Disclaimer: don't own, don't profit, just like to play
I know what you're thinking. You're picturing the shy farmer's kid you knew way back when, and you're trying to reconcile the two images. How's that going for ya?
That's what I thought. Just go with me here.
Pretend you are Clark Kent, age fifteen, new best friend of Lex Luthor. Because you're Clark, you don't let it go to your head that Lex is rich and famous. All you see is a guy who could spend his time with just about anyone in the world, and who chooses to spend it with you.
Lex shows up around the time your crush on Lana starts to get a little intense. Looking back at nights spent watching her through your telescope you have to admit it might have gotten a little creepy even. But, that is not the point. The point is that Lex is at your side, encouraging you to take the next step and go for it with the girl of your dreams.
Things are great for the most part. You have family, friends, and eventually you even have the girl. Lex is a huge presence in your life, and you don't want to imagine what it would be like if he weren't there.
Until the day you see the room. All of a sudden you are faced with this monumentally weird homage to yourself – except for the part where Lex claims it's all about him. You aren't sure what to believe, and so the thing you didn't want to imagine suddenly becomes reality. Lex is no longer part of your life. Eventually things improve some, but by the time he steals your girlfriend and turns her from Lana Lang to Lana Luthor... well, there are some things a friendship just can't come back from. But at least you forgave him for tying to take over Earth in order to recreate Krpyton. That wasn't really his fault, after all.
You've taken the events of the last few years – your father's death, losing Lana to Lex and eventually to the same fate as your dad, becoming a college drop-out, your mother leaving for Washington while you stay home to work the farm – you've taken all that and more and turned the feeling of hopelessness into a really big fucking sex drive. No pun intended.
Still with me? Great. Let's fast forward time to about twenty minutes ago.
They are sitting in the farthest corner of the bar; a man and two women in various states of partial undress. The man's black button down shirt hangs open from his shoulders to frame his strong chest and abdomen. One of the women has lost her bra, and the tight t-shirt she is wearing stretches across peaked nipples as she lays kisses against the man's neck. The other woman's panties have been tossed to the side as she straddles his crotch, brushing wet and heated skin against the denim still covering his cock. She is grinding slowly against him as he strokes one large, smooth hand up and down her back, fingers slipping slightly into the waistband of her skirt to tease at the soft skin there on every down stroke. The braless woman soon leaves his neck in favour of full lips while the other cards a hand through ebony hair.
"Let's get out of here," one, maybe both, whisper to him over the pounding drums of the rock band taking up residence on the stage opposite them.
He pushes the table away with his foot and stands, arms curling around the brunette straddling him so that she moves as he does. He leans down to the redhead at his side after setting the other on her feet.
"I'm going to fuck you both until you're begging me to stop." It's low and dirty and he lets his breath brush across her ear, and she shudders and steps closer to him. They leave the bar, undergarments left behind for the tables next occupants to find.
He doesn't show it, but he knows he is being watched. Kitty corner to their table, someone sits at a small table in the shadows watching their every move intently.
Half an hour later finds him buried inside the redhead while the brunette writhes on his hand. He's on his back, watching as their mouths meet above him and thrusting a little harder with his hips, just enough to elicit a long, breathy moan from the one on top of him.
He can hear his watcher outside. He's sitting in his car, hands covered by expensive leather driving gloves that make a whisper-soft noise as the material slides against the crotch of his equally expensive pants. He lets his vision slide into x-ray and watches the gloved hand fumble with the clasp and pull the zipper down until a hard, dark pink cock escapes the material's confines.
Clark watches as Lex begins a rapid, rough pace. There is no electronic surveillance on the room, and Clark knows he must be imaging what's going on inside just like he has the last four times he's followed him and his conquests.
When Lex finally comes it's with his whole body, curling and tensing with the sensation. His head bows and he shudders through the after effects of soft, cum covered leather still lightly stroking his now lilting dick. He rests for a moment while inside the room Clark sits up and pulls the now sated redhead from his cock and reaches for the brunette. He kisses her hard when Lex brings his hand to his mouth and licks the glove clean, and he comes inside her when Lex looks straight at him as if he can see through brick and mortar and drywall, raising his hand in greeting and smirking to himself.
Lex is gone by the time he comes down.
