Notes: For RimmerKryten, because she asked. Thanks to Diana McC for the great beta job. All mistakes are my own.

Warnings: INCEST. Big time. If you is squicked, don't read this and them come bitching to me. You are hereby warned. You take full responsibility from this point on. Let me say one more time, we have father/son incest going on here. Don't like it? Delete please. Flames will be laughed at heartily, with great pointing of fingers.

Invitation--by Kel

Jonathan looked at the gilded envelope in his hands. He'd been waiting to receive this invitation in the mail; one came almost every three months. He both dreaded and anticipated these nights.

*Wednesday Night, 10:00 PM. Luthor Mansion. Black is expected.* Jonathan shivered as he saw that. Black meant masks, hidden identities, and silence. He hated Black nights the most because they were the ones that turned him on the most. He wondered if tonight would be a man or a woman, but it really never made that much difference. They were all the same. Blond and barely legal, the boys built like young football players, the women, tawny and lithe. Just like he had been at that age.

As always, it was scheduled when Martha was away visiting her family, and Clark would be fine in the barn.

It was the price he had to pay for the adoption.

It was the price that he would keep paying, to be near Lionel.

Digging through the closet, Jonathan withdrew a small black nylon duffel bag, and tossed it onto the bed. He didn't even open it until it was nearly time for him to leave.

Hours later, he was dressed in the required black. Nothing of his skin showed other than his face. A black turtleneck covered Jonathan's throat, black Isotoner gloves covered his hands, and black socks and boots covered his feet. There was a small black lacquer box by the door of the mansion, and Jonathan opened it to find a black ski mask. Knowing he would not be let into the house without it, Jonathan drew the mask over his face, and the door was opened for him. The servant was faceless, dressed all in black as Jonathan himself was, and disappeared without a sound as soon as Jonathan was inside and the door was shut.

He made his way up the grand staircase to the bedroom where Lionel always staged his scenes, and as he pushed the door open, he sunk his teeth into his lower lip to stifle the gasp.

Pale skin lay strung out over black silk sheets, a bald skull cradled on silken pillows. His arms and legs were spread and bound to the posts of the bed, his eyes closed in a drugged slumber.

Then a voice from behind him, hot and breathy over his ear despite the mask. "Beautiful, isn't he?"

"That's your son, Jonathan panted harshly, shivering not at the cool breeze that permeated the room, but in revulsion. Never before had Lionel made his son part of the game before. The window in the bedroom was open, the black drapes billowing outwards with the breeze. The room was draped in shadows except for the bed, which was ringed with elaborate candelabras of every imaginable shape and height, throwing flickering candlelight sliding sensually over Lex's alabaster skin.

"Yes, it is," was the oily reply. "Would you rather it was yours?" Lionel's hand gripped Jonathan's shoulder tightly. "Would you rather see me fucking your son instead of my own?"

"This is sick." Jonathan shivered in the breeze from the open window, the room suddenly cold as realization sunk in. Lionel truly could have Clark brought here, merely by using Lex's name. A threat to Lex's life, and Clark would be under Lionel's complete control. He shuddered at the thought, and not for the first time, felt a spike of shame as he acknowledged in his heart that yes, he would rather it be Lex tied to the bed than Clark.

"Only to you, perhaps." Lionel shoved Jonathan into the dark corner, completely shrouding his presence from the man on the bed. Then he crossed the room, and backhanded Lex across the cheek. "Wake up, Lex."

Lex's eyes flashed open. "Dad... I thought that you'd never get here." He tested the silk on his wrists. "Why all the fun and games?"

Lionel stood by the bed, and started stripping. "I get bored so easily," he replied. "Fucking you loses it's verve after a while."

"Liar," Lex hissed softly. "If that were the case you wouldn't keep coming back for more."

"Whore," countered Lionel. "You think any normal son would open his ass and beg for his father's cock?"

A twisted smile skated across Lex's lips. "You think we're normal, Dad? We're so fucked up that we make the Manson Family look normal."

"Deception," Lionel whispered. "You want it."

"So do you," Lex sneered. "You can't love me but you want to fuck me. So fuck me, Dad. Fuck me and kiss me, and we can pretend that we're lovers who really want each other instead of this game."

