"Clark, Clark, Clark. You do get yourself in the worst messes." Lionel Luthor walked into the barn like he owned the place and was completely assured of his welcome. "Seems you've had a little bit of trouble here recently, you and that... well, that delightful little Lang girl."
Clark almost jumped out of his skin when he heard Lionel's voice behind him. The dead man's body had been long since disposed of, put through the wood chipper and stirred in with the manure to fertilize his mother's flower garden. The blood on the barn floor had been harder to clean, but he'd done it, and he'd melted the pitchfork with his heat vision until the tines were a shapeless mass and the handle burnt to cinders. "Mr. Luthor! I don't know--"
"Please, Clark, don't insult me." Lionel gave a small moue of distaste as he came into the barn, the smell of animals and hay insulting to his cultured nose. "I think you do know, and I think that you're frightened." Appraising look at the young boy. "I'm actually very interested in finding out what that man was doing here, considering the... identity of his employer. You see, Clark, Mr. Edge was procuring a... very special package for me, and this unfortunate situation would seem to indicate that your family is, in some way, involved in that." Little pause, for the implication to sink in. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you, Clark?"
Clark swallowed hard. "What do you want, Mr. Luthor?"
Lionel smiled, and Clark shivered at the sight. It wasn't a very nice smile. "I want... a great many things, young man. And I'm actually quite curious as to how many of those things you can assist me in obtaining." He left his hands casually in his pockets, but his gaze sharpened. "However, my own curiosity aside, I'm quite willing to offer my help in this situation."
Clark narrowed his eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about. There isn't a situation," he said stubbornly, tossing down the new pitchfork perilously close to Lionel's feet.
Lionel didn't budge, just looked at the farm implement at his feet with a raised eyebrow. "So your young girlfriend didn't impale one of Morgan's associates on one of these a few days ago?" Lionel bent and picked up the pitchfork at that, fondling the handle carefully. "Dangerous tools, these things. One would think you'd be a little more careful as to where you leave them lying around."
Clark snatched the pitchfork away from Lionel and stabbed it into a nearby hay bale, possibly more violently than he had to. "What do you want?"
Lionel gave a noncommittal little shrug, and slid his hands back in his pockets. "I can make it all go away, Clark. I just want a... small favor in return."
Clark turned his back on Lionel and stalked out of the barn, mind whirling desperately. Footfalls followed him out into the sunlight, and Clark's hands balled into fists, resting on top of the fence post that he himself had driven in last year.
"Well, I can see that you're not interested in my offer," Lionel said with a bit of a smirk. "I'll just make my way back to Metropolis." He turned to leave, and then stopped, back to Clark as he calculated his next pointed comment. "I am curious about one other thing, Clark. The moving van, that Morgan's men drove to Metropolis? The rental agency's records show that it was on loan to your parents, and that most of their possessions were destroyed in the explosion. Now, the police believe that one of the propane tanks in the van exploded, but... my question is, what was your parents' van doing with a rough character like Morgan Edge in the first place?"
"How should I know, Mr. Luthor?" Clark's back was still to Lionel, but he heard the other man approaching the fence, coming to stand beside him and gaze over Martha's sunflowers.
Lionel leaned over so he could speak confidentially. "Because I know that you weren't here, Clark. Ms. Lang has confirmed that much, though she's been... advised not to repeat the story again." Meaningful pause. "I think we both know where you were, Clark, don't we?"
Clark's fists tightened, but he carefully unballed them before responding to Lionel, laying his palms flat on the top of the post. "And where do you think I was?"
"In the back of the van," Lionel answered. "I can't prove it--yet, of course--but we both know it. Because there really isn't anywhere else you could have been." He made a show of looking Clark up and down. "And since you don't seem any the worse for wear having survived an explosion of that magnitude... well. That invites many, many questions, Clark."
"I don't care what you think, but it's not true. There are a hundred places I could have been," Clark said bravely. "Like, at the Talon. Or the Torch, with Chloe."
Lionel just shook his head pityingly. "No, Clark. There really weren't. Your family's farm was being foreclosed. My son came here specifically to see you. You were here at the time, and then you were inexplicably unaccounted for during the unfortunate incident with Ms. Lang, your parents, and the hired thugs. Meanwhile, during your unexplained absence, a moving van registered to your parents mysteriously shows up in Metropolis, and then explodes--again, without explanation--on the docks."
Another shake of his head, and his tone turned slightly patronizing. "And then we have... you. Clark Kent, man of mystery. Every mystery in Smallville seems to involve you in some way." He turned again and looked frankly at Clark. "Do you want to know what I think?"
"I'm sure that I don't, but I'm also sure you're going to tell me anyway," Clark said, turning away from Lionel's inquisitive gaze.
"I think that you are the mystery, Clark. I think you were the package that Morgan was bringing to me, and I think that you are the reason that the van exploded. I think you, young man, are the answer to every single question I've asked since Lex came to Smallville." Lionel's smile turned positively shark-like. "The question becomes... what are you going to do about it?"
