DISCLAIMER - Not mine, I couldn't afford the motor and household insurance bills. I promise I'll scrub them down and give them back to DC comics, the WB and anyone else who does own a slice of them when I'm done with them. Story, such as it is, copyright Karen Colohan, March 2003.
There's something perversely satisfying about taking out his anger on Clark this way. Clark certainly didn't see it coming and it's good to know he's still a few steps ahead of him in this at least. Lex was beginning to feel like one of those Pavlovian dogs, primed to respond whenever Clark needed something from him.
Oh yes, there's definitely a lot of issues to be worked out on Clark's amazingly resilient flesh after the past few weeks. There's jealousy for the perfect life and perfect family that Clark flaunts under his nose as a stark reminder of everything Lex doesn't, cannot have.
There are wounds to be salved from the perfectly honed barbs Clark has learned to throw at him just when Lex least expects them. They're exquisitely designed to penetrate his weak spots and strike home where they'll do the most damage. Lex doesn't have to wonder where Clark's picked up that particular skill.
Finally, there's the insidious bitterness that's been filling Lex up with each of the less than perfect lies Clark has doled out to him, expecting Lex to accept them blindly as the truth. But the only truth Lex can find is that Clark's been lying to him all along.
Even as Lex tries to punish him, Clark's body mocks his efforts. Lex knows Clark should be crying out in pain after the abrupt penetration with far too little preparation. Lex's skin feels raw and scraped, even if he has no intention of showing it. But Clark's just standing there, braced against the cold stone of the garage wall, and taking it with as little effort as it required for him to survive the impact of Lex's car at sixty miles an hour.
The only evidence of pain that Lex has seen was the flash of betrayal and hurt in Clark's wide eyes when he shoved him up against the side of the car they'd just climbed out of and told him what he planned to do to him. It rather takes the gloss off the whole exercise, knowing Clark is impervious to anything Lex can throw at him, but Lex needed to do this for the sake of his own sanity as much as anything.
He's let the lies slide for so long it's almost become second nature, but it's got to the point where Clark's not even trying to be convincing any more and Lex just can't keep on ignoring it. Now he just wants Clark to ache deep inside, the same way Lex has done every time Clark's looked him in the eye and so blatantly failed to tell the truth.
Frustrated, Lex slams into Clark's body again, hard. At least that thrust wins him the barest whimper. Encouraged, he slides his hand up to grip Clark's hair, intending to drag his head back, straining that long, tanned throat. As he slips his fingers into the dark strands, Lex's fingertips collide with Clark's cheek and he feels a moment of triumph. It seems Clark's not quite as invulnerable as he thought.
His fingers come away wet, tasting of salt when Lex sucks them into his mouth. He's managed to break something in the boy, but none of this is about physical pain, Lex understands that now.
Another thrust and the whimper becomes a choked off sob. Clark's head falls forward again, his forehead colliding with the rough surface of the wall. Lex gives a vicious stab of his hips, grinding Clark against the bare stone. Now that he's found this chink in Clark's armour, Lex doesn't hesitate to make the most of it. This is something Lex has always been good at, finding weaknesses and the best way to exploit them. That was one of the first things he learned at his father's knee and it's a lesson he's never forgotten.
Clark's hands move, sliding up as if to steady him. They start out with the palms flat against the wall, but as Lex continues to pound into Clark's body the fingers slowly curl. Lex watches with an almost clinical detachment as the broad fingertips pull downwards, dragging a scattering of gritty dust from the solid stone.
Lex knows if he looks just a little closer he'll be able to see the shallow depressions left behind by Clark's fingers, but he doesn't want to. He doesn't need to. There's still a wrecked Porsche in the locked room next to this garage bearing clear hand prints that should be impossible, but aren't.
With his mind running through the inescapable facts over and over, it's taking Lex too long to get off and he picks up the pace again, wanting this over. He grips Clark's hips hard enough to bruise anyone else he's ever fucked, but he knows Clark won't have a mark on him when they're done.
Snaking one hand around between Clark and the wall, Lex finds that Clark's barely hard at all. It seems that neither of them is enjoying this much. Lex supposes that's fitting; punishment isn't supposed to be pleasant. He's not overly concerned with bringing Clark any kind of relief right now and anger still seems to be the only emotion he can feel himself.
Clark gives a single short moan as Lex slides his fingers along the limp cock, nails trailing over flesh Lex knows is sensitive. Clark's definitely not a good enough actor to have faked the intense reactions when Lex sucked him off or stroked him to orgasm. He just didn't react how a normal person would have done to the sharp drag of teeth or nails across the places that should have been most vulnerable.
