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Volley

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Volley

by Aklani

http://teresakay.net


After his father died, Whitney Fordman and I formed a tentative but ultimately rewarding friendship. He talked to me about personal things, things I sensed he wanted to be telling Lana, not me. I seemed to make me feel more comfortable. He granted me permission to make suggestions to Lana based on his revelations. It made me feel like a mediator in some sort of labor dispute, but I didn't mind too much. I enjoyed the company of both of them, and finding out how much Whitney loved Lana helped me get over her. It gave me the motivation I needed to move into the next phase of my sexual maturity. It left me free to pursue Lex.

I couldn't say exactly when my attraction turned from Lana to Lex. It seemed like overnight my feelings toward Lex turned from the admiration of a friend, to a longing of a different kind. Maybe those feelings were always there, but wrapped up in the long-running habit of making Lana the center of my world, I never noticed them. Maybe I didn't want to notice. I had enough problems adjusting to the fact I wasn't human. I didn't need the additional stress of having to adjust to the fact I wasn't attracted to females. The question of whether I'm just not attracted to human females remains unanswered to this day, primarily because I have never met a non-human woman. Further complicating matters is that Lex still has his hooks in me. I don't think either of us can ever let go entirely.

Back then, I was still recovering from the shock of my father revealing the secret he'd kept for over a decade, and the knowledge that Lana was completely out of my league. I tend to turn away from my problems toward those of others. It's how I cope. Lex and I are a lot alike in many ways: neither of us likes to ask for help. It's difficult for me because I have to keep so much hidden from others. For Lex, it's a matter of pride. Is there a deadly sin he's not guilty of? Gluttony maybe.

Whitney and I found common ground talking about our fathers. He adored his father, and emulated him in everything he did from sports to his choice of girlfriends. In her day Mrs. Fordman had been a cheerleader, and she was still a looker. I wanted to make Jonathan proud of me, and although he always claimed he was, I never really got the chance to show him what I could do. I was never allowed to play the sports he did, make a name for myself, and he died long before Superman came around. I don't think he thought me a failure, but I suspect he went to his grave disappointed. Not so much with me, rather fate, for saddling him with a non-human kid who had to be hidden from the world. Like most fathers, all he wanted to do was brag on his offsprings accomplishments, demonstrate his pride. He never got to do that.

Peoples' perception of Jonathan Kent was far removed from my own. I found this out in my talks with Whitney, and it was an eye-opener. He, like many others, found my father overbearing, and almost cruel in the way he kept his family apart from others. He had not been that way in his youth, but seemed to withdraw from society right around the time his father Hiram died. Mom was a beautiful young woman. People thought she, being from Metropolis, might have contributed to her husband's new persona as recluse. Upon meeting her they changed their minds. The blame was placed firmly on Dad's shoulders.

The truth, as Dad revealed to me just before he died, was that he and my mother were having a series of unfortunate setbacks in their lives at the time. Mom miscarried several times. She was feuding with her father. Dad was having a hard time keeping the farm going, not knowing much about farming at all, but steadfast in his determination not to let his ancestral land go to Lionel Luthor. LuthorCorp. was a steadily encroaching threat, like kudzu in the south, taking over and snuffing out the aboriginal lay of the land. Mom and Dad had too many things to deal with to be very social. Of course when I came along they retreated even further, in order to protect me.

Whitney and I had started playing a little one-on-one in the Fordman's driveway after school on the days he didn't have to work at his dad's store. I was careful not to play too well, but Whitney was an athlete. He recognized another quite easily, just as Coach Walt had during my ill-fated stint on the football team.

"Just take sports for example," Whitney said, tossing me the ball after a lay-up. "You're just as good if not better than half the guys playing for the Crows. Basketball or football, you've got it, Clark." He chuckled. "You're certainly better than Ross."

"Ah, don't dis Pete. He's got his brother's big shoes to fill."

"Yeah, there will never be another Mike Ross, or Jonathan Kent. Ross, Kent and Fordman are the names people always hook up to great local athletes. Your dad's a son-of-bitch for not letting you play."

"That sounds like a quote." I tossed the ball from the sidewalk, our "free throw" line, taking care to miss. Whitney caught the ball on the rebound and dunked it.

He came back, grinning, and tossed me the ball again. "You should have heard my dad. He was always one step short of calling in child welfare." His voice lowered in an imitation of Jack's low rumble. "Johnny needs to let that boy alone. Mark my words, he'll have a rebellion on his hands one day and then he'll be sorry."

I feigned left as Whitney tried to block me. This time I made the shot and tossed Whitney the rebound as I caught it on the way down. "I'm not much for rebellion."

"Yeah, if you were more laid back you'd be dead." He paused to wipe the sweat off his forehead. "Don't you ever do anything your father doesn't like?"

