out of his pocket, levers the cork out of the neck and takes a tiny sip.

"Hmm." He tilts the bottle up and drinks long and deep. Holds it out to Clark. "Drink?"

Clark is crying, his body is racked with deep sobs, tears flood over his face and he jerks against the tape, sorrow and rage twisting him into a kind of insanity.

Alexander drops back suddenly in front of him, Clark can hear his knees pop, his heart beat skip wildly in his chest, so unlike Lex's steady beat, the beat he used to find himself breathing to late at night....

Alexander sits close to Clark, at his side, and puts his mouth to Clark's ear.

"Clark, have you ever woke up from a deep sleep and felt like a new man, like all your troubles have melted away? This morning I woke so twisted in my sheets I could barely move...everything was soaking wet, the bed was wet, the floor, it was all...so wet..."

He stops, and breath explodes in hot bursts against Clark's skin, "I was so dry inside, so unbearably thirsty and cold and I wanted...oh God," his eyes close and Clark feels the lashes move against his cheek and he begins to be afraid and he wants Lex, where did he hide him--"I wanted," Alexander continued, and the hand on Clark's chest was shaking. "I wanted, I wanted, so much it hurt me."

He holds his hand straight out, in Clark's line of sight, "All my troubles, melted away," he crooned and as Clark watches, clear fluid oozes slowly to the surface of Alexander's skin, tiny drops pearl up in his pores, collect until they roll off to drop down and make tiny spots of damp in the dust on the floor.

"Say goodbye to Lex," he grins and Clark screams and screams behind the tape, gagging, desperately swallowing the vomit that tries to fill his mouth, gagging again and again....

Alexander leans against him and gently pulls his head around until he's facing him and he kisses his forehead, his cheeks, licks at the free patches of skin around the tape. "Shhh, shhh, I'll help you, we'll help each other. Remember when you came to get me, the day you wanted me to leave with you? I wasn't ready then, but now I am, and you will be too, I promise."

Clark jerks back, nononono! The moan of terror leaks out around the edge of the tape, and then--

"And I have this for you." Alexander is pulling a chain from his pocket and a little bag pops out with it. He pulls it open with a smile that's at once insane and strangely shy, expectant, and Clark gasps as heat rushes through him, pulling him under. Deep in his gut a little bubble rises, a bubble of giddy laughter like champagne in his veins, making his head swim and he feels some undefined load lifting from his shoulders.

Alexander is smiling and a red jewel glitters between his index finger and thumb. "That ring company had a few of these fake rubies still. I bought all of them--cheap. You know, I thought maybe they caused allergic reactions in the people who wore them but it turns out it's just you. Hunh. No one else had a reaction to the stones. And your reaction was very ...interesting." He watched Clark strain and sweat. "I do pay attention to things, Clark. It bugs the hell out of me that you think...I don't."

Clark lets his eyes tell Alexander what he needs and the tape gets ripped off his mouth, a bark of pain breaks his silence, thick drool spins away from the tape, his lips are raw..."Let me free, let me lose." His blood was boiling, burning in his mouth and his throat, his dick, he wanted, wanted..." Let me loose, you fucker," he groaned. "Need to touch you, touch me..." he's so fucking hard, hurting, begging Lex with every twist and lunge in his bonds.

Alexander slips the stone around his neck. His eyes close and he groans as he slips under the overwhelming tidal wave of feeling--complete and total freedom, freedom from caring, needing anything but Alex, drowning in the torrent of sensation--he's panting and gasping and his lungs are begging for air, cool air, his body's screaming for relief from the heat and when Alex's elegant hands skim over the throbbing hardness trapped in denim, he comes, loud, hard, and messy.

Alex cuts the tape, throws it into the dark behind them and Kal lunges, knocking him to the floor. "You can kill me if you want." he says and licks his lips. He's pinned under Kal's weight, under his hands, his teeth, there's nothing else can he say. Kal laughs, and strips him bare and he's kissing and touching him everywhere, outside, inside, making him cry out over and over. In minutes he's trembling from head to toe and fills Kal's hand with hot come, his sweat is gleaming, wet on Kal's skin....

"Luthor and Kal-El..." Kal drags a finger over his hip, traces an 'L' in the come on his skin. "The House of El...don't you love the sound of that?" And his laughter echoes up the stairs.

III Touch of air

Lana stood in the middle of the study and shivered. A cool breeze wafted in from somewhere and Lex looked up from his desk.

