Take Us To Your Luthor
by Lacey McBain
Title: Take Us To Your Luthor
Author: Lacey McBain
Warnings: Slash. Clark/Lex.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, but if I did the world would be populated with happy bald Lex-spawn. I'm just saying. Thanks: To the SV Gang for pointing out that even on a bad day, Lex doesn't drink scotch at ten in the morning. And to Nuala for the monkey butlers. Any errors are mine.
"I don't want to do it," Clark said.
"So don't." Lex shrugged. He flipped through the files on his desk. Clark slumped on the couch with an expression that Lex hadn't seen since Clark was a teenager. "Are you pouting?"
Lex rolled his eyes. He really didn't have time for this. It was only ten in the morning, he had a conference call in twenty minutes, and a folder full of contracts that needed his approval. "Tell them to get someone else to do it."
"Like who? Batman? Yeah, he'd be all dark and glowery. He'd find a way to either threaten or offend the aliens in five minutes or less."
"Well, can you think of a better word to describe Bruce?" Clark retorted.
"Menacing, intimidating, brooding." Lex glanced at Clark. "Glowery, it is."
Lex hid a smile behind his coffee. "You underestimate him. Bruce can be very charming when he wants to be."
"Not when he's wearing that suit. Then he's all `I'm a Big, Bad Bat and You're a Puny Alien.'"
Lex smirked. Clark had a point. "What about Diana?"
"She'd spend ten minutes interrogating them about their attitudes towards women before she'd let them off the spaceship."
Clark just laughed. Okay, scratch The Flash. Wally would probably have the aliens down at a local bar, drunk and following the bouncing ball of truly bad karioke before they knew what hit them. Lex moved to the couch, and settled down beside Clark.
"I don't know what to tell you," he said, rubbing Clark's knee soothingly. "You're good at this. People trust you. And, well, if something goes wrong, you're pretty much indestructible."
Clark glared. "So, I'm a human shield."
"Well, no, not exactly. More like an alien shield." Lex saw a flash of heat in Clark's eyes. "Clark, we both know that you're going to be down at the airfield to meet that spaceship."
"I know," Clark murmured. "I just wish I had a choice."
"You always have a choice-don't forget that. Now get out of here ... the way you go through uniforms, one of us needs to have a paying job."
Lex slid off the couch and headed back to his desk.
"I have a paying job, Lex. Reporter, remember?"
"As if that pittance The Planet pays you constitutes making a living," Lex huffed, but he could see Clark was grinning. Clark loved his job, and he loved being Superman at least as much as Lex loved the thrill of negotiation, being able to fund new scientific research, and occasionally getting to play in the labs. They had a great life together; as always happened when Lex thought about it too much, a shadow of doubt crossed his mind, a fear that something would happen to take it all away.
"Hey," Lex said impulsively as Clark reached the door.
"Be careful. I don't expect to see you in flames on the noon news, okay?"
Clark saluted and flashed a thousand-watt grin. "You got it. See you tonight at home." He blew Lex a kiss, and headed out the door. Lex smiled happily and reached for the phone.
"Lorraine, you can put that conference call through any time now."
Clark stood warily at the end of the runway as the cylindrical spaceship rolled gently to a stop. He could feel the slight tremor as the ground accommodated the ship's weight. Flipping his cape over his shoulders, Clark waited impatiently. He really didn't want to be here. He would've much rather stayed at the office and tried to distract Lex during his conference call.
Clark scowled and crossed his arms across his chest. Lex had said he had a choice, but it didn't feel like it. Why was he always the one selected to greet visiting alien races, anyway? Just because he wasn't from around here didn't really mean he knew anything about other aliens. Clark bristled internally-he felt like he was being taken advantage of, used by his government because he couldn't be hurt. When was the last time a government official actually even attended one of these things? Clark couldn't remember. The politicians only seemed to do the tentacle-shaking and alien baby-kissing when Clark had already determined that everything was safe and no one was likely to get accidentally (or purposely) impregnated, abducted, or disintegrated.
The nosecone of the spaceship extended, then rolled back to reveal a set of stairs lowering to the ground. Two tall, pale humanoid forms were walking towards him. Clark drew himself up to his full height, put on his best Representative of Earth face and moved to meet the aliens.
"Greetings, visitors from afar," he said in his deepest, most sincere Superman voice. He'd practised the smile in the mirror until his teeth hurt and Lex had told him he was creeping him out. Clark was proud of that smile in the same way that parents were proud of their children.