"No more games then," Lionel said, his mouth pressing brutally against Lex's. Their tongues stroked together, and as Jonathan watched from his corner, he saw Lex's body twisting under Lionel, son stroking father and trying to embrace him with bound limbs. Lionel's hands were dark and firm against the pale frailty of Lex's skin, and Jonathan shuddered, leaning back against the wall.

A hot spear surged through Jonathan's belly as he watched the two bodies intertwining on the bed. Revulsion raced through him, but he could not tear his eyes away from the two burgeoning erections that pressed against each other, the two writhing figures sliding across slick sheets. He choked down the moan that caught in his throat as he pressed the heel of his gloved hand against his growing cock. He tried to remind himself that this was Lionel fucking his own son, but even that added to the illicit arousal of watching.

Watching. Seeing this happen in front of him, willing participants in this sexual dance that he couldn't help but be seduced by. Frightening in the intensity, horrible in the ideal of father and son touching and loving in this way, beautiful in the study of contrast, and Jonathan felt himself becoming lost.

Lionel was pressing down against his son's body, pinning Lex to the mattress as his mouth ravaged. His tongue was brutal in its assault against Lex's, his teeth nipped sharply and hard at the scar on Lex's lips. Repression and control gone, Lionel allowed himself to be ruled by the animal instinct that was brought out by his son's slender body pressed against his own. His cock thrust rapidly against Lex's growing erection, his hands moving to hold Lex's body still. His guard slipped, and Lex's teeth sunk into his lip and he grunted, breaking away from Lex's mouth and backhanding him again.

Jonathan's stomach surged as Lionel struck his son, but his cock twitched in response, and he choked down another moan as Lex thrust up helplessly against Lionel, obviously aroused by the strike. His hand pressed down harder on his cock, denying the dull ache of his painfully-constricted organ.

Lex's body twisted as his father's hand connected with the side of his face. "Dad," he hissed quietly, his tongue snaking out to lick the blood that came from his lip. "Let me... let me go. Need to touch you," he pled, arching up and trying to rub his body over Lionel's, who kept himself just out of Lex's reach. "Please."

Jonathan was chewing on his lip as he shook silently in the darkness. His hand ripped at the zipper of his jeans, and as his cock sprang forth he hissed at the cold air skating across the wet head. His cock pulsed, and he gripped it tightly in his gloved fist.

Candlelight danced off the curve of Lex's throat as he lifted his head, his tongue slipping out between his lips as he tried to lick his father's chest, yearning to bite hard on one of the hard nubs that stood out on his father's bronzed chest, peeking through a light sprinkling of tawny hair that matched the mane framing his father's face. Distressed noises of denied want were issuing from his throat, and finally Lionel reached over to the bedside table. Reaching in, he pulled out a knife, honed to a razor edge. The light jumped onto the blade and Lionel twirled it once before slashing through the silken bonds that held Lex's arms. His legs remained bound, and Lionel rammed the knife's point into the wooden headboard, barely missing his son's face by mere centimeters.

In his corner, Jonathan shuddered at the noises coming from Lex's chest. The strain on the young man's arms was visible as the tendons stood out against his flesh. Then Jonathan's breath caught in his throat as Lionel spun the knife in his fingers. He knew that knife well, had given it to Lionel years ago. Seeing it in this setting now threw him, but when it sliced through the silk the whisper of tearing fabric echoed in Jonathan's ears. He remembered his own clothing sliced off by the same knife; a light tracery of white scars still laced his chest, nicked by a hand far less steady then than it was now. The scars seemed to burn as Jonathan remembered Lionel's tongue lapping up the few drops of blood, and then a new image blazed itself into Jonathan's consciousness. Lex's body, a tapestry of crimson lines as Lionel's tongue lapped across the shallow cuts. Jonathan nearly retched as that image blazed across his soul, his cock throbbing all the harder in his fist as he tried to banish that thought from his mind.

With his hands free, Lex pulled himself up to face his father, demanding hungry kisses that Lionel nearly resisted, making Lex fight for everything before he gave in, returning the kisses with a ravenous hunger that burned in his blood. Seemingly fascinated with the hair he didn't possess, Lex's fingers tangled in the dark curls as he fed on his father's mouth, pale hands bright against dusky skin. He moved to viciously twist Lionel's nipple, earning himself another backhand before his father returned with another hungry, devouring kiss.

Jonathan's hand slid along his cock, jerky movements that took the edge off his desire rather than fed it. He didn't want to feed it, didn't want to feel the hot fires of arousal that burned through him as he watched father and son twining around each other like snakes on the bed.