"What do you want?" Clark asked, for what felt like the hundredth time.
At that, Lionel's grin became almost frightening. "In a word? You, Clark."
"Me?" Clark blinked, and he refused to look at Lionel's leering face. "What do you want with me?"
Lionel invaded Clark's personal space as easily as he invaded his son's, and stroked his fingertips lightly down Clark's cheek, then let it fall to rest on his shoulder. "Everything," Lionel said intently. "I want everything."
Clark almost wrenched away from the disgustingly personal touch, even though Lionel's hand was doing nothing but resting against his bicep, thumb stroking in slow, methodical circles. "Take your hands off me, Luthor." A dangerous glint had entered Clark's eye and he did wrench away at that, spitting out Lionel's last name as though it were a vile epithet.
"My my, you do have a temper, don't you?" Lionel brought his hand back up to stroke Clark's cheek again, and he smiled. "I like breaking in a fiery spirit once in a while," he continued softly. "I wouldn't do that again, if I were you. You might be able to get away with manhandling Morgan Edge, but you'll find that I'm not at all the easy mark that he was," Lionel warned. "And I have no problem turning you over to the authorities, or to my personal scientists, who will find out what you are hiding. Are we understood?"
Clark's jaw clenched tightly as Lionel stroked over it, but he didn't say anything in refusal, nor did he dare to jerk away.
"Good boy." Lionel straightened his coat, and looked around. "I think we'll go back into the barn for the... negotiations." He drawled the word out with careful inflection, and smirked inwardly at Clark's little flinch. "Wouldn't you agree?"
"Do I have a choice?" Clark snapped back, stalking angrily into the barn and up the steps to his personal little fortress.
"Actually... no, you don't," Lionel said with a chuckle, following Clark with sweeping strides. He climbed the wooden steps easily, and looked around the dingy area. It was clean, but not up to his exacting standards, and the first things he noticed were the hastily hidden supplies under the corner of the couch. "Mmm," he said, laughing softly again. "I see your reunion with my son was indeed joyous."
Clark flushed angrily at that, and he swept the box completely under the couch. "It's none of your fucking business," he snarled, wishing his face didn't show his blush so easily.
"Actually, it sets my mind to ease about some things; namely, that you're apparently non-toxic, as my son is still walking around, as hale and hearty as he can be after his... experience." Lionel sat down on the couch beside Clark, making sure his body actually touched as little of the battered sofa as possible. "My terms are simple, Clark. I will keep your secret, and make this little problem of the murder go away. In return, you will be available to me, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty five days a year. I will not make any unreasonable demands on you, and in return, I expect you to keep this arrangement private."
Clark couldn't help shuddering violently. "What is your definition of unreasonable demands?" he asked, wrapping his arms around his chest miserably. He had no doubt that Lionel would do precisely as he'd threatened.
"I will not call for you during your schooling, nor during your quaint little... family nights," Lionel clarified with a slight sneer. "I will do as little as I can to raise suspicions, and will from time to time employ a... mutual friend to call you on my behalf so as not to alarm your family and other friends. However, when I do call for you, I expect a prompt response, and to be obeyed without question." A pause, to let the terms sink in. "Do we have an understanding?"
Clark felt so sick to his stomach that he could barely breathe through the choking nausea. "Don't... don't involve Lex. Don't tell him. Please. I... it would only hurt him, and I don't want that. Please." The nausea thickened in his throat as he begged.
Lionel laughed again, and just gave Clark an unreadable look. "You're asking me for something already? And we've yet to agree on the terms of our deal? Clark, I'm surprised at you. I thought you were smarter than that. Nowhere in the terms did I say that I would not tell my son about our little arrangement."
Another wave of nausea rose to choke him off, and Clark blinked desperately. "I'll... agree to anything you want. Just don't tell him. Don't hurt him. Please." Hard squeeze of his fists as he rubbed them against his thighs. "I love him."
Lionel scoffed. "You're nothing but a boy, Clark, you have no idea what love is, and especially not for a Luthor." He spread his legs, not obviously but definitely invitingly, and he settled back just a little on the couch. "But if you can convince me that I should leave Lex in the dark about our little arrangement, I am willing to do so."
Clark caught the slight movement of Lionel's legs, and almost gagged. He was going to have to betray Lex in order to keep the secret of even more betrayal, and his shoulders sagged just a little. He had been hoping that the touches were merely incidental, power plays meant to make him feel ill at ease with the situation, not portents of things to come. "What do I have to do to convince you?" Clark choked out.
Lionel let his arm fall over the back of the couch. "You're not really that stupid, are you, Clark?" He merely raised an eyebrow as the motion of his arm pulled his jacket away from his body to clearly reveal it. "I had my suspicions that you and Lex were... closer than just friends, but never proof of it until now. I expect you've learned a great deal from my son, and I expect to benefit from it."
"You're a bastard, Luthor," Clark snarled, even as he slid down onto his knees, the hard plank floor biting into them as he moved unwillingly closer.