The humanoids stopped a few feet away and bowed deeply. Clark followed suit. He'd learned the hard way that it was best to mimic the actions of visitors if you didn't want to be summarily set on fire by their personal guards for "egregious disrespect." He hadn't even known what egregious meant until after his suit was disappearing in a burst of flame. It was a good thing he was fireproof, but the view that the media had gotten ... Clark knew it wasn't any coincidence that LexCorp had started working on flame-retardant materials immediately after that particular incident. Sure Lex liked seeing him naked, but not on forty-seven channels and in glorious Technicolor. That was another reason that the press wasn't privvy to these little events anymore-at least the ones the military was able to keep under wraps. Sometimes Metropolis's Press Corps was too nosy for its own good. Clark couldn't quite suppress a particular pride at that fact, as much as it made his job as Superman more difficult than it needed to be.
"I am Kal-El of Krypton," Clark said, trying to sound professional. "I have been sent here to determine your reason for visiting this planet." Clark almost laughed. He sounded like a freakin' tour guide. And if you look to the left side of your spaceship, you'll see the skyline of downtown Metropolis. The tallest building is the LuthorCorp Tower, rising an incredibly phallic 97 stories into the ozone. Clark caught his lip between his teeth and tried not to smile. God, Lex was a really bad influence on him.
"Greetings, Kal-El of Krypton," the aliens responded in voices that were light and musical. Clark smiled. This universal translator was brilliant. It made everything so much simpler. And the aliens sounded pleasant enough. None of this `we're here for your women and children', `give us your water supply', or any of the other usual crap he got from hostile visitors. Of course, those ones tended to just blow him off the runway with some kind of particle weapon rather than landing and telling him what they wanted.
One of the aliens--pale and bald and almost luminescent--raised a hand towards its chest. Clark could see long, slender fingers-slightly longer than human fingers--brush the grey lustrous material of its robe. "I am Sha-Em. This is my pod-mate, Em-Sha."
Clark did a double-take. "Pod-mate?" he squeaked before realizing that sounded neither calm nor professional. Visions of slimy green plants and killer clones started flashing through his mind in grainy black-and-white. He could practically taste salt and popcorn on his tongue. Not for the first time he wondered why his life seemed to insist on playing out the script from a really awful science fiction movie.
"On our planet, we share a pod during our gestation cycle. I believe you would call us `twins'."
Clark breathed a sigh of relief. He'd seen "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" one too many times with Lex.
"Cool," Clark murmured, then corrected himself as he saw their puzzled expressions. He turned on the Superman charm, one of his lesser known, but no less potent, super-powers. "I mean, yes, I understand now. But you still haven't said why you're here." Clark gestured that the aliens should follow him towards the building so they could discuss the details of their visit.
"We would like you to take us to your Luthor," the alien said. Clark stopped. The two aliens took a few more steps; then realizing that Clark was no longer with them, they turned and looked at him expectantly.
Clark shook his head. He must be hearing things. He thought they'd said ...
"Don't you mean `leader'? As in `take us to your leader'?" Clark asked.
"No. Luthor. Alexander J. Luthor. He is the reason we have come."
Clark leaned forward suspiciously.
"What exactly do you want with Lex?"
Lex hung up the phone and looked at his watch. The conference call had gone surprisingly well, and as usual when that happened, he was basking in the after-glow, riding high on power and adrenaline. If he'd smoked, he would've been whipping out a cigarette right then. He wondered how long it would be until Clark was done ferrying alien tourists around and getting them settled with the appropriate authorities. It seemed like a waste of after-glow to not have Clark around to share it. He hated that Superman had become some kind of bizarre alien baby-sitter, making arrangements when new visitors came to the planet. No wonder Clark was tired of it. Lex sincerely hoped this wouldn't be another one of those days when Clark arrived home half-naked and smoky, or covered in alien slime and bitching about the barbaric `shoot first, ask questions later' policy of many alien species.
He switched on the television, surprised that the image was focussing on the apparently not-so-secret military airbase where the aliens had been scheduled to land. So much for covert operations, Lex thought. From the looks of it, the number of reporters gathered around the ship now far out-stripped the number of aliens that had landed. In the forefront of the screen, an earnest young woman with bleached blonde hair spoke into her microphone, gesturing backwards to an area that the camera then zoomed in on. The camera blurred, then focussed on Superman in an apparently heated discussion with two tall, pale life-forms. Lex couldn't see any fires or rubble in the picture, but maybe that part hadn't happened yet. He reached for the volume control.
" ...isn't yet clear what their demands are, but Superman appears to be gravely concerned about their intentions. The military has formed a perimeter around the ship, but no one has spoken to the aliens yet except Superman." The reporter was battling the wind and trying to keep her hair from catching in her mouth as she spoke. Lex snorted. As much as he loved Clark, he took his job a little too seriously. The last time someone had landed and wanted to mutilate a few cows in the name of resurrecting an exiled alien overlord, Clark had practically broken the sound barrier getting them on their ship and speeding back towards space. Lex shook his head. Clark's rampant over-protectiveness towards the Kent family cows was nothing Lex wanted to examine too closely.