"Lionel... Dad.... Please." Lex was writhing on the bed as Lionel's mouth scorched a path down his throat to his nipples. "I want... God... need you... fuck.... Now!" His body jerked with each sharp bite to his nipple as Lionel sucked it. He bit in tandem with each word, forcing out moans of pleasure as Lex arched his throat back. He knew better than to reach for his cock, but it was burning. "Dad!!" One pale hand wove tightly through Lionel's hair, running through the thick locks over and over again, feeling the weight against his hand. "Fuck... so good... love it when we do this."

The nauseating feeling Jonathan had felt earlier returned full force as it just now registered that this was a common occurrence, Lionel fucking his son. Lex was begging to be fucked, Lionel was there to oblige, and even with the earlier digs about coming back for more Jonathan had not realized until that shouted exclamation that this was truly not the first time that father and son had fucked. The room felt even colder with the sick sweat that had popped out on his body, and even despite all the clothing, he felt the chill. His cock felt like a heavy log in his hand, hard, swollen, and aching despite everything.

Lex was pushing roughly against Lionel's shoulders, tongue flicking frantically over his lips. Looking up, Lionel's mouth curved into a smile and he moved so that he straddled Lex's chest. His knees pinned Lex's arms down, and with one hand he reached out and lifted Lex's head while the other hand guided his cock into his son's waiting mouth. "That's right, little cocksucker," Lionel whispered, petting Lex's face as Lex sucked him eagerly. "Get me nice and wet, use your tongue, good boy, Lex." He hissed as Lex deepthroated him, and he braced one hand on the headboard. "Fuck, Lex! Don't... not ready to come yet." Lex ignored and sucked again, pulling Lionel's cock deep into his throat. "Greedy, aren't you, son?" The hand bracing himself moved to stroke Lex's skull lovingly.

Jonathan was fighting to breathe through the black mask on his face. Suddenly dizzy, he ripped the mask up enough that he could freely open his mouth and suck in deep lungfuls of cold air. He nearly choked on it, the frigid air cutting into his lungs as he tasted the heavy tang of sex in the air. The taste was thick like bitter semen, making the air hard to swallow into his body as he sat, drawing in ragged breaths. The taste didn't leave his tongue, and Jonathan felt soiled, unclean for having taken the essence of this taboo act inside himself. His grip on his cock tightened, and he inhaled his own scent, gasping on the thickness of it as well. His eyes watered as he jerked his mask back down in place, wanting nothing more than a scalding shower and a bottle of strong, strong alcohol. As Lex swallowed down Lionel's cock, he caught sight of the boy's swollen lips, and he flashed on his own son's mouth, and quickly shoved the thought away before his conscious mind could acknowledge it.

Lionel was oblivious to Jonathan in the corner; instead he was concentrating on Lex's mouth on his cock. The boy had never sucked him like this before, as though his life depended on it, and he reminded himself to try bondage more often. "Lex... stop."

Lex obediently let Lionel's still-rigid cock slide from his mouth. "Don't make me beg," Lex whispered tormentedly. "You know what I want."

Lionel's thumb rubbed over Lex's swollen mouth. "Yes, I know," Lionel murmured soothingly as Lex's tongue lapped at his thumb. "You're so hungry for it, Lex." His free hand moved to stroke his cock as he teased Lex's mouth. Lex's mouth was intent on his father's thumb, sucking it as his tongue swirled around it, and then suddenly Lionel jerked his hand out of the way as he came, his seed splattering over Lex's face and throat. The boy's tongue shot out, licking at the drops that had fallen on his mouth, licked over his chin as far as he could reach, devouring his father's seed. "You're beautiful like this, son. Reminds me why I love this so much."

Jonathan's stomach rolled, and he fought down the heaving sensation as bile rose in his throat. The stench of sex in the room was nearly overwhelming and the sight of Lex's face covered with his father's orgasm, the boy's agile tongue snaking out to clean everything he could taste made Jonathan ill. It only worsened when Lionel spoke approvingly to his son. His own orgasm was so close, and for a brief second Lionel's head turned and their eyes met before he turned back to Lex. Jonathan closed his eyes again, and then was undone by the image that his overstimulated brain summoned. A raven-haired boy on his knees, sucking Jonathan's cock with great enthusiasm, hands on Jonathan's waist. As Clark's face looked up at him, Jonathan choked off his orgasmic cry as his seed sprayed wetly over his fist and clothing. By the chair was a black towel, and Jonathan dried himself off as best he could, burying his face in the cleanest corner of the towel, hot tears of self-loathing running through the mask as he could no longer deny having seen his son's face in this disgustingly vile fantasy world.