"So I have been told, but I am also losing my patience," he said, drumming his fingers against the arm of the sofa. "Do not make me tell you again."
A shudder of revulsion skated up and down Clark's spine as he crawled over, hating every moment of it and refusing to look up at Lionel. "Sorry," he said softly, having to force himself to move. He closed his eyes against the couch, the same couch where he and Lex had just re-learned their love for each other, and he was willingly defiling it. Clark's stomach churned as he came to kneel completely between Lionel's legs, and he sat there for a moment with his head bowed.
The submissive picture pleased Lionel greatly, and his hand slipped down to pet Clark's head as he would a prized dog. "There. You seem to have the idea now."
Clark gave a little snarl as he bared his teeth, but then remembered Lionel's threats and why he was doing this, and he bowed his head again, letting Lionel's fingers in his hair pull him forward, craning his neck to get close without having to bring his body close as well. He almost fell forward at the savage yank of his hair, and his shoulder bounced off the sofa frame as he looked up mutinously at Lionel over his zipper.
One large hand came up to unbuckle Lionel's belt with fumbling fingers, opening button and zipper and laying bare the silk-covered crotch that waited for him. Clark closed his eyes as his fingers brushed over the soft fabric, rough fingertips catching on the slick material as he pulled it down. He winced as Lionel raised his hips and helped, and soon the older Luthor was naked from the waist down, his cock was proudly erect. Clark ignored the hard organ as long as he could, but when his fingers started on Lionel's shirt buttons, they were slapped away.
"I think that's far enough for what we need to take care of today," Lionel said smoothly, without a care for his half-naked state.
Clark shuddered, closing his eyes briefly before opening them to look imploringly up at Lionel. His protests were muted by his fear that Lionel would tell Lex, and ruin everything they'd just begun. When Lionel's eyes didn't give the merest flicker of mercy, Clark closed his eyes again, finding Lionel's cock by touch and scent alone. His finger wrapped around the shaft, steadying it as he licked the wide, fleshy head.
The taste was shockingly strong and salty against his tongue, nothing like Lex's except for a similar, underlying flavor that lingered on his tongue as he laved. There were quiet slurping noises as he licked, sucking the head only when he had to, the rest of the time nibbling and teasing the shaft, hoping to satisfy Lionel this way while fearing that it would never work.
Lionel's encouragement was physical instead of verbal, tightening his fingers in Clark's hair, pulling him down further down onto the engorged length, moving his hips to thrust into Clark's throat. He didn't take heed of the tight clenching of Clark's gag reflex, didn't care that the angle was awkward, just forced more of his cock into Clark's mouth, whether the young man wanted it or not.
And Clark had no choice but to accept it, his hands braced on the sofa as Lionel used him. The gagging lessened with each rough push as he was able to relax more, contort his body just enough so that Lionel's cock slid more easily in his throat as he sucked. Hard and fast, because he wanted this over with as fast as possible, he was rewarded when both of Lionel's hands locked in his hair. A hard swallow of saliva mixed with precome, and Clark barely had a chance to get his mouth open again before Lionel was brutally fucking his throat.
Uncaring and throwing caution to the wind, Lionel was fairly sure that he could not hurt Clark as his thrusts became harder and faster. He pushed to the hilt in Clark's throat, undulating his hips slightly with every rock so that his balls rubbed over Clark's lips and chin. He muffled his grunts before they could come out, remaining nearly silent as he fucked Clark's throat with his cock.
Clark felt like he was choking with every one of Lionel's deep thrusts into his mouth. He was being used as a receptacle and he knew it, could feel the lack of care and caution Lionel used in dragging his head and fucking his throat, could feel the lack of personalization as he refused to speak or even make noise, and he wanted to crawl into a corner and die. Instead he closed his eyes and accepted it, let Lionel rape his throat and started to mentally prepare himself for the invasion of his body as well.
He was shocked out of his thoughts when he felt the first splash of hot semen on his tongue. It quickly filled his surprised mouth, spilling down his chin before he could swallow. His throat bobbed with each spurt, swallowing out of habit. He was horrified, then, as he felt it sliding down the back of his throat, because it meant the betrayal of Lex was complete. He could feel Lionel's come pooling in his belly like hot slime, and he felt contaminated by it, dirty in a way that meant he would never, ever be clean again. He raised his hand uselessly to his lips, and was startled to hear Lionel speak.
"Congratulations, Clark. You've convinced me. Our... arrangement will remain a secret. For now," he added. "But that could change at any moment." Lionel reached to the arm of the couch and started to get dressed again. "I will expect to see you in Metropolis this evening, promptly at eight in the LuthorCorp lobby. A pass will be waiting for you at the desk, and you will come straight to my office. Do you understand me?"
"Yes." The word was bitter on Clark's tongue as he was tempted to spit. He wanted to crawl into a hot shower. "I understand." He rubbed the back of his hand over his face again, wiping up anything that had spilled on his face.
"Very good. I will see you tonight, Clark." Lionel finished dressing quickly, and swept out of the barn, leaving the disgusted and broken young man in a heap in front of his couch.