The camera panned closer, and the operator must have been using some kind of parabolic microphone because suddenly Clark's voice cut through the reporter's loud and clear.
"No, absolutely not," he was saying. He was shaking his head and stomping back and forth with his hands on his hips. Lex thought he looked like a colour-blind go-go dancer who'd escaped from a really gay production of "A Chorus Line." It was the boots. He'd told him not to go with the red boots, but Clark had opted for Jonathan and Martha's fashion sense over the man who'd been voted Metropolis's Best Dressed three years running.
The aliens seemed to be consulting with one another. They were tall, pale and bald. Lex smiled. They couldn't possibly have evil intentions. He didn't know why but he had a good feeling about them. He wondered what had gotten Clark's boxers in such a twist.
"We appreciate your concern," the aliens were saying, "but this is a matter for Luthor to decide."
Lex's jaw dropped. He shook his head. Clark accused him of being narcissistic and occasionally self-involved, but he really thought he'd heard his name. He turned up the volume.
"He's not available! You can't see him. I-I won't have it," Clark said. Lex stared at the screen. What the fuck was going on? He flipped open his cell phone.
"Bring the car around. Now."
Lex's limo pushed through the crowd of reporters. Questions bounced off the windows like rain.
"Mr. Luthor, are you here to meet with the aliens?"
"Do you know what their demands are?"
"Did Superman send for you?"
"What do you say to the allegations that LuthorCorp paid off city inspectors to push through the approval of land development in the downtown area?"
That last one was from Lois Lane. Lex smiled at her through the tinted glass and wiggled his fingers at her. If the middle finger stayed extended for a slightly longer than necessary time, it really wasn't his fault. He wasn't surprised that Lois was here; after all, she followed after Superman like some kind of demented, lovesick pit bull. Lex had to fight back the impulse to hit the woman across the nose with a rolled-up newspaper every time he saw her drooling over Clark. Well, not Clark--Superman, more specifically. Like most of the population, she couldn't make the connection-of course, that's what protected Clark in the long run, but there were days when Lex couldn't believe anyone could possibly be so blind.
Lex instructed the driver to go directly to where Superman and the aliens were apparently still arguing. Lex had had CNN on for the entire twenty minute drive to the airport, and he was more than a little confused by the snatches of conversation that he'd managed to glean in-between reporters jockeying for screen time and filling the airwaves with wild speculations. He and Clark had been together a long time, and although he knew Clark was as capable of jealousy as anyone, he rarely let it show when he was Superman. They couldn't afford to have somebody make the connection, yet there was Clark on international television throwing a hissy fit because a pair of aliens had demanded to be taken to Lex. It didn't make sense.
"Pull up here." Lex slid on his shades and flipped on the jamming device he'd brought with him. It never paid to take chances, and he suspected that this was going to be one conversation that they didn't need to have broadcast around the world. Lex stepped casually from the limo into the sunlight. There was a blur of red and blue, and suddenly Clark was standing in front of him.
"What are you doing?" Clark whispered urgently. "You shouldn't be here."
"Luthor! Luthor!" The aliens were excitedly clamouring closer. Lex felt long fingers brushing along the sleeve of his jacket. A warm tingly feeling seemed to flow into him. Clark turned to glare at them.
"Don't touch him!" Clark said, and before Lex could blink the two of them were standing on the other side of the car. Lex stared into happy alien faces smiling at him across the hood.
"What's going on?" Lex asked, putting his hands on Clark's arms. The aliens were making cooing noises and repeating his name over and over. It formed a surprisingly melodic background. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking of all the times he'd held Clark's warm body beneath him, listening to Clark climax with that same endless litany of "Lex, Lex, Lex!"
"Not here," Clark muttered hoarsely, and Lex opened his eyes. He removed his hand from Clark's ass, and blushed. Thank God the cape and the limo were hiding them from the probing view of dozens of cameras. He hadn't even realized he'd started gently kneading.
"Luthor! Lex Luthor! Please," the aliens said in unison. "Please let us speak with Luthor. He is the only one who can help us. We must speak with him." The aliens were stretching their hands across the car, fingers tangling in the wind-whipped tails of Clark's cape. Clark slapped their hands away.
"Stop that!" Clark said. "You can't have him." The aliens withdrew, continuing to murmur softly and smile at him expectantly. Lex peered over Clark's shoulder and grinned. They really were quite attractive, so tall and elegant in robes of what looked like grey silk. Lex could almost feel the fabric rippling under his fingers like water. The contours of their heads reminded him of the moon, pale and glowing. Lex felt their presence like a gravitational tide.