It was never pain, just heightened pleasure, but Lex was always willing to let the questions go unasked because the look on Clark's face when he came was worth anything then. And, fool that Lex has been, he's always believed that one day Clark would trust him enough to tell him the how and the why... only he still hasn't and Lex has finally grown tired of the waiting.
The familiar cadence of his fingers working Clark's cock has quickly brought it to full hardness and Lex can hear the thread of hope in Clark's breathy moans. He thinks he's been forgiven, like always. Let him believe what he wants, Lex knows it changes nothing. All the same, at least the movement of Clark's hips as he thrusts into Lex's fist is making Lex's own cock more interested in proceedings. He can finally feel the tightening in his balls and the tingle of sensation that promise release.
A few more rough strokes of his hand along Clark's shaft and Lex feels Clark tense, drawing in a sharp, noisy breath. He thrusts once into Clark's ass, hard, pushing him up against the wall. Lex can feel the tightening around his own buried cock as Clark abruptly tumbles over the edge into orgasm.
Ignoring the way his fingers are being grazed by the rough stone, Lex keeps on pumping Clark's cock, feeling the pulses of come hit the wall and drip down towards the floor.
When Clark chokes off a sound that might have been his name, Lex feels himself coming at last. Under him, Clark's body has suddenly gone lax, slumping bonelessly against the garage wall. With all Clark's muscles relaxed, Lex can thrust in deeper, and he does, filling Clark with his come. There's little pleasure in it, though, and Lex makes no sound as he shudders and finally stills.
Clark continues to make small, unidentifiable noises as Lex pulls out roughly, tucking himself back into his pants as soon as he's wiped himself off on the hem of Clark's shirt.
For a long moment, Clark doesn't move, simply standing there and looking as if the wall is the only thing holding him upright. His head remains bowed.
Lex feels the faintest flicker of sympathy for the boy, but he crushes it ruthlessly. Clark doesn't deserve any more consideration from him, nor his pity. He's turned out to be just like all the others before him, who've only wanted to use Lex for their own ends. Lex doesn't know why he ever expected anything more; why he thought Clark might actually be different.
Clark shifts awkwardly as a trickle of come leaks from his ass and slides down the back of his thigh. Slowly he straightens, then reaches down to pull up his jeans and boxers from where Lex pushed them down around his ankles. With reluctance evident in every movement, Clark finally turns to face Lex.
The green eyes are liquid with tears, just a few of which have escaped to leave wet trails down Clark's cheeks. The look of hurt and betrayal Lex saw earlier is still clear in the tearful gaze. Lex tightens his lips into a harsh line as Clark takes a single step towards him.
"Lex, why?" Clark asks, his voice sounding raw and painful.
Lex doesn't believe that Clark doesn't know the answer to that - still lying even now. He shakes his head in disgust.
"Get out, Clark." Lex is feeling too tired for real anger now. He just wants to climb into the nearest bottle and stay there until he forgets why the hell this hurts so damned much.
Clark takes another wary step forward. "I thought we were friends, Lex." There's a note of desperation in his voice.
Bitter laughter bubbles up in Lex's throat like bile, spilling out harshly. "No, Clark, I don't think we were ever friends."
He ignores the shock of pain that floods Clark's eyes, pressing on regardless of the stab of hurt behind his own ribs at the sight of Clark visibly crumbling in front of him. He'd wanted Clark to ache and there's no doubt that he is as he hugs his arms tight across his chest, as if he's trying to hold himself together.
"Friendship requires trust, Clark, honesty..." Lex pauses for a moment, letting the words sink in. "Can you say we have either of those in our relationship?"
Lex waits, brows raised in question as Clark struggles for a response. When none is forthcoming, Lex's lips twist in a parody of a smile. "I guess I have my answer."
"Lex, please... Let me explain." Clark finally finds his voice, but it's too little, too late.
Turning away, Lex shakes his head. "I don't want to hear it, Clark. Shut the door on your way out."
For a long moment there's no sound, but then Lex hears the retreating footsteps, slow, reluctant. They hesitate for a second, but when Lex keeps his back turned, unyielding, they continue on their way. The sharp slam of the connecting door into the mansion cuts off the noise and Lex finally lets out the breath he's been holding.
He's made his choice, just like Clark did the very first time they met. It's over.
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