WINTERING

by Kitty Fisher

BLOOD SPORTS: IX

In darkness thick with the scent of sweat, heat and sweet chemicals, Clark held Lex, arms wrapped around his torso, keeping him close. Lips pressed to the back of his head, Clark held his lover like a naked offering to ancient gods, or to the sweet certainty of his own control.

A lighter flashed, and in the brightness Clark caught snapshot images of twisting shapes, of cocks and mouths and hands and muscles straining for the nirvana of release. Countless limbs, countless acts; lust as an art practiced in darkness, sex as a fever burning through the room. Holding Lex closer, he felt the supple spine arch into his chest as Lex shuddered. His hands stroking, fingers tugging on Lex's tight–drawn nipples, Clark looked down to where two heads worked assiduously at Lex's groin. Pretty boys, red mouths, each one sucking in turn, kissing each other, sucking again, sharing, devouring Lex together.

And Lex was trapped, by Clark's arms, and by his command. All he could do was stand, and let the mouths wreak havoc.

Clark narrowed his eyes as he watched them, his own cock trapped and aching in the confines of his jeans. They were good. Good enough to have Lex panting, his eyes wide open but blind as he struggled with the intense stimulation.

More lighters flashed, and in the flickering darkness Clark kissed Lex's shoulder, then bit down, teeth hard on taut skin, on the resistance of muscle, until Lex cried out, his head rocking back, his face slick with sweat. He was so close, so strung on the wire of extreme desire that control was slipping, eel–like, away. Grinning wickedly, Clark dragged his mouth from wet skin to press his lips close to Lex's ear, and whispered with perfect cruelty:

"Don't come."

Lex swayed heavily. A shudder made Clark tense, and as Lex's knees buckled he held tight, held him up. Lex's head rocked forward, the sound that bled from his mouth somewhere between a sigh and a groan, all of it eaten by the pounding techno basebeat. Clark wrapped him tight; slick, naked skin burning though the cotton of his shirt.

"Don't come." More insistently.

"Bastard…" The word was no more than a breath, the sound lost in the music.

Clark smiled. And let Lex feel the smile. The boys were suddenly not what he wanted. He didn't want any of this, even though it had been his own choice. Now, all he wanted was Lex. "Push them away."

As if in agony, Lex flexed his arms, and pushed at one head. In another spark of lighter–fueled brightness, Clark watched the pretty mouth pout, watched Lex's cock as it shone, slick with saliva, hard, spiking rigidly upwards as it was released. Clark pulled Lex away, held him as he staggered. The two kneeling men turned, already forgetting anything but each other as Clark pushed Lex back against the wall.

The panting mouth tasted of need. Clark kissed deep, fucking his tongue into heat and submission. His own cock was weeping. Giving in to it, he ground himself against Lex, grunting as Lex shoved his whole body towards him. Clark gasped, and knew he could come here, right now, in his pants — or in Lex's mouth. To give in to what he needed, to make this all about himself was temptation, like a siren dancing in his head. The knife–edge of wanting was so sharp, that he came close. But then in a sudden flicker of light he looked into Lex's eyes.

With a wrench he pulled away, levering away from naked skin, almost whimpering as Lex arched desperately up toward him. Clark shook his head, and gently pushed Lex back into the wall. Lex was gasping. His red, swollen lips were parted, and his breath heaved in his lungs as he struggled to stay still. His hands scratched at the wall, as if seeking some kind of support for legs that were obviously trembling. Clark braced his hands either side of Lex's head, trapping him, holding himself away, making sure they didn't touch at all. Lex whined in his throat, blasphemous words shredding in his mouth, their substance stolen. Clark smiled. Waited until the trembling stilled and Lex's breathing evened out. Then he stood away. Without another glance, he headed for the door, sure without checking that Lex was stumbling barefoot after him.

After the intense noise, the corridor was painfully quiet. Cool after the heat, the low lighting was a balm. A man walked past, his clothing dark, supple leather. His eyes glanced over Lex and met Clark's. An offer was made, rejected, and the man smiled. Clark wasn't sharing. Not with strangers, not with anyone, not tonight. The thought made him pull Lex close. When the man glanced back, Clark kissed Lex, one hand twisting a nipple with a brutal, possessive need that left Lex shuddering. Glancing up, Clark saw the man still there, his gaze fixed on the pale, smooth length of Lex's body. There was such avidity in his eyes, such heat, that all Clark's resolutions were shot to pieces. He pulled his mouth away and grabbed Lex's hand, suddenly feverish with desperation. The room was close by. One corner, twenty paces. A red door. The keycard was slick in his hand and he almost fumbled it, but then it was open and they were inside.

The door slammed behind him and he pushed Lex to his knees. Fly ripped open, he was buried in wet heat before he'd even taken a breath, orgasm ripping through him before he had time to scream, the images of the past half hour ricocheting through his head as Lex swallowed, consumed, took him and drank him down, throat muscles rippling.

Breathless, Clark finally pulled away, his cock sliding wet, almost still hard from Lex's mouth. Panting slightly he stood still, his cock hanging, twitching as it slowly softened. He wiped his face on his sleeve and focussed. Sweat was dripping down Lex's face, a trickle that made him blink suddenly. Clark reached forward and slowly wiped a finger across overheated skin. He let Lex suck the wet finger clean. A tap on the cheek was all it took for Lex to stop. Clark left his finger hooked inside obedient stillness and held the moment. Lex's breath was warm on his hand.

"You're mine."

Statement; fact. From his finger he felt the ripple of reaction that spread through Lex's body. Lex blinked, his jaw tightening as he swallowed. The faint movement of his head might have been a nod. The dilation of his eyes was more than agreement.

Clark slipped his finger free. "Fasten me up." Residual stiffness made it difficult, but Lex tucked Clark's cock away. There was only one button missing, and it left the jeans gaping at the waist. Lex kissed the V–shaped gap and then slowly looked up, his eyes dark with voracious need.

Clark felt his balls tighten again, and his gut tingle with the first sweet yearnings for a second orgasm. But he was strong. He could be strong, despite the temptation that knelt so obediently, so perfectly before him.

"Lex, stand up."

Silently, graceless with arousal, Lex obeyed. There was no music, nothing but their breathing and the insistence of their heartbeats. Another kiss, chaste and sweet, and Clark guided Lex to the center of the room. Chamber. Dungeon, for all it was high above ground, not deep below. He didn't usually play with toys, but sometimes the surroundings added a certain edge to the proceedings. He ignored the wall of implements, and stilled Lex under a pair of hanging manacles.

"Raise your hands."

He'd never tire of the simplicity of command and response; the immediacy that gave him all Lex's trust, all his self, in a moment of complete truth. Lex lifted his hands, the skin over his ribs stretching as he reached upwards. When Clark fastened the cold metal around the vulnerability of his fine bones, Lex tilted his head back, watching as he was tethered. The fit was tight and the height held his wrists a few inches above his head. Manacled and chained. Clark watched Lex swallow sharply, and his lips part.

It was like an offering, and Clark kissed him. Gently, like a lover, while one hand stroked his thigh, curving up to finger just behind the soft, creased skin under his balls. Lex moaned in frustration, as Clark stepped away.

"You're so beautiful, Lex. I'm going to gag you."

A nod. Not permission, just simple acknowledgement. Clark walked to the wall and found a bit–gag, holding it for a moment before rejecting it and choosing a ball type instead. It was heavy in his hand, a thick strap trapping a large black rubber ball. He glanced at Lex, and picking up one other item, one he had left for this purpose, he walked back.

"I've brought you a present."

The fine skin around Lex's eyes tightened and his breath hitched.

Lust sweeping through his blood, rushing across his nerves, Clark held the rubber blindfold up, dangling it from one finger, letting the dark fabric shine as it twisted. It was beautiful. Molded black rubber that would fit close as a second skin. Clark watched the catch in Lex's breathing, watched as his cock suddenly wept helplessly onto the floor.

"Tilt your head to me." Stepping forward, Clark kissed him chastely, licking the soft, bare skin of his forehead. Then he pulled the wide blindfold into place, tugging and adjusting until it was right, until he could fasten it and tightly encase Lex's eyes. Clark nuzzled it, the sweet muskiness of the rubber mixed perfectly with the tang of sweat and sex that filled the air around them. He breathed in hard, then leaned back. Lifting his hand, he held the gag to Lex's mouth, waiting until it opened wide, then wider.

"Lick it."

Lex ran his tongue over the smooth surface, his saliva making the dull black glisten, his tongue working until Clark tapped his cheek.

"Now, really wide."

He could almost hear the creak of Lex's jaw as the ball pushed inside until it was trapped between Lex's teeth. Taking the straps, Clark pulled, careful not to trap skin as he cinched the buckle. He kissed again, pushing his tongue past the obstruction, licking wide–stretched lips and the cold hard edges of Lex's teeth until Lex was whimpering, his body shivering against him.

Only then did Clark step away. "Lex." He had to clear his throat, the right tone almost escaping him. "I'm going to get a drink."

Lex jerked as if slapped, his throat working painfully as he tried to swallow.

"I'll be back when I'm ready."

Lex's hands twisted in their bonds, and he arched desperately. Clark walked to the door and to the control pad placed so helpfully on the wall, just at eye level. Glancing back at Lex, he pressed one of the buttons. A machine whirred softly into life and the manacles trapping Lex's wrists began to rise. When Lex was standing on the balls of his feet, his body stretched, toes clutching at the floor, Clark relented. The machinery stopped and Lex was left, panting around the gag, his body a pure, attenuated line of anatomical detail.

One that Clark wanted to fuck. Always, no matter how much he needed and craved everything else they did, there was always the soul–deep need to possess Lex in the most primal way possible. Especially when Lex was like this, hurting, waiting, so deep in Clark's control that there was nothing he could do but exist in the moment. Now, it was the hardest thing in the world to leave. To stop himself from simply walking behind Lex and taking him, grabbing what was on offer like a kid in a candy store when no one was watching.

How could he not want it? Stretched out, his body sweating with the effort it took to hold the position, his feet only just balanced on the floor, every muscle in his body working, straining, Lex was enough to make Clark's heart beat faster, his blood surge. Only the fact that anticipation was as sweet as fulfillment stopped him. He was quite capable of teasing himself as well as Lex.

For he would fuck Lex, later. After a little more torture — of the sweetest kind. But right now? Now he needed somewhere without Lex. Without temptation. Somewhere he could breathe without smelling the tang of Lex's need, where every atom of air wasn't electric with sexual possibilities. If he'd been stronger he'd stay, for leaving smacked slightly of weakness, and he knew he shouldn't go. But staying, and not touching, was hardly an option either. He wasn't disciplined enough. Lex drew him too strongly for his control to be that iron, and right now what was needed was for Lex to hang there, untouched. Clark knew it, as well as he knew how to breathe or how to walk — intuitively. There was such perfect power in this act, in just walking away, in denying Lex, himself and every rule.

Wiping sweat from his face, Clark opened the door. Lex heard the sound and his whole body flexed, all his muscles tightening as he fought his own vulnerability, his own helplessness. He was so beautiful. So utterly, dizzyingly perfect, with his pale, smooth skin, with his hard cock so heavy with blood that it swayed as if weighted. Clark suddenly found it difficult to walk at all. But he did. He closed the door behind him, checked the privacy lock was on, and went — already planning what he would do when he returned.

* * * * *

He found a quiet table and ordered a Coke. There was no one he knew in tonight — Mondays were not the most popular night of the week. But today was Lex's, all for his pleasure after a vile month of work, with added stress from his father. They'd taken in a museum, had a lunch that probably cost more than the farm paid out in a month and spent the afternoon in the park, feeding the ducks and wandering in the sunshine. They'd both been high on anticipation, which had added a certain spice to the day, for they hadn't been back to the Rainbow Rooms for a while. Cherry had been away, and they had quite enough with just each other to keep them happy. But sometimes, just sometimes, it was good to do something different. Clark closed his eyes and thought back to the man outside the darkroom. He'd wanted Lex — probably wanted Clark as well. But those boys whose mouths had left Lex so desperate were all the input from outside that either of them wanted. Just the simple illusion of being given up to someone else. The man had been good looking enough, with a nice, hard body, but Clark was not at all aroused at the thought of watching him do anything to Lex. Or participating in any way. Lex was enough. Clark thought that perhaps he always would be.