It's not the first time Lex has watched Clark. Not by a long shot. Lex has been watching him in one form or another since they met. Sure, Lex has tried to deny it once or twice or a dozen times, but the lie has never really bothered him. He's always been a watcher of people. His father taught him at a young age the value in observing his opponent and using what he sees to his advantage. It's one of the lessons that Lex has taken with him through his entire life thus far. So when he finds himself seated in another "hotspot of the week" bar he is not surprised.
Lex sees Clark nursing a drink, bringing the glass to his lips and sipping at the contents. He is leaning against the bar and looking out over the crowd with his back pressed against the steel and glass top, holding his rum and coke loosely in one hand as condensation slips down the sides and his fingers. He's let his hair curl into loose waves that graze his earlobes and there is three days worth of stubble on his jaw. Lex takes in the way dark blue denim clings in all the right places, and how underneath his dark green t-shirt, the line of his biceps and shoulders are clearly defined. He settles back in his seat, raises his hand to a passing waitress, asking for another drink, and contents himself to watch Clark for another night.
Clark spots him almost right away, but he makes no move to acknowledge this. Instead, he turns his attention to the solidly built 20-something blonde who has been shooting looks at him since he sat down. When Clark sends a smile his way, the guy finishes his drink and slowly makes his way over the short distance between them.
"Let's dance," Clark says. He never gives the guy a chance to speak, just takes hold of his arm and leads him out to a spot he knows will give Lex the perfect view.
Clark moves to the beat of the music smoothly, showing grace he hides in every day life. From his seat high above the dance floor, he sees Lex watching as they grind together in the midst of the crowd, oblivious to anyone around them. When Clark flips them around so that he is facing Lex and leans in to lick a path up from his partners sweaty collarbone to the soft flesh behind his ear, he knows Lex is pressing a hand against his crotch.
Over the pulsing music, he hears Lex moan when Clark's eyes lock on his through the flashing lights. Bright white teeth seem to glow when he grins before turning away, following his blonde partner off the dance floor and out into the night.
Lex sits in his car outside the motel room with his eyes fixed on the curtains. They've left the lights on, and he can see their shadows through the thin window covering. Clark pushes the guy down onto the bed just as Lex begins to stroke himself through his pants. He can see Clark lean over him and press against his chest; maybe kissing the muscular flesh or tugging and teasing a nipple into hardness.
Lex doesn't take his cock out until he sees Clark's shadow begins to thrust. He pulls his zipper down and slides the leather driving gloves onto his hands. He loves the feel of the material against his heated skin. He matches his pace to Clark's, and when he comes, it's at the sight of Clark's shadow lifting and turning it until Lex feels as if he's looking right at him. He bites back a groan, wipes the glove hastily on his pants, and steers the car out of the parking lot without looking back.
Inside the room, Clark pulls out of the blonde, cleans himself up, and walks out the door.
It is two weeks later when Clark walks into yet another club and is struck by the way certain pairs of eyes turn to him as if they've been waiting for his arrival. He doesn't let on that he notices, which is becoming the norm for him he thinks, and glides through the crowd towards a table. He lets his arms brush against the skin of other patrons, catching eyes and leering when someone appeals to him physically.
He's sitting alone at a table for two when a couple approaches; a man and a woman, strikingly beautiful, and moving liquid smooth amongst dancing, writhing bodies. He grins like he knows they are not a random encounter when they sit at his table, the woman straddling the man's lap and leaning back into his chest.
He follows them outside and listens for the familiar sound of Lex pursuing, but it is absent. Inside their vehicle, the woman sits in the backseat with him and leans in to suck his lower lip into her mouth. He sits casually sprawled, knees falling apart, each arm hooked over the back of the seat as he lets her take the lead.
The motel is a place he has never been before, and he hears the whir of cameras already recording when they enter a room. When he slips into X-ray vision, he sees them hidden so that every angle of the room is covered. There is a LexCorp logo on the side of each, and he knows they are transmitting back to wherever Lex is hiding tonight.
He decides that as a reward for his boldness, tonight he will put on a show for Lex. Tonight he will coax the man out of hiding and into his bed. After all, it's what he's been aiming for this entire time.