I must have blushed because Whitney raised an eyebrow and grinned when I shrugged. Of course I did stuff Dad didn't like, and chief among them was my insistence on spending time with Lex. Dad very astutely realized there was "something" going on between the two of us, and he didn't trust Lex in the slightest. Even I didn't know there was anything between us during the very early days of our friendship. That's all we were to each other too - friends - and we spent time bull-shitting about this or that, reading comics, playing pool or watching movies. In retrospect we also did a lot of subtle flirting. Lex probably knew he was doing it. I had no clue.

Like I said, I've no idea when things changed. As my Lana fascination wore off, I spent more and more time up at the mansion. I quietly resented a couple of brief affairs Lex had, but refused to call my feelings jealousy. The women interfered with my time with Lex, taking up his time until there was none left for me. I wanted to strangle Desiree. Not only did she take Lex away from me, but she altered his personality, turning him into someone he wasn't, someone who I didn't recognize. When she was gone, Lex swore off dating for a while and things got back to normal. I think that's when I realized I wanted to be more than friends.

Lex was willing, I had no doubt about that, he'd made it very clear one fall day when he gave me a lift to school. He'd made a grab for my leg instead of the gear shift, hastily withdrawn it with an apology, but his cheeks had turned quite pink. I was perplexed as to why he, who found virtually nothing embarrassing, would be blushing from such a thing. I was pretty slow on the uptake. It took me the better part of the day to figure out he'd blushed because the move had been calculated. He'd been copping a feel.

He did it again a few weeks later, when he brushed past me as I bent over the pool table lining up a shot. Although I was startled to feel his hand on my ass, I forced myself not to react, letting him touch me. I was rattled enough to miss my shot and, like his during the previous incident, I'm sure my blush gave me away. Neither one of us said anything about it, and nothing more happened.

That night though, I dreamed he was touching me again, only this time I was touching him back. I knew in theory what two men did together. I dreamed about that too. I woke up to cold, damp pajamas and the desire to make those dreams reality one way or another. I wanted to have sex with Lex. The little rhyme stuck with me throughout the day, and subsequent days, driving me a little mad like a mental Chinese water torture. I had no idea how to act on my feelings. How do you tell your best friend you want to suck his cock? Yeah, Dad wouldn't be too happy with that.

"Sure I do," I told Whitney.

"Like what?"

"Give me the ball," I said, hedging.

He threw it to me. I dribbled, made a shot, and missed even though I wasn't trying to do so.

"Well? 'Fess up, Kent." Whitney snagged the ball again and stood there looking at me with it tucked beneath his arm. "What drives your dad nuts?"

"Lex."

He laughed. "The Luthors drive everyone nuts. Besides that."

"No, seriously. He hates it that I'm friends with Lex. He wants me to stay away from him, and I don't." He finally threw me the ball and out of sheer frustration I made a slam dunk I probably shouldn't have. I tossed him the rebound.

"Sweet," he said, but his eyes were on me. I could feel the scrutiny. "What's the appeal? What's so attractive about Lex Luthor that makes Clark Kent go bad."

I laughed. "Like sour milk."

"Well, milk does curdle if you put vinegar in it. Or so Mrs. Limpke always said in Home Ec."

"Lanky Limpke. You had her too, huh?"

Whitney laughed and nodded. We resumed the game, playing for some time before re-engaging the conversation. I got a decent block in on him even without trying, scored, and Whitney called for a time out. He was panting, I pretended to be slightly winded. I'd really not even broken a sweat.

Resting with his hands on his knees, Whitney gradually caught his breath. When he did, he looked up at me with an expression I'd only seen a few times before. He looked at me with a good dose of sympathy.

Whitney really wasn't the cruel jock many people, particularly Lex, made him out to be at all. He had a temper, that was true, but really, he'd always been pretty sensitive to other people's feelings when it really counted. He'd also loved Lana with all his heart and although she and Pete are quite happy together, I think she would have been happiest with Whitney. After I got to know him I really liked him. The world is far less rich without him.

"You've got a crush on him, don't you?"

I wasn't quite sure how to answer that question. I suppose I stammered something in the realm of, "what are you talking about?" Whitney wasn't convinced whatever it was, because he straightened and quietly took the ball away from me. He watched me out of the corner of his eye as he sunk a shot from the end of the driveway. I caught it again and threw it to him. He tucked it under his arm.

"Just say yes or no, Clark," he demanded.

I let out a long breath and tucked my hands into my back pockets. "Yeah."

Whitney nodded, and made another shot. This time he missed and we let the ball roll off the side of the driveway under a lilac bush. He came up to me and stood there. I wasn't sure what to do from there.

"Soda?" he asked.

"Yeah, thanks."

We went up onto the porch where I took a seat on the glider. Whitney went inside and came back out with a couple of beer mugs and two Cokes. The cold soda felt good going down even if I was a far cry from being overheated. He sat down on the steps.

"Dad keeps it pretty quiet, but my Uncle Bobby is gay."

I automatically started to deny I was gay, but then realized I had no reason to think otherwise. What would be the point in lying?

"Yeah?" I replied.

"Yeah. He used to take me fishing when I was a kid. He's with someone now, so he doesn't come around much anymore. Josh makes Dad uncomfortable."

"Does he make you uncomfortable?" I asked cautiously.