He smiled as he thought about Lex, strung up, strung out and reveling in every moment of waiting. When Lex was on tiptoe, his belly stretched until it became concave and his belly button thinned into a long oval. Clark liked to lick it, the shape accepting the tip of his tongue as if formed just for it. It drove Lex to distraction. Especially if Clark used his teeth a little on the delicate skin around it at the same time. Sweet torment. It was surprising, really, that subtlety could be just as formidable as pain.

He'd learned so much about how to please — and tease — Lex. He was even beginning to feel confident being Master. Clark grinned suddenly, almost snickering to himself. Master, schmaster. He controlled Lex — when Lex allowed it — because Lex allowed it. Because Lex gave himself up every time, heart and body and — as far as Clark could see — soul, to Clark, for Clark's pleasure. And his own. They didn't role–play. They didn't need to. Everything was them, as they were; truth for each other when they had to lie to the world about so much. Clark closed his eyes and felt happiness like a drug, lifting him, enveloping him. Was there anything better than this? Than Lex? He didn't think so. Couldn't imagine so.

Lex made him hard, just by walking, or sitting, or just being for God's sake. Hard and needy and confident and arrogant and insufferably aware of every cell in his own body and every drop of sweat on –

"Can I get you another drink, sir?"

Breathing as if surfacing from deep water, Clark looked up. The waiter, dressed in nothing but body glitter, a posing pouch and way too much eyeliner, was looking at him expectantly. Clark glanced at his empty glass, and then handed it over. "No thanks."

"Something to eat?"

"No, I'm fine." The waiter smiled and walked to a different table, looking back once. Clark ignored him. Maybe Monday was some sort of singles' night. Well, they could all get lost. For no one and nothing enticed him in the way Lex did. Clark knew he was lucky. Charmed. The best thing that had ever happened to him was Lex. Okay, and maybe Martha and Jonathan being the ones to find him after the spaceship crashed, but hell, he'd had no say in that. Lex was his choice. And in return Lex had chosen him. Symmetry. And damn fine it was too.

Eyes half–closed he thought again of Lex, of him hanging there in the silent room, blind, stretched. His muscles would be protesting vociferously by now. Every second of simply holding that position would be close to excruciating — and there was no possibility of respite. Not until Clark came back. Even then there were no promises that he'd be released immediately. Clark wondered if Lex was calculating odds. How soon until Clark returned, how long then until he let him go? Or was he simply wondering what would happen next?

Considering his own state of arousal, Clark wondered how long he could tease the session out for. How long he could make Lex suffer. He took a deep, unsteady breath, loving this. When so much was still to be done before they both ended up back in Lex's big bed, and he could hold Lex, kiss the bruises better. Surreptitiously, he eased his jeans. It took a few moments before he could stand up, tugging his shirt down, body jingling with thrills of exhilaration, mind free–flowing around the warp and weft of possibility and promise.

Smiling at a couple dancing a slow foxtrot alone on the dance–floor, he walked back towards the private rooms, his boots silent on the deep wool carpet. His breath became shallower as he walked, his lungs tightening.

He turned a corner. The red door was open.

Five paces at a run and he almost splintered it into the wall. But Lex was still there, still chained. There was no one else.

Dizzy, he was at Lex's side, cursing as his hands fumbled with tight buckles. All the while he was talking, whispering, helplessly comforting, for the stretched body was too taut, too chilled.

The buckles finally came free and Clark eased the ball from Lex's mouth, wincing as Lex swallowed. He tossed it aside, the blindfold followed. Hugely dilated eyes blinked wildly at him, then closed in relief. Clark released the catches on the manacles and, as Lex fell forward, caught him, brought him close, his hands gentling as Lex shivered convulsively.

There was a chair, and he guided Lex to it, sat him down and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. Biting back every curse his mother refused to believe he knew, he knelt at Lex's feet. "What happened?"

A shake of Lex's head. "Is there any water?"

Scrambling back to his feet, Clark found a glass, poured Evian and brought it to Lex, holding the glass, Lex's hand almost steady around his own as he drank.

"Better?"

A nod. "Thanks."

"Jesus, Lex, I locked the door, I know I did! Who was here?"

"I don't know." Lex pulled the blanket more tightly around himself. "At first I thought it was you, teasing me, pretending to be someone else." He looked up. "But it wasn't."

"No." Clark knelt again, one hand on Lex's thigh, stroking gently. "Did he hurt you?"

"Just touched. I was freaked because I was so close to coming and then, when I knew it wasn't you touching me, I just shriveled. He didn't like that." Lex closed his eyes and took a long breath in through his nose, the nostrils pinching. "But no, he didn't hurt me."

Clark dipped his head, guilt burning through him. "I should have made sure I locked the door. I thought I had, but… I'm sorry."

"Don't… I'm fine. Whoever it was, maybe they just had an old key." With a slightly unsteady hand, Lex wiped his mouth.

His heartbeat gradually slowing to something like normal, Clark shuddered at the possibilities, at what might have happened while he was sitting comfortably smug just a few rooms away. Lex had been lucky. But what if the visitor had been less of a voyeur and more of a serial killer — or a rapist. The possibilities were appalling. "At least he didn't, well, do anything else."

"Yeah, and I'm fine, really." Lex smiled, the brightness almost too much. "Nothing happened, so stop it with the guilt."

Caught out, Clark waved the idea away. He didn't doubt Lex, though there was some undercurrent he was almost sure he was missing, something about Lex that was just slightly off–key. But then, after what had happened, wasn't that natural?

What they needed — what Lex needed — was to be home. "Come on, let's get outta here."

Gingerly, Lex stretched, easing his shoulders. "Yeah. That'd be good." Leaning forward, Lex touched his arm. "Come on. I want a hot shower, a wide bed and you."

"Me?"

"Mmm." Lex kissed the tip of Clark's nose. But his eyes were closed so it was almost impossible to read his expression. "You know what you should do if you fall off a horse?"

Bewildered, Clark nodded. "Get right back on?"

"Words of wisdom. So, Clark, after this little fall, you want to get back on?" His eyes, lash veiled, teased.

In the face of such an offer, all momentary unease evaporated. "If that's what's needed…"

"I think it's what the doctor ordered."

* * * * *

Neils let them in, nodding graciously at Clark as he took their bags. "No messages, sir."

"Great. Neils, you can have the rest of the night off, we'll make do on our own."

Make do? Well, that was one way of describing it. Clark, hands in his pockets, tried to look innocent and undoubtedly failed miserably. Neils glanced at him, and Clark was almost certain the enigmatic butler smiled.

"I've left cold food in the refrigerator, and there are guest towels in the bathroom."

"You think of everything, as always. Have a pleasant evening."

"You too, sir. Mr. Kent." Neils bowed slightly and walked away, heading for his own small apartment that sat behind Lex's in the tall, exclusive building.

When the door was shut, Clark took a deep breath. "You know, he's spooky."

"No, he's just very efficient.'

"But he doesn't even twitch when he sees me!"

"Why should he? He's known you long enough to be sure you're a friend. And I'm pretty certain he's guessed about other things. He's a good guy."

"Where did you find him?"

Lex led them into the bedroom. "Here, in Metropolis. He came well recommended and had the added bonus of being someone my father disliked — a feeling that is entirely mutual. It made a change not to have to bribe my staff into staying loyal."

"You did that?"

"Sure, when I was younger. Dad learned far too much about me before I realized I couldn't trust anyone, not even the maids." He pulled off his shirt. "Come on. I really want that shower."

Clark watched Lex strip. When he was naked, his clothes tossed into a haphazard heap on the floor, he just walked away. The flex and ripple of flesh and muscle… the way his back curved, dipping down to those gorgeous buttocks…

"Earth to Clark!"

"What?"

"Get your clothes off!"

"Oh, right." He did.

"Jesus. I always forget. Superspeed could be so damned useful." Lex sounded envious.

"Mmm, true, but sometimes it's nice to do things at a human pace. Like this." And walking across the room, his feet almost burying themselves in the deep carpet, Clark came to Lex. His hands touched the smooth warmth of Lex's arms, and he let his touch run upwards, skimming skin until he was cupping Lex's face. The kiss was sweet. Their lips scarcely touching they kissed, tongue tips just teasing at skin, the whole endeavor more about sharing breath than sharing passion. That they knew they had. This was more about something else, something like love.

Half drunk, heavy–eyed, Clark pulled back to see the same reaction mirrored in Lex's face. A finger traced the inward curve of Lex's neck, stroked up his throat, where the skin was so smooth, so perfectly unmarred by beard or stubble. He loved Lex with a possessiveness that frightened him. Love. Clark swallowed tightly.

"Shower?"

Lex just nodded. And without a word, Clark lifted him up.

Lex looked up enquiringly. "My name isn't Scarlett, you know."

"Oh, so that means I'm not Rhett Butler?"

Considering him, Lex slowly shook his head. "'Fraid not. No moustache."

"Damn."

"Never mind. They tickle too much anyway."

"Really?" He thought about how Lex knew. "Actually, no, I don't want any details."

"Then get going. The shower, remember?"

"Oh, yeah."

Lex was grinning, quite relaxed and calm in the curve of Clark's arms, his long, lightly muscled body fitting just right. Starting to walk, Clark headed to the bathroom, and careful not to knock any part of Lex's anatomy on the doors, stepped into the vast shower cubicle. Only then did he set Lex down.

"You, Clark, are a romantic."

Switching on the water, Clark turned, almost wounded. "Is that a crime?"

"No." Lex was smiling indulgently. "No, I like it. I'm just not used to it, I guess." As the water cascaded around them, he stepped close, looking up the couple of inches that separated them in height. "But I can try."

"I like being romantic with you."

"Well, feel free." The smile widened. "As long as you still get to beat me. Romantically, of course."

"Of course." Clark, the water swirling around him, took Lex in his arms. "I could spank you here and now?"

"Clean first!"

"Spanking after?"

"Or maybe just fuck me tonight, Clark." He took a shivery breath, his hands curving around Clark's ass as he pulled him close. "Fuck me, just that, no games. Please?"

"Lex…" Jesus, yes. When Lex looked like that Clark knew he'd do anything for him. Anything at all. Especially make love as sweetly as he was able.

They kissed again, slow and deep. Clark was the one to break it, and he reached for the soap, his hands lathering the bar as he reached for skin, arms first, then torso, where the skin was so fine, seemingly poreless over the containing arc of rib and bone. Lex stood, his eyes bright as he watched, the water steaming around him, rushing the soapsuds away, glistening on curves and planes, on the perfect mathematics of his body. Kneeling to reach the long legs, Clark shivered as Lex lifted first one, then the other, for his feet to be washed. The long, slender feet, with their fine bones and manicured perfection, flexing like animals in his hands, Clark kissed one high arch, and then the other, already working back upwards, calves, behind the knees, thighs. Lex was hard again, his cock lifting to nuzzle Clark's face. A kiss was all he allowed it, and he was standing, turning Lex under the water, his hands soaping ass and balls, rinsing the soap away as Lex hissed his impatience.

Himself he managed at speed. Once stilled, he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. Lex followed, and was dried before he'd even put two feet on the bathroom floor. They both grinned then, and Clark, with his best Rhett smile, took Lex back in his arms, and walked into the bedroom where he placed Lex in the center of his wide bed, carefully as if he were crystal.

A gentle push and Lex was on his belly. He was so beautiful, spreading himself, his hands tucked under his face, every movement slow as if his body were heavy with lush intensity.

Clark knelt between his outspread thighs. Bending, he pressed his lips to the place just where Lex's spine ended. Kissed and licked clean, slightly damp skin. Then he let his mouth move down, licking and kissing. Slow, slow, slow as a perfect rose opening, he let his tongue slide into Lex's body. Lex shuddered, gasping. Wickedly, Clark simply fucked him more slowly, his tongue curling in deep, sliding out and running around the tight circle of muscle, dipping back, feeling resistance, meeting it, pushing past it. Deep as he could reach, licking inside Lex, his mouth a wide stretched O buried between the hard curves of Lex's ass.