"Greetings," Lex said warmly. The next instant a blue chest was blocking his view completely.
"Stop that! Don't even-God, Lex, you're such a flirt. Just stop it."
"Flirt? I said hello," Lex said. "What the hell's gotten into you? Is this some kind of bizarre alien PMS?"
Lex felt his cheeks flush as Clark's heat glare brushed over him lightly. Jeez, Clark was bitchy and pissed. Not a nice combination. He probably also hadn't had anything to eat. Low blood sugar and Clark did not get along.
"Superman," Lex said, hoping that the use of his title would snap Clark out of whatever bizarre mood swing had possessed him, on camera and within range of visitors from another planet. "They just want to talk to me. What's the harm?"
Lex tried to push past Clark, but it was like running into a wall. A huge, immoveable Kryptonian force that was stronger and more obstinate than anything on earth. Lex knew that from long experience. Clark was every inch his father's son. Every stubborn, self-righteous, morally indignant inch.
Clark seemed to take a shaky breath and turned back to face the aliens. He adopted a conciliatory smile whose sincerity was as questionable as that blonde reporter's natural hair colour.
"I will talk to him," Clark said. "I'll explain your proposal."
"Yes, ask Luthor. He will help us."
"Just stay in your ship, and don't talk to anyone else. No reporters. No one."
"We will wait for Kal-El. And Luthor," the aliens murmured joyfully. Lex smirked. Whatever they wanted, Clark was really upset about it. Lex didn't understand what had gotten Clark so hostile. These aliens certainly didn't seem harmful. Lex knew that appearances could be deceiving, but still, all he sensed from these creatures-people-was warmth and genuine interest. In fact, whenever he looked at them, a warm glow seemed to spread through his body. It felt ... nice. Lex pressed a hand to the small of Clark's back, beneath the cape. It was meant to be soothing, but Clark jumped and turned back to Lex.
"We're getting out of here." Before Lex could protest, Clark had wrapped his arms around him and was flying them through the atmosphere. Lex closed his eyes and buried his face against Clark's chest, listening to the familiar rhythm of Clark's heartbeat. Warm fingers covered his head, protecting it from the worst of the wind, and Lex could swear that Clark was muttering obscenities to himself under his breath.
Whatever the aliens wanted, it was something big.
As they touched down at the Fortress of Solitude, Lex shivered. If he'd known Clark was going to spirit him off to the Arctic, he would've insisted on stopping at the penthouse to change. As it was, they must have made it in record time. Lex's cheeks weren't even pink.
"Why aren't we at the penthouse?" Lex asked, rubbing his hands together, as Clark pressed his hand against the crystalline structure. A door slid open so they could enter.
"Welcome, Kal-El and Lex Luthor," a pleasant female voice said. Lex trailed Clark into the Fortress and accepted a mug of warm liquid that slid from a side wall. Hot tea with a touch of rum. It had taken some doing, but Lex had finally convinced the Fortress's Artificial Intelligence that this was the best antidote for the cold.
"Thanks," Lex said, taking a sip and wrapping his fingers around the dark purple mug. Clark was restlessly tapping information into a console.
"Give me everything you have on the Em-shahalian race," Clark said.
"I have already provided you with this information, Kal-El. Did you not read it?" The computer sounded vaguely hurt. "Yes, but-"
"Kal-El, you seem irritable. When did you last eat something?"
Clark ignored the side panel that appeared proffering a slice of pie. Lex stared. Clark turning down pie was not a good sign. Not at all.
Clark glared at him steadily. "I told you not to add personality sub-routines to it. I didn't get attitude from the computer before you starting playing around with it."
"I simply enhanced its ability to interact with you on a more personal level, Clark. What could be wrong with that?"
"Half the time it sounds like my mother and I end up feeling guilty, and the rest of the time ..."
"What?" Lex already knew the answer. He tried not to seem smug, but it was so hard. Clark had been asking for it.
"The rest of the time it sounds like you."
"And the problem with that would be?"
Lex smirked. Yeah, reprogramming the AI had taken a considerable amount of time and effort, but he was happy with the results. It gave him a measure of satisfaction to know that even when he wasn't around to keep Clark on his toes, the computer was doing a bang-up job in his stead. Martha had heartily approved when Lex had explained it now had sub-routines to enquire if Clark had slept, when his last meal had been consumed, and if he was seriously thinking of wearing that tie with that jacket.
"Lex, this is serious, dammit. And, Computer, I don't care if you've given me everything, you must have missed something. Double-check your database."