"Nah. I stayed with them once when I was in Metropolis going after that scholarship. Josh is a nice guy." He sipped his Coke. "They're pretty happy together. I guess that counts for something."

I looked at him carefully. He appeared deep in thought as he gazed across the lawn. "You know, Whitney. This sort of isn't the reaction I figured you for."

He turned back to me and smiled a little. "Well I'm glad I'm not the only one feeling a little stunned right now. Honestly, Clark. I thought you were really after Lana. I'm actually sort of relieved."

"I was after Lana, once." I admitted. "Until I realized I was just going through the motions. Took me a while."

"You never made a move on her. Is this why?"

I took another long drink from my soda and shrugged. "Maybe, probably. I don't know." I felt my blush coming back and I looked down at the glass in my hands. "I haven't made a move on Lex either. I'm not very good at first steps, you know?" I caught his gaze again. "It's not that I don't want to...I just don't know what to do."

It occurred to me to wonder if Whitney and Lana had ever slept together. I assumed not, just given Lana's personality. I recently discovered that they had, just before Whitney left for the Marines and in fact, she'd gone through a brief pregnancy scare right afterward when she missed her cycle. She never told anyone about it, not even me or Chloe, with whom she'd become pretty close. It wasn't until she was pregnant with her second that she told anyone. She'd honestly thought Pete might be upset to find out she wasn't a virgin when they were married. I could have told her it wasn't his style to sweat the small stuff.

"Does he even know how you feel?"

"I don't know. He's made a few small overtures, but nothing major." I told him about the incident in the car, and during the game of pool.

"Volley," Whitney said.

I stared, rather stupidly I admit. I had no idea what he was talking about. "Huh?"

"Just volley. The next time he does anything, give it back, only bigger, you know? It's like playing tennis, Clark. If you just lob the ball back over the net you aren't going to score. You have to take the serve and use it to your own advantage. Hit it hard, give it a back-spin, and keep him running. Let Lex set everything into motion and he'll be the one to keep it in motion. You'll just go along for the ride." He blushed slightly at the possible innuendo found in his words. "That's what I do with Lana. I let her set the pace."

I understood it then, and I nodded. I also laughed. "Lex isn't Lana."

"That's for sure." Polishing off his Coke, Whitney got to his feet. "Clark, I don't know Lex very well, but I know his reputation. Are you sure you want to get involved with him?"

I thought about it for a minute. "Yeah," I said softly. "I do."

Whitney nodded. "Your dad will kill you if he finds out, not to mention string Lex up by his balls."

The thought made me wince. "I know. You won't tell anyone will you?"

"Nah, not if you keep what I told you about enlisting quiet. I don't want anyone to know until I make my final decision. Mom is going to freak."

"So will Lana."

"Yeah, but at least this way I can get my education paid for, and I'll have a better chance of getting a well-paying job when I get out. I want to be able to give Lana a good life. I don't want to stay in Smallville forever like my Dad did." He looked a little wistful. "You'll take care of her while I'm gone, won't you, Clark?"

"Absolutely." I handed him back my empty mug. "And thanks."

He grinned, shaking his head. "I never would have thought it."


Volley, I thought.

If I had the ability to send people through time, I would send Diana back just prior to the day I "made my move" on Lex. Di, although a virgin herself by virtue of some strict Amazon religious mumbo jumbo, knows a lot about sex. She insists that men are idiot savants when it comes to sex, and only know how to rut like animals. They don't understand the art of love-making. They could all take tips from an Amazon woman. So where was she when I stood in Lex's office with sweaty palms and a burning desire to have him touch me so I could fire back with some blatantly sexual reaction? Volley? With what?

As usual Lex was pretty in tune to my moods and I could sense him trying not to laugh at me. Lex always laughed at me. Once, during an unusually forthcoming mood, he told me I was the only person who ever brought joy into his life. Seeing as how Lex didn't laugh very often, and hadn't lived a particularly joyous life, I took that as a compliment.

So I was nervous and he could tell, but the wry way he pursed his lips told me he wasn't going to inquire about it. Instead he offered me a drink and racked up the balls on the pool table for our usual game of eight-ball.

Whatever else my race has in common with human beings I don't know, but I do know that an adolescent Kryptonian male is just as much a slave to his hormones as any human kid. I certainly was, because that day I was completely obsessed with staring at Lex's ass. He was wearing what was, for Lex, casual clothes: a pair of black silk trousers, an oversized grey shirt also in silk, and a pair of black cloth shoes. It was a very Asian look. It accentuated Lex's thinness, and his strong, wiry build. The cloth flowed down across his shoulders, the silk clinging to his chest. As usual the "castle" as we called it, was cold, making Lex's nipples hard, and quite visible through the thin cloth. It was so thin and clingy I could also tell that beneath the slacks, Lex was sans underwear.

No X-ray vision required.

I scratched on my first shot and Lex stared at me. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," I lied. God I hated lying to him, to anyone. "I'm just - a little tired. Your shot."