A last kiss and he knelt again, spitting into his hand, smearing his cock with saliva and precum, shuffling closer on his knees, holding himself, one arm braced against the bed. Lex was always so tight. Clark pushed against pressure, watching as he breached Lex's body, watching as it opened, spread itself for Clark's cock, watched as somehow, seemingly impossibly, the length and weight and girth of him was swallowed whole while Lex cried out, his body flexing against the sheets, against the intrusion, the solid, inexorable thrust that filled him.

As deep as he could go, Clark stilled. He could feel Lex's muscles spasm as they stretched, as they found room for him. Gently he pulled back. Lex arched under him, moaning as his head twisted to one side, his mouth wide with a supplication so sweet that Clark bit down on his own lip lest he rip Lex apart with impatience. He was so close, his cock, its skin pulled tight, almost free, just its tip held tight. He rocked slightly, back and forth just the merest half–inch. Lex clawed the bedding and howled, the sounds muffled, yet achingly full of need. Another push and Clark was inside. Lex was panting now, his back tight, rippling with the effort it took to lay there, to be fucked like this, to take pleasure like this. Out again. Teasing back and forth. Clark was sweating, drops trickling down between his shoulder blades, down his belly to add to the slickness that coated his cock. Again, in. Again, until he finally let Lex have a rhythm, a slow, taut press and pull of flesh in flesh, of stretching and deepening, until Lex was riding the edge of orgasm, held there, balanced, until Clark himself cried out, orgasm like lightning shattering his control, and he thrust hard, Lex's name like a mantra on his lips, until Lex sobbed aloud and came, hard, shuddering as he ground his cock into the sweat–damp sheets.

Afterwards, between them they just had the energy to turn sideways and lie curled together. Sleep took them almost at once, and Clark, in his last aware moment for an hour, kissed Lex's shoulder, finally resting his cheek in the soft curve that dipped into the nape of Lex's neck.

* * * * *

In the morning he went home after breakfast. Lex had spent the hour after waking on the phone. Business, he said, and smiled as Clark brought him fresh coffee. There was school the next day, anyway, so Clark kissed him discreetly, said a formal goodbye to Neils and left for home.

The week that followed was chaos: school, a new herd of cows for the farm and unseasonable weather that made Alaska seem balmy. Clark hardly thought about it when Lex couldn't make their next meeting. He was busy too.

The second time it happened, he began to wonder. The third time Lex called at the last minute and cancelled, Clark knew something was very wrong.

In long, wakeful nights, he stared at the wall and imagined the worst. He had absolutely no idea what to do. He couldn't talk to his parents, just the idea was freaky, besides which his mom would fret and his dad would say I told you so. By day he did his chores, did his schoolwork, drank coffee with Lana and Chloe and behaved in every way just like Clark Kent should. Inside, he was howling in anguish, unable to talk to anyone in Smallville, certainly not to the charming but remote personage that was Lex Luthor.

Somehow, a week slipped into two. Then he heard that Lana had a visitor.

* * * * *

"Cherry!"

Peeling off her mock–sheepskin coat, Cherry sat down, elegantly smoothing the hem of her short, floaty skirt. "Hiya, Clark you great hulk — I swear you get bigger each time I see you." She smiled, pink lips glistening. "I bet Lex isn't complaining."

The innuendo was so heavy it hit the floor with a thud. He felt his ears go red. "Lex only complains about things like the temperature of his wine. It's great to see you — how long are you around?"

"No idea. I'm staying upstairs with Lana, we're booked in for a few days shopping and pampering." She flicked her hair away from her face. The blonde strands sparkled with what looked like jeweled butterflies. There were more butterflies on her skirt. Her footwear appeared to be the only part of her outfit actually designed for cold.

Clark eyed their furry bulk cautiously. "Um, did you steal those boots from an Eskimo?"

"Inuit. And she's living in Dulles, darling, so she's not exactly in need." She admired them for a moment, peering down a length of tanned leg, before crossing one over the other. "So, how's my favorite billionaire's toyboy?"

Clark hastily looked around. No one was looking, breathe deep now. Feeling sulky as a child, he couldn't keep the resentment from his voice. "Yeah, well, I might be. If I ever saw him."

"Oh, elusive is he?"

"Working all hours God gave."

"Well, if you must date the head of a global conglomeration, what d'you expect?"

"A date," Clark stated sourly. "Occasionally."

"Oh." She twisted a strand of hair around a long finger. "Is it that bad?"

Clark sighed and put his mug onto the low table in front of him. Lex was just so busy. He had no time for Clark at all, no time for anything apart from whatever was keeping him in Metropolis. But maybe it was only work, so what then? Every line of thought simply brought him back to feeling confused and selfish — neither of which sat well with him. He sighed. "I don't know. No. I don't think so."

"So sure, so certain!" Cherry hesitated, and then leaned towards him until their heads were close. The concern for him that shadowed her brilliant blue eyes was intense. "Sweetie, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to tease. Come on, tell me?"

For a moment he couldn't answer her. All the confusion, all the doubt swamped him, though he knew suddenly that he had to talk to someone now, right this minute, and there was no one better than Cherry. Perhaps, for this, there was no one else at all. The past days loomed over his shoulder, and all the hours of pretending nothing was the matter suddenly seemed despicably spineless. He had to admit the truth to someone. It was that or go mad.

"Cherry, something's wrong."

All concern, she was very serious. "With you? No…" She scrutinized his face, then shook her head. "No. It's Lex. Or something between you and Lex. Tell me?"

"Between us." He shook his head miserably, painfully aware of Lana and the other customers. "Cherry, I can't bear it…"

She sat up. "Sweetheart, it can't be that bad!" He looked at her. "Oh. Can I help? D'you want to talk about it?"

"Please. But not here."

"Sure." She sighed, one hand reaching for her coat. "Guess that means a walk in the snow?"

"Sorry." He shrugged awkwardly.

"Hey, no problem — nothing of mine's likely to drop off." Grinning, she pulled on her snug coat and belted it tight. Tugging her hair free, and with a quick wave to Lana, she stalked to the door, butterflies sparkling as she went.

Hurrying after her, Clark pulled on his own jacket and just made it through the doors before they slammed in his face. Cherry was waiting by the curb, her breath misting in the bitterly cold air. As he approached she started walking and he fell in beside her.

"So, Clark my love, no ears to overhear — spill."

Hands pushed deep in his pockets, allowing the utter misery of his thoughts to consume him, Clark stated the worst he could imagine. "I think Lex has finished with me."

"What!" Clark turned, for Cherry had stopped, and was standing stock still, her face a mask of disbelief. She shook her head decisively. "Has he said so?" He shook his head. "Then no way."

Clark smiled politely at Mr. Orensen — who was looking at Cherry very strangely — and waited until the old guy was out of earshot. "Why not? It happens — maybe he's bored with me."

"Clark, do not be a total imbecile all your life. Lex loves you."

"Then why doesn't he want to see me?"

"Now, let's get this straight — and I can hardly believe what I'm hearing anyway. What's happened, what's changed?"

"We used to meet up all the time, whenever we could — I liked seeing him." It sounded so pathetic, like he was complaining about a crush that had gone sour. "Now, well, Lex just isn't around."

"Ever?"

"Well, he came to the farm one afternoon. And I saw him here once, at the Talon, but each time he was hurrying. And we never got to be alone." He took a deep breath and got to the crux of it all. "We haven't, you know, for a couple of weeks."

"Oh." She looked curiously at him. "No sex at all?"

"No."

"Fuck. Or not, as the case may be."

"Thanks." Clark gently took her arm and turned her so they were just standing face to face, the air clouding around them. "Cherry, you know how I feel about him, it's driving me crazy!"

"Clark, just tell me one thing." There was such compassion in her eyes as she searched his face. "Was everything okay between you?"

"I thought so. One day it was fine and then next, he just stopped wanting to see me."

She rested a hand on his chest, in the dull, snow–weighted light her skin seemed like bleached bone, her neon pink nails as bright as flares. "There's no easy way to ask this, but the last time you fucked, was everything alright?" She hesitated, and then shrugged wryly at his scarlet face. "I mean did you hurt him — really hurt him in a way that maybe was an accident?"

Startled, Clark shook his head and backed away a step, as if she'd slapped him. "No!"

Cherry's hand dropped back to her side. She tucked it in a pocket. "I'm not accusing you of anything, but could he have been hurt and you not know about it?"

"No." He was sure. Certain. But… "I'd know, wouldn't I?"

"Would you? From my experience, Lex is pretty good at covering up pain. And you know, if you had hurt him, he's quite capable of hiding it."

"Why would he do that?"

"In case it upset you?" She shrugged. "Lex does get these weird chivalrous notions that to anyone else seem more like headfucks."

Clark thought it through, working his way past the labyrinthine possibilities. "Yeah. He'd know how I'd feel, if I really hurt him." Embarrassed, he glanced away. "More than I do normally, that is."

She closed the gap between them and took his arm; her voice when she spoke was pitched very soft and very intense. "The games we play, Clark, they're not always safe. Mistakes happen."

He spoke softly, thinking over the past. "Cherry, honestly, I do always make sure he's okay."

"Every time?"

"Yes." But he tried to remember back, to afterwards, to what Lex had been like. It had been after the abortive visit to the Rainbow Rooms, the night when all his plans had ended up being thrown out the window, the two of them just going back to Lex's to make love. He couldn't have hurt Lex then, could he? Guilt burned. "But maybe I got complacent."

"Maybe. But, honey, I also think that if this is the case, then Lex is a total idiot for not just sharing. Don't you guys ever talk?"

Did they? Not really. Not about much other than trivialities. And sex. "I'll go see him –"

"Clark!" As he started to move away, she pulled him back around, blinking up as the first dusting of fresh snow arrived on the wind. "Jesus, just hang on here. This is only a theory — it could be something else. Hell, Lex might be in the middle of a huge buyout, or he might be planning something that's taking all his time. Anything's possible. Except one thing." She caught his gaze and held it. "Lex wouldn't just walk away. You know what he used to give his pretty little one–night stands? A goodbye letter and a pair of diamond earrings. You had any earrings in the mail recently?"

"No." But doubt squirmed in him, making his gut clench. He should believe her. He wanted to. Because if Lex no longer wanted him, then what else was there? Or, what if Lex still liked him, but didn't want the kinky stuff? The idea hurt so much he had to voice it, just to torment himself. To hear it spoken aloud might make it sound a little less like the end of the world.

"Cherry, what if he doesn't like what we do anymore? What if he's avoiding me because he doesn't want to, you know…?"

"Stop it." She shook him gently. Then with a sigh she reached up and cupped his face with her warm hand. "Lex has been a fucked–up weirdo pervert since he was a kid — and he loves it." She smiled then, a warm tease glinting in her eyes. "If you catch him on a quiet day he can analyze himself and tell you exactly why he's such a skilled student of the perverse. He can give you psychological and historical precedents that make SM the purest form of lovemaking, arguing so well that it could put you off vanilla fucks forever. Lex is a hardcore adventurer, but he needed an anchor. You're that. He changed when he met you, become calmer, more balanced. All since you two hooked up and you came out as being as much of a pervert as he is and started to share all that stuff, as you so elegantly call it. You think that's because of tea with your folks — delightful as that is? Or you think maybe that it might be more to do with being happy? Happy, Clark! You have no idea how rare that emotion has been for Lex. That kind of happiness doesn't just slip away. Unless it's pushed, of course. So, go easy on him. Don't make assumptions."

"Cherry." He sniffed, overwhelmed.

"Yeah, well. I love you, you great brute. Not as much as I love Lex, naturally." A small, pinched smile went with her words. "So don't fuck it up. I still have hopes for a Las Vegas wedding."

That made him laugh. Which made him feel a little better. "You think I'm overreacting?"

"Maybe. Who knows. Play it as it lays, Clark. Don't try and read the hand before it's dealt."

"But, I just wish I knew what was happening!"

She tapped his cheek. "Such a control freak. One thing though, if he has, for any reason, stopped getting his thrills from SM, you'll cope. Won't you." It wasn't a question.

"Cherry –"

"Don't look like that. If you love him, you'll still love him even if you're no longer beating him or being Master, or whatever fun floats your mutual boat?" A questioning eyebrow arched at him. She was waiting.

Reluctantly, slowly, he nodded agreement. "Yeah."