Lex's body was trembling under Lionel's expert hands. The young boy was open and waiting, his bound legs spread wide as Lionel moved between them. "Lex... still want me to fuck you?"

"Yes!" was Lex's hissed reply. "God, yes." He lifted his hips, offering himself to Lionel. "Do it, Dad, please. Fuck me. Love me."

Lionel's hand jerked the knife from the headboard, and for a single, sick moment, Jonathan half-expected the switchblade to be plunged into Lex's heart for daring to mention love. Instead, the blade flashed twice as Lionel sheared through the bonds around Lex's ankles and the boy was free. Instead of rolling off the bed, Lex wrapped his legs around Lionel's waist, pulling himself up so that only his shoulders and head rested on the bed, the rest of his body supported by his father. "Lex," Lionel whispered, rubbing his hands over Lex's taut stomach, stroking his cock again. "That's right, son, give yourself to me." Lex's hands slipped down and Jonathan watched unbelievingly as his cock hardened in his fist again. Lex spread himself open, showing a hole already glistening. "All ready for me, I see. Did you do this yourself?" Lex nodded, biting his tongue as Lionel's fingers slipped inside him, testing the stretch and the slickening. "Very good... not too loose, and just slick enough." The saliva on Lionel's cock was starting to dry, but Lionel pumped his cock, spreading the flowing precome along the shaft instead. Lex's hands still held himself open, and his father pressed forward.

Jonathan twisted his cock savagely as Lex screamed. The overwhelming keen was a mixture of burning pain and exquisite pleasure as he was speared on Lionel's hard cock. Lex's hands dragged up Lionel's back, scoring his smooth, bronze skin with scratches. Lionel hissed through his teeth and pushed back against Lex's nails, encouraging his son to bloodily mark him. "Do... you want... me, Lex?" Lionel gritted his words out between thrusts, Lex's legs tight around his hips.

"Always," Lex cried out, rocking on his father's cock. "Always want you." His nails had dug into Lionel's shoulders, and his father's hands came around under his ass, lifting him into his lap. Lex was now sitting up in Lionel's lap, mouths fusing together in desperate kisses.

Jonathan could see their tongues sliding and twining around each other in the open-mouthed kisses. He couldn't watch, hated himself for getting hard again, but didn't dare to close his eyes. Not after the last time. Both were slowly driving him insane, the scene in front of his eyes and the things in his head. He didn't know which was the more terrifying, seeing Lionel in action or the thought of becoming like him.

Lex was moaning now as his father's cock rasped inside him. Every time his body slid down the length, his cheeks rubbed his father's balls and he rotated his hips, seeking the pressure of his father's cock against his gland. Lionel stilled his motions, the next thrust sliding slightly and hammering hard. Lex nearly shot off his father's cock, as he threw his head back, moaning Lionel's name. Lionel was kissing the arch of Lex's throat, biting it hard, leaving a small collar of bite-marks in his wake. Each bite caused Lex to whimper in barely disguised pleasure, and each of Lionel's return thrusts was harder and more cruel. He ended his ring of bites at Lex's pulse, which he bit down savagely on as he slammed his cock into Lex. "Come for me, Lex, work for it and make me come."

Lex's hand slipped between them and jerked his own cock, moaning and crying out Lionel's name as the head of his cock rubbed continuously against Lex's prostate. When Lex came, his hips jerked and he rode Lionel's cock of his own volition, milking his father's organ with his body's spasms until both were empty and sated.

As the two came, Jonathan could feel the unwanted shudder start in his groin. The feeling of sharp intense pleasure, as he felt his uncontrollable orgasm rip through his body, was simultaneous to the role of nausea that started in his solar-plexus. He retched at the same time he felt his cock pulsing in his hand. Tearing his eyes away from the carnal exhibition on the bed in front of him, he looked down at himself, his hands and clothing covered in a fresh spray of semen and vomit. He'd ceased to feel the chill of the room; instead he was feverishly hot and drowning in the scent of musk, sweat and come that permeated the small stone room. He lurched to his feet, black towel nearly ineffectual against the mess on his clothes, limp cock stuffed quickly back into his jeans and buttoned up.

