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by Alex

by Alex

Content: Slash

Spoilers: None, really

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimers: Don't own any of them (and yeah, it still sucks)

Archive: Sure

Author's Comments: This is the third in a series, continuation of "Secrets and Mattresses."

Feedback: Please

Summary: Lex determines to find out what Clark is hiding, and why.


Lex had been pacing back and forth across the vast bedroom for the last half-hour, ridiculously late for work, rubbing a flaky substance between his fingers.

A flaky substance he'd found deep within the holes that had been ripped into his very expensive and robust mattress that now looked like it had been assaulted with a shotgun, among other things.

The more his mind replayed the previous evening's activities with his favorite Kent, the more he could imagine how the stuff had been deposited.

He stopped and studied the ravaged article again. If Clark's... seed had really done that much damage to both the top and bottom mattresses which, in total, had to be at least 3-and-a-half feet thick...

... then he could understand why he had been a tad...hesitant... to ejaculate in his mouth.

Lex winced.

His theory, of course, would have to be proven. He began to pace again. Clark would never willingly admit to it, unless...

Lex felt himself hardening as he considered all the amative tactics he might employ to wrestle a confession from the ravishing lad, by whom he was becoming positively...


Was that it? Was that what he was?

No, not quite. He was... curious. Very curious. Especially after...

Lex stopped again, his eyes lidding halfway in reverie. He could still hear the tearing sound of fabric that had come just about the same time as...


The sound of his name being moaned in such an imperative timbre had been almost enough to make him lose it.

...and then he had been thrown halfway across the room...

Lex blinked. Oh yeah. There was that. He had been a little put off by that, and amazed at the force of the push that had sent him sprawling.

Most likely a result of arduous daily farm chores (hefting all those bales of hay and such), of course. Clark was rather strapping for a fifteen-year-old.

Perfect for the football team, but his over-protective parents would have none of that.

Lex absently placed his index finger along the side of his cheek. Who were Clark's parents really trying to protect; Clark or whoever had the misfortune of coming up against him on a playing field?

After all, he survived a car hitting him at 60 miles per hour.

He had indeed, though he'd never admit to that, either.

And why was that? A slow, devious smile crossed Lex's lips as he conceived of the possibilities, and how he was going to coerce Clark into revealing whatever it was he was doing such a poor job of hiding.

"Well hello, Clark."

Lex, moved away from the front door, not even trying to hide his insidious gaze as he allowed Clark to enter. It had been three days since he'd last seen him, half-undressed and flustered and gazing at him with the most feral look of need he'd ever seen, and he'd warned himself to have patience rather than stalking the boy like he wanted to.

"I...uh... left the produce around back," Clark said in a low voice, finding it difficult to look at him and furiously trying to push back the blush that he knew was becoming evident.

"That's fine, Clark. Thank you. Would you like something to drink?" Lex asked in the lowest husk of a voice he could produce.

Clark glanced up at him, suddenly more parched than he'd ever been in his life, and the look on Lex's face brought the blush full on. "Um... do you have any orange juice?"

Lex moved closer. So close Clark could feel his breath on the side of his neck as he spoke.

"Is that all you want?"

Oh, God.

"Sure you don't want something... stronger?" Lex studied his mouth as he said this, letting his gaze slowly burn its way up his face to his nose, the impossibly sculpted cheekbones, and finally to the widened pair of whatever-the hell-color-they-were-today irises that were trying desperately to avoid his.

Clark blinked, willing himself to look up and meet Lex's rapacious aqua-blues and at that moment almost forgot his own name. "Uh... no... I... I'm not old enough to..."

Lex gave him a nefarious smile. "I know how old you are, Clark," he said, looking through him, like a wild animal that hadn't eaten in weeks.

He suddenly shoved him roughly against the wall, yanking his shirttails out of his well-worn jeans. As Clark opened his mouth to protest, Lex's lips were firmly on his, his hands under the shirt, fingers pinching both nipples just hard enough to turn Clark's objection into a whimper.

This element of surprise might just get him some answers.

Slipping his tongue between his parted lips, Lex lapped at the roof of Clark's mouth, resulting in an additional whimper. He hastily unfastened Clark's jeans and dropped to his knees, including his boxers in his grip as he pulled them down. Clark's manhood was nearly completely at attention as he quickly slid his lips over it in a long, silky glide all the way to the base.

Clark's hips arched and his breath caught sharply. "Lex... God..." His head snapped back against the wall with a hard whump, rattling it and surely causing some damage. Lex either failed to notice or chose to ignore it, drawing on him with long, hard, unrelenting pulls, flicking his tongue rapidly against the slit, his hands caressing Clark's belly and chest.

Clark strained against his touches, sobbing aloud with the effort to retain control. How was he supposed to endure such exquisite agony? Already, he was very close to cumming... too close...

"Lex...stop..." he begged in a hoarse voice. He couldn't allow this. Even if he had to explain why. Even if it meant Lex would know his secrets. How sickly ironic it would be to have saved Lex from death only to have him ultimately meet his demise giving him head.

Lex drew back, slowly, torturously, allowing Clark to hear him wetly disengaging from his throbbing length. "What's the matter, Clark?" he asked. The kid was as taut as a drawn bow. As he let his stare bore into the rigid youth, the look of raw panic in his eyes alone confirmed his suspicions. "I only want to make you feel good." He allowed the full tease to enter his tone. "I just want to make you cum. Don't you want me to make you cum, Clark?"