"Kal-El, there's no need to take that tone-"
"There is no tone, Computer! Just do it." Clark pounded a fist on the console leaving a sizeable dent in the crystalline structure. The computer made a snuffling sound and the screen flickered and went dark.
"Now you've done it," Lex said. "She's not going to give you anything with that attitude. You hurt her feelings. And you know she hates it when you call her `Computer' - her name is LAURA." Of course, it stood for the Language-Assisted Universal Resource Archive, but Lex had always had a thing for acronyms.
"Christ, Lex. Did you have to turn my AI into Eddie, the Shipboard Computer? So help me god, if it ever bursts into song, I'm going to kill you." Clearly Clark didn't possess the appropriate appreciation of Douglas Adams' brilliance, which if Lex recalled, was what had provoked his tweaking of the AI in the first place. Nor had Clark apparently done any of the things that would trigger one of the rare musical sub-routines yet. But it was only a matter of time. Lex was waiting for the next blizzard when LAURA would burst into a version of `Stormy Weather' that Lex had no doubt would make Barbra Streisand proud. He'd set the computer to direct link to him when it happened. There was a use for video-phones after all.
While Clark continued to randomly punch buttons on the computer console, Lex sipped his tea, settling into one of the Fortress's fur-lined chairs. Fake fur, of course. It wasn't like Clark would have condoned the killing of innocent fur-bearing animals to keep Lex warm. The first time they'd seen a baby seal and Lex had gone towards it, Clark had placed himself in front of it as if Lex had intended to club the damn thing on the head right then and there. Lex had been tempted to do it just to make a point.
Lex watched Clark pacing, ignoring the pie and the computer's persistent hints that perhaps Clark needed a nap--until Lex couldn't take it anymore. He stood up and waited for Clark's pacing to bring him within eye contact range.
"Clark, just spit it out. Give me the bad news. Whatever it is, we'll deal with it together. What do those aliens want?"
Clark strode across the room with a look of such wild possession in his eyes that Lex found himself taking a step backwards.
"They can't have it," Clark murmured. "I won't let them."
He wrapped his arms around Lex and held him so tightly that Lex couldn't breathe. Clark's mouth blazed against his like a fire out of control. Lex gave himself up to the heat and the passion all around him-he'd never, ever, been able to resist Clark. It was why they'd been together so long; Lex had never had the strength to give him up. If the Fortress had been made of ice, Lex knew they would've been melting their way towards the sea, and that thought only made him push harder against Clark. If he could've crawled inside Clark's body right then, he would have.
Their teeth clattered against one another, and Lex buried his fingers in Clark's hair. Clark's mouth conquered his, tongue stroking and licking him inside, slicking over the dry edges of his mouth, sucking on his tongue with the kind of fervour usually reserved for lower regions of his body, and Lex was fairly certain that Clark was going to make him come just from kissing him with that incredible, beautiful mouth. That hadn't happened in ... well, a long time. Lex felt as though he were stretched on a fiery pyre, torn between giving in to the flames that were stroking him and needing to breathe. Lex's ribs groaned in protest as Clark clutched him tighter, and he felt his fingers slipping out of Clark's curls, even as his body rocketed to the stars. Then everything was breath and heat, the sound of his own heartbeat rushing through his ears like the distant roar of the ocean. Lex closed his eyes and floated into heaven.
"Lex, are you awake? Are you okay?" Clark was leaning over him, concern etched in the furrows of his forehead. Lex reached up lazily to smooth the creases away. His other hand connected with Clark's broad bare chest. Lex registered the fact that he was lying in a fur-covered bed at the Fortress about the same time he realized he was naked to the waist. And so was Clark, who was now wearing just a worn pair of jeans. There was no sign of the familiar red and blue suit.
"You changed," Lex murmured, as if that were the most important thing in the world. He glanced around, noting that the computer hadn't repaired the crack they'd put in the ceiling the last time they'd been here. Having a lover who could float and break solid objects was both a blessing and a curse. Lex didn't remember exactly what manouevre had ended them up on the ceiling, but he did recall the exact moment that Clark's hand had shattered the crystal in the centre of the roof. Lex had felt particularly proud of himself that afternoon. He couldn't help but smirk.
"Yeah," Clark said, and a small smile crept onto his face. "You're looking pretty pleased with yourself for someone who passed out from my kisses."
"You were squeezing me like a stuffed animal, Clark," Lex said, his focus a little clearer. "I think you busted a rib."
"Shit," Clark said, pulling back and scanning him quickly. He leapt off the bed and bellowed at the ceiling, which seemed, not surprisingly, silent and disinterested. Lex could've sworn the crack was smiling at him. "Computer, why didn't you tell me Lex was hurt?"
"You didn't ask," a female voice said petulantly.