"Oh, I'm sorry--are you cold?" He sprang up and quickly came from around his desk and lightly resting his fingertips against Lana's back, guided her to stand closer to the fireplace.

"That's the danger of living in an authentic castle," he said with a little laugh. "It's always cold, furnace roaring or not. These fireplaces aren't just decorative."

She smiled and he dropped pillows from the couch onto the floor close to the fire. "Here, it'll be like camping." He smiled warmly as he spoke, and she shivered again, gooseflesh breaking out on her arms and he slid to the floor next to her and rubbed gently at her cool skin.

"You are very cold--like ice," he said quietly, and Lana realized that she was leaning towards him to hear his soft voice--she found herself doing that frequently, letting his voice cover her. It was like velvet, his voice...touching her in places he never would with his hands.

She thought about these two men--Clark was like chocolate, deep and rich and so sweet, but Lex was like whiskey, golden and hot, burning and chilling at the same time, making you doubt yourself...He rose back to his feet and promised her a warm drink, "A toddy, it'll get right in you and warm your bones" and she blushed a little at his choice of words. He was kind enough to act like he didn't notice, and it makes her blush a little deeper. He called down to the kitchen for drinks, and gave her time to compose herself before settling back next to her.

"Thank you for letting me come, Lex. I didn't know who else to turn to. Clark...well he can be confusing." She smiled and laughed a little and Lex smiled back. He leaned against the piled pillows and she did too.

"So tell me, Lana," and the way he said her name made her blood warm and tingle. "What do you think I can do for you? "

"Talk to him, he listens to you--tell him not to be afraid to ask me--"

"Faint heart never won fair maid, eh? I'm not sure Clark would care to listen to me now. Particularly concerning you." A knock brought Lex back to his feet and he went to the door of the study and took the tray. He gave Lana her drink, sipped at his and put a bowl of fruit between them.

"Tell me what you've done so far--talked about, I mean. I haven't really had meaningful conversation with Clark lately." He laughed, a little high and sharp. Lana glanced up. Was he angry? "I'm sorry, maybe I shouldn't..."

"Oh no, I'm happy to help. All I've ever wanted is Clark--" He took a sip and smiled. "--to be happy. And you, of course, I want you to be happy too."

She leaned her head against the couch. "He doesn't touch me. I mean--he touches but it's...it's...like he's touching glass."

"Tentative, very careful, I imagine. He's hesitant, maybe afraid of hurting you? Lana, Clark's a big man. He probably has the same unreasoning fear a lot of big men have-- that in passion, they might lose control." He stopped and smoothed a warm hand over her arm and gooseflesh broke out again. "Experience is the cure for that. Time will change things," he whispered, "time is a great healer."

He moved the fruit away, slid a bit closer, and she felt his warmth all down her side. She closed her eyes and breathed in the clean scent of his cologne, and her head tilted slightly towards him.

"May I ask, and please feel free to smack me if I'm being too personal--how far..." He coughed dryly, his hand curled into a fist at his mouth, but his eyes sparkled over it and a look passed between them. She smiled at him. There was no reason she should be embarrassed to tell him. They were friends.

"We've been very intimate. We've gone--"she wasn't about to say 'gone all the way'-- that sounded so immature, so high school. "We've had sex." There, she said it. She sipped at her toddy, let the warmth fill her. She really felt quite brave.

"I see." For long moments only the crackling fire broke the silence but it was a good silence, comfortable. The quiet of equals, she thought. She looked at him. He was so handsome, so sophisticated, so much a man of the world. He understood loss, pain--he understood her. She suddenly realized--Lex cares for me, more than just a friend...she reached out and ran her hand down the side of his face and his eyes closed. His hand came up to cover hers, for a long moment they were motionless like that--and then his eyes shot open and he stammered an apology.

"I--I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that."

"What, touched me? Lex, you've already touched my heart." She leaned closer, she felt bold and wise and brave--she said," I know you want to help me. You can help me to be a woman."

Lex's eyes flickered.

"Lana, Clark is--was--my best friend..."

"Clark...Clark is...I don't know what he is. He can't make up his mind and I can't wait for him." A real woman knows her mind. She knows what she wants, she wants a man, not a boy. And Lex--was a man in every sense of the word. She leaned over and touched him, pressed her lips to the tender skin under his ear and whispered, "Show me. Show me what a man can do for a woman."

He smiled back. "Oh, I will--I promise."