His eyes narrowed. Lex's eyes are perhaps his best feature. When you look at him they draw you in quite naturally because of his lack of hair. It's almost as if his eyes and his lips are oases surrounded by the pale desert of the rest of his face. One can't help but notice his stormy blue eyes with their pale, strawberry-blond lashes. Like everything else he possesses, he uses his eyes to his advantage, capturing and holding those with whom he interacts. He could charm the last crust of bread from a starving child. There are times when I wonder if he hasn't done such a thing. Certainly he has racked up a Karmic debt he'll be paying off for the rest of his life, possibly beyond. It's hard to save someone from themselves.

"What?" I demanded.

"Nothing, nothing." He moved around the table, picking his shot carefully. "You're just really jumpy."

"Overly tired."

"Uh-huh, sure." Lex winked, and his wry grin told me he didn't believe me for a second.

He passed in front of me and had I the nerve I could have reached out and grabbed his ass. Damn if I didn't want to in the worst way. As he leaned over the table and shifted his weight into his shooting arm I was watching the sweet curve of his buttocks beneath the black silk. Abruptly I moved around to the other side of the table, putting it between us. I wasn't supposed to serve. I was supposed to return a volley Lex wasn't making. Watching Lex take his shot, I prayed he'd miss.

Intellectually my strong points are math and science. Once I understood that pool was all about geometry, it was difficult to beat me. Lex was, and is, the only person who can keep up with me in games involving mathematics and strategic calculation. We once kept a game of chess going for a month. Our current relationship is much like a game of chess, with each of us trying to out-do the other. I've heard people refer to it as "brains versus brawn," which is an inaccuracy based on the assumption that Superman is strong but stupid.

Naive sometimes, but not stupid.

Lex made three good shots in a row before he missed. On my turn I managed four, despite the fact I could smell Lex's cologne lingering over the table and sense his presence not far behind me. There was a feeling of anticipation in the room. Maybe it was just me, or my nervousness was creating the feeling in Lex, I don't know, but the tension was palpable. I scratched again and cursed. Lex gave me a startled look. I'm not much for cursing now. As a teenager I had the sweetest mouth in school when everyone else was taking pride in sprinkling their conversation with language they weren't permitted to use at home.

My use of the word "fuck," however, persuaded Lex to make a cautious serve as he passed me on the way to the table. There was a mischievous quirk to his mouth as he spoke.

"Clark, I didn't think you knew that word."

I threw the ball back into his court. "I know more about that word than you think I do," I said smoothly.

Lex scratched. He turned his head to look at me to see if I were kidding. I used one of his own tactics on him and schooled my expression not to reveal any sort of emotion. I simply stared at the table as if picking my next shot. It would have been hard to determine if I were kidding or not. The mystery was bait Lex couldn't resist.

Straightening, he turned around to lean against the table, holding his pool cue so that it stuck up between his legs. It was obvious to me he was being facetious. That's the mistake many people make with Lex Luthor; they fail to watch his body language. Lex is the master of the pokerface, and his father taught him to use the tool that is his voice with the skill of a Shakespearean trained actor. You simply cannot take the man at face value. It's body language that often gives him away. You can always tell when Lex is lying to you because he does the opposite of what people normally do when they lie. Instead of glancing aside, Lex will stare you straight in the eye when he's fabricating a falsehood. He's proud of his ability to manipulate people.

I couldn't get to the table. He was in the way, so I just stood there waiting for whatever it was he had up his sleeve, hoping he would give me something else I could use. It was a case of me manipulating him for a change, something he would have never expected me to do. Caught up in the net of a wildly out of control libido, I was bound and determined to get laid before I left the mansion that day. Like Lex often did, I knew what I wanted, and I was going to get it.

"Well?" he said.

"Well, what?"

"Enlighten me with your knowledge. What are they teaching in sex education these days, Clark?"

I laughed. "Considering your ex-wife was our sex education teacher, maybe you already know."

Sometimes things just work out perfectly. Bringing up Desiree could have completely pissed Lex off to the point of changing the subject. Or we could have continued talking about sex, joking around, but never getting to the point wherein it became an alternative to playing pool. Desiree, bless her meteor mutant heart, provided the perfect segue, the best serve, I could have gotten.

Lex started laughing. "She taught you how to give a blow-job?"

I found out later that, despite rumors to the contrary, Desiree never actually let Lex have sex with her. Oh, she satisfied him all right, but he wasn't allowed to lay a hand on her. She just used him to get what she wanted and repaid him by sucking him off on a regular basis.

The volley I chose to make involved stepping up to the net, which I did by closing the distance between us. I stood just within arms reach and despite blushing to beat the band, I looked him directly in the eye and said:

"Wouldn't you like to find out?"

Now I've known Lex Luthor for twenty years and in that time I have seen him pole-axed only twice. Once was when he realized Clark Kent and Superman were the same person. The other was back then, when, following Whitney's advice, I returned a volley that not only scored big, but knocked the opposition down. He stood there gaping at me like a fish for quite some time.

Finally his mouth clicked shut. "You're high on something."

