SNARE

by Kitty Fisher

BLOOD SPORTS: III

The limousine eased away from the curb. Listening to Lex as he talked to the driver, his voice a murmur over the faint hum of engine–noise, Clark heard every word — that they were to take the slow, long road back to Smallville, that they weren't to be disturbed — but his mind was busy repeating the last couple of hours in a starkly perfect series of freeze frames.

Cherry; that club; that room. Lex as Alexa. Sweet drug–scent still in his nostrils, the skin of his cock still sensitized. The image of Lex on his knees, his painted mouth stretched wide, hungrily swallowing; while, through the smoky darkness, men clustered around and watched.

Lex as a woman. Lex with long red hair, perfect poise and fuck–me eyes.

Clark swallowed dryly, and looked sideways, watching as Lex flicked off the intercom with a twist of an elegant wrist. A/lex/a.

Mine. The thought came from nowhere — such shocking possessiveness. Along with the realisation that Lex understood. Lex allowed this, trusted Clark enough to let him see Alexa and to see Lex. To play games that were far more than simply games. To let himself be the one who accepted. The one who surrendered.

He'd been deep–throated by Lex while strangers watched and jerked off.

God. Fuck. And what did you do last night, Clark? Nothing. Nothing at all.

It was wild. Like the sum of all his wet–dreams. Dreams where he was free to do anything he wanted, where he had the control, the precision to be like anyone else. Dreams that had found focus once he met Lex Luthor and wanted him. Wanted to strap Lex to his bed and torment him until he lost everything but the need for Clark.

Fantasy as something real. Made real by Lex. Perfect Lex.

Clark took a deep breath, almost laughing as happiness surged through every part of him. Better than the sweetest summer day, better than star–gazing on a clear, crisp night. Happiness as something he could touch. Something that could touch him in return.

He stared across the limousine's wide back seat at Lex, seeing Alexa, perfect from her re–touched make–up to her carefully crossed legs. Like a movie goddess, framed by the shifting, blurring brightness of Metropolis as it flashed past. Neon lights like jewels, sparking brightness into the dark red of her hair.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Oh." Clark re–focussed with a start. "You. The things we did."

"And, what was the result of your deliberation?"

Big hands clasped loosely between his knees. Wry smile, shyness making him shrug as if it meant nothing. "I had fun."

"Fun?"

"Yeah, fun." Clark grinned, relaxing back into the seat. "Lex, it was amazing, you know that. Unbelievable, in fact."

"Glad you enjoyed yourself." Lex slid himself across the seat until he was next to Clark. Intent gaze, scouringly close. "I like sucking your cock, you really must have noticed that by now."

"Oh, yes! But, I meant..." Clark bit his lower lip. How did you explain? How did you admit something that might sound completely stupid once it had left your mouth?

"What?"

"Lex, what I was thinking. Well, it's just that... you make me happy." It came out unsure, which wasn't right. Not when he was trying to offer the idea as a gift to Lex, not ask for validation. "Really happy — like I can't remember ever being before."

Lex was close, tight skirt riding up as he curled one leg over his companion's, one hand just settling around Clark's ribs in something like comfort. Scent and femininity, painted lips and curious, empty miles of need in his grey eyes. "Clark..."

Clark caught his breath. And wondered if, one day, he'd come just from hearing his name spoken by Lex in that particular way. Soft and breathy and somehow raw with emotion. "Well, you do."

"Yes." The hand sliding further, warm as it delved and burrowed and found skin. "I know. Me too."

Time unravelling. Mutual loss of everything but now.

No need to speak it. Not now. Maybe not ever. Clark watched Lex smile, tantalised as his scarred lip caught the light. Sudden sensation in his stomach, as if he was falling. Knowledge like fire, burning from the inside as the world dropped away.

He wanted Lex, now. Wanted to do everything, be everything, imprint himself on Lex so fully that there would never be any doubt. Lex would never distrust, never misunderstand. Whatever happened. Whatever he found out, or was told, or discovered. That whatever the future brought, this would mean more. Much more.

"Lex..."

"You still want to fuck me?"

Arousal so sharp it could have been pain. "Jesus, Lex..."

Knowing smile. Sudden shift and Lex pushed his knee into Clark's groin, hard enough to make him groan, the edge of pain, wickedly enticing.