Lex doesn't worry when Clark leaves the room for a few minutes. He knows he'll be back. When he does return, he swaggers in carrying a brown paper bag in one hand, and even his grin is dirty and hot. The bag is placed on the cheap table by the door, and Clark pulls two items from it, handing them to the woman. She turns the items over in her hands, long, lacquered fingernails tapping lightly against the impressively large silicone dildo. She brings mischievous blue eyes up to Clark's and smirks as she nods. The second item, a harness, is attached to the first and the other man, tall and dark like Clark, helps her slip into it. Neither seem to care where the items have come from, and Lex simply files the thought away for future consideration.
Clark takes the dildo with little preparation. Up on his hands and knees, the auburn-haired woman is behind him and the man before him, leading his cock into Clark's mouth. He watches as the man grips Clark's hair and forces himself deep in past full red lips with no regard to Clark's comfort. It's perfect; exactly what Lex had instructed the man to do. Lex almost wishes he'd wired the room for sound as well, but he wants to hear the noises Clark makes for the first time when he buries his dick deep inside his ass.
Clark is writhing under the woman's assault, pushing backwards hard enough that she has to bend forward and brace her hands against his hips to keep from falling over. His muscles flex with each movement, skin golden in the dim motel room lighting.
Lex isn't sure what it is that spurs him to his feet twenty minutes later. It might be that Clark has raised his head to a camera and mouthed his name. Or that Clark's cock is still hard and dripping despite the attention from his male partner, who succumbs to Clark's mouth embarrassingly quick and moves on to licking and sucking Clark's dick. Or it could be the sight of Clark's stretched opening as the woman pulls out and sheds the strap on, pushing her body up and tumbling Clark to his back, and sliding her body down onto his, joining them.
In the end it doesn't really matter, he thinks. All that matters is burying himself in the tight heat of Clark's body. He climbs into his car and stops in front of the motel less than two minutes later ignoring the trail of blaring horns behind him as he cuts through late night traffic at a speed most would save for a straight stretch of empty back road.
When he throws the door open, Clark just smirks at him. The man and woman gather their things and leave without a word. Lex stands in the doorway until they've left just watching Clark as he leans back against the headboard, cock still hard, legs crossed at the ankles, and fingers entwined behind his head.
"Can I help you with something, Lex?" He leers at the bulge Lex knows is visible in the line of his pants.
"No more playing games, Clark."
"Why not? I've been enjoying this one."
Lex stalks across the room and climbs up and over Clark's body, still fully clothed. "I think we should call it a draw." He leans in and takes Clark's mouth, leading him in a hard, biting kiss that leaves them breathless and grinding violently against each other.
Clark obliges and his long, muscular body turns until he is lying with his back to Lex and his hips pumping slightly against the bed, seeking friction. Lex strips off his clothes without a word and pushes into Clark's body in one steady motion. Beneath him Clark shudders and pushes back, and they are suddenly closer than they have been in years; than they have been ever, really.
There are no words between them, just the shift of skin against skin, the creak of the mattress, their panted breaths and Clark's needy moans. Lex was right in waiting – the sound of them spurs him on, makes his body thrum with energy that he lets loose in the snap of his hips.
When it is done and they lay boneless and sated on the bed, Clark turns to Lex and grins. He leans in and kisses him, and Lex is surprised by the sudden gentleness of the motion. He returns the kiss, bringing his hand up to cup the back of Clark's head, stroking through silky hair to let his hand rest on the back of his neck.
Clark pulls back just enough to bring his lips next to Lex's ear. "You said something to me once, a long time ago."
Lex nods against the side of Clark's face, encouraging him to go on.
"You told me our friendship would be the stuff of legend. I think," he pauses to nip at the sensitive skin of Lex's earlobe, sending a shiver down his spine. "I think you may have been right."
* * *
I know you're just dying to find out how it all turns out. I could tell you that they put their differences behind them and spent the rest of their days fucking. Or, I could tell you that their fate was already sealed and while they fucked as often as possible, Clark Kent, Reporter was still publicly opposed to the business practices of Lex Luthor, CEO. I could tell you that this was their one and only encounter, or that they spent the rest of their natural lives in love.
What I'm going to do is tell you that this story ends however you want it to end. Be it a legendary love affair or a liaison forgotten in the dusty tomes of time, I'll leave it up to you to decide. Personally? I still think Clark Kent is a slut. But he's Lex's slut.