"You." I laughed.

"I'm serious, Clark."

"So am I. I swear, I'm not on anything. No Nicodemus pollen, nothing. I'm just tired of us playing around with this issue."

Heh, he looked me in the eye when he said, "What issue?"

The tennis match was well underway. I reached out with one hand and ran it up the length of the pool cue he held, and at the top I closed my fist around it. I moved my fist up and down the smooth wooden stick with slow deliberation, making the meaning of the non-verbalized reply very obvious. The whole time I stared into Lex's eyes. Tiny beads of sweat broke out across his forehead.

"You're not kidding?" he whispered.

I took both pool cues away and returned them to the rack before coming back to him. Silk trousers, by the way, are very revealing. My stunt with the pool cue had accomplished the reaction I'd hoped for and Lex was making no effort to hide it. This gave me more confidence.

Without a word I slipped in close to him, close enough that I could feel his breath on my face. I remember tasting the mint he'd used to mask the alcohol on his breath when I kissed him. He'd had a scotch before I came over. That's about all I remember about our first kiss because the thrill of it shot directly into my brain and exploded there, obliterating any thing else. I do remember having a hard time catching my breath when I pulled away from him, and the look on Lex's face. It was a combination of shock, joy, and desire. He'd wanted that kiss as much as I had.

I went in for a second one but he held me off with a hand to my chest. "Wait."

I frowned at him. "Why?"

Lex's voice was full of gravel. "Lock the door."

It took all I had not to slip into super speed mode when I headed for the big double doors. My hands were shaking as I pulled them closed and locked them because I simply could not believe what I was doing. It's not that I didn't want it, but that going through with it would forever change the course of my life, and Lex's, and our relationship. We'd actually have a relationship. If my parents ever found out I would be disowned.

I returned to him and he pulled me close. The second kiss was better than the first and lasted longer. The stroke of Lex's tongue against mine made me shiver, the heat of his mouth burned my lips and left them tingling. I couldn't get enough of him. His tongue wasn't enough. I wanted something more. As we kissed my hands found his trousers. Bless him, they had an elastic waistband, and came down easily beneath my fumbling hands. He moaned something, I don't know what it was, into my mouth. His fingers found my hair and pulled when I moved down to his chest. I left wet spots in the dove grey silk shirt. It slipped over my tongue when I lapped at the hard knots of his nipples and was thin enough that I could feel the roughness of the little node beneath it. I sucked and he moaned.

We fit together quite nicely. I enjoyed teasing him, and he enjoyed getting teased. That was something we would find out later in the relationship. The first time I don't think either of us quite knew what to expect. I know I didn't. I had no idea what I was doing, just that I wanted to have Lex in my mouth. Following my instincts seemed like a good idea and since I had a dick myself, I knew what felt good and what didn't. I figured I had about a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right. How difficult could it be to suck cock?

The bead of pre-cum at the tip was a temptation like crack to a junky. On my knees in front of him, his slender hips in my hands, his taut thighs pressed to my shoulders, I was past the point of no return. Going to my knees had demonstrated a promise I now had to keep. One swipe and I licked that glistening drop away, the taste of Lex filled my mouth and I was addicted from that moment on.

Lex's skin is as soft as the silk he often wears. He's not completely hairless, but what he does have is very soft and sparse, like the soft flap of a kitten's ear or the skin of a peach. His genitals lack even that much. It was a bit unusual to me at first but I got used to it quickly - God, very quickly. I buried my face in him, letting his hard cock rub against my cheek as I inhaled the musky scent of him and mouthed the loose skin of his testicles. I felt his fingers tighten on my shoulders.

I stopped and looked up at him.

He raised a hand and stroked my hair. It was so simple, that gesture, but profoundly intimate. I've never forgotten the look in his eyes, just like I'll never forget their expression on the day I left him five years later.

"You're sure?" he whispered.

I ran my hands over his hips and across his belly beneath the loose folds of his shirt. "Yes." I moved my hands back, holding him steady. I could feel him trembling.

I started by just taking in the head, licking at the sensitive underside as I sucked, but that didn't last very long. I found myself wanting more. I wanted to feel it scrape the top of my palate on the way down my throat, and to wrap my lips tight around the warm flesh as it withdrew again.

My gag reflex is fairly undiscriminating. I've swallowed everything from broken glass to plastic explosive. When we were in college Pete and I attended some concert where they had guys on stage swallowing swords. It made Pete nervous and he didn't want to watch. Just to torment him, when we got back to our dorm, I borrowed a fencing epee from the guy next door and did some sword swallowing myself.

I'd had a lot of practice swallowing "swords" of course. It took me about two seconds to figure out how to deep throat Lex's cock that first time. I think if it hadn't been for the pool table behind him and my hands on his hips, he would have fallen down when I did it, he was so surprised. I was hard by then and getting really turned on by the noises he was making - little moans and whimpers. I was working him good, sucking him hard enough to make my cheeks hollow, sliding up and down his length until my lips pressed into his balls, but I wouldn't let him thrust. Lex was loving every torturous minute of it.