"I told you she sounded like you," Clark said, turning to Lex accusingly.
Lex winced as he sat up. Maybe a little tweaking of the AI's personality was in order after all. She was always particularly uptight after they'd had sex. He was seriously rethinking his decision not to name her PRUDE, except he'd never quite figured out an appropriate acronym beyond the "Universal Database of Extraterrestrials". The AI was designed to look after Clark, but still, he was Clark's ... Lex had never quite decided what word worked best for them. Lover, life-partner, husband, mate. Whatever the AI wanted to call it, he was Clark's. Plain and simple. If Jonathan and Martha could get used to it, a bunch of circuitry certainly could.
"He's hurt! Do something about it," Clark yelled, as a blueish beam appeared from the wall and passed slowly over Lex's chest. He could feel the warm light healing him. It pulsed once brightly, then faded into nothing. Lex stretched. Good as new.
"It would've healed in a few hours, Clark," Lex said, reaching for his clothes. He held up two pieces of torn lavender silk completely devoid of buttons. Lex could only assume it had once been his shirt. His favourite shirt. He sighed. It was worth it to think of the AI finding tiny purple buttons in its nooks and crannies for weeks to come.
Lex tossed the ripped material aside. "I don't remember that happening. Anything else I missed? Blow job? Super-fuck?"
Clark blushed, shaking his head adamantly. He lay back down beside Lex and stroked his stomach absently. "Of course not, Lex. I'd never-" He brushed his fingers lightly over Lex's abdomen, then followed his fingers with his lips. Lex shivered at the warm touch.
"Kidding, Clark," Lex said and tangled his hands in Clark's hair. He kissed him gently, glad to see Clark's familiar green eyes gazing back at him from a flushed and happy face. "Now that we've worked out your territorial claims on me, would you please tell me what's going on?"
Lex lay back on the bed and smirked. He couldn't help it. It was absolutely, utterly ridiculous and totally cool at the same time. He wondered if he'd ever stop smiling. He felt absurdly like the Post-Christmas Grinch - his smile had grown at least three sizes already.
"You're serious?" Lex said for what was probably the twentieth time. He wondered at what point Clark would actually glare a hole through the wall. He figured he had at least a few more repetitions in him before then.
"I'm serious," Clark replied with the slightly pissy and eternally put-upon tone of someone who figured he fucking deserved sainthood for putting up with this crap. Lex could feel the muscles in his face protesting at the amount of smiling going on. It was decidedly un-Luthorlike.
"You're sure that's what they wanted? We've had communication problems with aliens before, you know." Lex could see part of the wall blur with a surge of heat. His smile grew even wider.
Lex didn't want to put too fine a point on it, but aside from the monumental fuck-ups he and Clark had managed between themselves, there had also been the well-documented and now infamous Hasty Marriage Pudding Scandal, involving a butterscotch pudding and the ancient Churalean marriage ritual that could only be invoked when a bald man, a three-toed sloth, and red boots were present at the same meal in which the pudding was set on fire. Brandy sauce, hiccoughs, and heat vision were never a good combination. That hadn't been one of their finer moments. Even now, the mere mention of butterscotch made Lex's stomach turn over in protest. It was one of only three foods permanently banned from the LuthorCorp menus, and the practice of holding fund-raising dinners at the Metropolis Zoo was subsequently discarded as well. Lex sighed. He'd really liked the monkey butlers.
But even the memory of that fiasco couldn't dim Lex's smile. Clark rolled his eyes so slowly and with such deliberate contempt that for a moment he looked like he'd been possessed by the spirit of Linda Blair.
"I told you exactly what they told me," Clark said, his voice straining to sound patient.
"Word for word?"
"What part of `exactly' did you fail to understand, Lex?"
"You're sure they're not interested in my inordinately fast rise to power, the elegant efficiency and irrefutable logic that have made me the scourge of the board room and toast of Metropolis society."
Clark gritted his teeth. "No, Lex."
"Or my natural ability to heal from almost any injury, large or small, with very little physical effort and without the aid of modern science or medicine?"
"If you mean your meteor-induced `natural' ability that keeps you alive in spite of your inability to duck a punch, no, they're not interested in that, Lex."
"And they didn't say anything at all about my rapier wit, my inexorable dedication to the pursuit of higher knowledge, my ..."
"No, Lex, and they're also not interested in the fact that you've managed to become one of the richest men in the world while still being too cheap to hire an accountant to do your personal income tax. God, have you always been this much of a megalomaniac and I've just failed to notice?"
"Be nice, Clark, or I won't let you come to the next meeting of Megalomaniacs Anonymous."
"Megalomania and anonymity don't really go together, Lex. Besides, anonymous just isn't your style," Clark shot back. Lex grinned.