Heat, waves and waves of heat rolled over her, making her sweat--strands of hair pasted itself to her cheeks, clung to her lips as she whipped her head from side to side. He was making her explode, she was losing all control. His lips searched out the points that made her helpless, his tongue swept over her clit and sent fresh waves of pleasure through her--Clark had never done that. He'd never touched her until she thought she'd scream, never made her ride his fingers while he licked and rolled his tongue against her, brought her from peak to peak, and so unhurriedly--Lex mouthed and nibbled tenderly at just the right spot that made her hips jerk mindlessly, made her pussy gush and tremble around his fingers....

The liquid sound that Lex's fingers made thrusting in and out of her only made it that much better, wilder, freer--he pushed his finger in and bit down on her with just enough force to tear an orgasm out of her--she screamed with pleasure so intense it skirted the edge of pain.

She dropped back to the sheets and groaned, long, low....God. It seemed an eternity until she could breathe normally, before her mind was back in her body. Suddenly, she didn't feel so brave, or so positive about her actions. Should she have been so wild, so free in her reaction? Did it make her a tramp?

Clark never brought that out in her. Sex with him was so quiet, so still, so...she blushed hot--so boring.

Lex rose up onto his knees and she looked at his penis. It was stiff and red and gleaming...she'd been afraid to look at Clark. She'd been afraid to touch it. Lex motioned her forward.

"Open," he said and she spread her legs. He laughed. "I meant your mouth."

She blushed; she could feel the heat wash her face down to her breasts. He smiled, a lift of his lip and small white teeth gleamed.

"You ever do this for Clark?"

She nodded. Of course she had. Sort of. Anyway, she'd licked him once, but he'd made her stop and she'd felt ashamed.

Lex laughed. "Liar." He held himself, staring down at his fingers as they stroked along his shaft, coaxing a shining drop from the tip, dragging it with the tips of his fingers down, around the ridge and her eyes never left the trail of precome.

"Come here," he said and there was no request in his voice and she did what he said without thinking. "Open your mouth," he said again and when she did, he wrapped her hair around and around his fist, held her in place. She closed her eyes and waited for pain, waited for him to choke her with his penis, but he shocked her--with gentle slow movements, he slid the head in and out of her lips, softly, slowly coaxing her until she couldn't stop herself--she licked him, tentative little dabs of her tongue, firmer when he moaned.

"Did you do that to Clark? Did his dick fill your mouth? Is it big, is it thick and long--did it make you choke?"

The whole time he spoke, his hips moved slow and steady like liquid and she had to hold them, feel his muscles slide under her hands. Feel his smooth skin, so clean and neat, the delicate, sparse nest of ginger curls framing his penis, so unlike the unruly tangle of black that grew up and around Clark's, over his balls and up the crack of...she blushed so hard.

What was she doing? Why was she doing this for Lex? Why? She swallowed and Lex groaned and shook, saliva ran over her chin and into his hair.

"God--that's good!" He moaned and tightened his grip in her hair, pulling it in a way that should be painful. He pulled away from her and she felt her tongue running out of her mouth to chase him, she licked the few pearly drops that spun from the tip of his penis and he smiled down at her, pet her head like a dog.

"What else do you do?"

"I--I..." she gasped and closed her mouth. Should she wipe her chin?

"Do you ever do it differently; does he ask you to do strange things? He doesn't, does he? You're both so good, such little straight arrows in everything...including bed."

The entire time he talked, he was stroking her, fucking her with his fingers and she moaned, "No. We. Clark won't--he doesn't--he only comes from behind. When he takes me from behind." She shuddered and squeezed her eyes as tightly closed as she could, until little red stars floated behind her eyelids.

Lex stopped, he was so still that Lana opened her eyes again. His eyes were black and wide--he looked angry, and aroused and frightening.

"Roll over."

"What?"

"Roll over," he said again and yanked her around so that she fell to her side, he pushed her to her face, into the mattress. "Like this? Does he do it like this?" he hissed, and sunk into her, a burning plunge into her and she yelled, moaned...

"Yes! Like that!"

He pushed in and out a few times. "You're lying," he said, "it's like this," and he pulled out, shoved his cock into her ass, and she screamed.

"Like that--you like that." he growled and began to fuck her hard, harder than Clark ever had, harder then anything she could imagine, and it hurt, it burned and stabbed and his fingers dug into her hips, and they scrabbled across her back and they pressed like brands into her ribs and he yelled.