Lionel arranged Lex's sated body on the bed, proudly displaying the marks of ownership he'd bestowed on his son before climbing into the bed behind him and gathering Lex tightly to him. Lex's eyes were closed, but Lionel's were fixed on Jonathan's as he staggered towards the door.

Just before Jonathan crossed the threshold, Lex's voice drifted to the doorway. "Did you enjoy yourself, Mr. Kent?"

Jonathan fled. He ran throughout the drafty castle, hearing Lionel's laughter haunting his every step. He did not stop running until he was halfway across the field to his own home, and he dropped to his knees in the crisp night air. Ripping the mask off, he flung the filthy fabric as far as he could as he gulped in fresh air untainted with anything he'd seen that night. His fingers dug into his thighs as he rocked, retching and dry-heaving the contents of his stomach onto the ground. He curled in on himself as the retching slowly stopped, and he turned to breathe in air that didn't stink of his own vomit.

Jonathan didn't know how long he was out in the field before he pulled himself to his feet, and walked the rest of the way back to the farmhouse. He cursed as he saw a light on in the kitchen, and as soon as he walked through the front door, Clark was on his feet. "Dad! Are you all right? You look... you smell like you've been sick!"

As soon as Jonathan's eyes lit on Clark's concerned face, the first thing that flashed into his mind was the half-fantasy he'd had of Clark on his knees, sucking him off, and he pushed violently away from the boy. "I'm fine, Clark," Jonathan snarled.

"No you're not!" Clark caught Jonathan as he staggered and nearly fell, supporting his father against his own, stronger frame. "Dad... what's going on?"

Jonathan turned around and found himself leaning against Clark. His hand was moving up to the boy's hair before he jerked it back and left it on Clark's shoulder, and the sickness in his stomach came back again. "I'm fine, Clark," he repeated. "Just let me be." He pushed away from Clark again and headed up the stairs, stripping as he went along. He'd burn these clothes later; he'd never be able to wear them again. By the time he reached his bedroom, he was naked, and he paused only long enough to turn on the radio before heading straight for his shower. Once in the stall, Jonathan rested his head against the wall as the water poured over his body. He couldn't stomach the fact that he was thinking of Clark--his son--in such a demented, terrible way. And yet he couldn't deny that he had wanted to kiss Clark, had nearly asked for the same things Lex had so freely given to Lionel.

Clark was worried about his father, and was watching as he stripped going upstairs. Clark followed as soon as Jonathan was in the shower, gathering the dirty clothes from where they'd been strewn on the floor and dumped them into the clothes hamper. He listened to the shower, and smiled. Maybe after the shower his dad would feel better. Swinging his feet onto the bed, Clark stretched out, humming with the music.

In the shower, Jonathan was jerking his cock ferociously. He had been hard since Clark had caught him, and he was feeling sick as he stroked himself off. He refused to even acknowledge what he was thinking about, refused to acknowledge that it was Clark instead of Lex, himself instead of Lionel. The hot water burned his skin as he stood under it, and he didn't care. All he wanted was to get off and then... he didn't know what he was going to do next. He finally came with the thought of Clark's mouth against his, and he shuddered as much in disgust as he had in orgasm. He shut off the shower, and wrapped a towel around his waist as he stepped out. He stopped cold in the doorway of the bathroom. "Clark... get out." His voice trembled, and the boy shot up straight. "Get out, Clark. Now."

"Dad, are you all right?" Clark was walking towards his dad, but stopped in his tracks when he realized Jonathan was backing away from him. "Dad?"

"Get out, Clark, NOW!" Jonathan raised his voice, shouting on the last syllable. Clark fled the room, and Jonathan couldn't stand this state of affairs any longer. He dressed as quickly as he could, and pounded down the stairs, shoving Clark out of the way as he descended.

"Dad!" Clark followed as he heard the screen door bang, and using his X-Ray vision, he followed his dad into the barn and watched him open the old haymow, get out his shotgun, and loaded it. He sped into the barn as Jonathan was coming out. "Dad, what are you doing?"

Jonathan racked back the slide on the shotgun. "Just taking care of something, son." He caressed the stock lovingly. "Just taking care of business. Get back in the house." He disappeared into the night, and Clark listened hard, and after a long period of silence, he heard the dual blasts of his father's shotgun in the distance.

The End