I could feel him swelling in my mouth. I drew back very slowly, and allowed him to slip from between my lips. His cock was dark with blood and glistening from my saliva. I blew softly up the underside, tickling the thick vein running up from the base. It jerked, spasming upward and I felt something damp between my own legs. God, he was so gorgeous then, so young and untainted by bitterness. If I could have him back like that now....

I wiped my chin and got to my feet. Both of us were panting like we'd been running a marathon. Lex leaned heavily on the pool table. Sweat was running down his face. It was deathly pale, not surprising since all his blood was in his crotch. I undressed without looking at him and as if I hadn't had his cock down my throat a minute earlier, I was suddenly stricken by a bad case of modesty. Cautiously I looked over at him to register his reaction to seeing me nude.

I needn't have been modest. There was nothing but admiration in his expression.

"Jesus, Clark. This is what you've been hiding under all that fucking flannel?"

Lex pushed himself off the pool table and walked around me - strutted around me, cock jutting proudly. His eyes caressed my body hungrily. He shed his shirt and toed off his shoes as he went across the room to the credenza behind his desk. There he rummaged through a drawer, coming up with a bottle of hand lotion. Neither of us were quite prepared for the necessity of lube or a condom, because I don't think either of us anticipated ever succumbing to our desires.

Surprisingly enough we didn't use a condom and didn't even question it then. I didn't have the patience, and I don't think he did either. Both of us perhaps afraid that it would spoil the moment and let it get away. Foolish perhaps, but one doesn't always think straight under such circumstances.

We kissed as I spread the lotion over his cock, rubbing it in my hands while he thrust his tongue into my mouth. It wasn't going to take much to make me come. I was already thrusting against him but he pushed me away, instructing me to lean over the side of the sofa. I did as he told me. The leather felt cool against the skin of my chest as I leaned on my elbows on the broad arm. Cooler still was the touch of Lex's hand on my balls, and the lotion running down the cleft of my ass. He pressed the ball of his thumb against my opening and twisted, slicking both the rim and his thumb at the same time. It slipped inside easily.

Instinctively my muscles contracted, trapping Lex's thumb. I heard him hiss slightly and tried to relax. Those muscles are as strong as the rest of me, and I felt uneasy for the first time since we began. Lex contributed a lot to making me feel better, caressing my back in slow circles as he withdrew his thumb and replaced it with a finger. I can't describe the feeling of exhilaration I felt when he pushed inside me again and began moving his finger in and out, fucking me. When he added a second I pushed back against him, pumping my hips against the arm of the couch. It was then that with a crook of his finger, Lex introduced me to my prostate.

It was a sensation I cannot describe. The closest I could come would be to say I was struck by lightning, but in a good way. It was a high no drug could reproduce. Lex repeated the gesture, making me cry out loud, my body shuddering beneath his touch. All my strength drained away. I felt weak and breathless.

After that I was not going to be satisfied with his fingers. My desires lay elsewhere and I told him so. I wanted his cock inside me like it had been in my mouth; thick and warm and throbbing with energy. My inhibitions had fled the moment I'd seen his erection and knew he wanted me. Whitney's "just go for it" advice had been priceless.

"Tell me if I hurt you," Lex said.

He couldn't hurt me. I have it on good authority (not from Lex who would never admit such a thing) that fucking me can be a lot more painful to my erstwhile partner than it is for me. To put it bluntly, my ass doesn't have much give to it. Hand lotion isn't the world's best lubricant either. It took Lex a long time to breech me and not because he was trying to spare me any discomfort.

To me, it felt good, a slow stretch of muscles and flesh adapting to the width of his cock. I arched my back, pressing against him as he sank deeper inside. I felt only a mild burning sensation at the connection point. The sense of fullness spread upward into the pit of my stomach until I could feel Lex's thighs pressing against mine. Fully engulfed within me, he paused to touch me, jacking my aching cock in his fist. I thrust into it, drawing him with me. He eased back then thrust in again with a hiss of air through his teeth.

It didn't take long to establish rhythm, nor for me come. As virginal as I was at the time, any sexual stimulation was it for me, and I was more than a little glad to have gotten a rein on the heat vision before losing my virginity or I think I would have self combusted. The combination of Lex's cock stroking my prostate and his hand stroking my cock was way too much for me to handle. Something short circuited. Orgasm shot through me from my dick to my brain and back again, jerking me against the arm of the couch where I made, I must say, an impressive mess of things.

Lex had me lick his fingers. My come tasted almost citrusy and sweet, and utterly unique to me, I would later discover. I sucked his fingers like I sucked his cock, moving them in and out of my mouth in time to his thrusts in and out of my anus. The sound of his thighs slapping against my buttocks was similar to the sucking noises I was making. It drove him to climax, shuddering against me, sinking his fingers deep into my hipbones as his pelvis gave one last hard jerk and his hips began pumping in short quick spasms. I could feel it inside me. His cock swelled and burst forth with a warm wetness. I swear he called out my name, but he claimed he didn't.