"Is that a yes?"

Clark let his breath out sharply. "Take your lipstick off."

"I guess it is..."

A box on the ledge behind them, containing necessities, including lube and condoms, tissues too. Clark watched as Lex cleaned the paint from his lips, leaving them naked, vulnerable.

Clark was smiling as he kissed them. Still smiling as he opened Lex's mouth and tongue–fucked him, pressing him back into the seat as he explored, possessed; consuming in his concentration. Teeth and lips and tongue, perfection, as Lex's hands gripped his shoulders and pulled him close. Lex growling as Clark chewed his lower lip, biting hard enough to make the slim body jerk against him. Again. Low murmur of need in Lex's throat. Pain as the sweetest aphrodisiac.

Clark wanted Lex, now. Now...

A hand under Lex's jacket, sliding across a nipple. Fingers of his other hand working at buttons, working at stripping the constricting garment away completely. Until Lex was naked to the waist. Hard male body in heels, stockings, skirt, wig and makeup. Doll–like femininity torn apart into something far harsher, far more ambiguous. Something so compelling that it made his mouth dry and his cock pulse. Clark groaned and slid down onto the floor, kneeling between Lex's thighs. Alexa's...

Skirt so tight it was close to ripping anyway, so it didn't matter when he simply took hold of the hem and tore it upwards. Sound of ripping cloth, enough to make them both shiver. Folding the torn fabric back, slowly, baring Alexa to the waist.

Stockings under his hands. Warm skin through nylon, or maybe silk, he had no idea what, except it felt wonderful and just the pleasure of that was enough. Rasp of flesh on fabric, and then smooth on bare skin. Strong thighs, long, stunning legs that went on and on from spiked–heels to tiny black panties. Silk, they had to be. Silk and barely covering the solid shape of Lex's hard–on. Pretty girly stuff covering Lex's obvious masculinity. Clark clenched his teeth to stop the sounds he knew he was making. Biting down on need and lust and something like reverence.

Alexa. Clark looked up. Watched the beautiful face in the flickering shadow/light of street–lamps. The shape and familiarity still there, under the transformation wrought by complex rituals with paint and powder. That mouth parted in desire. Need in eyes half–closed in acceptance.

Clark slid his hand under strong thighs and eased Lex forward, pulling his ass to the edge of the seat until he was close to lying back. Stroking his hands up from spike–heels to thigh, watching Lex watching him. Seeing the quickening of his breath, the dilation of his pupils. Smiling. Feeling the control, the possession. Thumbs teasing at the edges of Lex's panties. Teasing back and forth. Until Lex was biting his lip, waiting, wanting. Then Clark bent forward and buried his face in heat and sex.

Lex hard, cock pulsing against Clark's face as he rubbed like a cat, groaning as he felt precum dampen the silk. Mouth open, tongue tasting, sniffing in the sharp scent of arousal, of sweat. Skin smooth under the faint roughness of fabric. Testicles hard and tight as he nudged against them. Anticipation so strong Clark could taste it.

Lex hadn't come in the back–room. Hadn't let himself come... He must have been hard, like this, for an hour or more. Delicious thought. Cruel, his mouth tight around Lex's balls, Clark sucked until Lex was shuddering, fists pounding the leather seat as he cursed brokenly. Slowly easing up, mouth sliding away, breathing instead. Breathing in Lex. Sex and submission. Like honey, sweet on his tongue. Clark lifted his head, dreamily content. Loving Lex's sprawled, half–bared body, the tension that wound thread–like through every particle of nerve and muscle and expectation. Lex accepting. Anything, everything.

"I was going to tie you."

"Yes..." Soft, breathy word. Hard swallow, his mouth clearly dry, voice breaking as he spoke. "You were going to spank me too."

Oh, yes, he was. Clark wiped his hand over his mouth, and without really thinking, just pulled off his own shirt. The fabric torn into strips almost before he had considered the possibility.

Pulling Lex up until he was twisted sideways, sitting on the edge of the seat. "Put your hands behind your back." Instant obedience. Naked wrists wrapped in tight flannel bonds. Clark tied off the cotton. Kissed the arching shoulders, the trailing line of spine where it ran close to skin. Tonguing, biting, knowing he would be leaving marks. Wanting that. Wanting Lex to go to work bruised under his suit, wanting hidden brands that proved Lex was his.