"Does he fuck you like this, does he call your name, does he make you come like this?"

Her face was deep into the pillow, her lungs were burning as she tried to pull in air and her ass no longer hurt, his fingers were inside her and she could feel him touching himself through her...everything was spinning out of control and that feeling was coming again from the pit of her stomach, through her spine, her ass, her pussy, everything exploded and she felt his cock jerk and empty inside her, pouring hot waves of come into her--but most of all she heard him screaming, screaming for Clark.

She rolled her head to face him and through the veil of hair over her eyes, she could see his twisted little smile, the scar on his lip a pale line against the red of his mouth. His eyes were cold and blue, and then he blurred away as tears of pain of shame flooded her eyes.

He...he was laughing at her...she didn't need to hear it, she could see it in his face.

He knelt beside the bed and fished about in the pile of her clothes on the floor. He wiped his cock with her shirt and sauntered away. At the bedroom door he turned to her and said, "You weren't too bad, next time, come see me after you fuck him. We'll make it even better."

She shouted, "I'm never coming back here, I'll tell Clark--he'll--he'll..."

"What? He'll what? Beat me? Beat you? Join in, you think? I could get off on all of that," he grinned.

"I'm never coming back!" She screamed.

Lex laughed. "You both lie so much."

IV Touch Of Earth

"Shut up, shut up!"

Laughter and rustling, odd noises out of place in his rose garden brought Lionel to this particular patch of darkness.

"Oohh...fuck..."

He recognized the voice and a jet of anger flamed in his gut. Of course. It's owner had been nothing but trouble lately, nothing but trouble. Undisciplined, overly emotional, drug addled and sex obsessed--no control over his appetites, leaving a path of destruction a mile wide and inviting the scrutiny of rumormongers and paparazzi. He already had an impressive collection of photos of Lex in various...situations.

Liquid noise that took little imagination to identify drowned out any other sound save that of the blood rushing in his head. He stalked down the grassy side of the path, carefully avoiding the gravel and branches that swept the edge of the pathway. He burst into the miniature grove of roses--stopped.

Moonlight picked out the curve of his head and the arch of his belly as he thrust into the boy beneath him. The glowing tip of a cigarette lit his mouth and even in the dim light he could see that Lex's eyes were narrowed, locked on his. The edge of his lip curled. A coma laden with contempt.

"Slut," he hissed, so quietly only Lex could hear, and Lex grinned. The deep cut on his lip, nearly healed now, trapped his eyes and Lex took one hand off the bent head of the boy in front of him, took the cigarette out of his mouth and wet the thick pink welt on his upper lip. "Hello, Dad."

The boy on his knees jerked sideways and scrabbled backwards away from Lex, kicking gravel until he managed to make it to his feet and dash away.

Lex looked after the fleeing figure with a sneer. He laughed and Lionel's attention was centered on him again. He saw a boy trying for arrogance, gray pants crumbled over his ankles, white shirt unbuttoned to the collar, navy blazer slid back over his shoulders, only his elbows kept it from dropping to the ground and a striped tie bisected the white plane of his chest. He was half-hard, saliva gilded him in the moonlight

Lionel grit his teeth--he was beautiful and horrible and it made him gag to see him standing like that. He wanted to crush the defiance, ruin the beauty, grind him to bits. Clouds rushed over the moon and the grove sank into darkness and only his bald head gleamed now, everything else black and invisible--the clouds flew past, pale light flooded back. Lex inhaled and Lionel moved forward, hand raised, ready to strike.

"Hit me and I'll kill you." He said it so evenly, with such calm, cool conviction, that Lionel stopped. He dropped his hand to his side and a small tremor shook his body. He ignored his wilting erection, ignored his heart beating in his throat, making it difficult to swallow. "Get dressed. Get gone."

Lionel sat in the warm silence of his study, his head against the soft leather back of the couch, legs outstretched. He'd been there since the incident, deep in thought. He rolled a heavy glass between his palms, as if the rise and fall of liquid would give him some clue, some answer to his dilemma. What was he going to do about that boy? What could he use to change him? He needed to have some means of bringing him to heel, something to control him with...something that made him afraid....

He heard the study door click open and Lex walked in uninvited.

"I'm packed and ready to get gone as you...requested."

Lex swaggered over to stand in front of him, so self-contained, so defiant, his ivory skin touched with a light bloom of pink in his effort to show how little he cared and of course, he cared. His head was tilted back, he looked down his nose at him and his lips curled in a snarl --but under the snarl was...something else, some need still grew there. It was in his eyes, in his stance. Lionel lifted the glass to his lips, to cover his smile. Just like that the answer unfolded, blossomed into a beautiful solution.