"Your alien friends won't take kindly to their saviour being called names by a refugee from the fashion police."
"Will you shut up about the red boots already, Lex? It's too late to change them now."
Lex nodded. Truth be told the boots had become a serious kink of his. The first time Clark had fucked him against the wall wearing nothing but those boots, Lex was sold. But he wasn't about to admit that to Clark.
"Besides," Clark said slyly. "I think you're secretly hot for those boots." Lex narrowed his eyes. There were times when Clark was either slightly prescient or knew him entirely too well. Either one was cause for concern. He refused to be predictable.
"Just tell me one more time, Clark."
"Yeah, because your ego so needs a super-sized dose of Miracle-Gro," Clark grumbled, sounding way too much like Chloe. He rolled his eyes and took a deep breath. "Fine, Lex. One more time. They want your body-your glorious, hairless, naked body! Your reputation has actually surpassed all projections-and I know you've done the math, Lex-it's done the unthinkable and spread beyond our own pitiful galaxy to points beyond the stars. And now, aliens have come to this planet for one reason and one reason only. They've heard you have the kind of sexual energy that could power a small nuclear facility and the after-glow is so fuckin' bright it can be seen from space. You are officially classified as a meteorological phenomenon right up there with the aurora borealis. They want you to help repopulate their planet with millions of happy, bald Lex-spawn, and they're willing to do just about anything to ensure that you acquiesce to their request. Are you happy now?"
"You said `acquiesce', Clark. Jeez, you are pissed."
"Pirates of the Caribbean, Lex. You bought it for me on DVD when I was in high school, remember? And no, I'm not pissed. I'm just ..."
"I'm not jealous! I'm ... concerned. They want to have sex with you, Lex!"
"Aw, Clark, you've been extolling my virtues to your little alien friends again. I'm flattered. I really am. And here I thought you didn't kiss and tell."
"Fuck you, Lex."
"Looks like you're going to have to get in line," Lex said smugly, leaning back with his hands behind his head.
Clark growled and pounced on him. It was some time before either of them was capable of coherent speech.
"Shut up, Clark." The penthouse elevator shrugged to a close behind them. God, it had been the longest day. Ever. The only thing Lex wanted was a drink and to never hear the word `sex' again. Well, perhaps that was an over-statement; he was only human, after all.
"No way. After all that `my reputation as a sex god transcends the earthly boundaries of mere mortals' crap, I'm entitled." Clark flopped down onto the couch in the penthouse and kicked off his boots. They skittered across the floor and thudded to a halt in front of Lex. He gave them a disdainful nudge with his shoe.
"You're the one who pitched a fit on world-wide television."
"They didn't give me all the details, Lex. I jumped to conclusions. What would you have done?"
Lex shrugged. He didn't want to think about that. Chances are there would've been a lot of dead aliens and the biggest cover-up since Area 51. He liked to think he was a reasonable man, but when it came to Clark, all bets were off.
"First, I would've made sure I had all the facts--"
"I thought I did."
"You're a journalist, Clark. You do deal in facts, don't you? I'm not convinced that Lois is acquainted with the concept, but I expect better from you."
Clark narrowed his eyes. "Getting back to the matter at hand, let's keep things in perspective, Lex. We both over-reacted. They essentially wanted you to pee in a cup. That's it."
"I only agreed to that particular method of dispersal because the other options would've been too involved, not to mention exorbitantly costly." Lex crossed to the bar, loosened his tie and tossed it aside. There was a rush of air as Clark blurred into jeans and a shirt behind him.
"Come on, Lex, don't tell me you aren't a little disappointed about not getting to sleep with a bunch of beautiful, bald aliens."
"I'm not," Lex said, his jacket following his tie. "Besides, baldness is more your kink than mine."
"Cute, Lex. No wild orgies, no forty days and nights of drunken debauchery, no Kama Sutra of Alien Sex, nothing. They needed one teaspoon of semen and a weird Luthor chromosome and that's it."
"Don't underestimate the significance of that chromosome, Clark. The Em-shahalians thought it was pretty damn important. But to be honest, I didn't want to upset you any more than I already had. I know how you get when you're jealous." Lex tried to keep the smile out of his voice as he poured himself a generous amount of scotch.
"Make mine a double," Clark interjected. Lex raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything as he poured Clark's drink and joined him on the couch. He felt Clark's arm slide around him as soon as he sat down. It was good to be home. They sipped their drinks in comfortable silence. "And I wasn't jealous," Clark muttered.
"If you say so." Lex was warm and happy and they'd had far worse days with alien visitors. Lex was willing to let the jealousy thing slide. For now. "You know, Clark, it'll be kind of amazing to be responsible for helping repopulate an entire planet."