Then he pulled Lex down onto the floor.

"Kneel up."

Curious to watch Lex being even slightly awkward. Impossibly high heels, hands behind his back and no leverage. But he was close to graceful, somehow. Kneeling up slowly, concentrating, waiting then, watching Clark.

"Bend over the seat."

Turning, facing the trunk, bending over. The seat deep enough. Knees on the floor, face half–buried in a cascade of hair, ass on offer. The skirt still in the way. Another rip, and the fabric parted. Silk panties, shredding under his fingers. Bare skin. Bare Lex. Not touching the stockings, loving the look, the feel. Wanting enough of Alexa, enough of the strangeness he found so wildly arousing, to survive, but needing Lex to be here too.

Under his hands.

Skin softer than anything he had ever felt. Skin that was pale, like milk after the cream had been spooned off. He smoothed his palm over the curve of one buttock, pushing the garter to one side. His own hand almost dark in comparison as he spread his fingers wide, thumb tracing down into the cleft of Lex's ass to stroke his hole. Wanting the moment when Lex jerked, the moment he moaned into the smothering press of leather, his bound hands flexing as he tried to control his shallow, erratic breathing. And Clark had done nothing, yet.

It made him smile.

God, that he could do this. Have this control. Trust. This man, of all men. Clark felt his own cock flex, cotton peeling from his skin.

He'd never spanked Lex. Not once, despite everything else they had done. It had seemed strange, silly, like childhood, or games he didn't want to play about daddy and boy and dark convoluted power–trips without any sense of equality. But this, here... Lex asking. Ready.

Expectation like a drug. Clark bent forward and kissed skin, just where his thumb teased. Then he knelt back, confident, balanced, sure of his own control, of his ability to hurt without really hurting. And raising his hand, slapped down hard.

The shock seemed to ripple through Lex's body. Muscles clenching and relaxing as he absorbed the pain. Clark watched, scientist in his own peculiar laboratory. Watched as the pale skin turned pink, then red as his finger–marks lifted themselves on Lex's skin. Lightly, Clark traced the tips of his fingers over the marks, making Lex hiss softly. Then he slapped again. Harder. Making Lex jerk into the seat with a soft grunting sound.

Skin darker now. Clark kissed it, felt the fiery heat of smarting skin, and simply repeated the violation. Six slaps, hard and fast, not letting Lex catch his breath, simply enjoying the sharp sound of flesh resounding on flesh, of Lex's harsh breathing as he took the pain and somehow transmuted it into pleasure.

Skin like fire. Red and welted. Finger–marks raised like whip–weals.

Shuddering long breath as Clark stroked the abuse. Kissed it.

"Lex."

Incoherent answer.

"I'm going to fuck you now. If you ask me."

Sound like frustration, deep and harrowing. Lex lifting his head slowly, turning, looking over his shoulder, eyes wet with pain–tears. "Clark, I—"

"Ask." Patient.

"Clark, please, just..."

Clark knelt back, hand supporting himself as he unsnapped and unzipped his jeans. Lex watching him as he peeled them away, cock springing up eagerly, solid and ready. The car swayed, taking a sharp corner as he sat and pulled off his boots, socks. Stripping slowly, clothing tossed onto the floor. When he was naked he knelt again. His hand gentle on his own cock. Soothing the heat, but enough to make him groan and he pulled once, slow and unhurried. Flesh pushing through his fingers, wet and red and weeping more as he pumped his fist up and down. On display. Waiting.

"What do you really want, Alexa?"

Shudder running through the bent and bowed body. "You, just you. Clark, please, just fuck me."

"Gentle for Alexa or hard for Lex?"

"Hard. Clark, just make me feel. Please?"

Soft catch in the single word. Clark groaned. "God, Lex..."

The lube was in his hand, condom stripped and on his cock. He knelt, heated, raw skin burning against his belly as he arched over Lex's back and bound arms to kiss his neck; pushing long hair aside to find skin, to kiss once before kneeling again, before beginning.