He set the glass down and sighed heavily. "You hate me. You detest me, you wish I were dead. And I understand. I wished my father dead also." He dipped his head slightly. He could hear Lex snort, but he didn't walk away.

"So? You hated your father, the tradition continues--why tell me?" Lionel lifted his head again to see Lex's eyes on him, chips of slate blue ice, contempt crackling in the depths.

"So...I wished him dead and I tell you honestly, I don't regret it. To this day, I'm glad he's gone. He was a true monster. But you...I don't want to die, knowing all you'll feel is relief." He laughed, lightly, self-deprecatingly. "I want you to mourn me, to honor my memory...to miss me..." He shrugged.

Lex laughed. "Miss you? Fine. I miss you now, if it that what it takes to make you happy. I've missed having a father since...since...."

"Since your mother passed. I admit I did an unforgivable thing--turning from you the way I did. But I couldn't face you and I told myself I was making you a man. Making you strong. I was terribly wrong, and deprived you--and myself--of something good."

Lionel held out his hand and Lex looked at it with cold suspicion.

Letting a calculated amount of pleading show in his face, in his voice, he begged, "Please, let me--just this time, please let's call a truce. I need you, son. I need to know there was at least one moment in which you didn't hate me." He watched Lex, his hand unwavering, extended to him. Lex swallowed, and the hunger for it to be true glittered in his eyes. The need was deep; enough to coax him forward, and like a dandelion about to fly apart, he reached out warily, waiting. When Lionel didn't move, he took his hand.

Lionel pulled him close and closed him in his arms. Lex was stiff, but slowly, slowly leaned into his embrace, his arms coming up around him like vines searching for support.

"Lex, Lex my boy..." he murmured over and over against the velvet of his scalp, silky, smooth as the petal of a rose, without a trace of stubble or blemish--."Lex." he pulled him onto his lap like it was natural for them and Lex went unprotesting, long legs arranging themselves on either side of Lionel's. "I love you, son."

Lex sat stiffly. "...me too," he said, words just a shade doubtful, and Lionel smiled over his shoulder and pulled Lex's head down.

"I want you to have everything. You may not believe or understand me, but everything I do is motivated for love of you." He stroked his shoulder carefully, and felt the tension in Lex's legs relax, bit by bit. Lex was quiet and then, a deep shuddery breath shook the fabric of his coat. Lionel smiled wider, and held him tighter. Lex shuddered again. "I'm tired of being alone."

"Never," he said, "Don't you know as long as I live, you'll never be alone?"

He pulled Lex's head up and kissed him, a quick press of lips against Lex's cheek, and leaned his own cheek against his. He relished the feel-- so warm, and flushed with the blood flowing so close to the surface. He felt an overpowering desire to bite into his cheek; it was so like a peach.

Lex lay still in his arms, and Lionel slowly moved until his lips were a breath away from Lex's, and stilled. Waiting. He rubbed Lex's back, his shoulders, over and over, soothing him, making him sink into him and then he shifted until their chests and shoulders met and Lex moved--their lips were pressed together. Lex froze and his eyes fell shut, but Lionel didn't move. He felt the beginning of pressure, against his mouth; his hips, tentative and meek and he allowed it, even pressed lightly in return before pulling back.

Lex was pink all over and wouldn't meet his eyes, his lids trembled, and Lionel took a moment to relish the sweep of ginger lashes against cream....

"Go to bed, son. We'll talk again. And Lex, we'll keep this between ourselves." Lex's eyes shot open. "Young boys sometimes confuse the meaning of some...gestures for others." Lionel continued and raised a finger to his lips, stopped short of touching them and dropped his hand. Lex followed the movement with a growing expression of horror. "I want you to know it's all right son, I understand."

He stood and Lex slithered to the ground, looking confused...and as Lionel stared at him with an expression of pity he began to look ashamed. Lionel could see the dawning of repulsion, self-loathing. Lex backed away from him, slowly shaking his head.

Lionel reached out. "Don't son, don't--it's not your fault, I forgive you--"

Lex whirled and ran out the study, slamming the door.

Lionel watched him go, listened to the clatter of feet on the stair and laughed lightly. There was more than one way to plant a seed and Lex was such very fertile ground.

Fin
6-06-06