The room was silent except for the ticking of the clock and our rasping breaths. Lex lay draped across me, still inside me, his cheek pressed to my back. He wrapped his arms around my chest and I basked in the warmth of him. He held me tightly as if he were afraid I would disappear from beneath him, as if he thought it were all some sort of fantasy of his own making. He could have stayed there. I was in no discomfort. I could have stood there forever with him lying across my back, my head resting in arms folded across the arm of the leather couch.

Instead he withdrew. I immediately missed his presence, my stretched opening feeling empty without him inside. I could feel a sticky smear of come across my thigh and my own was smeared over my chest and the side of the sofa. Lex quietly told me to stay. His voice was rough, trembling, without his normally smooth inflection. I don't know where he went but he returned with a box of tissues. He cleaned both of us up with gentle swipes of his hand. Afterward we curled up on the couch together, facing each other, arms and legs intertwined.

What struck me funny was that we were both completely naked except for our watches. I don't think it's funny anymore. The fact was both of us needed watches because our lives were so complicated, so wrapped up with what other people were doing, time was something we were both required to heed. Our feelings for each other may have changed, but that hasn't. We're still clock watchers. Look closely, Superman wears a Timex under one sleeve.

"Did you foresee this?" he asked me.

"No."

"Do you regret it?"

"No. Do you?"

He kissed me in response, a slow passionate kiss that ended with his lips gradually parting from mine, his tongue lingering along my bottom lip. He brought our foreheads together. His eyes were closed. "No," he whispered. "And I never will."


I have seen too many strange things in my lifetime not to believe in synchronicity. Two days after I finished the section of my memoirs (mental-wars as Lois calls them) regarding my first time with Lex, a package arrived at the apartment. It was from my mother and contained many keepsakes from my youth she had squirreled away over the years. I hadn't kept anything from those days around myself, in fear that Superman would be recognized. Anyone seeing pictures of Clark Kent taken prior to the invention of the myopic version might make a connection. Mom's note indicated she thought Lois might be interested in seeing them, and she was indeed. We cuddled up on the couch leafing through pictures, notebooks and yearbooks all afternoon. My sophomore yearbook contained a whole spread on Whitney, who had graduated that year. Lois said he looked sweet.

That night Lois went to work on an assignment at a gallery opening. I was preparing for Superman's nightly rounds when the phone rang. Somehow, I wasn't surprised it was him. It seemed altogether too appropriate.

"I'm calling a cease fire," he said.

"How very generous of you. Why?"

"I need to talk to you."

Interesting. Need not want.

I looked at my nails, picking a bit of dirt from under the one on my index finger. "What are you going to ambush me with this time? Kryptonite sno-cones? A mutant gorilla?"

"Don't be an ass, Clark."

"I'm not being an ass, Lex. I'm basing my conjuncture solely on the spectacular attempts on my life you've made in the past. To put it bluntly, I don't trust you."

"It's a cease fire."

"So you say."

He cursed and hung up on me, only to call right back in five minutes, just like I knew he would.

"Do you remember the day I asked you to marry me."

The comment, and the tone, brought me up short. Just before I graduated from college the stress of having my abilities, and the unfulfilled desire to use them to help people, had been slowly driving me nuts. It was then I decided I needed to get away from Kansas, and everything in it, to figure out what I needed to do with myself. I told Lex, and he didn't take it well. In desperation he begged me to marry him, which made me laugh because I didn't think he was serious. Same sex marriages were not recognized legally back then, not like they are now, but many couples did exchange vows and took them very seriously. Lex not only wanted to exchange vows with me, he had a copy of a revised Will leaving me the entire Luthor estate should anything happen to him. He made me his heir.

"Yeah," I said. "I remember. I turned you down and you got royally pissed off at me."

"I never changed the Will," he said abruptly.

I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say.

"Come see me, please. I'll send a car."

"No. Lois will have a cow if she finds out," I said softly.

"I want you to leave him at home."

In other words - don't fly.

"I'll take a cab."

Lex has read this memoir, at least the part about our first time. The first thing he said to me was, "Whitney put you up to that? The quarterback?" before teasing me about writing scripts for porn movies should the reporter schtick become tedious. The second thing he wanted to know was when I planned on publishing it.

"When I'm dead and gone."

"When is that going to be, the end of the next millenium?"

I shrugged. "You never know, Lex. There are other aliens out there. One might show up who's stronger, faster and not as benign as I am. Technology is progressing in leaps and bounds. Someone may develop a weapon that can blow me to smithereens. Shouldn't you know this? You've practiced trying to kill me for years."

He abruptly changed the subject. "Let's not talk about death."

Death scared Lex. It always had, and I honestly think that if he had been seriously trying to kill me all those years, he would have succeeded. He knows me too well.

I'd seen him from a distance before, but it had been a long time since we'd met face to face. I stepped off the elevator into the Lex Corp. Tower penthouse and was a little startled at how haggard he looked. I knew he'd just gotten over the death of his most recent wife. He had it covered up, but I found out she'd been pregnant with what would have been his first child since the death of Alexander three years prior. Losing another son had been harder on him than anyone suspected apparently.