Some of the fierceness left her face. "You know all that fun you and Lex have when the bedroom door is locked and the toys come out of their boxes? It's a game. Just that. But what you and Lex are is more than just a game. It's here." Her hand slid down and patted his chest, right over his heart. "This is the cake, the big rich, fabulous cake that'll maybe last you forever — the rest is just frosting."

Blinking, he took a deep breath. Frosting. Like snow, it could melt. But if the cake was still there, did it matter?

"I'll talk to him." There were so many possible answers to the conundrum. The easiest one of all being simply that Lex really was busy with work. Well, Clark knew he could always wish.

"Good. And talk nicely." She moved to his side and began walking again, the snow settling in her hair, nestling among the butterflies. Following, hands deep in his pockets, Clark hunched against a cold he couldn't really feel. "Lex can be difficult to read, Clark, but it's better to try and talk than to get mad. Especially as he usually has reasons for what he does. They're not always sane or good reasons of course, but they're his."

"Yes, ma'am."

Cherry laughed, the sound soft and low as they turned back into the Talon. "And for that you owe me a hot chocolate with whipped cream. Maybe with a marshmallow or two, no one can think of dieting in this weather."

As she stepped inside, groaning theatrically as they hit warmth, Clark glanced back at the street and shivered. Suddenly the comfort of chocolate seemed a wonderful idea.

* * * * *

Roused by the shrillness of his alarm, Clark slammed it off. Still half asleep, he stumbled out of bed to drag on jeans and a T–shirt before, still barefoot, heading toward the siren–call of kitchen and juice. Instead, what he found was Lex, overcoat still on, sitting at the table.

Frozen at the foot of the stairs, Clark closed his gaping mouth and tried to sound normal. "Hey, Lex. Surprise, surprise…"

Lex smiled. He looked tired, the skin under his eyes pinched, shadowed bruise–blue. "A good one?"

"Of course!" Clark almost stuttered the words — that Lex could believe otherwise was unthinkable. He headed for the fridge. Maybe he'd wake up with some vitamins inside him. "How'd you get in?"

"Your parents. They were on their way to some market. Martha said not to forget to use a glass."

Pausing with the fridge half–closed, carton in hand, Clark sighed resignedly. Shutting the door firmly he opened a cupboard and reached for a glass. "Um, you want some?"

"No thanks. I've got to head off soon."

Oh. Clark drank. It gained him some time. It was a few days since he'd seen Cherry and they'd talked in the snow. He hadn't called Lex. Mainly because he couldn't think of what to say. He couldn't now, either, not when all he wanted to do was shout and yell and accuse Lex of god knew what. "So, will I see you later?"

There was a moment's hesitation. A moment in which Lex seemed to almost shiver. "I'm going back to Metropolis this afternoon — I've only got a few hours here."

Stung, Clark carefully placed the carton on the counter, lining up his empty glass next to it. "Why did you bother to come here at all?"

"Because I wanted to see you."

"Oh." Clark finally started to wake up. His parents would have been out of the house by five, it was seven now. Lex had sat in the kitchen for two hours, maybe more. "Lex, what time did you get here? You could've woken me."

"I could. But I kind of liked the idea of you sleeping." He smiled, the expression hardly more than a slight lift of the corners of his mouth.

Desire, pain and confusion were a bitter mix. Clark's skin itched with a need to touch, to hurt. Lex was here, which was better than nothing, but not nearly enough. For he still didn't know why all this was happening. And Lex had been sitting here when they could have been in bed. Together. "I like sleeping too, but I'd like to have done more…" He went closer to where Lex sat, moving to stand over him, to stare down at his smooth, pale skin, waiting for him to look up. When he did, his eyes were red–rimmed. "I've missed you, Lex."

"Welcome to the club." Lex sighed emptily. "I've thought about you so much, Clark. Wanted you…"

Ah, but Lex was temptation. Bending forward, Clark touched his lips to the cool curve of scarred lip. It was very sweet. Lex opened to him slowly, the tension Clark could feel in his body fading like an echo, barely there but resonating distantly. As he leaned, Clark cupped his fingers around the fragile curve of skull, deepening the kiss, wanting Lex so badly that it didn't matter where they were, he just wanted him right here and now, over his parents' kitchen table, on the floor, anywhere. He groaned, almost in pain from the sudden jolt of lust as Lex tilted his head, just so, in such perfect submission. Clark moaned, deep in his chest as his cock pressed tight into the constriction of his jeans.

Decisively, Clark reached to pull Lex off the stool, wanting him standing, equal, but as he pulled, his hand tight around Lex's bicep, Lex twisted sharply, awkwardly, and was suddenly falling onto his knees, his hands already fumbling for Clark's fly, his overcoat a pool of black around his legs and the upturned soles of his shoes.

"Ah, yes, Lex…" Yes, this was what he wanted. Lex as his. His blood felt molten, like lava pounding through his veins. The power was overwhelming. Clark leaned back as long fingers unfastened him, unzipped him, and slowly peeled his cock free of cloth and skin. His overheated flesh jerked spastically with every beat of his heart. Cool air, then the warmth of Lex's breath and his senses overloaded. There was a moment of balance, a moment in which Lex looked up, and the dark fire in his eyes gave Clark such a rush that his breath stalled in his throat, catching there. The fingers of one hand grasping for the counter edge, the other closed on Lex's skull, he shuddered as if an electrical current had been shot across every nerve in his body and his breath rushed free as Lex swallowed him whole.

Deep–throat. Skill beyond anything. Clark struggled to think, to hold the moment. Clawing his eyes down, he stared at Lex, at the image of him kneeling, his mouth so wide, pushed down, lips stretched around the thickness of solid cock, his cheeks pulled in tight as he sucked, his eyes closed in concentration. Watching his own flesh emerge slick with saliva, watching Lex, Clark forgot everything he knew about thought and reason, about anything but wanting. His hand gripped tighter, and he shuddered with animal desire as Lex was forced closer, his breath trapped in his throat by cock and angle, his face sweating with the effort, his skin darkening as oxygen deprivation sparked through him. One slide out — watch the breath, Clark — then back, forced as deep as possible, as the fabulously strong throat muscles worked and grasped him tight from root to tip. Again. Slide into heat until lips pressed tight against his groin. The struggle for air, the sounds of desperation that somehow squeezed from Lex's chest and throat and mouth deprived Clark of control. He was going to come — so fast, from zero to brink in no time, his body in free–flow of need. Another breath for Lex, and then both Clark's hands were around his head and Clark was face–fucking him, swearing softly under his breath as the orgasm trembled on the edge, as his balls screamed at him and his hips pumped and his blood boiled. One last brutal stroke and he came, calling out Lex's name, pouring himself into Lex's mouth, almost whimpering as release racked through him as violently as pain.

He could hardly stand when it was done. Half dazed, he shivered contentedly as Lex licked him clean before tucking him neatly away. He watched while Lex climbed slowly to his feet and, once there, leaned on one hand. The movement pushed back his cuff, exposing bruised skin pulled too tight over fine bones.

Straightening, Lex pulled his cuffs down. "I have to get back."

"No, give me a moment and we can, you know…"

"Another time." Lex smiled with reddened lips. He leaned forward and chastely kissed Clark's cheek. "This one was just for you. Think of it as one on account."

"Wow."

Lex laughed softly. "Good thing your parents were out."

"Oh, God, yes!" Blinking, Clark looked around. Jesus, they'd done it in the kitchen. In his mom's kitchen! He groaned.

"Don't worry, I'm sure Martha doesn't have the place bugged."

"Jesus, I hope not!"

Shaking his head, Lex just smiled; neither sphinx nor Cheshire Cat but somewhere between the two. "Next time, maybe we can find a bed."

"Yeah, please."

"At my place?"

"That might be a good idea." Clark took a long, deep breath. He eyed Lex warily. "Are you sure, about you?"

"Totally. I'm wiped out, Clark. Besides, I have the joy of another couple of nights in Metropolis. After that I'll be in Smallville for a long while. No more trips."

"Really? That's great." It would be, though he knew his enthusiasm sounded hollow. It was only the old doubt that made him less than wholly thrilled.

Lex just sighed. "I've missed you, Clark."

The trickle of warmth in Clark's gut was irrepressible. He relented and smiled. "Good. Me too."

Lex wrapped his coat firmly around himself and stepped very close. "Two more days."

"I wish you didn't have to go now."

With a sound that was almost a laugh, almost something else, Lex nodded, his eyes firmly lowered. "So do I."

Clark raised his hand and took Lex's arm, just where he'd held it before. He gripped it quite gently, but he felt Lex's almost concealed flinch. "What's this?"

"A bruise."

He let his hand drop to his side, frowning solicitously. "What happened?"

Rubbing his arm through his coat, Lex sighed: "Nothing important. I tripped — serves me right for thinking when I should've been looking." He pushed his hands into his pockets and straightened wearily. "I'd better go."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Then watch out for the walls…"

Lex went to the door. With one hand on the doorknob he looked back once. "I'll do that. Keep yourself warm for me, Clark." And with a wry smile, Lex was gone.

Slowed by lethargy, Clark stretched. Well, it was a good way to wake up, even if Lex had been kind of strange. He wandered over to the juice carton and drank, listening as the sound of a car engine started up with a muted roar. It was only when it had faded into the distance that Clark remembered the bruises around Lex's wrist. And realized what would have made them.

* * * * *

The Talon was warm, cheerful and smelt deliciously of coffee, sugar and chocolate, the combined aroma so glorious that it almost lifted his depression. From her table in the far corner, Cherry waggled her fingers at him. Waving back, he headed straight for Lana and the strongest coffee he could find.

"Hi."

"Hi yourself, Clark." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, setting the large filigree earring dancing. "What'll it be?"

"Um, Americano with an extra shot — and another of whatever Cherry's having."

Efficiently she started making the two mugs. "Is it still freezing?"

"Yep, and snowing again."

"Damn. Cherry, Chloe and I were going shopping tomorrow — at this rate we'll be lucky to make it out of Main Street, let alone into Metropolis."

Was it always this difficult to make small talk? Clark searched for something to say, but only came up with more inanities about the weather. "There's more on the way. The weather girl went on and on about freak weather conditions — and sounded totally happy. At least someone likes it."

"Mmm, maybe she lives in a nice warm apartment in the 'burbs where the streets are all clear and the stores deliver no matter how bad the weather is."

"Homesick for a big city?"

She smiled. "No. Just in need of new clothes."

He frowned. "But you're always wearing something new." He shook his head in confusion. Then he caught her look. "And you always look gorgeous!"

"Nice save!" She grinned, all teeth and tease. "Clark, I know you're a boy, but for goodness sake, how do you think we girls stay pretty? From constant shopping of course!"

"Oh, that."

"Exactly! We have to read magazines about what to shop for, plan where to shop and then actually get out onto the streets to shop. Story of my life."

"Lana, I think you've been spending way too much time with Cherry."

"Oh, I'll tell her you said that!"

Clark just shook his head. "Whatever. It all sounds more complicated than buying jeans and plaid shirts."

"You mean getting your mom to buy them for you." She rolled her eyes. "Thank heavens for men like Lex — he at least understands."

Clark almost bit through his tongue. Though he couldn't expect the subject of Lex not to come up. "That's nice."

"See this?" She preened, fingers holding out the sludgy pink knit top that seemed to Clark to be made up of leftover embroidery from a kit his mother once tried, and a load of tiny beads. "It was only thanks to Lex that I found it after every shop I tried had sold out."

"Amazing…" So, Lex could be here for Lana. Perfect.

"Yeah." She nodded decisively. "It is." Her hands smoothed her sides, fingers patting the knit lovingly. With a grin she turned and, after some barista magic, set two mugs on the counter. A line had formed behind him, and Clark left her already talking with her next customer.

Cherry slipped tiny earphones from her ears as he approached, tapping a pale pink iPod before slipping it into her bag. "Hi, gorgeous."

"Lana said this was what you're drinking." He put the mug down and sat opposite, his own Americano cradled in his hands.

"Thanks." She looked at him, hard. "So, how you doing?"

"Not too well." He sipped his coffee.

She inspected him carefully, and then sighed. "And Lex?"

He leaned forward, placed his mug on the table, and looked into her eyes. "I know why Lex hasn't been around — he's found someone else."

"How…? No. Clark, he wouldn't." Her reaction was so shocked that Clark felt his anger calm slightly as she leaned towards him, her smooth face creased into lines of anxiety. She spoke with utter conviction. "Whatever else Lex is or does, he's not going to fuck around. Not unless he knows it's agreed, and I guess you didn't make that sort of agreement?"

"We never discussed it, I just assumed…well, that we wouldn't. He wouldn't."

"No discussion of the subject is tantamount to an exclusivity agreement. You know, Lex watched his dad fuck everything that moved, regardless of who he was supposedly with or what promises he'd made. Lex'd never be the same, not with someone he cares about."

Ah, but it hurt to think this one, let alone voice it, but Clark bent over his cup and whispered his fear. "What if he doesn't care? What if I don't, well, do it for him anymore?" He looked around, but they were alone in the corner. They should go outside, talk where no one could overhear. He didn't move though. Something in him no longer cared. But he still whispered, because the words he spoke were too painful to speak clearly. "If I'm not what he wants anymore."

"Clark, you're not — despite appearances — an insensitive lout. You'd know. And besides, Lex is many things, but not at all backward about coming forward when it comes to his peccadilloes. Has he asked for things to be different? Or maybe told you he's not interested in you anymore?"

"No, but get this." He kept his voice low, as much as to control his anger as to hide the hurt that bled through him. "This morning, first thing, he came to the house. It was like all he was there for was to get on his knees. He even refused to let me touch him in return. Straight after that he left — but not before I saw marks around his wrists where the skin was bruised. I know those marks, I've put ones like that on him." He shook his head miserably. "There were other bruises. He almost fainted when I grabbed his arm."

She chewed a nail. "Did you ask him about them?"

Guilt, there, eating at him, which fed his anger nicely. "No. I was only just awake. I'm not too bright in the mornings at the best of times — after almost passing out from the blow–job of a lifetime, well, I just didn't put it all together until he'd gone."

She sighed. "You'll have ask him outright, Clark."

Carefully re–arranging his mug on the table, he nodded. She was right. But doubt was like acid, and it eroded every positive thought. For, what if it was all over and Lex had found someone else? "I can't, he's gone back to Metropolis."

"What, already?"

"Yeah. Said he only came over to see me."

Scorn passed swiftly over her face. "Oh, that's so the mark of someone not interested in you, Clark Kent!" She tapped a manicured nail on the tabletop. "How long was he here? Four hours? Less? With a long journey each way before and after. Hmm, maybe he wondered what Smallville looks like under three feet of snow. Maybe he needed to check for burst pipes in the mansion. Or maybe he missed you and had to see you — just like he said!"

Clark blinked under the onslaught of her words. Chewing his lip, he considered. "Lex sat in our kitchen for two hours, waiting for me to wake up."

She shimmered with sudden fury, though somehow she kept her voice low. "Oh, definitely the mark of a bored man, maybe next time he'll watch you sleeping and not bother to wake you up at all, just so he can see your face! Gee, honey, I know you're head over heels about him, but think clearly with your head and not that horny dick of yours. Lex is a busy boy. Work busy. The bruises? Well, maybe he fell over, or had an accident."

"He said that."

"And you automatically assumed he was lying? Now, I always thought trust was a two–way thing!"

"I know." His gut churning, he squirmed under her glare. "But, Cherry, I don't know what to think…"

"So I see. You're doing no one any favors dreaming up scenarios. Ask him."

"He's in Metropolis."

"So?"

So, indeed. He swallowed and took a deep breath. It was only cowardice that made him stay. "Yeah. You're right."

She paused, carefully examining his face. "Clark, get this sorted. Because, if Lex is in trouble, he'll need you."

Trouble? Clark hadn't even begun to approach that as a possibility. He stood up, bending to kiss her cheek, breathing in the scents of lilies and violets as she turned to kiss him in return. Her skin was very soft as he whispered in her ear. "Thank you."

"Pleasure, darling. My pleasure…"

With a wave at Lana he left the Talon, waiting only until he'd walked down a deserted alleyway before starting to run.

* * * * *

The city was cold as ice and utterly soulless. It was soulless even at the height of summer; maybe not as bad as Gotham, but hardly inviting when you were standing on a street corner trying to look inconspicuous.

It had taken him until dusk to find Lex. It would have been easy enough to call his cell and say, hey, I'm in Metropolis! But something in him wouldn't let him make the call. Something that was doubt and anger and misery. He didn't like the fact that he hadn't headed to a phone booth, but that self–disgust didn't change the fact that he was watching Lex's limo.

Cherry would be ashamed of him. Hell, he was ashamed of himself. But he also wanted to know. To be certain.

Even though his mouth tasted of ashes.

He'd originally hoped Lex would be in his office. He wasn't, and the secretary there wasn't expecting to see him today. He wasn't in any other office, for Clark had finally tracked him down getting into his car, with Neils acting as chauffeur. Following them, Clark had let hope seep into his thoughts, until the limo had drawn up at this up–scale apartment block, and Lex had walked inside. Sure, it was possible that there was a major business meeting going on, but it was unlikely. Not so late in the day. Not when Lex had arrived wearing black jeans and a sweater under his wool coat.

In the hour he'd stood in the cold, the streetlights had come on, and the sky turned purple with darkness. The slow–falling snow had steadily banked against the wall at his back, and he'd had to brush himself free of the cloying flakes time and time again. It had also taken him an hour to decide that invading Lex's privacy was the right thing to do. He'd stared at the building so hard it was a wonder it hadn't spontaneously combusted. As his mind dwelt on every conceivable possibility, he'd come around to spying as his only choice. Very slowly, bitterly ashamed, he'd worked his vision slowly up through the building, searching each apartment, each room. He'd seen a few things he wished he hadn't, but no Lex. All that was left was the penthouse. And he wondered why he hadn't started there, except maybe he hadn't wanted to, that he needed the time, the anticipation, the cold.

He knew what he was doing was wrong.

But he couldn't stop himself. With a determined flex of his eye muscles he stared up into the night.

There were three men in the wide main room. Two of them, dressed in dark business suits, were standing. One was kneeling. The one on his knees was Lex.

Blinking in stunned disbelief, Clark refocused on the pavement in front of him. He realized he was trembling, and he also knew that it was only partly from shock. It was also from anger.

Lex was naked and quite clearly aroused.

Clark leaned into the wall. He turned, fingers scraping at the rough brickwork, his shoulders hunched with misery. So, he wasn't enough. Or what he did wasn't good enough. Truth at last.

Brick crumbling to dust under his hands, he turned back and in agony looked up. Nothing had changed. Two clothed men, Lex naked. As Clark stared upwards, Lex dropped onto his hands, and began to crawl across the carpet, going to heel like a dog at one of the men's ankles.

Blinking past tears, Clark closed his eyes. Salt tasted acrid in his throat, and he sniffed, swallowing convulsively. He didn't want to see any more. Couldn't. But he couldn't move either. Instead of running, or screaming, he hunkered down in the snow, his back against the bricks, his eyes staring at the door. He couldn't feel cold from the snow or the harsh east wind, but nonetheless there was ice forming in his veins. Ice that was formed of hurt and betrayal.

As the city slowed and quieted around him, Clark waited, and knew what it was to be bereft.

It was fully night when Lex emerged and Clark wiped his wet face, blinking before he could focus and be certain. Lex walked slowly to the limo, and Neils was there, solicitous as always, holding the door. Almost as if unsteady, Lex held onto the open door while Neils said something. Lex's answer was only a shake of his head and then he was climbing carefully into the passenger compartment.

Clark wondered how many times the two men had used him. In the yellow glow from the streetlight he looked bone–pale, his black overcoat almost swamping his body, as if he'd lost weight. Maybe he had. He'd probably been too busy to eat lately. Clark watched him, and slowly stood up. The snow on his legs and shoulders crusted away, falling silently to the ground.

Lex had been well fucked. Clark stayed in the shadows while Neils jogged around to the driver's door and got inside. The car started almost silently, and was away, sleek and low and dark in the night. For some reason Clark followed. Part of him didn't want to, but more of him wanted to see Lex. To tell him he knew. He needed something, something other than this current misery, and confronting Lex seemed as good a way as any of feeling something else. Maybe a clean break would hurt less. And maybe the Martians were landing in Nebraska right now.

At Lex's apartment building, Neils pulled into the underground garage. Swift as sight, Clark ran past the closing security doors. When Lex's car was still, the engine silent apart from the click and whir of cooling metal, he simply stepped up and opened the door.

"Hello, Lex."

"Jesus!"

Suddenly Neils was next to him, dull–black gun held steady in his hand. Clark ignored him, his eyes fixed on Lex's startled face. "I was passing by."

After a long moment, Lex merely nodded. "Neils, it's alright. Thank you."

"But, sir — "

"No. I'll be fine." He looked up, almost as if in resignation. "Go to bed, Neils. Thank you for waiting for me."

There was the snick of a safety–catch being clicked on. Without turning, Clark listened as the other man walk away. After a moment he heard the soft purr of elevator machinery.

"Good idea, Lex. We wouldn't want Neils to be shocked, would we?" Oh, yes, Lex was pale. Clark smiled at him. "So, you could've told me you were bored. What was it, have some little games with the farmboy and really get your kicks in the big city? I hope you had fun. I hope it was a good fuck."

"Clark…"

Ignoring the one word plea, Clark reached in and grabbed Lex's collar, pulling him out of the seat and onto his feet. He felt Lex gasp as he was pushed against the car door, felt the hard shudder of pain that had him biting his lip. The reaction was unaccountably sweet. Clark smiled with deliberately false compassion. "Oh, were they too enthusiastic, Lex? Poor baby, two big guys, were they hung the way you like, you know, big and thick and long enough to really get you going? Damn, you know I didn't check them out." His gaze raked Lex from top to toe and his anger burned through his scorn. "Christ, you're a mess, and you stink of sex."

"Clark, please…"

"What? You're sorry? You wish you'd told me?" Clark slammed him back, the thud of body against the metalwork quite pleasing. Lex couldn't be hurting more than Clark was, because Clark knew he was burning up inside, as if acid had transformed his blood and his thoughts until everything was simply pain. All because of Lex. "Well, fuck you, Lex. Just fuck you."

One last slam, and he slowly let go of his handful of dark wool. For a moment, Lex leaned there, panting, then very slowly his eyes rolled back, and he slipped gracelessly to the ground.

"Oh, fuck!" Clark stood there, blinking stupidly. "Lex?"

The crumpled heap didn't move. A curling tail of guilt stirred in Clark's gut. How hard had he hit? Not this hard, not hard enough to knock Lex out. Surely he still had that much control? Fuck. Crouching down he felt under Lex's collar. His neck was chilled, with a pulse that felt fast and jittery under Clark's fingertips. Well, he couldn't leave him here, not crumpled on the ground like a broken doll. He touched Lex's cheek, his fingers hardly making contact with the gray, drawn skin. No, he couldn't just go, even though what he wanted was to run, right now, all the way back to the barn.

Sighing bitterly, Clark slid his hands under the limp body and stood. Lex's private elevator was nearby. He walked to it and, awkwardly juggling the senseless body, touched the palm recognition plate with Lex's hand. Immediately the doors slid open, so at least something was going right. Stepping inside, Clark pressed the indicator for Lex's floor; the penthouse, naturally.

Clark snarled as the doors closed, then, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, swallowed hard. He looked ugly, anger like a deformity twisting his face. And Lex, draped laxly across his arms looked insubstantial. With an effort, Clark relaxed, trying to make his face look normal. By the time they reached the 42nd floor, he'd almost succeeded.

The moment he stepped into the apartment, Lex stirred, his hands flexing loosely. When Clark put him down on the couch, he groaned softly.

Standing back, Clark went to the bar and poured a stiff brandy. Carrying the heavy crystal, he went back to Lex's side and thrust it under his nose. "Here."

Eyes slitting open, Lex blinked up. It seemed to take him a second to realize where he was, and what was happening. Clark pushed the glass towards him again, but the smell must have turned his stomach for Lex made a choking noise and was suddenly scrambling at the cushions, trying to stand but half falling onto the floor, making it about two feet before he vomited onto the rug.

"Perfect." Clark sneered, though he had to force the anger firmly into place, to make it kill the soft, weak surge of compassion that almost overtook him at the sight of Lex kneeling, his face gray. Putting the glass down, Clark went to the bathroom and grabbed a couple of towels. When he returned, Lex was sitting on the floor, huddled in his coat, staring dimly at the floor. There wasn't much mess, but the rug probably cost a thousand dollars a square foot, so maybe it was upsetting. Clark tossed one towel over the small, wet pool and held the other one towards Lex. It was as if Lex couldn't see. Almost as if he was catatonic. Or very drunk. Growling under his breath, Clark crouched down and wiped Lex's mouth.

Then he remembered what Lex's mouth might have been doing in the last few hours. With a curse he thrust the towel into Lex's hand, wondering if he was going to vomit himself. "Brandy or water?"

"Water…" Lex's voice was rough, dry.

Clark fetched water from the kitchen. He even held the glass securely whilst Lex drank. "What're you on? Fuck, you're wasted."

Lex shook his head. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Thank you."

"It's a pleasure and you're welcome, you bastard."

With a flinch, Lex turned his head away. "Clark, don't."

"What, you're not denying it? Or do you just think I shouldn't be angry? Well, I am. You hurt me Lex! I trusted you…"

Shaking his head slowly, Lex hesitated, his over–bright eyes skittering across Clark's face before he blinked and looked away. "Am I allowed a defense?"

"You can't. I saw it." Clark ground his teeth. "I saw what you did. Tell me how there's any other explanation apart from the one where you're a bastard?"

"I guess I can't." Lex almost smiled, and he shook his head slowly. "If you saw it all."

"I was within my rights, Lex. I needed to know what was happening!"

Lex stared at him. Then, his skin paling even further, he just raised his brows in a complete lack of explanation. "Whatever, Clark. Whatever."

Suddenly unsure, Clark stood there, feeling perfectly out of his depth. Searching around he looked properly at Lex. There was vomit on his coat. Clark sighed loudly, just like his mother did when he ripped a shirt or got covered in dirt. He reached down and took hold of Lex's arm, simply tugging him onto his feet and stripped the thick woolen overcoat away. The accompanying hiss of pain startled him. Then he saw.

Underneath, Lex was wearing only jeans and damaged skin.

There were incipient hand and finger marks on shoulders and waist. More disappeared down beneath the waistband of his jeans. He looked debauched. Well fucked. Just like after a session with Clark.

"Fuck." The taste of ashes intensified. Lex had asked for this. From someone else. He let go and took a pace back, shaking his head. "Oh, you must've had a real good time. I hope you made arrangements to see them again, because we're so over."

Widely dilated eyes stared at him and a pulse was beating, fast and urgent, in the dipping curve of his collarbone. "Clark, I… It's not…"

"Don't lie to me, Lex!"

Folding his arms carefully around his ribs, Lex just swallowed. "You don't understand…"

"What? I saw you! Are you trying to tell me you didn't enjoy yourself? Well, I saw enough to know you did!" There was victory in the way Lex flinched. "Oh, yeah, I saw you crawling, saw you panting for it, eager as a whore." He laughed then, though misery flooded the sound. "Was it because there were two of them? Was that it, Lex? Are you so fucking jaded that you need two men to fuck and beat you before you can get off now?"

"No." Lex's voice was soft. The denial was utterly colorless. He took a step forward, and he reached out, one hand there, open, the palm raised as he took another step. "Clark– "

"Oh, no! Don't try and talk your way out of this. You know something? I loved you. I loved you so fucking much!" Backing away, Clark wiped at the tears that smeared his sight. Then he turned and stumbled towards the door. He didn't want to look back in case the pain got any worse, for he wasn't at all sure he could cope. What he wanted was to destroy everything, to smash the walls to smithereens and take Lex and himself down with them. To rip the world into shreds and hopefully his memories of Lex with it.

Shaking so hard that it took three goes to open the door, he finally managed. White–noise buzzing loud as a swarm of locusts in his head, his field of vision narrowed to the path that would take him away, Clark buried everything other than anger, and slammed the door behind him. He wouldn't be back. He'd never see Lex again. He didn't need him.

Outside, in the cold darkness, he ran past the city limits. When the streetlights were only a glow in the distance he slowed, and walked across the wide, snow–laden Kansas fields for a long time. The dawn broke around him and he saw nothing, felt nothing. He was alone again, and that was fine. After another few miles he started to jog, and then run, as if he were human. He ran for a long time, and not once did he let regret take anything at all from his anger or his misery.

* * * * *

"I can't believe that Lionel Luthor's back in Smallville!"

"Jonathan, he's been back and forth for the past few weeks, I thought you'd heard the gossip?"

He looked at his wife. "Gossip? Now where would I pick that up?"

"I don't know." She smiled at him, coming over and adding another pancake to his plate. "At the market, maybe, when you stand around for hours with Jake and Mike."

He barked a laugh. "We're men, we don't gossip! We discuss things, like the weather, the crops –"

"Suzy Figges' curves…"

"Hey! We only look!"

"I know, Jonathan." Putting the pan back on the stove she leaned against the sink, mug cupped in her hands. "Just like Chloe and Lana ogle the football team."

"You mean you don't?"

"Well, only sometimes."

"Yeah, right." Jonathan grinned. "Clark, what d'you think of your mom eyeing the talent on the football team?"

Dismally, Clark looked up from his juice. "Great." He caught the wary look that flashed between his parents, but couldn't be bothered to do more than half–smile.

"Son, are you alright?"

"Yeah, Dad, just fine." Was that a lie? No. Everything was fine. He'd finished with Lex, which was what he wanted.

"So, d'you see Lionel up at the house?"

"No."

"According to Chloe he was around a few weeks ago, and is back there now." Martha sipped her coffee. "I thought he was based in Europe these days, so goodness knows what he's up to here."

Jonathan muttered through a mouthful of pancake. "No good." He swallowed. "Whatever it is, it'll be no good. What does Lex think about having Lionel around?"

"I don't know."

"Hasn't he said anything?" Martha sounded scandalized, as if Lex should share everything.

Oh well, there was no time like the present. "Mom, I'm not seeing Lex anymore."

"What!" Both parents exclaimed at once; their faces such pictures of consternation that Clark almost laughed.

"It's over." He shrugged. Maybe if he pretended disinterest, one day it'd actually be true.

"Honey, when? Why?"

"Last week sometime." Eight days and nine hours. "He's got someone else."

That look between them again. It really was becoming annoying. "Clark, are you sure? I mean, he didn't seem the type." Martha smiled gently, as if humoring him.

"Well, he is. I saw him, Mom. I watched."

"You were there!" Jonathan was almost standing in outrage. "How could he — "

"No, no, it wasn't like that!" Turning towards his father, stopping him before he got into full–on rant mode, Clark shook his head. "I followed him. Used my eyesight."

"You spied!"

That hurt. He winced at his mother's tone, but just nodded in agreement. "Yeah, guess I did. How else was I to find out?"

"Clark…" Clearing his throat, Jonathan pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. He nodded to Martha, and as he walked past, patted Clark on the shoulder. "He's a rich guy, they're different. Maybe this is for the best."

"Jonathan!" Martha had tears in her eyes. "How can you be pleased?"

"Because I've never been convinced that any Luthor is worth a Kent. Get over him, son. Move on, find someone else." Jonathan squeezed Clark's shoulder and with a wry glance back, headed away from the emotional storm. He closed the door gently as he left.

Martha was standing very still. "I don't want to interfere, Clark, but don't be too rash about Lex. Give him a chance."

He gritted his teeth. "If Dad screwed around, would you stand for it?"

Sadly, she shook her head. "No. But your dad and I, we're older, wiser. Lex is, well, headstrong. Just like you."

"Yeah, right." He couldn't believe it, his mother was telling him off for dumping Lex. He stood up, pushing his chair back. "I'm sorry that you like him so much. Sorry that I'm not making you happy by staying with him even though he's a liar and a cheat."

"A liar too?" She sounded so hopelessly sad.

"Yeah." Though, was Lex really? Surely he had to be. Well, Lex had lied about love, if nothing else. Lied about what he'd been doing in that apartment too, even if that lie was by default. He'd not actually said he wasn't there, or that he hadn't been fucking around — not that it would have been possible, as Clark had seen it all for himself. Good job he had the abilities that made spying easier or he'd still be in the dark, still wondering exactly was happening. And still with Lex…

He was startled out of his thoughts when his mom hugged him. His hands automatically clasped her shoulders, and he sighed as she held him tight.

Her voice was muffled by his shirt. "I like Lex, but I love you. More than anything." One last squeeze and she broke away, wiping her eyes. "Now go do some studying, or MetU won't want you."

He grinned, warmed a little out of the cold shell of hurt. Hell, maybe he could manage without Lex. Live without Lex. Anything was possible, wasn't it?

"Go on, and I'm sure there's a heap of chores to do too…"

Pulling on his jacket he left the kitchen.

His mom had been right, there was more than a heap of chores, there was a small mountain. Jonathan kept him busy for a long time, but then eventually let him go.

Aimlessly, Clark wandered up to the barn. Even there felt empty. Slouching on the couch he picked up a history textbook. There was always the distant hope that the causes of the First World War would take his mind off things. Or maybe he should just close his eyes, catch up on some sleep. The book fell closed and slipped to the floor. He was so tired…

"You fucking asshole!"

He woke with a start. Standing quickly, rubbing sleep from his eyes, he stumbled over to the rail and looked down. Cherry was standing at the bottom of the stairs; hand on slim hips, her painted face a mask of scorn. Suddenly he felt less than invulnerable.

"Cherry."

"Yeah. You shit. I hope you're feeling good up in your ivory tower of righteousness!"

Was that where he was? Strange, when it felt like the arctic desolation of betrayal. Folding his arms, Clark shrugged. "Come up and see."

"Yeah, watch me." As much as it was possible in four–inch spike heels, Cherry stomped up the rough wooden steps. Today she was all in black. Doubtless it was a statement. Clark sighed as Cherry just flounced past him and sat down on his couch, large purse dumped unceremoniously on the floor at her feet. "So, you finished with Lex."

"Guess I did."

"Have you spoken since?"

"No. There didn't seem any point." He took a deep breath, and walking past her sat himself down on the furthest end of the couch. "Lex knows how I feel."

"Yeah, so I heard. Lex told me. When he was sober enough to talk."

At that he looked up. Lex drank, but was rarely drunk. Curious. "Give my apologies to his liver."

"Clark, don't fuck around with that aloof, holier than thou crap. Oh, yeah, super–cool Clark Kent, forgive me if I thought for a moment you might be interested."

"Did he tell you what happened?"

"You caught him with someone else. You decided you're above sharing. You walked."

Nodding, Clark had to agree that the statement summed it up. Though it wasn't that he was above sharing, just that he hadn't expected it. Or the nature of the sharing. He alone should have been enough, what was complicated or wrong about that? "So. You know it all then."

"I know you're a little shit. Do you ever let anyone tell their side of a story?"

That sparked his anger; the anger that lay in his belly like an animal, just waiting to be awoken. "Cherry, I saw him. Watched him crawl like a bitch. He was virtually panting he was so eager — and you can't fake a hard–on." Closing his eyes, he shook his head, trying to shift the image that haunted him constantly. "I didn't imagine it. Lex and two men." He opened his eyes and stared at her, flinching at the pity in her eyes. "I didn't imagine it, or hear it third–hand, or read it in the tabloids. I saw it. If it had been just fucking, well, maybe it wouldn't have been so bad, but –" He broke off, and just waved a hand in the air, the arc describing his entire lack of faith.

"Poor boy, when you thought you were all he needed." Sarcasm dripped from every word.

"Yeah. Well, he said so often enough."

"So, Mr. Righteous, what if there were other reasons for Lex doing what he did?"

"Like what? He was test–driving the guys as a birthday present for me? That he thought I'd approve? Jesus, Cherry, how could there be anything to make what he did anything other than –"

"I don't know! He won't talk to me."

At the misery in that statement, Clark relented. "I'm sorry."

She looked at him. "I've known Lex a long time, and this feels wrong." Suddenly, she shrugged. "Fuck, this is a mess." Quickly brushing a hand over her eyes, she waved it helplessly. "There has to be something. Clark. What if he's being blackmailed?"

For a moment the question didn't make sense. Then he thought about it. Very still, every muscle locked with sharp, intense pain, he sat immobile, synapses stuttering again and again over the battle between hope and despair. Blackmailed. Could it be true? Lex had murky secrets, he'd told Clark more than a few. But was there anything there that was enough to make him whore himself? No, Lex was too strong, and besides, the papers had strewn his private life across their pages too often for him to care. Clark felt his lip curl derisively — his scorn mostly aimed at his own brief flicker of hope.

"You've got a great imagination, Cherry. What could anyone have on Lex that would make him do anything against his will?"

"I don't know. But he'd do anything for you, I do know that."

That caught him. Silenced him.

Then indignation stirred his thoughts into a semblance of clarity. He stood up. "No, wait a moment here. I saw him, remember? I saw him and he was hard, Cherry. He was still getting off on it, he was enjoying it — "

"And that's enough to condemn him?" Cherry was on her feet too, stalking towards him. "Fuck, Clark, you're such a selfish brat. What you really need to do is take a good look at the way you're thinking." She came up close, her heels making them almost the same height, he could see the fine lines around her eyes and the way her lipstick was bleeding slightly at the edges.

"So you saw it. Somehow you watched whatever happened. Okay, I don't understand but I believe you. You watched, you accused. Well, what about when you'd finished watching and were feeling sorry for yourself. When those fuckers eased up on the drugs and let him go. You saw him then. How was he, Clark? Did he look like he'd had fun? Yeah, too right, think back. 'Cos I saw him a few nights ago and I tell you, Lex didn't look happy to me."

"But…"

"Oh, for fuck's sake." She sniffed delicately, her eyes wet with unshed tears. "He's such a mess. You know, he didn't want to see anyone, but I bullied my way in. He was in pieces. Lots of little tiny pieces."

"Maybe that's what he asked for. How he gets off these days."

She wiped the tips of her fingers under her eyes, tears spilling onto her skin. "Damn, I don't know which of you is worse, you're both stubborn as mules. I've always thought he deserved a better father, I never thought he needed a better lover. Well, guess it proves you can always be wrong."

"Cherry!"

"Yeah, truth hurts, sugar. Face it." She looked at him for a long moment, and then just shook her head. Without another word she turned on her heel, picked up her bag and went, running quickly down the stairs and out into the sunlight.

It was very quiet without her. Clark rubbed his hands over his face, feeling the tension under the skin. Going back to the couch he sat, head leaned back, staring up at the roof–beams while his mind slid into free–fall.

It was true; he hadn't given Lex a chance to explain. But it had seemed so cut and dried. Bleakly, Clark remembered everything he'd said, that last time. Everything he'd done. Everything he'd failed to do. At least Cherry had been there for Lex when he needed it, if only the once. Whereas his own presence in the aftermath of such exploitation had been tantamount to rubbing salt in the wounds.

If it was true. If it was exploitation. And not just fun gone too far.

He groaned, hating it as his mind seesawed from one possibility to another, between the polar extremes of faith and doubt. With Lex as the fulcrum, Lex as the center of the storm. As always. He prodded the thought that he'd been wrong. Tried to examine it. But he couldn't. Not until he knew for sure. It all hurt too much, either way.

Miserable, Clark walked back to the house, detouring to pick up letters and newspaper from the mailbox. Shutting the kitchen door on the freezing outside air, he dumped the envelopes onto the table. The paper rolled open and the headline screamed at him.

"Hi Clark, has Cherry gone? I thought I saw her just now." Martha, wiping her hands, came towards him.

"Yeah, she came over to tell me something." The article was massive, he read intently. His mom came and stood next to him, one hand lightly on his arm.

"What is it?"

"LuthorCorp's taking over the world." As if they didn't own most of it already.

She peered over his shoulder. "I haven't got my glasses on, what does it say?"

He quoted: "Shares soared yesterday when Lionel Luthor, CEO of LuthorCorp, already one of the USA's biggest companies, announced that they are now a major stakeholder in the new Eastern European Oil Federation. The deal is one of the biggest brokered in recent years, and makes LuthorCorp the most important US company in Europe. All EEOF dealings in America are also to be tendered through LuthorCorp." Clark looked at the photo of a widely smiling Lionel standing next to two men. He frowned, unease like an itch at the back of his mind.

"Well, Lionel should be happy." Martha looked up. "Clark, what's the matter?

"Mmm." The blond men in the photo looked familiar. Maybe he'd seen them on CNN. He turned distractedly, the paper still in his hands.

"Clark? Is everything alright?"

Holding out the paper to her, he pointed at the photo. "Have we seen these men on TV?"

She peered more closely. "No, but they were here, in Smallville — I saw them with Lionel."

"In Smallville!"

She nodded. "Only for a day or so. Maybe Lionel wanted a quiet place to make that deal. Maybe he wanted Lex's help."

The two men and Lex. Suddenly the penny dropped. He knew who Lex had been with. These two Russians. He looked at their picture, half surprised when the paper didn't burst into flames. Maybe they were rich enough to impress even Lex Luthor. Maybe Russian kink was more interesting.

"Help? No, they had another interest in Lex." Pieces fell into place. Memories. "Mom, they're the men I saw him with!"

Her glance went from curious to startled. "You mean, the one… you mean, two of them?"

Wincing, he tried not to scandalize her too much. "Well, dad said it, the rich are different."

"Good lord." Martha searched the photo, her face pink. Then she pulled out a chair and sat down.

The blond men were good looking. Two tall, big men with wide, perfect smiles and five–thousand dollar suits. Did they look the type Lex would go for? They were certainly the opposite of himself. But then so was Cherry, and Lex had been involved with her. Though that had been different, more friendship than lust. But these men. He looked hard at the faces in the photo. Tough, strong features, more hawks than doves. He felt a shiver of apprehension.

Slowly, he lowered the paper and uneasily looked at his mother. "Cherry came here to tell me off. She doesn't think Lex would do anything like that — anything to hurt me — voluntarily. She had this theory about Lex being blackmailed, forced into seeing those guys somehow."

"What!" Well, so much for not scandalizing his mother. Sitting next to her, he took her hand. She gripped his fingers hard. "Is there any proof? What did Cherry know?"

"Nothing for certain, she just refused to believe Lex would do that to me. Not without a reason." His mom was nodding, and he ground his teeth. Did everyone intuitively believe better of Lex than he did? "Now I'm wondering too. Lionel lands a multi–billion dollar deal and Lex ends up in trouble — a scenario that's been around the block before now."

"Yes. Lionel has hardly made a secret of how he sees Lex's usefulness." Piercingly, she stared into his eyes. "Clark, think clearly — is there anything else you might know? Any hints or clues?"

Closing his eyes, Clark thought back. In flashes like strobe–light the past few weeks ran through his memory. It was possible. Lionel knew Lex well enough. Maybe knew something about Clark too. Or Lex was afraid he did. Where was the link though? In Lex's past? In the people they'd met or seen?

It was like stepping into a crevasse. Realization was so sudden he gasped, his eyes wide, staring as he focussed on the photo. The hair had been different, slicked back, dark with gel, but the face? The same. Leather pants and an insolent smirk. The man in the club. The night Lex had been intruded on.

Stubbornly, he fought the knowledge. Surely it was still impossible. Would Lionel really resort to pimping out his son just to clinch a business deal? Even if it was the deal of the century. It couldn't be true. He turned, looked at Martha and grasped at straws. "But, if Lex was going through all that why didn't he just tell me?"

"Clark! Then you think it's true?"

Did he? He shook his head, confusion tumbling his thoughts into nothing. "I don't know. But, mom, if he was being blackmailed… He should have told me!"

She took in a shaky breath. "I don't know. Lex is older than you, maybe he thought he could handle it, and that you couldn't." It was softly spoken, but Clark felt speared by the words. "From what I know of Lex, he'd just pretend none of it was happening and then get on with his life. Remember, he's not used to sharing information. I'm not sure he's ever had anyone like you in his life before."

"But he has got me. He should have known he could tell me!"

"Clark, imagine having Lionel as a father — would you ever imagine you could trust anyone fully?"

Lionel, a father who'd sell you for money. If he had, of course.

"Maybe not."

Besides, would Lex really have done all that just to keep Clark safe? Or maybe it was to keep himself out of prison. Clark was still a minor, even if only for a few more months. And SM was hardly something the great and the good of either Metropolis or Kansas would approve of. Pedophilia would be the least of the accusations — despite the fact that Clark was the one wielding both the metaphorical and the actual whip.

God, the papers would have a field day. Clark cringed, imagining the publicity, the exposure, knowing how much he'd hate it, and how potentially damaging it could be. But would Lex care? Maybe, for Martha as much as anything, for Clark had no doubts at all about Lex's affection for her.

But what if it was something else that Lionel knew, or even suspected… That made more sense. Clark chewed his lip, thinking about Lex's father up in the mansion, seeing him as a great black spider, spinning its webs, planning and plotting with no more care for those around him than any other predator. After all, spiders ate their young.

"Mom, maybe, if Lex thought Lionel guessed something…"

"About you?" She paled.

"Yeah." It was no good; he needed to know for certain what was happening. And there was only one person who could tell him, someone who just might never speak to him again, of course. The thought cut deep with its seeming impossibility. Life without Lex. He shivered. "Mom, I have to go."

"Yes."

He kissed her fingers. "Thanks. For everything."

"Be careful." She stood up with him, holding his arm lightly as he tried to move away. "Be careful with Lex too."

He would be. He'd have to be, if there was any hope of seeing Lex again.

* * * * *

Neils wouldn't let him in. He tried three times, after each one going and walking around the city, thinking, getting more and more nervous. Finally, at nine in the evening precisely, he tried one last time. Standing in the snow, his face pressed to the intercom, with Lex's butler stonewalling him with skill, Clark choked on frustration.

"But I need to see him!"

"Mr. Luthor doesn't need to see you, Mr. Kent. Perhaps you should call and make an appointment?"

"Neils, look, I know it seems bad, but I had reasons, and I really, really need to talk to him. Please?"

There was a momentary silence. "Please wait."

Clark kicked his feet at the wall, stopping when a chunk of plaster fell away. He tried standing still, but in the end was virtually jogging on the spot when the intercom chirruped back into life. "Neils?"

"Mr. Kent, you know the way up."

He did. The stairs were faster but he took the elevator, remembering with a kind of ghastly clarity the last time he'd been inside it, with Lex's body limp in his arms and his own anger plain on his face. How long ago did that seem? A lifetime. One he'd happily pay not to live again. Stepping out into the penthouse, he was met by Neils. The stern man had his arms folded, and he seemed to inspect Clark as if he was a life form only slightly more welcome than vermin.

That he was so wet from the snow didn't help. Without a word he kicked his boots off, and stood barefoot on the carpet. His jacket went onto a hook and he squirmed slightly under Neils' scrutiny.

"He's allowed you to come in." Alone, Neils would obviously have raised the barricades. "Don't…" He sighed, and then spoke perfectly reasonably, as if the request was normality itself. "Please don't hurt him any more."

Hollow–gutted with shame, Clark shook his head. "I'll try not to. I only want to ask him something. It might, you know, make it better?"

There was scorn mixed with the doubt that shifted across Neils' face. "And if it doesn't?"

"Then at least it's done. Over."

Neils smiled a small, tight smile. "Indeed." He took a deep breath. "This way, sir." And turning on his heel he led the way to the wide living room, standing back at the doorway to let Clark past. He came no further than there. "I'll be within call." And with a nod he closed the doors.

The room was in shadow. All the tall windows were curtained, the only illumination coming from a series of up–lighters fixed to the walls, each of them dimmed to a muted glow. Lex was sitting on the long couch, one arm negligently curved around the back, the other nursing a glass in his lap. He was dressed in head to toe unrelieved black, and his eyes were dark in his shadowed face.

"Hello, Clark."

"Hi."

Awkward, Clark stood at the edge of the rug. He glanced down.

"The rug's fine — the stain came out. The wonders of modern technology."

The mark where Lex had thrown up. Clark felt his own stomach twist. "Great. It looks expensive."

"It is." There was wry amusement in Lex's voice. He stretched, one leg sliding over the other. "So, what do you need to talk to me about, other than the soft furnishings of course?"

Another step. Though it still seemed as if Lex was a mile away. A mile away and somewhere very cold. "Lex, Cherry came to see me."

That elicited a glimmer of interest. Lex sipped his drink, the clink of ice in crystal quite distinct as he raised and lowered the glass. "Did she."

"She thinks I'm stubborn."

"So, you didn't do something she wanted?"

"I guess." Almost torn apart by confusion, by this Lex who seemed aloof from the world and everything in it, Clark gestured emptily. "I didn't talk to you."

"Clark, I think you did quite enough talking right here, don't you?"

"No." There, honesty. But it was so hard to go on. Clark straightened his spine. "I was hurt. OK, I spied on you and I may not have gotten the entire picture, but I know you still went with those guys and I thought it was because you wanted to. Cherry thinks it wasn't." He finished in a rush, swallowing on a mouth gone bone dry. "Really? She thinks there might have been an ulterior motive?"

"Yeah. Like blackmail." Clark reached the couch and sat down, perching one buttock on the edge of plush upholstery.

"Cherry really is quite the conspiracy theorist." Lex took another sip. "What would you do if I told you she was wrong, that everything I did, I did because I wanted to, because I was bored and they were cute and inventive?"

As silence pooled around him, Clark took the bitterness of the idea and swallowed it. Was it truth? Did it matter if it was? The past days and weeks had been beyond his ability to cope with. From the looks of Lex, they hadn't done him any good either. "I'd still be sorry for what I said. But, I'm not sure I'd believe you."

He wasn't sure where the belief came from, but he knew then, with certainty, that he meant it. He knew, in his heart, that Lex had been coerced into whatever he did. Whether he was right to have been so was another matter. Clark looked at Lex's face and saw something harsh shiver over his implacable features. Then the emotion was gone, leaving Lex quite unreadable.

"So, Clark, if you don't believe that, what do you believe?"

"That I was a fool. That Lionel somehow persuaded you to do whatever you did. That those men used you. That Cherry was right about blackmail — and that I think somehow it was because of me."

Lex laughed then, softly, the sound a distillation of despair. In a slow, careful movement he stood up and walked to the bar where, with immense precision, he filled his glass from a decanter. "Clark, not everything in the universe is about you."

"No. But I think this is."

That laugh again. "You could have killed me that night, you know that? Stabbed me here, in this room, and I wouldn't have cared, I'd have taken it as a grace and a blessing." He drank, the liquid shining on his lips as he turned back.

"I was hurt." Clark hated himself for sounding so weak.

"So was I."

Clark swallowed that, and nodded. "I know. But you could have told me, Lex, shared for once in your life."

"How? You didn't give me a chance to say anything; you just rode roughshod over everything. Over me."

"I'm sorry." Clark was on his feet too. "But I thought –"

"You thought I was indulging myself. Well, now you know I'm a whore instead. So, does that make it any better? Any easier for your shining white morality to bear?"

"Stop it, you weren't a whore!"

"I was sold as part of a business deal. I let those men fuck me — and all the rest — in exchange for a commodity. Maybe no dollars exchanged hands, but in my eyes that's still whoring." Pain flared in Lex's eyes, and he looked down, swirling his drink until some splashed over the rim. He stilled. "Do you think of yourself as a commodity, Clark?"

"No, why –"

"My father does."

Fear was dark and deep. Clark felt his gut twist. "Lex…"

"Yes, indeed. I couldn't see you investigated, Clark. Not by him."

Oh God, the idea was so appalling. But… if Lionel suspected something, then how could he ever be safe? Panic ripped through him.

"Lex, you haven't changed anything, he could still try!"

Lex flinched. "You think I haven't thought of that? Do you really think I'm so naïve? When those men had me, all I could think was, this will make Clark free. Even after you'd so blatantly made it clear that you really weren't interested in sloppy seconds, I still knew you'd be as safe as I could make you."

"How, what does he know?"

"The day the contract was up, my father gave me a disk. One you have to run in slow motion. Guess why, speedy?"

"Shit."

"So eloquently put. Oh, luckily for you he thinks you're just another Smallville Krypto–mutant, one for Chloe's wall of the weird and infamous. He knows nothing else, suspects nothing else, and I really didn't want him wondering."

"So you let him blackmail you."

"At the time, it seemed sensible enough." He shrugged wryly and slid one hand into his pants' pocket. "Strange, I've no idea where the altruism came from."

"Jesus, Lex, why didn't you tell me?"

"Habit? We don't talk much, Clark. And I'll always have secrets."

"Tell me one." It wasn't a request. Clark, burning up with guilt and shame, with accusations and the vestiges of anger, looked at Lex and demanded to know. "Tell me something. Share."

"What sort of thing? Something good, or something bad? How about this, I'm different too. Nothing too spectacularly Smallville–esque, just that my bones are unnaturally strong. It's helped in all sorts of ways. I mean, there've been a couple of times you'd have snapped bits off a normal human. You know? There's been a downside too. A long time ago my father spent a great deal of money trying to figure out why I was different — hoping that the difference could be synthesized. Luckily for me the doctors concluded that I was a freak, and not any use to anyone."

"Lex…"

"So, you see, I really didn't want him thinking any more happy meteor–rock fuelled fantasies about marketing super–fast genetic engineering. Besides, the reality would have blown his mind." He gestured emptily. "Wouldn't it."

Clark could only numbly nod in agreement.

"Don't worry, I have the disk and I have his signed agreement to leave you alone. Luckily for both of us his new toy — which amounts to most of Eastern Europe — should keep him quite amused for a long time. It'll certainly keep him away from Smallville for a while, Mischa and Valentin Princhov did me that one favor."

"It took me a while to remember, but I saw one of them in the club, staring at you. I guess he was the one who went into the room when you were chained up."

"Funnily enough I didn't know who it was, he never said a word, just touched me." Lex tilted his head slightly to one side. " You know, a long time ago I was shocked that brothers could be so into each other. I must've been very young." Lex sighed. "Brothers, lovers, twisted fuckers, rulers of once communist states and most of the Russian Mafia. Dad probably got a hard–on just talking to them. None of that shocks me at all. Maybe I am jaded."

Lex laughed softly at the irony, and walked slowly, silently across the carpet, coming to stand very close to Clark. There was a fading bruise marking the side of his face.

A few days ago it must have been spectacular. Clark reached up to touch it, but Lex shifted back, just enough so that Clark let his hand fall. "Them?"

"No, a little gift from Lionel. A reminder that he thinks he owns me." Lex sipped his drink. This close Clark could smell the raw sweetness of brandy.

"And the Russians?"

Lex glanced up sharply. "They're untouchable. Far too well protected."

"Fuck."

"As you say." Lex stepped close again. His face was different, thinner around the cheekbones. "They've had their fun, they won't be back."

"I want to kill them."

"Don't." Lex shook his head. "I've thought about it. But it was partly my own fault. I fucked them both a couple of years ago. They're big names in the shadowy world of the hardcore SM enthusiast. I was bored, wanting to test my limits, just to see how much I could really take. They very kindly obliged. They have very particular tastes. And I, I was curious. Well, I passed my own test, but never wanted to go back. I think maybe my reluctance to repeat the experience galled them."

Clark remembered back to a sleepy conversation in Lex's bedroom. "Damn, you told me about them! The ones who wanted a slave."

"Yeah, the ones who wanted a slave." Very calm, his face almost serene with lack of emotion, Lex nodded.

"So they got one in the end. Lex, I'm sorry…" He was whispering, the enormity of everything almost impossible to either grasp or cope with.

"Well, so am I. It's a mess."

"One we can get out of?"

"I've dealt with Lionel, the Princhovs are sated and, hopefully, back in their castle in the Urals." Lex met his eyes with a level gaze. Uneasily, Clark wondered what there was in his bloodstream to make Lex's eyes quite so opaque. A lot of brandy? Something else? "Which leaves us. What do you think, Clark? What do you want now?"

"I want you to forgive me." Clark watched Lex's throat tighten, cording as he turned slightly.

"You think that'll be difficult for me?"

"I don't know." He hesitated. "No, I know it will be. But I'm sorry. I want you, Lex. I'm just not sure you'll want me."

Lex laughed then, the sound tight and deep in his chest. "Not want you?" He held his hand up to his mouth, the glass tipping, dregs of brandy spilling down his shirt. He laughed again, stepping back, almost falling but righting himself before Clark could touch him. "I don't think there's any worry about that." Sobering, he shivered. "Though I know how you feel about what I did. I can hardly bear it myself…"

"Stop it! Lex, when I said all that stuff I didn't understand. Now I do."

Lex half closed his eyes, and a vein in his temple pulsed erratically. "Is understanding enough?"

"Yes." And he found that it was. For him at least. "I'll regret forever that I was so cruel to you. And I'll regret forever that you didn't choose to tell me what was going on. But, I want you Lex. I love you. I think I always will."

"Christ. If only I'd told you…"

"Then I'd probably have done something stupid, like confront your father. Like you said, it's a mess. We could blame each other forever, or we can just move on." He winced, sounding far more Hallmark than he wanted. But as Clark watched, Lex lifted his head and, looking squarely at him, nodded once.

An agreement. Lex forgave him. Clark found he was trembling.

"Clark, I'm sorry too."

"Don't!" He stepped forward, his hand hovering over Lex's arm before touching very, very gently. The contact was electric and Lex stiffened, swallowing hard before slowly relaxing. "Give it time, Lex." Rubbing his thumb across soft cotton, feeling Lex warm and real under his touch, Clark hesitated, and then knew he had to ask. "But please, start telling me stuff? I can be trusted, promise."

"Clark… Okay." Lex was shaking his head, but it wasn't in denial. "I was going to tell you anyway, but I'm selling out. Everything, pretty much, is either going or gone. It's done. I am, as of yesterday, no longer a shareholder in any LexCorp or LutherCorp company. This place'll be home now. I won't be coming back to Smallville, not to stay; the house is on the market and I've signed over the Talon in entirety to Lana."

"What?" Lex wasn't coming back. The idea alone was like an acid–burn across all his emotions. "But why?"

"I needed out. I needed to be free."

Out. Clark took a deep, painful breath and cut straight to the chase. "But what about me?"

"That depends. I won't exactly be on welfare, but it'll be different. I want nothing more from my father, nothing he's touched. There's the remains of the legacy from my mother, and my own money from the share sales. It'll be enough to start again." He almost smiled. "So, will you want an impoverished lover?"

Clark caught the glimmer of amusement that lit deep within Lex's eyes. "I have the option?"

"Yeah, I guess you do."

Clark took a small step closer, his hand curling gently around Lex's bicep. "In the fall I'll be here, at MetU."

"I had considered that." Lex shifted until they were almost touching, and his hand came to rest tentatively around Clark's waist. "And I'll be here. Poor, but free." His eyes teased, albeit unsurely. "You know, yesterday an extended trip around the world seemed like a good idea, maybe even a few months at a monastery in Tibet." Half expectantly, he raised an eyebrow. "Somehow, today, I'm not so convinced."

Hope, like warmth after bitter winter, steeped through Clark. "It'll be cold in Tibet."

"Mm, and no decent coffee."

"Metropolis has some great coffee–shops."

"And less snow."

Clark took the empty glass from Lex's unresisting hand and tossed it onto the couch. Then, carefully, he brought Lex into the circle of his arms, waiting breathlessly until Lex relaxed against him. "You know, if you really wanted to go to Tibet, I'd come too."

Lex shook his head. "No. Maybe one day. Right now I want somewhere warm." He rested his head on Clark's shoulder, and for a long time they simply stood there, quite still. Then Lex slowly eased away. "Come to bed with me?"

"Lex…"

"I need to be naked with you, Clark. I need you to make me feel again."

"I wasn't sure whether you'd still –"

"Want you?" Lex nodded at Clark's answering expression. "I do. I never stopped. The question, I thought, was if you still wanted me."

One word was enough. "Yes."

"Then prove it." Lex smiled. "Show me, Clark. Claim me."

Solemnly, Clark shook his head. "I don't need to. You're mine, Lex Luthor."

A sigh of satisfaction. "Come to bed. I don't think I've slept for a month." He turned to move away, and swayed slightly. "Hell, and I'm way too wired for anything else."

"Lex, I just want to hold you."

Almost in surprise, Lex looked up. "Nothing else?"

"Not now."

"I can cope with that." Holding out his hand, Lex waited until Clark took it, and then, turning, he led the way into his bedroom.

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