Clark's let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "I...I...You can't..." he stuttered barely above a whisper, trying to calm the lust roaring in his ears.

"I want you to cum in my mouth." Lex gave the head of his member a teasing lick, and Clark quivered. "Please, Clark." Another lingering lick. "I need to taste you."

Clark swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut, unable to look into Lex's imploring gaze a second longer. "Lex... please..."

"Is there something you want to tell me, Clark?" Pause. "About the mattress, perhaps?"

Clark's eyes snapped open. "I... don't know what you're talking about." Clark said defiantly, but his voice had a timorous edge.

"Really. Hmm." Lex's expression turned to mock thoughtfulness, then grew serious. "I think you do." He took Clark into his mouth again, swallowing him whole, drawing on every bit of his considerable skill as Clark lurched and shuddered, continuing to utter weak, useless pleas for him to stop.

He did not, interestingly, make any attempt to physically stop him.

Lex moaned low in his throat, pulling back then drawing him deep again, feeling the steadily increasing tension in Clark's body, the tremulous contractions of the ridged abdominals, the heaving rhythm of his chest. He began to quiver more violently, and Lex could almost hear a low rumble from deep within him. He steeled himself to receive the eruption, finding himself wondering, morbidly, how it would feel as it ripped though his gullet. Would he die instantly? Or would he just wind up with the world's most inexplicable tracheotomy?

The organ jerked in his mouth, then...

An instant later, he felt a slight gush of air very close to his right ear...

Clark had barely managed his split-second retreat when he heard the crystalline shattering of expensive glass. His eyes widened to observe that exquisite vase he'd admired a few days ago, which probably cost more than the Kents' entire season's crop, in pieces on the floor.

His brows knitted in contrition as he stared at the destroyed vase and-oh, fuck-the small but quite evident hole in the plaster behind where it had been displayed. He felt a strong twinge of shame. Hadn't he done enough damage to his own house?

Lex also heard the crash, and looked sharply to his right. Clark was sitting on the floor against the wall only a couple of feet away, still breathing hard, his jeans and boxers still around his ankles. Lex closed his mouth, swallowed; he hadn't even had time to register Clark's withdrawal.

He looked towards the corner, which was just opposite from where Clark sat, eyeing the evidence of the bullet-like trajectory of his ejaculation. He slowly moved towards him, and when he was very close, asked in a low voice, "You want to tell me what the hell just happened?"

Clark rolled his gaze over to Lex without turning his head, the luminous spheres flashing briefly with alarm, then lowering as he tried to will his hammering heart to return to its normal rhythm.

He struggled to stand, trying desperately to think up some way to explain things as he pulled up his jeans and boxers and pulled up the zipper, noticing the button above it was missing.

"I... um...Maybe the button flew off of my jeans and hit the vase," he offered as a thought came to him.

Lex sat back on his haunches and put his fingers up to the ear that he had narrowly avoided losing. *I don't believe this shit. He's actually going to try to deny this*.

"You know, weird stuff like that can happen-"

"A button." Lex stood up and looked back at the shattered antique, then at the fractured plaster. His eyes returned to Clark, narrowing into a steely, suspicious gaze that Clark had hoped never to see directed at him.

Lex looked down at the floor, searching briefly and spotting the fallen copper object, lying directly at his feet. He squatted to retrieve it. "Even you can't possibly expect me to believe that, Clark." He threw the tiny article up in the air and waited for it to land on his open palm. "Try again."

Clark blanched, blinking, and finally lowered his head sheepishly.

Lex walked over to the bed, pulling back the covers to reveal the wrecked mattress. "And tell me you had nothing whatsoever to do with the defilement of this fine piece of furniture, either."

"Lex, I... I don't know what you want me to say." Clark stammered, approaching him, but Lex retreated a step.


"Go ahead, Clark. Tell me. Tell me your semen didn't just kill that vase and put a fuckin' hole in the wall. And while you're at it, try to convince me again that I didn't knock you off that bridge with my car. Go on, Clark. Give it your best shot." Lex folded his arms, waiting.

They stared at each other for what seemed like centuries, and Clark felt like he had just fallen into a 50-foot cavern where the walls were covered with oil and the floor was made of quicksand.

He couldn't tell him. He couldn't explain that he was "different." Confess about his bullet-sperm. Disclose how he could outrun Lex's Porsche. Divulge his x-ray vision. Reveal how he could rip the roof off of a car.

And, of course, there was the occasional floating in his sleep and the coming-from-another-planet thing. He couldn't imagine how Lex would handle that one.

"I'll pay for it, Lex," he said finally, unable to think of anything else. "All of it."

"I don't care about that and you know it." Lex took a step forward, his eyes flashing. "I just want the truth, Clark."

Clark lowered his head again, his insides coiling into a tight, trapped little knot. "I can't..." he choked in a near-whisper, uselessly.

"Can't what?"

Clark looked up, his gaze searching and deep, pleading.

-Please understand-

"Lex... I just... *can't*..." Clark repeated, his speech thick and broken, his eyes translucent with impending tears. Such obvious distress was almost enough to make Lex regret this exercise.


Lex knew he had him cornered and he wasn't backing down.

Not this time.

"You *won't*." He muttered thickly, backing away from Clark, then turning and flinging open the French doors to leave him alone in the vast space, wondering if whatever he might have had with Lex was over before it begun.