I was a little hesitant about getting too close. He'd been wearing a Kryptonite ring for years. I can only imagine he was afraid his games would one day piss me off enough to make me retaliate against him. So I kept my distance until he tossed back his drink and set it on the edge of a glass table.

"I'm not wearing it," he said.

I relaxed a little. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"The Will. I'm not changing it."

"Why didn't you change it before?"

He shrugged and refused to look at me. "I can't think of anyone more worthy."

"Not even Alex?"

"He didn't live long enough," Lex whispered. I have never heard, before or since, him sound so pained. He had loved little Alex beyond anything else, including his mother and myself.

"I'm sorry."

Another shrug. He looked at me then, carefully studying my face. "You look good. Better than the press shots."

"I'm me at the moment. Not Clark Kent, reporter. Not Superman."

"I appreciate that."

It was my turn to shrug.

He held out his right hand. I could see the paler white line across his finger where the ring had once been. I could also see that it looked slightly swollen. "Have a look."

I took it gingerly in my fingers, noting him wince. It obviously hurt. "What am I looking for?"

"You'll see."

The X-ray vision kicked in right on cue and I examined his hand. The problem wasn't difficult for me to determine. The bones in his hand and in the lower part of his arm near the wrist were riddled with hundreds of small tumors. Inside them the marrow looked dark and unhealthy and I understood immediately why he'd winced when I touched it. He had to be in terrible pain. It was something else to explain his haggard look as well.

I let my eyes refocus and looked up at him. "Has it spread anywhere else?"

"They found a spot on my lung."

"Jesus, Lex...."

He sighed, and withdrew his hand from mine. "They're taking the hand tomorrow. After that will be intensive rounds of chemotherapy and radiation. I'm going to be sick as a dog for months."

I felt sick myself. "Was it the ring?"

"Yes."

I didn't say anything.

His mouth twisted in a wry smile. "You aren't saying 'I told you so.' "

"It's not my style."

Truth be told I felt guilty. He probably knew it too, but like me, kept his thoughts to himself.

I walked to the expanse of windows that looked out over the cityscape. It was a familiar view for me. I often stopped on the top of the Lex Corp. Tower during my fly-bys. I did it to bug Lex, who I knew had security cameras up there.

"Do you have anyone to stay with you?" I asked.

"No," he said quietly. I could see his reflection in the window. He was watching me carefully. "I was hoping you would."

I turned around to face him. "You're not serious."

Twenty-years. We had spent twenty years loving and hating each other, and I had never, ever, seen him break. More convincing, as usual, than his words, or his expression, was his body language. He stood there with his arms wrapped around himself, his bad hand tucked carefully against to his side, looking away from me now that I had turned. His lashes were damp. I can't imagine the pain he must have been going through that would drive him to ask me for help, that would drive him to tears.

I should have said no. I couldn't say no.


On the way home from the mansion on the day I lost my virginity, I stopped at the Fordman house and knocked on the door. I must have been grinning like a madman because Whitney shook his head and laughed at me.

"He served!"

"I returned it." I said brightly.

He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest. "And did you score?"

"Oh, I scored."

I don't think Whitney ever realized what exactly happened between Lex and me that day, nor how it changed my life forever. I never could express my gratitude to him for his advice beyond the simple "thank you" I left him with. That afternoon was the last time I would ever see him. He left for the Marines a few days later, and he never came home.

Lex says it's not a good idea to dwell on the past. I think he's speaking from experience.

Oddly enough, Lois said the same thing when she was busy throwing my belongings out the apartment window. She said maybe she'd come to my funeral when Lex turns on me again.

I don't think this time I'm going to give him a reason to. He was my first and...


"And what?" Lex asked.

He lay against my shoulder, both of us crowded into his hospital bed despite protests from the nurses. His hand was thickly wrapped in bandages and I'd taken care not to jostle it as I'd set it across his chest. He'd pulled the sheet up around it, as if embarrassed, ashamed that I would see him thus infirmed. I loved him for that little gesture, as if I would care. He was alive, and that's all that counted.

I was writing as he lay dozing against me. I didn't know how long he'd actually been awake and watching me write.

"You're supposed to be asleep," I chided him, closing the laptop.

"Hmm. Tired of sleeping. What are you going to say there?"

I looked down at him, and the words came easily. "My first, and last. There is no one else I love nearly as much."

"You're lying."

"No I'm not."

He was quiet for a long time, and I thought he'd fallen asleep again, but when I glanced down at him, he was still looking up at me.

"Clark?"

"Yeah?"

"My marriage proposal still stands you know."

"Technically I'm still married to Lois."

"Yeah, but for how long." Lex took my hand in his good one, intertwining his fingers around mine. "By the time I'm well again, the divorce will be final. Clark, I...."

I'd reopened the laptop while he was talking, and finished the sentence I'd left hanging. At the end I tabbed down several spaces, and wrote one more word, then turned the screen so he could see it.

All it said was, "Yes."