"Yeah, with the added bonus of avoiding those pesky paternity suits we get hit with every second month."
Lex flinched instinctively. "That's not fair, Clark. You know I haven't-I wouldn't--"
Clark took both of their glasses and put them on the table behind the couch before pushing Lex back into the soft leather and kissing him into silence. Breathless and flushed, he pulled Lex closer. "I know. Neither would I. I just like to see you squirm a little, Lex. Do you have any idea how crazy it made me when I thought about you fucking an entire planet? And I couldn't even fault you for it because they were desperate enough to climb on a spaceship and fly across galaxies because their information said you were the best available source for what they needed. It's not exactly like you were out there giving them `come hither' looks and caressing phallic objects in front of them."
"Thought you said you weren't jealous," Lex whispered into Clark's warm mouth.
"Maybe a little," Clark admitted, surrendering to Lex's tongue against his lips.
"And that's why LAURA still isn't speaking to either of us." Lex tangled his fingers in Clark's hair, and whispered into his ear. "But it was worth it."
Jealous sex was almost as good as make-up sex. Lex had no doubt that the broken furniture, the shredded sheets, and the wall-shaking gymnastics in the Fortress's bedroom were the main reason that the computer had steadfastly refused to talk to either of them when they'd left for Metropolis. Lex was going to have to see about updating LAURA's personality with something a little less Smallville and a lot more Metropolis. After Clark had told him what the aliens wanted, well, there had been ... negotiations. Hours of aggressive (private) negotiations about exactly which aliens had a claim to Lex's body and which ones didn't. Clearly, the last surviving member of the Kryptonian race had established an indisputable claim on Lex Luthor.
Lex knew when he'd found an offer that he couldn't refuse, and Clark was irresistible when he was jealous.
And when his mouth was wrapped around Lex's cock.
And when Clark was buried deep inside him, making him see stars with every thrust.
Lex could still feel the imprint of Clark's hands on his body, even though the bruises had disappeared hours ago. He dragged his tongue across the curve of Clark's ear, and felt him shiver.
"Didn't you get enough this afternoon?" Hearing Clark's voice, deep with teasing and full of sex, like the best striptease in the world, made Lex shiver with anticipation. God, as if he could ever think of leaving this? He'd already found his Eden, and be damned if he was going to do anything to tempt exile at this point.
Lex laughed against his neck as he kissed him. "I have to keep up my reputation as a sex god, don't I?"
"No, Lex, you really don't," Clark said, pulling Lex into his lap. "Your reputation is what got us into this mess." Lex straddled him easily, leaning forward to place his hands on either side of Clark's shoulders.
"It's not a mess, Clark. We worked it out to the satisfaction of all parties, didn't we?"
Lex ground down against Clark's lap, rewarded when Clark groaned and pulled him closer.
"Weren't you satisfied?
Clark might have been able to make him come from kissing, but Lex still had the distinction of being able to make Clark come from just talking. He liked to think it was his particular gift. His own brand of super-power, so to speak.
Clark tasted like scotch and snow, and Lex could almost forget that they'd spent half the day in bed together, that they'd spent years learning and re-learning the planes of each other's bodies. Sometimes it seemed like every time was the first time, every kiss a surprise, and he didn't think he would ever get enough of Clark's soft lips and wet tongue, and the tiny sounds that Clark made when Lex licked him all over.
"Ready to go again, Clark?" It certainly felt like it, and Lex found himself tugging on Clark's t-shirt as if he hadn't touched bare skin in ages. This ache, this want for Clark was an addiction that he never wanted to get over.
"Ready if you are," Clark murmured, and before Lex could catch a breath or form a thought, he was flat on his back, naked against the couch, Clark kneeling between his legs, one warm hand already teasing his erection to full attention.
"Clark." A swirl of tongue swept around the head of his cock.
"You taste so good, Lex," Clark murmured, his breath causing Lex to shiver with pleasure as long fingers slid easily in smooth, deliberate strokes.
"Careful, Clark," Lex whispered as Clark licked his lips and slid them over the swollen head. "That's a precious commodity."
Clark chuckled and Lex felt every tremor moving through Clark's mouth and into his cock. He arched off the couch and pushed himself further into the dark warmth of Clark's throat.
With a sucking sound, Clark pulled off gently and whispered: "I promise I won't waste a drop, Lex," before engulfing him completely.
Lex closed his eyes and gave himself up to sensation. When he came, it was with Clark's hands on his body, Clark's mouth on his cock, Clark's name on his lips. If there had ever been any doubt about which alien had claim to Lex, body and soul, it was gone. Together they drifted towards perfect sleep.