Cock–head tight to Lex. Just ready. Push, so slow... Tight muscle opening slowly at his insistence, slow as he could make it, teasing himself, teasing Lex. Teasing as the world focussed into his cock and balls and the pressure that squeezed around him as he slid fraction by fraction into Lex's heat.

Patience as a reward in itself, as Lex moaned and cursed and his fingers clutched at air, wrists writhing against each other as Clark taught him to accept the pace as it was given. Pain in this too. Clark laid his hand on welted skin, scraping with his finger–tips, with his short, blunt nails. He gasped as the last inch of his cock pushed home and Lex arched his head back, mouth open, wet, breath shallow, panting, as needy as a mare in heat.

Clark slapped his ass.

Slap, again. Whole body shudder that squeezed Clark's cock so hard he had to fight from coming right then, at that moment. A third slap, enough to slam Lex's body into the seat.

"Is this what you want? Are you feeling enough yet?"

"Clark..." Broken word. Muffled, twisted.

Another slap, hard and vicious and right on the lifting curve between thigh and ass. Lex groaned and came. Sudden, unexpected and Clark had no time to do anything but ride out the shuddering spasms. Semen pumping from Lex's untouched cock to spatter on the floor, on Clark's skin.

Swaying with the intensity of his own need, Clark held still. Waiting. Listening to Lex trying to breathe. Watching him shiver. Waiting until Lex groaned softly and turned his head.

"I hope you're ready."

"God..."

"You should have waited."

"Clark, I— "

But Clark wasn't listening. He simply let Lex feel his overwhelming need, and fucked him, hard and fast. Slap of skin on skin, wet body sounds, like something sordid, but somehow perfect. Beautiful slender body, open for him. Letting him take and take and use.

Lex screaming. Cock impossibly lifting again as Clark reached under him and pumped. A hard, relentless grip that drew the blood and need into Lex's genitals, forcing fresh arousal to follow fast on the heels of the last. Clark squeezing Lex's cock, fist jerking in time to the fast, cruel fuck. Slam of belly to ass. Clark repeating Lex's name again and again, swearing, cursing, taking what he wanted, what he was given, but still demanding more; demanding everything.

Time and the world and everything Clark knew here, centered here. In the way his cock buried itself root–deep in Lex. In the way Lex twisted and arched and fucked back when Clark gripped his bound hands and used them, leverage so he could force every last fraction of himself into Lex, forcing him to take, to bend not break. Sweat dripping onto Lex's back. Skin damp, slapping against skin, until the brutal fuck was suddenly too much and Lex cried out, screaming as he came, his still half–softened cock pulsing dryly in Clark's grip. Racked, the harsh, rippling spasms of muscle too much, too strong, though he wanted the fuck to last forever, Clark came, his orgasm a series of long shudders that seemed to pull every thought, every need from his mind, from his body.

Still silence for a breath. Blank canvas. Reality like a dream. Clark tilted his head back and found himself swallowing tears. Sobbing a little as he carefully eased free of Lex's body. The condom stripped away, the fabric that bound Lex's hands parting like paper, falling to the floor as Clark bent to kiss the raw wrists, rubbing his wet face over the welted skin as Lex groaned, moved. Sitting back Clark pulled the wig off and tossed it onto the floor. Stockings and garter, skirt and shoes followed, and somehow he had lifted Lex, and himself, and was sitting on the seat with Lex in his arms, held tight, stroked and touched and stroked again. Sense beyond him. Needing nothing else but this; the weight of warm, solid male across his lap. Lex. Acceptance, belonging.

After a while he lifted his head from where it had fallen on Lex's shoulder. Serenity. Enough to make him sigh, and kiss skin shyly.

Lex, naked apart from makeup smeared on his sweating skin. Beautiful. His.

Words beyond him, Clark stroked Lex's face, unsteady fingers perfectly gentle. He smiled a little as Lex kissed his hand, rubbed his face into the stroking palm.

Darkness beyond the windows. Kansas there, corn and fields and moonlight behind clouds. Smallville still a lifetime away.

Clark swallowed, and let Lex wipe the tears from his face. Lips pressed to Lex's skin. Sighing as the long, slim body curled contentedly in his arms.

Holding tight, Clark sighed, and dared the future to begin.

BLOOD SPORTS: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX