Love for Sale (aka Hooker!Clark), Part 12
Nov. 15th, 2003 11:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
scribblinlenoreOkay. Here's the angst. I didn't want to post the trauma without some resolution, so this section is longer than usual. It's broken into two parts.
***
For the Halloween Carnival, the usually elegant and glittering grand ballroom of the Metropolis Hotel had been transformed into someone's not-terribly-historical vision of a medieval dungeon. The lights were low, with candles scattered around the room to give it a moody sense of gloom. Faux spider webs hung from the ceiling, and there was fake dust everywhere. The main attraction, though, were the "torture devices" that giddy partygoers were happily trying out on one another. There were racks and screws, shackles, even an iron maiden, although without the iron spikes for obvious safety reasons. Clearly, whoever had planned the event spent far too much time in Metropolis' sex clubs.
Clark took in the room with wide eyes. "Okay, so this isn't anything like Halloween back home."
Lex smiled. "Frankly, I'm relieved to hear it."
Clark returned the smile. "So what do you want to do?"
"Well, we could make a turn around the room, check out all the sights. There are also games in the rooms across the hall, if we decide we need something more wholesome to entertain us."
"Wholesome, huh?" Clark pulled him close. "I don't really think that's my favorite kind of fun." He nibbled along Lex's jaw, lined hot, wet kisses down his neck. Lex had a happy premonition of the carnival being cut short in favor of a leisurely trip home, giving him plenty of time to fuck Clark in the back seat of the limo. Or maybe Clark would want to fuck him instead. Either way, it sounded a lot more recreational than apple-bobbing and funnel cakes.
They held hands and made their way slowly through the crowd, stopping to greet Lex's business acquaintances and a surprising number of people who seemed to be friends of Clark's.
"Sorry we missed you last week," one of the Jones brothers called out to him.
The investment banking Joneses. The good-looking brother.
"He comes to Mitzi's for lunch sometimes," Clark explained.
Another man, someone Lex didn't recognize, who could have been a male model, but was probably a corporate lawyer or a management consultant, said, "Let's set up a game for next week."
"Adam Laighton," Clark told him. "Belongs to the tennis club. We play sometimes."
Suddenly, Lex was having that moment all over again when he'd come home to find that kid Brian salivating all over Clark. Only these weren't just some guys in Clark's college prep class. They were wealthy and successful and connected, and they had just as much to offer as Lex did. He instinctively tightened his grip on Clark's hand, so tight in fact that Clark gave him an odd look.
"Are you all right?"
He took a deep breath and made himself loosen his hold a little. "Sure. Fine." He smiled, and it felt like the corners of his mouth were going to crack.
"Hey." Clark cupped his cheek and kissed him until he relaxed. "This is supposed to be fun, remember?" He stroked his thumb lightly in circles.
Lex nodded and pulled Clark into his arms, hugged him hard.
"That's better." He felt Clark's smile against the side of his face.
They finished making the grand tour, and Lex was just about to suggest a round of balloon darts when Bill Taylor came striding up, his face a brighter red than usual.
"What do you think you're trying to pull, Luthor?" he puffed angrily.
Lex regarded him coldly. "Perhaps you could be more specific?"
His cheeks turned a darker shade of scarlet. "We were guaranteed 10,000 units. We got 2,500. If you think I won't haul your ass into court--"
"Bill." Lex used his stern voice, the one that made his employees jump. "If you read the contract, you'll see that it calls for distribution by quarter. Next month, you'll get another 2,5000, and so on, until the contract is complete."
"Bullshit! My people would never have negotiated that kind of--"
"But they did. If you have a problem with it, I suggest you take it up with them."
"I'm taking it up with you!" He poked a finger into Lex's chest.
Clark took a step forward. "Don't touch him!"
Taylor narrowed his eyes. "Need your little boyfriend to fight your battles, huh, Luthor? I guess a pansy-ass like you can't take care of himself like a real man would."
Clark lunged, and Lex got his arm out just in time to catch him. "Why don't you go find Mitzi and see how she's enjoying the carnival?" Clark looked surprised, almost hurt, and Lex squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "We shouldn't both get stuck talking business. Let me handle this, and then we'll go do anything you want. Okay?"
Clark nodded, and Lex kissed him. "I'll make this quick. I promise."
"Okay. But call me if you need me." He glared at Taylor before heading off.
"Now about those contracts--"
"No," Lex said, his voice like ice. "About this bad habit you've developed of haranguing me at social functions. If there's some question about the terms of our contract, I'm happy to discuss it at the office. But I won't be ambushed at parties because you think it's your best shot to catch me off guard and realign the terms of our agreement in your favor. Because we both know that's what you're trying to do."
"How dare you--"
"Oh, please. How dare you. I don't live with my head in the sand, Bill. I know you've had an unexpected upsurge in demand in South America, and now you're trying to cover your ass by squeezing LexCorp. And it's not going to happen. So if you want to negotiate a rider to our original agreement, call my office on Monday." He started to turn away, but had one more thought. "Oh, and a word to the wise? I wouldn't antagonize Clark if I were you. He could break you in two with his little finger."
He turned his back on Bill Taylor's sputtered curses and walked away. He was really getting sick of this guy's bullshit. Perhaps instead of expanding the contract, it was time to join forces with his competition instead. They'd been testing the waters lately, trying to see if LexCorp might be interested in switching sides. The snide way Bill Taylor had called Clark his "little boyfriend" practically guaranteed they would be.
That Clark had rushed to his defense did give him a warm glow, though. He couldn't think of anyone else who'd ever had the least protective instinct toward him. It felt nice. He scanned the room looking for him. It struck him just how stupid he'd been before, worrying about those other men. He had no reason to doubt Clark. No reason to think--
He froze when he spotted him. Clark was stretched out on one of the make-believe racks, and another man, dark-haired, good-looking, sleekly dressed, one of the younger Howell sons if Lex wasn't mistaken, was leaning over him buckling the straps around his wrists. Howell was saying something, and Clark was smiling up at him. And it looked so-- intimate. Lex couldn't stop staring.
"Your young friend seems to be having a good time." He almost jumped at the sound of his father's voice.
He didn't answer, hoping against hope this might dissuade his father from further conversation, but Lionel was never easily put off. He moved closer, lowered his voice, spoke in an insidious whisper next to Lex's ear. "I wonder how many of them have had him. A whore does get around, after all. It could be every man in this room."
Of course, Lex had known his father would investigate Clark, would find out about his past eventually. He'd even been surprised he hadn't brought it up the other day at the penthouse. So he really should have been expecting this. Only he wasn't, not right now, and after seeing Clark with some other man touching him, the shock of it was physical, a hard slap to the face.
"Be honest, son. Don't you wonder, too? Wonder if maybe young Henry Howell over there is actually renewing an old business acquaintance?"
Lex flinched, and Lionel smiled like a shark.
"Did you really think I wouldn't find out? After you pulled that little stunt changing your will, of course I did some checking on your Mr.-- Smith, do you call him? Surely you could have come up with something more original than that, son? Or was his nome de plume your young trollop's idea?"
The moment had the same feeling, the same texture as every nightmare he'd ever had. Time seemed to move so slowly, and he could clearly see the danger ahead. But he just couldn't seem to change course, couldn't walk away, couldn't make it stop.
"What are you going to do?" He tried to keep the fear out of his voice, but his father knew him too well. He could find even the least weakness, and his feelings for Clark were a gaping vulnerability.
"What do you think I'm going to do? Get everyone's attention, announce to all of Metropolis society that my son is being made a fool of by a teenaged prostitute? That my heir just made a two-bit whore the ultimate beneficiary of everything I've worked so hard to build?"
Lex felt the blood rush to his face. "Don't call him that!"
Lionel stared, his eyes widening. "Oh, my God. You're really in love with him, aren't you?" He threw his head back and laughed. " First a con artist, then a homicidal maniac and now a male prostitute. You really know how to pick them, don't you, son?"
"Because you're such an expert on love."
His father shrugged. "Maybe not. But I am an expert on public opinion. Look at all these people." He gestured with his arm. "Do you honestly think they don't know the truth about your little slut? That they don't whisper about it behind your back?"
"If you don't shut up--"
"What? You'll hit me? Would that make you feel better? Go right ahead then. It's only natural to blame the messenger. But in your heart, you know I'm right, or it wouldn't bother you so much. You know you can't trust him, just like you couldn't trust Helen or Desiree or Victoria or any of the rest of them. You think I'm only trying to hurt you with what I'm saying, with some of the things I've done in the past, but I'm not. I'm only trying to save you, from them, from your own poor judgment."
He knew he shouldn't listen to a word his father said, and yet he couldn't turn off the ugliness in his head. The afterimage of Clark spread out on the rack kept transforming into a picture of him naked and sprawled in bed, that other man leaning over him, touching him. His grip tightened dangerously on the glass, and he almost wanted it to break. Physical pain was preferable to this.
"Be honest with yourself, Lex. Don't you have your doubts? Oh, I'm sure he says he loves you. But can a prostitute ever really love his employer? And even if by some stretch, he does actually care for you, do you honestly believe it's in his nature to be faithful? Look around this room. Just think of all the assignations he could be having. All the quick lunch-hour fucks while you're slaving away at LexCorp building that fortune you want to leave to him. How long do you think it's going to be before he decides, just like the others did, that it’s easier with you of the picture?"
"Clark would never hurt me."
Lionel raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't you have said the same thing about Helen?"
"Shut the fuck up!"
"I just want you to be on your guard. I would have thought you'd learned your lesson by now. How many lovers wielding shotguns is it going to take?"
Lex threw back the rest of his Scotch. "Fuck off." He headed off to the bar, intent on getting blindingly drunk, the only thing he could possibly imagine making him feel even the least bit better.
"Enjoy the party, son," his father called after him cheerfully.
Clark was off the rack now, but still talking to Henry Howell. Lex turned his back, so he didn't have to watch it. When he got to the bar, he asked the bartender for the largest glass he had filled with as much Scotch as it could hold. If it hadn't been gauche, he would have just taken the bottle.
The bartender poured, and Clark turned up at his side.
"Hey, Lex." He frowned when he saw the size of the drink. "Um-- Henry and I were going to go check out the arcade. You want to come?"
"No, thanks. I'm kind of busy right now."
"Is anything the matter?" Clark asked.
The bartender handed him the glass, and he threw back the Scotch. "Give me another," he told the bartender. "What could possibly be wrong, Clark? Frankly, I'm tired of the question. You don't need to watch over me like a mother hen. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."
"It's just-- I saw you talking to your father. And now you're--"
"What?" Lex's voice had a nasty edge to it. "What am I doing? Tell me. I'm really curious to know."
"You're drinking too much and acting like an asshole." Beneath the sharp note of anger, there was also hurt.
Lex closed his eyes and let out his breath. "I'm sorry." The pounding in his temple felt like a jackhammer. "Go to the arcade with Henry. Really. I'm fine here." He gave Clark a quick kiss. "Have fun."
Clark touched his face. "I'm a little worried about you."
"I'm okay. Everything's okay. Honestly. Go have fun. I want you to enjoy yourself."
"You're sure you're all right?"
"I promise."
"Okay. But I won't be long."
Lex ordered two more drinks, found himself a quiet corner and downed them one after the other. His head felt thick, like it was stuffed with cotton wool. The room was starting to spin, and his stomach wasn't quite as steady as it ought to be. All he really wanted right now was to be home, in bed, curled around Clark. He took a deep breath and let it out. God. Clark was right. He was acting like an asshole. If he weren't sulking, he could be with Clark right now, laughing over silly carnival games, or better yet, in the limo on the way back to the penthouse to make love. Anywhere had to be better than holed up in a corner, alone and drunk, feeling sorry for himself.
He ditched the Scotch glasses and took off after Clark, a little unsteady on his feet. He went into several game rooms before he finally found him, and then he really wished he hadn't. Clark and Henry Howell were standing by a SkeeBall machine, ostensibly playing, deep in conversation. Howell was intent on what he was saying, and Clark seemed to hang on every word. The expression on both their faces was soft and tender. It was not how anyone looked when they were having a polite conversation about the Sharks season or the upcoming presidential election.
A scene started to play over and over in Lex's head, a clichéd movie of the week moment, but it made the blood pound in his temples all the same. Clark and Henry were lying in bed together, naked on rumpled sheets, tangled around one another, stroking and kissing and whispering, their voices low and intimate.
"What if he finds out?" Henry asked.
"Don't worry. He doesn't suspect a thing." Clark grinned, the big, wide smile that always made Lex just a little bit weak in the knees, and the two of them started to laugh.
They laughed and laughed and laughed. At him. Just the way his father and Victoria must have. Desiree. Helen.
He lurched off down the hall, toward the cloakroom. Clark could have Henry bring him back to the penthouse when they finished eyefucking one another. He was going home to watch the world spin from the comfort of his own bed and spend some quality time in the bathroom puking.
He rounded a corner of the lobby and ran headlong into someone, nearly landing on his ass in his inebriated state. His eyes weren't exactly focusing the way there were supposed to, and all he could make out were small feminine hands holding him up, a delicate waft of perfume.
"Alex. You are quite the worse for wear, aren't you?" an amused female voice said close to his ear.
"Oh, God."
With the exception of his father, Millicent Brubaker had to be the last person he needed to see right now. They'd gone to prep school together, one of the many Lex had attended, until he'd been thrown out of that one, too. He and Millicent had had their share of misadventures, almost all of which made Lex cringe to think of now.
"Is something wrong?" she asked. "You didn't have a fight with that perfectly scrumptious new boyfriend of yours, now did you? Although he did seem rather friendly with Henry Howell. I wonder what they could have been talking about?"
"Fuck off," he said, although his slurred speech took some of the bite out of the curse.
Millicent only laughed. "Now, now, don't get testy with me. Old friends have to look out for one another."
It would have been more accurate to call them former fuckbuddies, but he was too tired and too miserable to debate it. "I have to get out of here."
"Let me help you." She took him by the arm. "You're not looking terribly steady on your feet." She walked him the rest of the way. The cloarkroom was empty, the staff clearly not anticipating the guests would begin leaving this early.
"Kind of reminds you of old times, doesn't it?" Her voice was low and sultry. "You and me and an empty coatroom."
"I prefer not to take those trips down memory lane."
She pressed herself to his side. "Are you sure about that, Alex? Because the way I remember it we had a lot of good times together. Tell the truth. Couldn't you use a little diversion about now?"
"What do you want, Millicent?" he asked, tiredly. She always wanted something. Everyone did.
Warm lips brushed the side of his face. "Only to make you feel better," she said in her breathy voice, right against his ear. "I do know how to make you feel good. Don't you at least remember that?" She placed wet, sucking kisses along his jaw, down his throat. Her hand cupped his groin, stroking and squeezing.
He'd fucked her off and on for a good two years, and he had no idea how she took her coffee or if she even ate breakfast, much less what her favorite cereal was. And he didn't care. She could have had every man at the carnival bending her over the rack, doing her right there, and he wouldn't have given a shit. Because he didn't love her, and he never had. That he was getting hard in her hand was merely biological, stimulus and response, the simplest equation imaginable. Maybe his big mistake was ever deviating from that. Maybe his father was right, and he was a washout at relationships. Maybe he really should have known better than to let himself want too much. To actually love someone. What had that ever gotten him except completely fucked over?
He grabbed her wrist, holding tightly, making her gasp. "You want to help me so much? Fine." He pushed her back against the wall, worked his knee between her thighs, forced his tongue into her mouth without preamble.
She laughed against his mouth, let her hands slide down his back to his ass. "Now that's the Alex I remember."
"Shut up!" He bit her lip.
"Angry sex. I always liked that with you."
He yanked the hem of her dress up, pushed her panties out of the way and sank two fingers into her pussy.
"Oh, God! Alex!"
She was already wet, and he could smell her. It wasn't the right smell, but it was sex. And he was hard and desperate and needed something, anything, to make the ache in his chest seem a little less like something that was going to kill him. Millicent was here, and she was willing. And she had no power to hurt him.
He pushed down the straps of her gown and kissed her breasts. She cupped his head in her palm and held him there, sighing as he licked and teased each nipple.
"Fuck me, Lex! Fuck me right here. Just like the old days."
If he'd been even remotely sober, he would have realized how easily they could be caught. That they didn't have protection. That there were reasons why Millicent was relegated firmly to his past. Of course, if he'd been sober, he wouldn't have been fucking somebody other than Clark to begin with.
But he wasn't sober.
The first thrust into her pussy made him moan out loud. It didn't feel the way it did with Clark. But she was still tight and hot, and he plunged deeper inside her, instinct taking over, primal and uncomplicated. It was impossible to think and fuck at the same time, and that's exactly what Lex needed right now, to not think.
Millicent dug her fingernails into his jacket and made little sobbing sounds of pleasure. When he felt the tightening in his balls, he slid his hands between their bodies, stroked her clitoris until her eyes went wide and the sounds stopped altogether. Her pussy spasmed around his cock, squeezing the orgasm out of him too.
He pulled out of her and offered his handkerchief. The blurriness from the alcohol receded all at once, leaving him almost painfully clear-headed. Then the squalidness of what he'd just done hit him hard. This was all his bad old days reprised, and he was getting way too old for this. There was a reason, after all, why he'd given up the simplicity of freefalling sex. Because no matter how much he thought he wanted it, afterwards it always left behind an aftertaste of humiliation, a terrifying emptiness.
The contrast between this and making love with Clark could not have been more stark.
"Regrets, Alex?" Millicent studied him. "Or maybe that's guilt I'm seeing?"
He set his jaw and didn't answer.
Her eyes sparkled with amusement, and she took a step closer. "You really have it bad for him, don't you?" She smiled in a way he knew to be wary of. "You shouldn't let it turn you into a jealous bore. I heard what they were talking about, you know. In the game room. Henry and Clark. They were talking about how much in love they are."
The flash of pain Lex felt must have showed because she laughed.
"Oh, not with each other, Alex. You did know Henry Howell is getting married, didn't you? He's head over heels about her, from what I hear. And it seems, Clark has it pretty bad for you, too." She grinned with malicious enjoyment. "Or at least he did."
It was not possible to keep the shock off his face, as wise as that would have been. All the things he'd been imagining, all his suspicions, and what Clark had really been doing was telling someone how much he loved Lex.
Millicent leaned in, lowered her voice. "You did ask what I wanted, Alex." She ran the back of one brightly lacquered fingernail across his cheek. "And the answer is to teach not to underestimate me." She tilted her head. "I think you've learned your lesson, don't you?"
Her smile was all triumph as she swept off in a tide of tulle. Lex feared for a moment that he might be physically sick. What he'd seen between Clark and Henry Howell had been perfectly innocent. Lex, on the other hand, had actually--
"Oh fuck!" he cursed loudly and practically ran back to the party.
The first thing he saw when he entered the ballroom was Millicent, standing with his father, rather cozily, his arm around her waist. When she noticed him in the doorway, she whispered in Lionel's ear. Then his father leaned in to her, and they shared a long, enthusiastic kiss.
And Lex understood just how big a fool he'd been
But that didn't matter. The only important thing was Clark. Lex walked up and down the long ballroom frantically searching for him. He asked everyone they knew, but no one had seen him. Finally, he spotted Mitzi and dragged her away from the conversation she was having with the Ukrainian ambassador.
"Have you seen Clark?" he asked, urgently.
"Yes, on his way out. Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, he seemed rather upset."
Lex's heart started to pound. "Shit!"
She narrowed her eyes. "What did you do?"
"I-- Fuck!"
"Well, don't just stand there." She waved her hand. "Go find him. Makes things right."
He didn't even bother with his coat. The limo was down the block. His driver was leaning against the side of the car, smoking a cigarette. He quickly put it out when he saw Lex hurrying down the sidewalk.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Luthor. I didn't realize you were ready to leave."
"Just get me home. Make it quick."
His driver touched the brim of his cap. "Right away, sir."
Lex hopped in, and they took off. He dialed the penthouse, but it rang and rang without any answer. The streets were largely deserted. It was primarily a business district. The only Halloween festivity in the area was the carnival, and it was still early for people to be leaving. They pulled up outside the apartment building in less than ten minutes.
"Thanks," he said to the driver as he hurried inside.
In the elevator, he practiced what he would say. I was drunk or I'm so fucking stupid or maybe just an abject Please forgive me! Of course, he didn't know for a fact that Clark realized what he'd done. Maybe he'd just gotten tired or thought Lex had already left or felt unwell or something, some other reason he'd left early. Lex could only hope. And make sure he played it cool. If he could get of this without his life being utterly ruined, he'd be a hell of a lot luckier than he deserved.
The penthouse was dark and silent when he came through the door. He stood for a moment absorbing the stillness, real fear starting to clench his chest.
"Clark?" he called out. "Clark!" His voice rang in the empty room.
He went through the entire apartment looking for him, even though he didn't actually expect to find him. It was just something to do. There was no sign of Clark anywhere, no evidence that he'd even stopped back by the apartment after the party.
Lex finally gave up and headed for the bedroom. He could only hope that Clark would come home later, and they could talk this out. He took off his jacket and sat down heavily on the bed. How could everything have gone to hell so quickly? How could he have been so monumentally stupid?
He let out his breath and got up to undress. He took off his cufflinks and returned them to their box.
"Have a good time?" a voice asked from behind him.
He whirled around. "Clark?"
"You were expecting someone else?" He stepped out of the shadows near the door.
"No. Of course not." Lex's heart pounded, but he forced himself to hold it together, to keep his voice natural, to hopefully not give anything away. "I just-- I didn't realize you were home. You left the party without telling anyone."
"Yes, well--" He stood a step toward Lex. "I didn't really feel like waiting around while you finished fucking that slut."
"You--" Sweat started to run down his back.
"Oh, yes. I saw you. Saw everything."
"God." He was so desperate his hands were shaking. "Clark. I'm so sorry. Please. It's not what you think. It wasn't--"
"Shut up!" Clark's voice was so loud the room seemed to shake. His eyes glittered like a wild animal's, like he didn't quite know what he was going to do next, and for the first time, it struck Lex just how dangerous someone as strong as Clark could be.
"Let me explain," he begged. "Let me make it better."
Clark paced an agitated line down the center of the room. "Why did you go to all the trouble to make me think you cared about me? Huh? Why did you have to do that? If this was just business, I could handle it. But I thought I was important to you."
"You are! God. You're the most important thing, Clark."
"Bullshit!" His whole body shook. "If you care about someone, you don't fuck around on them behind their back. You don't humiliate them in public."
It was a moment of staggering realization, and it burned away the last residue of his father's lies, his own doubts. There had always been a part of him, the part that remembered too well how good it felt to hold Desiree, how tender Helen could be, that had persisted in believing no one could really be as sweet as Clark. Now that it was too late, his eyes were wide eye open, and he could see, the real Clark. Not the leather-clad vision of sexiness he'd become so enthralled with down at the club, but the boy from Smallville, whose parents had taught him right from wrong, brought him up to believe in things like loyalty and faithfulness. Things that Clark naturally assumed were a given between the two of them, because he did truly love Lex. Or at least he had.
"I didn't mean--" But there was just nowhere to go with that, because he might not have meant to, but the fact remained that he had. He'd played into his father's hands yet again and quite possibly destroyed the only chance at happiness he'd ever have. "I'm not going to try to make excuses, because there's no excuse for what I did. But, God! I am truly, truly sorry. Please! Let me try to make it up to you, Clark."
"Oh, you will, Lex. Don't worry. I know exactly how you can make it up to me, too."
The look in his eyes made Lex take a hasty step backward, but the bed was right there, hemming him in. There was nowhere to go, and Clark was too quick anyway, on him before he even knew what was happening. His clothes ripped like tissue paper in Clark's hands, and he was naked and on his back before he had time to think "no," much less say it.
Clark loomed, staring down at him. "You like owning things. Like owning me. Well, I've got news for you, Lex. This isn't a one-way street. I fucking own you, too. And I'm going to make sure you never forget it again." He tore his own pants open, his cock already hard.
Lex's heart lurched in his chest. "Come on, Clark. Not like this." He tried to sit up, but Clark pushed him roughly back down. "Please!"
"Is that what she said when you were fucking her? Huh, Lex? Please?"
Then Clark was on top of him, holding him down, grinding against him, kissing like a form of punishment, his mouth hard and mean on Lex's.
Lex tried to push him away, starting to panic for real. "Clark. Clark, listen. Okay? I fucked up. Really, really bad. I know you're upset. And you have every right to be. Every right to hate me. But if you do this, you're going to hate yourself."
Clark bit him on the shoulder, much too hard. "Shut up!"
He manhandled Lex onto his side, using his weight to keep him there, holding Lex's flailing arms, his hands clenched so tightly around Lex's wrists there would definitely be bruises.
"Get off me!" Lex struggled as much as Clark's strong grip would allow.
"It's not that much fun being treated like a whore, is it, Lex?" He maneuvered their bodies so his erection pressed into the cleft of Lex's ass. "But that's what you get for acting like one."
The taunting tone of voice and the physical restraint and his own desperate fear brought a sick flash of memory, all the rough, dangerous, demeaning sex he'd ever had in his life. But, God, this was Clark. And it wasn't supposed to be this way. He couldn't let it be this way.
He kicked and bit and actually managed to wrench one wrist free, but Clark just grabbed him again, holding on more tightly this time. Much too tightly, in fact. Searing pain shot up Lex's arm, and he screamed in agony. Clark froze and then quickly let him go. Lex rolled onto his back, cradling his injured wrist against his chest, the pain so intense and stabbing it left him gasping for breath.
"Oh, my God." Clark stared, his face sickly white, eyes huge and filled with a shocked kind of misery.
"It's okay. Okay," he struggled to say. This was his fault, and he wanted so much to give Clark some small measure of comfort. But, God, it hurt so badly and he couldn't catch his breath to speak.
Clark sprang off the bed.
"Clark!" Lex managed to call out. "Don't."
Clark turned and staggered into the bathroom. There was a sharp noise as the toilet seat was thrown up, and then Lex could hear the unmistakable sound of retching. He closed his eyes and wished to God there was something he could do, that he'd never gotten them into this fucked up mess in the first place. All the truly horrendous things he'd done in his life, all the hideous things that had been done to him, and this was by far the worst night of his life.
The vomiting stopped, and Lex waited for Clark to come back. But the minutes ticked by, and he didn't hear any stirring in the bathroom.
"Clark!" he called out. "Clark, are you okay?"
He managed to pick himself up from the bed. The pain was so intense it made him light-headed and unsteady on his feet. He stumbled his way across the room and peered into the bathroom. There was no other way out than through the bedroom, but Clark was nowhere to be seen. The window was open, though, cool air gusting in, billowing the curtains. Lex stared. It was really the only place Clark could have gone. But all that was out there was gravity and the unforgiving sidewalk forty stories down.
"Oh my God!" Lex's heart hammered. His stomach turned over, and he thought he was going to be sick too. All his life, he'd despised his father for destroying what he was supposed to love, but Lex was just like him, the same kind of poison. He lurched over to the window, horror and dread and grief making it impossible to breathe.
He leaned as far out as he could and looked, and thank God! There was nothing. No flashing lights, no commotion, no morbid crowd of onlookers, no beautiful boy broken on the hard pavement below.
He slid down the wall, too weak to stand. He couldn't imagine how Clark had gotten out that way, but then, he did have his secrets. And it didn't matter just as long as he was okay.
Lex sat there for-- He didn't even know how long. The pain and the shock of what might have been overpowered him, and it took some time to pull himself back together. When he did finally manage to get up from the cold bathroom tile, he made a beeline for the phone. He debated a moment about who to call first, but the horrible throbbing in his wrist made the decision for him.
"Toby, I need you over here right now."
"Lex?" the man asked, groggily.
"Yes," he snapped. "I think I might have broken my wrist. Bring stuff for that. And pain pills. Don't forget the pain pills."
***
Toby's examination of Lex's wrist consisted primarily of poking at his injury, finding the most tender spot and pressing way too hard on it.
Lex jerked his arm back. "Fucking stop that already!"
Toby sighed. "I'm trying to make sure it's not broken. If you'd go to the hospital like a normal person, I wouldn't have to do this."
"No hospital."
"Well then be quiet and let me work." He took Lex's wrist back and started prodding at it once more. An excruciatingly long time later, he finally finished. "It doesn't seem to be broken. My best guess is that the bone is bruised. But like I said, you'd really need an x-ray to make sure."
"Just wrap it up for me. I'm sure it will be fine."
Toby sighed heavily. "Have I ever mentioned what a bad patient you are?" Lex glared at him, and he held up his hands. "Fine, fine. I'm wrapping it up." He opened his bag, pulled out supplies and started to work. "How'd you say you got this again?"
"Fell."
"Mmm."
"What?"
"It's just that this a compression injury, Lex. You don't get one of these from falling down. Someone had to squeeze and squeeze and squeeze, hard enough to bruise the bone." Toby gave him an appraising look. "I've seen pictures of you with that new boyfriend of yours. He's pretty strong, huh?"
"If the next thing you're planning to say is that love's not supposed to hurt, please don't."
Toby let out his breath impatiently. "Fine if this is how you want to live--"
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It means I've seen what other people have done to you."
Lex glared. "I don't pay you for your memory." Some of his post-Helen misadventures had gotten rather messy. It wasn't something he enjoyed thinking about. "And this isn't like that. He's not like that."
"I guess that's why I'm bandaging your wrist, huh?"
"It wasn't--" He was going to say it wasn't Clark's fault, but why the hell was he explaining himself to Toby? "Just finish it."
"There." Toby pulled back and admired his handiwork. "This will immobilize the wrist, speed up healing and keep it from being reinjured. You still really should get an x-ray just to make sure."
"It's fine," Lex said, pulling the sleeve of his shirt down over the bandage. "I trust you."
Toby arched an eyebrow. "You sure you didn't hit your head too?"
Lex shot him a nasty look. "Just give me some stuff for the pain and get out already."
Toby rolled his eyes. "You're welcome." He pulled a white medicine bottle out of his pocket. "Take two at a time, no more than every four hours, and absolutely no booze with it." Lex reached for the bottle, but Toby wouldn't let it go. "I'm serious, Lex."
Lex snatched it away. "I'm not an imbecile."
"No, just insanely reckless." He pulled his coat on. "If you have any problems, call me. Or better yet, go to the hospital like you have some sense."
"I'll be fine."
Toby gave him an assessing look. "Take care of yourself, Lex." And left.
Lex took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Heartache and physical pain were a one-two punch, and he felt like an impossible weight was pressing down on him, making his limbs heavy, every muscle in his body ache. God, he needed some sleep. He'd start looking for Clark tomorrow. He'd put Phelan on it-- Or no. Maybe he'd handle it himself. In any event, he would find him. He'd come up with a way to explain, make amends, win him back. He had to.
He poured himself a glass of Scotch, washed down the pain pills with it and headed off to bed. What Toby didn't know wouldn't hurt him.
***
You can read the previous parts here:
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11
***
For the Halloween Carnival, the usually elegant and glittering grand ballroom of the Metropolis Hotel had been transformed into someone's not-terribly-historical vision of a medieval dungeon. The lights were low, with candles scattered around the room to give it a moody sense of gloom. Faux spider webs hung from the ceiling, and there was fake dust everywhere. The main attraction, though, were the "torture devices" that giddy partygoers were happily trying out on one another. There were racks and screws, shackles, even an iron maiden, although without the iron spikes for obvious safety reasons. Clearly, whoever had planned the event spent far too much time in Metropolis' sex clubs.
Clark took in the room with wide eyes. "Okay, so this isn't anything like Halloween back home."
Lex smiled. "Frankly, I'm relieved to hear it."
Clark returned the smile. "So what do you want to do?"
"Well, we could make a turn around the room, check out all the sights. There are also games in the rooms across the hall, if we decide we need something more wholesome to entertain us."
"Wholesome, huh?" Clark pulled him close. "I don't really think that's my favorite kind of fun." He nibbled along Lex's jaw, lined hot, wet kisses down his neck. Lex had a happy premonition of the carnival being cut short in favor of a leisurely trip home, giving him plenty of time to fuck Clark in the back seat of the limo. Or maybe Clark would want to fuck him instead. Either way, it sounded a lot more recreational than apple-bobbing and funnel cakes.
They held hands and made their way slowly through the crowd, stopping to greet Lex's business acquaintances and a surprising number of people who seemed to be friends of Clark's.
"Sorry we missed you last week," one of the Jones brothers called out to him.
The investment banking Joneses. The good-looking brother.
"He comes to Mitzi's for lunch sometimes," Clark explained.
Another man, someone Lex didn't recognize, who could have been a male model, but was probably a corporate lawyer or a management consultant, said, "Let's set up a game for next week."
"Adam Laighton," Clark told him. "Belongs to the tennis club. We play sometimes."
Suddenly, Lex was having that moment all over again when he'd come home to find that kid Brian salivating all over Clark. Only these weren't just some guys in Clark's college prep class. They were wealthy and successful and connected, and they had just as much to offer as Lex did. He instinctively tightened his grip on Clark's hand, so tight in fact that Clark gave him an odd look.
"Are you all right?"
He took a deep breath and made himself loosen his hold a little. "Sure. Fine." He smiled, and it felt like the corners of his mouth were going to crack.
"Hey." Clark cupped his cheek and kissed him until he relaxed. "This is supposed to be fun, remember?" He stroked his thumb lightly in circles.
Lex nodded and pulled Clark into his arms, hugged him hard.
"That's better." He felt Clark's smile against the side of his face.
They finished making the grand tour, and Lex was just about to suggest a round of balloon darts when Bill Taylor came striding up, his face a brighter red than usual.
"What do you think you're trying to pull, Luthor?" he puffed angrily.
Lex regarded him coldly. "Perhaps you could be more specific?"
His cheeks turned a darker shade of scarlet. "We were guaranteed 10,000 units. We got 2,500. If you think I won't haul your ass into court--"
"Bill." Lex used his stern voice, the one that made his employees jump. "If you read the contract, you'll see that it calls for distribution by quarter. Next month, you'll get another 2,5000, and so on, until the contract is complete."
"Bullshit! My people would never have negotiated that kind of--"
"But they did. If you have a problem with it, I suggest you take it up with them."
"I'm taking it up with you!" He poked a finger into Lex's chest.
Clark took a step forward. "Don't touch him!"
Taylor narrowed his eyes. "Need your little boyfriend to fight your battles, huh, Luthor? I guess a pansy-ass like you can't take care of himself like a real man would."
Clark lunged, and Lex got his arm out just in time to catch him. "Why don't you go find Mitzi and see how she's enjoying the carnival?" Clark looked surprised, almost hurt, and Lex squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "We shouldn't both get stuck talking business. Let me handle this, and then we'll go do anything you want. Okay?"
Clark nodded, and Lex kissed him. "I'll make this quick. I promise."
"Okay. But call me if you need me." He glared at Taylor before heading off.
"Now about those contracts--"
"No," Lex said, his voice like ice. "About this bad habit you've developed of haranguing me at social functions. If there's some question about the terms of our contract, I'm happy to discuss it at the office. But I won't be ambushed at parties because you think it's your best shot to catch me off guard and realign the terms of our agreement in your favor. Because we both know that's what you're trying to do."
"How dare you--"
"Oh, please. How dare you. I don't live with my head in the sand, Bill. I know you've had an unexpected upsurge in demand in South America, and now you're trying to cover your ass by squeezing LexCorp. And it's not going to happen. So if you want to negotiate a rider to our original agreement, call my office on Monday." He started to turn away, but had one more thought. "Oh, and a word to the wise? I wouldn't antagonize Clark if I were you. He could break you in two with his little finger."
He turned his back on Bill Taylor's sputtered curses and walked away. He was really getting sick of this guy's bullshit. Perhaps instead of expanding the contract, it was time to join forces with his competition instead. They'd been testing the waters lately, trying to see if LexCorp might be interested in switching sides. The snide way Bill Taylor had called Clark his "little boyfriend" practically guaranteed they would be.
That Clark had rushed to his defense did give him a warm glow, though. He couldn't think of anyone else who'd ever had the least protective instinct toward him. It felt nice. He scanned the room looking for him. It struck him just how stupid he'd been before, worrying about those other men. He had no reason to doubt Clark. No reason to think--
He froze when he spotted him. Clark was stretched out on one of the make-believe racks, and another man, dark-haired, good-looking, sleekly dressed, one of the younger Howell sons if Lex wasn't mistaken, was leaning over him buckling the straps around his wrists. Howell was saying something, and Clark was smiling up at him. And it looked so-- intimate. Lex couldn't stop staring.
"Your young friend seems to be having a good time." He almost jumped at the sound of his father's voice.
He didn't answer, hoping against hope this might dissuade his father from further conversation, but Lionel was never easily put off. He moved closer, lowered his voice, spoke in an insidious whisper next to Lex's ear. "I wonder how many of them have had him. A whore does get around, after all. It could be every man in this room."
Of course, Lex had known his father would investigate Clark, would find out about his past eventually. He'd even been surprised he hadn't brought it up the other day at the penthouse. So he really should have been expecting this. Only he wasn't, not right now, and after seeing Clark with some other man touching him, the shock of it was physical, a hard slap to the face.
"Be honest, son. Don't you wonder, too? Wonder if maybe young Henry Howell over there is actually renewing an old business acquaintance?"
Lex flinched, and Lionel smiled like a shark.
"Did you really think I wouldn't find out? After you pulled that little stunt changing your will, of course I did some checking on your Mr.-- Smith, do you call him? Surely you could have come up with something more original than that, son? Or was his nome de plume your young trollop's idea?"
The moment had the same feeling, the same texture as every nightmare he'd ever had. Time seemed to move so slowly, and he could clearly see the danger ahead. But he just couldn't seem to change course, couldn't walk away, couldn't make it stop.
"What are you going to do?" He tried to keep the fear out of his voice, but his father knew him too well. He could find even the least weakness, and his feelings for Clark were a gaping vulnerability.
"What do you think I'm going to do? Get everyone's attention, announce to all of Metropolis society that my son is being made a fool of by a teenaged prostitute? That my heir just made a two-bit whore the ultimate beneficiary of everything I've worked so hard to build?"
Lex felt the blood rush to his face. "Don't call him that!"
Lionel stared, his eyes widening. "Oh, my God. You're really in love with him, aren't you?" He threw his head back and laughed. " First a con artist, then a homicidal maniac and now a male prostitute. You really know how to pick them, don't you, son?"
"Because you're such an expert on love."
His father shrugged. "Maybe not. But I am an expert on public opinion. Look at all these people." He gestured with his arm. "Do you honestly think they don't know the truth about your little slut? That they don't whisper about it behind your back?"
"If you don't shut up--"
"What? You'll hit me? Would that make you feel better? Go right ahead then. It's only natural to blame the messenger. But in your heart, you know I'm right, or it wouldn't bother you so much. You know you can't trust him, just like you couldn't trust Helen or Desiree or Victoria or any of the rest of them. You think I'm only trying to hurt you with what I'm saying, with some of the things I've done in the past, but I'm not. I'm only trying to save you, from them, from your own poor judgment."
He knew he shouldn't listen to a word his father said, and yet he couldn't turn off the ugliness in his head. The afterimage of Clark spread out on the rack kept transforming into a picture of him naked and sprawled in bed, that other man leaning over him, touching him. His grip tightened dangerously on the glass, and he almost wanted it to break. Physical pain was preferable to this.
"Be honest with yourself, Lex. Don't you have your doubts? Oh, I'm sure he says he loves you. But can a prostitute ever really love his employer? And even if by some stretch, he does actually care for you, do you honestly believe it's in his nature to be faithful? Look around this room. Just think of all the assignations he could be having. All the quick lunch-hour fucks while you're slaving away at LexCorp building that fortune you want to leave to him. How long do you think it's going to be before he decides, just like the others did, that it’s easier with you of the picture?"
"Clark would never hurt me."
Lionel raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't you have said the same thing about Helen?"
"Shut the fuck up!"
"I just want you to be on your guard. I would have thought you'd learned your lesson by now. How many lovers wielding shotguns is it going to take?"
Lex threw back the rest of his Scotch. "Fuck off." He headed off to the bar, intent on getting blindingly drunk, the only thing he could possibly imagine making him feel even the least bit better.
"Enjoy the party, son," his father called after him cheerfully.
Clark was off the rack now, but still talking to Henry Howell. Lex turned his back, so he didn't have to watch it. When he got to the bar, he asked the bartender for the largest glass he had filled with as much Scotch as it could hold. If it hadn't been gauche, he would have just taken the bottle.
The bartender poured, and Clark turned up at his side.
"Hey, Lex." He frowned when he saw the size of the drink. "Um-- Henry and I were going to go check out the arcade. You want to come?"
"No, thanks. I'm kind of busy right now."
"Is anything the matter?" Clark asked.
The bartender handed him the glass, and he threw back the Scotch. "Give me another," he told the bartender. "What could possibly be wrong, Clark? Frankly, I'm tired of the question. You don't need to watch over me like a mother hen. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."
"It's just-- I saw you talking to your father. And now you're--"
"What?" Lex's voice had a nasty edge to it. "What am I doing? Tell me. I'm really curious to know."
"You're drinking too much and acting like an asshole." Beneath the sharp note of anger, there was also hurt.
Lex closed his eyes and let out his breath. "I'm sorry." The pounding in his temple felt like a jackhammer. "Go to the arcade with Henry. Really. I'm fine here." He gave Clark a quick kiss. "Have fun."
Clark touched his face. "I'm a little worried about you."
"I'm okay. Everything's okay. Honestly. Go have fun. I want you to enjoy yourself."
"You're sure you're all right?"
"I promise."
"Okay. But I won't be long."
Lex ordered two more drinks, found himself a quiet corner and downed them one after the other. His head felt thick, like it was stuffed with cotton wool. The room was starting to spin, and his stomach wasn't quite as steady as it ought to be. All he really wanted right now was to be home, in bed, curled around Clark. He took a deep breath and let it out. God. Clark was right. He was acting like an asshole. If he weren't sulking, he could be with Clark right now, laughing over silly carnival games, or better yet, in the limo on the way back to the penthouse to make love. Anywhere had to be better than holed up in a corner, alone and drunk, feeling sorry for himself.
He ditched the Scotch glasses and took off after Clark, a little unsteady on his feet. He went into several game rooms before he finally found him, and then he really wished he hadn't. Clark and Henry Howell were standing by a SkeeBall machine, ostensibly playing, deep in conversation. Howell was intent on what he was saying, and Clark seemed to hang on every word. The expression on both their faces was soft and tender. It was not how anyone looked when they were having a polite conversation about the Sharks season or the upcoming presidential election.
A scene started to play over and over in Lex's head, a clichéd movie of the week moment, but it made the blood pound in his temples all the same. Clark and Henry were lying in bed together, naked on rumpled sheets, tangled around one another, stroking and kissing and whispering, their voices low and intimate.
"What if he finds out?" Henry asked.
"Don't worry. He doesn't suspect a thing." Clark grinned, the big, wide smile that always made Lex just a little bit weak in the knees, and the two of them started to laugh.
They laughed and laughed and laughed. At him. Just the way his father and Victoria must have. Desiree. Helen.
He lurched off down the hall, toward the cloakroom. Clark could have Henry bring him back to the penthouse when they finished eyefucking one another. He was going home to watch the world spin from the comfort of his own bed and spend some quality time in the bathroom puking.
He rounded a corner of the lobby and ran headlong into someone, nearly landing on his ass in his inebriated state. His eyes weren't exactly focusing the way there were supposed to, and all he could make out were small feminine hands holding him up, a delicate waft of perfume.
"Alex. You are quite the worse for wear, aren't you?" an amused female voice said close to his ear.
"Oh, God."
With the exception of his father, Millicent Brubaker had to be the last person he needed to see right now. They'd gone to prep school together, one of the many Lex had attended, until he'd been thrown out of that one, too. He and Millicent had had their share of misadventures, almost all of which made Lex cringe to think of now.
"Is something wrong?" she asked. "You didn't have a fight with that perfectly scrumptious new boyfriend of yours, now did you? Although he did seem rather friendly with Henry Howell. I wonder what they could have been talking about?"
"Fuck off," he said, although his slurred speech took some of the bite out of the curse.
Millicent only laughed. "Now, now, don't get testy with me. Old friends have to look out for one another."
It would have been more accurate to call them former fuckbuddies, but he was too tired and too miserable to debate it. "I have to get out of here."
"Let me help you." She took him by the arm. "You're not looking terribly steady on your feet." She walked him the rest of the way. The cloarkroom was empty, the staff clearly not anticipating the guests would begin leaving this early.
"Kind of reminds you of old times, doesn't it?" Her voice was low and sultry. "You and me and an empty coatroom."
"I prefer not to take those trips down memory lane."
She pressed herself to his side. "Are you sure about that, Alex? Because the way I remember it we had a lot of good times together. Tell the truth. Couldn't you use a little diversion about now?"
"What do you want, Millicent?" he asked, tiredly. She always wanted something. Everyone did.
Warm lips brushed the side of his face. "Only to make you feel better," she said in her breathy voice, right against his ear. "I do know how to make you feel good. Don't you at least remember that?" She placed wet, sucking kisses along his jaw, down his throat. Her hand cupped his groin, stroking and squeezing.
He'd fucked her off and on for a good two years, and he had no idea how she took her coffee or if she even ate breakfast, much less what her favorite cereal was. And he didn't care. She could have had every man at the carnival bending her over the rack, doing her right there, and he wouldn't have given a shit. Because he didn't love her, and he never had. That he was getting hard in her hand was merely biological, stimulus and response, the simplest equation imaginable. Maybe his big mistake was ever deviating from that. Maybe his father was right, and he was a washout at relationships. Maybe he really should have known better than to let himself want too much. To actually love someone. What had that ever gotten him except completely fucked over?
He grabbed her wrist, holding tightly, making her gasp. "You want to help me so much? Fine." He pushed her back against the wall, worked his knee between her thighs, forced his tongue into her mouth without preamble.
She laughed against his mouth, let her hands slide down his back to his ass. "Now that's the Alex I remember."
"Shut up!" He bit her lip.
"Angry sex. I always liked that with you."
He yanked the hem of her dress up, pushed her panties out of the way and sank two fingers into her pussy.
"Oh, God! Alex!"
She was already wet, and he could smell her. It wasn't the right smell, but it was sex. And he was hard and desperate and needed something, anything, to make the ache in his chest seem a little less like something that was going to kill him. Millicent was here, and she was willing. And she had no power to hurt him.
He pushed down the straps of her gown and kissed her breasts. She cupped his head in her palm and held him there, sighing as he licked and teased each nipple.
"Fuck me, Lex! Fuck me right here. Just like the old days."
If he'd been even remotely sober, he would have realized how easily they could be caught. That they didn't have protection. That there were reasons why Millicent was relegated firmly to his past. Of course, if he'd been sober, he wouldn't have been fucking somebody other than Clark to begin with.
But he wasn't sober.
The first thrust into her pussy made him moan out loud. It didn't feel the way it did with Clark. But she was still tight and hot, and he plunged deeper inside her, instinct taking over, primal and uncomplicated. It was impossible to think and fuck at the same time, and that's exactly what Lex needed right now, to not think.
Millicent dug her fingernails into his jacket and made little sobbing sounds of pleasure. When he felt the tightening in his balls, he slid his hands between their bodies, stroked her clitoris until her eyes went wide and the sounds stopped altogether. Her pussy spasmed around his cock, squeezing the orgasm out of him too.
He pulled out of her and offered his handkerchief. The blurriness from the alcohol receded all at once, leaving him almost painfully clear-headed. Then the squalidness of what he'd just done hit him hard. This was all his bad old days reprised, and he was getting way too old for this. There was a reason, after all, why he'd given up the simplicity of freefalling sex. Because no matter how much he thought he wanted it, afterwards it always left behind an aftertaste of humiliation, a terrifying emptiness.
The contrast between this and making love with Clark could not have been more stark.
"Regrets, Alex?" Millicent studied him. "Or maybe that's guilt I'm seeing?"
He set his jaw and didn't answer.
Her eyes sparkled with amusement, and she took a step closer. "You really have it bad for him, don't you?" She smiled in a way he knew to be wary of. "You shouldn't let it turn you into a jealous bore. I heard what they were talking about, you know. In the game room. Henry and Clark. They were talking about how much in love they are."
The flash of pain Lex felt must have showed because she laughed.
"Oh, not with each other, Alex. You did know Henry Howell is getting married, didn't you? He's head over heels about her, from what I hear. And it seems, Clark has it pretty bad for you, too." She grinned with malicious enjoyment. "Or at least he did."
It was not possible to keep the shock off his face, as wise as that would have been. All the things he'd been imagining, all his suspicions, and what Clark had really been doing was telling someone how much he loved Lex.
Millicent leaned in, lowered her voice. "You did ask what I wanted, Alex." She ran the back of one brightly lacquered fingernail across his cheek. "And the answer is to teach not to underestimate me." She tilted her head. "I think you've learned your lesson, don't you?"
Her smile was all triumph as she swept off in a tide of tulle. Lex feared for a moment that he might be physically sick. What he'd seen between Clark and Henry Howell had been perfectly innocent. Lex, on the other hand, had actually--
"Oh fuck!" he cursed loudly and practically ran back to the party.
The first thing he saw when he entered the ballroom was Millicent, standing with his father, rather cozily, his arm around her waist. When she noticed him in the doorway, she whispered in Lionel's ear. Then his father leaned in to her, and they shared a long, enthusiastic kiss.
And Lex understood just how big a fool he'd been
But that didn't matter. The only important thing was Clark. Lex walked up and down the long ballroom frantically searching for him. He asked everyone they knew, but no one had seen him. Finally, he spotted Mitzi and dragged her away from the conversation she was having with the Ukrainian ambassador.
"Have you seen Clark?" he asked, urgently.
"Yes, on his way out. Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, he seemed rather upset."
Lex's heart started to pound. "Shit!"
She narrowed her eyes. "What did you do?"
"I-- Fuck!"
"Well, don't just stand there." She waved her hand. "Go find him. Makes things right."
He didn't even bother with his coat. The limo was down the block. His driver was leaning against the side of the car, smoking a cigarette. He quickly put it out when he saw Lex hurrying down the sidewalk.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Luthor. I didn't realize you were ready to leave."
"Just get me home. Make it quick."
His driver touched the brim of his cap. "Right away, sir."
Lex hopped in, and they took off. He dialed the penthouse, but it rang and rang without any answer. The streets were largely deserted. It was primarily a business district. The only Halloween festivity in the area was the carnival, and it was still early for people to be leaving. They pulled up outside the apartment building in less than ten minutes.
"Thanks," he said to the driver as he hurried inside.
In the elevator, he practiced what he would say. I was drunk or I'm so fucking stupid or maybe just an abject Please forgive me! Of course, he didn't know for a fact that Clark realized what he'd done. Maybe he'd just gotten tired or thought Lex had already left or felt unwell or something, some other reason he'd left early. Lex could only hope. And make sure he played it cool. If he could get of this without his life being utterly ruined, he'd be a hell of a lot luckier than he deserved.
The penthouse was dark and silent when he came through the door. He stood for a moment absorbing the stillness, real fear starting to clench his chest.
"Clark?" he called out. "Clark!" His voice rang in the empty room.
He went through the entire apartment looking for him, even though he didn't actually expect to find him. It was just something to do. There was no sign of Clark anywhere, no evidence that he'd even stopped back by the apartment after the party.
Lex finally gave up and headed for the bedroom. He could only hope that Clark would come home later, and they could talk this out. He took off his jacket and sat down heavily on the bed. How could everything have gone to hell so quickly? How could he have been so monumentally stupid?
He let out his breath and got up to undress. He took off his cufflinks and returned them to their box.
"Have a good time?" a voice asked from behind him.
He whirled around. "Clark?"
"You were expecting someone else?" He stepped out of the shadows near the door.
"No. Of course not." Lex's heart pounded, but he forced himself to hold it together, to keep his voice natural, to hopefully not give anything away. "I just-- I didn't realize you were home. You left the party without telling anyone."
"Yes, well--" He stood a step toward Lex. "I didn't really feel like waiting around while you finished fucking that slut."
"You--" Sweat started to run down his back.
"Oh, yes. I saw you. Saw everything."
"God." He was so desperate his hands were shaking. "Clark. I'm so sorry. Please. It's not what you think. It wasn't--"
"Shut up!" Clark's voice was so loud the room seemed to shake. His eyes glittered like a wild animal's, like he didn't quite know what he was going to do next, and for the first time, it struck Lex just how dangerous someone as strong as Clark could be.
"Let me explain," he begged. "Let me make it better."
Clark paced an agitated line down the center of the room. "Why did you go to all the trouble to make me think you cared about me? Huh? Why did you have to do that? If this was just business, I could handle it. But I thought I was important to you."
"You are! God. You're the most important thing, Clark."
"Bullshit!" His whole body shook. "If you care about someone, you don't fuck around on them behind their back. You don't humiliate them in public."
It was a moment of staggering realization, and it burned away the last residue of his father's lies, his own doubts. There had always been a part of him, the part that remembered too well how good it felt to hold Desiree, how tender Helen could be, that had persisted in believing no one could really be as sweet as Clark. Now that it was too late, his eyes were wide eye open, and he could see, the real Clark. Not the leather-clad vision of sexiness he'd become so enthralled with down at the club, but the boy from Smallville, whose parents had taught him right from wrong, brought him up to believe in things like loyalty and faithfulness. Things that Clark naturally assumed were a given between the two of them, because he did truly love Lex. Or at least he had.
"I didn't mean--" But there was just nowhere to go with that, because he might not have meant to, but the fact remained that he had. He'd played into his father's hands yet again and quite possibly destroyed the only chance at happiness he'd ever have. "I'm not going to try to make excuses, because there's no excuse for what I did. But, God! I am truly, truly sorry. Please! Let me try to make it up to you, Clark."
"Oh, you will, Lex. Don't worry. I know exactly how you can make it up to me, too."
The look in his eyes made Lex take a hasty step backward, but the bed was right there, hemming him in. There was nowhere to go, and Clark was too quick anyway, on him before he even knew what was happening. His clothes ripped like tissue paper in Clark's hands, and he was naked and on his back before he had time to think "no," much less say it.
Clark loomed, staring down at him. "You like owning things. Like owning me. Well, I've got news for you, Lex. This isn't a one-way street. I fucking own you, too. And I'm going to make sure you never forget it again." He tore his own pants open, his cock already hard.
Lex's heart lurched in his chest. "Come on, Clark. Not like this." He tried to sit up, but Clark pushed him roughly back down. "Please!"
"Is that what she said when you were fucking her? Huh, Lex? Please?"
Then Clark was on top of him, holding him down, grinding against him, kissing like a form of punishment, his mouth hard and mean on Lex's.
Lex tried to push him away, starting to panic for real. "Clark. Clark, listen. Okay? I fucked up. Really, really bad. I know you're upset. And you have every right to be. Every right to hate me. But if you do this, you're going to hate yourself."
Clark bit him on the shoulder, much too hard. "Shut up!"
He manhandled Lex onto his side, using his weight to keep him there, holding Lex's flailing arms, his hands clenched so tightly around Lex's wrists there would definitely be bruises.
"Get off me!" Lex struggled as much as Clark's strong grip would allow.
"It's not that much fun being treated like a whore, is it, Lex?" He maneuvered their bodies so his erection pressed into the cleft of Lex's ass. "But that's what you get for acting like one."
The taunting tone of voice and the physical restraint and his own desperate fear brought a sick flash of memory, all the rough, dangerous, demeaning sex he'd ever had in his life. But, God, this was Clark. And it wasn't supposed to be this way. He couldn't let it be this way.
He kicked and bit and actually managed to wrench one wrist free, but Clark just grabbed him again, holding on more tightly this time. Much too tightly, in fact. Searing pain shot up Lex's arm, and he screamed in agony. Clark froze and then quickly let him go. Lex rolled onto his back, cradling his injured wrist against his chest, the pain so intense and stabbing it left him gasping for breath.
"Oh, my God." Clark stared, his face sickly white, eyes huge and filled with a shocked kind of misery.
"It's okay. Okay," he struggled to say. This was his fault, and he wanted so much to give Clark some small measure of comfort. But, God, it hurt so badly and he couldn't catch his breath to speak.
Clark sprang off the bed.
"Clark!" Lex managed to call out. "Don't."
Clark turned and staggered into the bathroom. There was a sharp noise as the toilet seat was thrown up, and then Lex could hear the unmistakable sound of retching. He closed his eyes and wished to God there was something he could do, that he'd never gotten them into this fucked up mess in the first place. All the truly horrendous things he'd done in his life, all the hideous things that had been done to him, and this was by far the worst night of his life.
The vomiting stopped, and Lex waited for Clark to come back. But the minutes ticked by, and he didn't hear any stirring in the bathroom.
"Clark!" he called out. "Clark, are you okay?"
He managed to pick himself up from the bed. The pain was so intense it made him light-headed and unsteady on his feet. He stumbled his way across the room and peered into the bathroom. There was no other way out than through the bedroom, but Clark was nowhere to be seen. The window was open, though, cool air gusting in, billowing the curtains. Lex stared. It was really the only place Clark could have gone. But all that was out there was gravity and the unforgiving sidewalk forty stories down.
"Oh my God!" Lex's heart hammered. His stomach turned over, and he thought he was going to be sick too. All his life, he'd despised his father for destroying what he was supposed to love, but Lex was just like him, the same kind of poison. He lurched over to the window, horror and dread and grief making it impossible to breathe.
He leaned as far out as he could and looked, and thank God! There was nothing. No flashing lights, no commotion, no morbid crowd of onlookers, no beautiful boy broken on the hard pavement below.
He slid down the wall, too weak to stand. He couldn't imagine how Clark had gotten out that way, but then, he did have his secrets. And it didn't matter just as long as he was okay.
Lex sat there for-- He didn't even know how long. The pain and the shock of what might have been overpowered him, and it took some time to pull himself back together. When he did finally manage to get up from the cold bathroom tile, he made a beeline for the phone. He debated a moment about who to call first, but the horrible throbbing in his wrist made the decision for him.
"Toby, I need you over here right now."
"Lex?" the man asked, groggily.
"Yes," he snapped. "I think I might have broken my wrist. Bring stuff for that. And pain pills. Don't forget the pain pills."
***
Toby's examination of Lex's wrist consisted primarily of poking at his injury, finding the most tender spot and pressing way too hard on it.
Lex jerked his arm back. "Fucking stop that already!"
Toby sighed. "I'm trying to make sure it's not broken. If you'd go to the hospital like a normal person, I wouldn't have to do this."
"No hospital."
"Well then be quiet and let me work." He took Lex's wrist back and started prodding at it once more. An excruciatingly long time later, he finally finished. "It doesn't seem to be broken. My best guess is that the bone is bruised. But like I said, you'd really need an x-ray to make sure."
"Just wrap it up for me. I'm sure it will be fine."
Toby sighed heavily. "Have I ever mentioned what a bad patient you are?" Lex glared at him, and he held up his hands. "Fine, fine. I'm wrapping it up." He opened his bag, pulled out supplies and started to work. "How'd you say you got this again?"
"Fell."
"Mmm."
"What?"
"It's just that this a compression injury, Lex. You don't get one of these from falling down. Someone had to squeeze and squeeze and squeeze, hard enough to bruise the bone." Toby gave him an appraising look. "I've seen pictures of you with that new boyfriend of yours. He's pretty strong, huh?"
"If the next thing you're planning to say is that love's not supposed to hurt, please don't."
Toby let out his breath impatiently. "Fine if this is how you want to live--"
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It means I've seen what other people have done to you."
Lex glared. "I don't pay you for your memory." Some of his post-Helen misadventures had gotten rather messy. It wasn't something he enjoyed thinking about. "And this isn't like that. He's not like that."
"I guess that's why I'm bandaging your wrist, huh?"
"It wasn't--" He was going to say it wasn't Clark's fault, but why the hell was he explaining himself to Toby? "Just finish it."
"There." Toby pulled back and admired his handiwork. "This will immobilize the wrist, speed up healing and keep it from being reinjured. You still really should get an x-ray just to make sure."
"It's fine," Lex said, pulling the sleeve of his shirt down over the bandage. "I trust you."
Toby arched an eyebrow. "You sure you didn't hit your head too?"
Lex shot him a nasty look. "Just give me some stuff for the pain and get out already."
Toby rolled his eyes. "You're welcome." He pulled a white medicine bottle out of his pocket. "Take two at a time, no more than every four hours, and absolutely no booze with it." Lex reached for the bottle, but Toby wouldn't let it go. "I'm serious, Lex."
Lex snatched it away. "I'm not an imbecile."
"No, just insanely reckless." He pulled his coat on. "If you have any problems, call me. Or better yet, go to the hospital like you have some sense."
"I'll be fine."
Toby gave him an assessing look. "Take care of yourself, Lex." And left.
Lex took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Heartache and physical pain were a one-two punch, and he felt like an impossible weight was pressing down on him, making his limbs heavy, every muscle in his body ache. God, he needed some sleep. He'd start looking for Clark tomorrow. He'd put Phelan on it-- Or no. Maybe he'd handle it himself. In any event, he would find him. He'd come up with a way to explain, make amends, win him back. He had to.
He poured himself a glass of Scotch, washed down the pain pills with it and headed off to bed. What Toby didn't know wouldn't hurt him.
***
You can read the previous parts here:
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-11-15 09:03 pm (UTC)*sniff*
Did you really mean to make me cry? becauase you did.
Meanie. Where's the rest?
no subject
Date: 2003-11-16 07:13 am (UTC)*hugs them hard*
no subject
Date: 2003-11-15 09:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-16 07:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-16 12:57 am (UTC)Poor Lex, having the first Othello moment of many this evening. I like the way you zero in on his instinctive belief that his most important asset to Clark is his wealth/success/connectedness. He knows better, but he doesn't *know* it, not when he panics.
Taylor narrowed his eyes. "Need your little boyfriend to fight your battles, huh, Luthor? I guess a pansy-ass like you can't take care of himself like a real man would."
So Taylor, who not so long ago was asking Lex to lend him Clark, a request which implies a certain lack of whole-hearted commitment to heterosexuality, is calling Lex a pansy? Boggling. Also chuckling. What a jerk!
The moment had the same feeling, the same texture as every nightmare he'd ever had. Time seemed to move so slowly, and he could clearly see the danger ahead. But he just couldn't seem to change course, couldn't walk away, couldn't make it stop.
Which pretty much sums up the whole section nicely.
But in your heart, you know I'm right, or it wouldn't bother you so much. You know you can't trust him, just like you couldn't trust Helen or Desiree or Victoria or any of the rest of them. You think I'm only trying to hurt you with what I'm saying, with some of the things I've done in the past, but I'm not. I'm only trying to save you, from them, from your own poor judgment."
And the saddest, scariest part is that on some level, Lionel actually *believes* this.
No quotes from the section with Millicent, but I understood why Lex was doing it, even as I was going "You IDIOT!" at the same time. Also, you managed to make the descriptions of their sex act utterly unerotic, despite being quite explicit. I really, *really* hope Millicent was on the pill, or this could get way too soap-opera. I doubt he could catch anything from her, what with his meteor-enhanced healing. Even if there are no longterm ramifications, I'm sure Lionel will make sure to parade her in front of Clark to hurt him.
She narrowed her eyes. "What did you do?"
"I-- Fuck!"
"Well, don't just stand there." She waved her hand. "Go find him. Makes things right."
I love Mitzi, I really do. You've made her so vivid despite the small number of scenes she's been in. I think of her as being rather like Maggie Smith's character in The First Wives' Club.
no subject
Date: 2003-11-16 12:58 am (UTC)See, I think Lex was enthralled with a lot more than Clark's leather-clad sexiness. He may not have 100% believed or understood what caused Clark to behave the way he did, but he definitely fell for it.
Regarding the...incident? My first instinct would be to call it an attempted rape, because yeah, pretty much what it was. Ugly. But I didn't disbelieve it. We've occasionally seen Clark really angry in canon, and when he loses it, he really loses it. He also gets mean. In canon, mostly mean in a verbal sense, but I can buy him getting physical. I also think his time on the streets left more scars than either he or Lex have been willing to admit thus far, given that his punishment is to degrade and control Lex sexually, to "treat him like a whore".
I dont' think it's unforgiveable, given that he did stop. I do think that clark is going to have to do a certain amount of soul-searching in the future, though. Basically, they both really fucked up. Really really fucked up. Whaddya wanna bet Hallowe'en is not their favourite holiday in years to come?
no subject
Date: 2003-11-16 07:29 am (UTC)That's absolutely what it was. And Lex and Clark both know that, even if they're not going to use the word. I took some inspiration for this scene from that moment between Clark and Morgan Edge, after the RedK is gone, but he still has some of that RedK ferocity. Dominance and agression are natural impulses, and Clark has some territorial feelings about Lex, just like Lex does Clark.
But you're right. Clark has some soul-searching to do. And I suspect they'll be staying in for a quiet evening at home in Halloweens to come.
no subject
Date: 2003-11-16 07:23 am (UTC)Yes, I imagine him to be a really sexually twisted up character. Maybe he's bisexual, probably he's gay, but he's followed the Lionel school of thought on how to be a success. He's gotten the wife, has the children, and goes out trolling for pretty young men in his spare time. He lashes out at Lex and Clark, because they're out there, not apologizing for who they are or how they feel about one another, living the life he'd won't allow himself to have.
Also, you managed to make the descriptions of their sex act utterly unerotic, despite being quite explicit. I really, *really* hope Millicent was on the pill, or this could get way too soap-opera. I doubt he could catch anything from her, what with his meteor-enhanced healing.
I glad to hear that! I wanted their sex to be devoid of feeling, just plain, cold fucking. I'm sure Millicent was on the pill. I just put that part about not having protection in there to show how truly outside himself Lex was during that moment. There aren't going to be any more consequences to it than there already have been. That would be a soap opera!
I love Mitzi, I really do. You've made her so vivid despite the small number of scenes she's been in. I think of her as being rather like Maggie Smith's character in The First Wives' Club.
That's who I think of too when I write Mitzi! I love Maggie Smith in that role!
no subject
Date: 2003-11-16 02:53 pm (UTC)One thing I forgot to mention earlier was that I also liked the Toby/Lex interaction. For one thing, it provided some humour, which was a nice counterweight to the overwhelming angst earlier in the section. It also showed Toby being a doctor, albeit an unconventional one, and worrying about Lex's penchant for self-destructive behaviour, for allowing people to hurt him for kicks.
And I still hate Taylor!
no subject
Date: 2003-11-16 04:46 pm (UTC)And I'm glad you liked the Lex/Toby interaction. It's not really consistent with how Toby was show in canon, but I like him better when he's not such a toady.
Taylor sucks! And not in the good way. *g*
no subject
Date: 2003-11-16 03:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-16 07:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-16 05:52 am (UTC)Thank you!!! I haven't read it yet, but I know I will appreciate the lack of cliffhanger.
no subject
Date: 2003-11-16 07:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-16 08:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-16 04:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-16 08:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-16 01:35 pm (UTC)Poor boys! Lionel is a menace.
no subject
Date: 2003-11-16 10:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-18 07:37 am (UTC)More gushing after the next section-- just wanted to point out a typo: too many zeroes, sweetie:
>We were guaranteed 10,000 units. We got 2,500.
>Next month, you'll get another 2,5000
It's lovely work, though. Well done.
no subject
Date: 2003-11-23 07:37 am (UTC)Wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
Date: 2003-11-30 09:14 am (UTC)But another Maggie Smith worshiper! *kisses you*
*cries again*
*Rushes off to read next part*