SV fic: WHEN I WAS LOST

[roxymissrose]

2

"Fuck…"

Clark moaned and shifted a bit, and Claude hit him, a sharp slap between the shoulder blades. "Quiet."

It was the tone of his voice, more than that quick, sharp slap, that made Clark's heart skip a beat, made his breath come faster. When it was like this, he was never quite sure if it was fear or arousal that made him breathless. The bracelet winked green on his wrist, the bracelet Claude had made for him, because he'd said there were times he needed Clark's mouth free.

Clark had no idea how he'd agreed to it-sometimes with Claude he found himself agreeing to things that he'd normally refuse. They'd gone together, to Claude's jeweler, with the crystal Clark considered his penance. The jeweler had complained: how ugly the stone, how hideous the color, how cheap, but apparently used to Claude's eccentricities, had simply taken a piece of it and went to work. In a much shorter time than Clark expected, he'd received a package containing a beautiful bracelet, with a sliding bar that concealed the green chip-polished, shaped and almost pretty. At the time it'd seemed…perverted, that such a terrible thing should have been shaped into something pretty. Maybe…Claude was trying to say something about Clark. Claude seemed to know without being told all sorts of things none of his other clients seemed to understand. It made Clark nervous. It made him want to tell Claude everything. Sometimes he felt like he never wanted to leave Claude's room, never wanted to take the bracelet off…..

Clark moaned and shifted under the weight of Claude's hand.

"I said be quiet." Claude went back to the thin razor in his hand. He drew another long loop along Clark's shoulder blade, and drew the blade back when a thin red line welled up and dripped. Claude watched the red line flow and when it began to thicken, he smeared fingertips across the red. "Beautiful." He stared at the smear of red and asked, "When you take the bracelet off, how long before it all goes away? Have you ever found anyone else like yourself? Do you think there are more like you? How far can I cut-how deep?"

Clark shook his head. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know.

~bBb~
Bruce led Clark into the room with a hand on his elbow and a smile on his face. "Act like you're happy to be here and we'll go for burgers after," Bruce muttered and Clark snorted. He nodded, and let Bruce imagine that Clark was indeed overwhelmed by the sight of so many starched shirts and designer gowns. Then again, he might actually believe it--Eric had set up Bruce's first dates, through an exchange of cards. He didn't move in the same circles Claude did-thank god, Bruce's rather mild and generally painless kinks marked him as a whole separate animal than Claude.

They ate, and Bruce introduced him as the son of an old college buddy, taking him under his wing as a favor to an old friend. Most nodded and professed themselves pleased to meet Clark, but there were two people he recognized that night-neither likely to let on they had an acquaintance. He vividly remembered the man who blushed and moved away quickly as politely possible-he remembered the john going down on him in a cheap hotel room, then blowing his load on the guy's pale, washed-out face. After, the guy squatted in the tub, babbling and apologizing for wanting it, while Clark peed all over him. Clark grinned at the man's rapidly departing back. Peeing on him had been interesting and mildly amusing for Clark, but had made the client come like a fountain without a hand on him. Clark shook his head. It had been an interesting night, but he remembered any night he didn't have to open the box so….

The other man had picked him up in those early days on the street-he was pretty sure he'd pretended to be a student down on his luck for that one…it seemed to fuel his fantasies, even though he'd just bent over and let the man fuck him in the alleyway. The guy smirked at Clark now, and Clark wondered if he should work up a blush and look ashamed but some little devil inside made him lick his lips and throw the guy a look instead. That one hurried off too-towards the bathroom with a look over his shoulder. But he was here with Bruce and the client was paramount as long as he was working-besides, random jobs like that jerk were a thing of the past. He took the glass of wine Bruce offered him and smirked, teen attitude firmly in place.

Clark sipped and smiled to himself…when he had been a teen, Clark would never have been the kind of kid Bruce wanted. Teenage Clark would have been overwhelmed here-probably would have ended up in the bathroom, vomiting from nerves. Clark leaned back against the chair and sighed. Teenage Clark wasn't far behind him in terms of age-but mentally, it felt like a million years ago.

Bruce of course picked up on Clark's slip, but thankfully, misinterpreted it as boredom. "I'm sorry, kid…it won't be long. As soon as my guest shows up, we'll finish business and we'll go do-whatever you want."

Clark grinned at him. "I hope that means we can go home so that you can fuck me through the mattress."

Bruce blushed faintly. "Um. You're blunt. But it sounds like a good plan."

Clark let himself blush and turn his eyes to the table, and Bruce chuckled, both of them pretending like Clark was a real kid who'd misspoke and embarrassed himself. Clark was still looking down at the table when a shiver went down his spine-more like a long wave of tingling heat. A scent like all the best smells in the world combined hit his nose, a scent like Eric and Bruce doubled-tripled-so good, it made his dick stir…

"Lex-there you are. Sit."

"Bruce…."

The voice made Clark shudder and wish he could jump up and leave because he didn't understand what was happening to him, something crazy. Frightening. He lifted his eyes and found a pair of grey eyes, framed with pale sparse lashes, locked on his. The almost invisible lashes and the cold, pale color of his eyes shouldn't have been as attractive as they were, but…Clark swallowed and looked at Bruce. Bruce frowned at him, at Lex. Lex just smiled at both of them, those predatory eyes not leaving Clark.

"Lex. Please sit down. Clark, this is Lex."

"Clark…what a pleasure it is to meet you."

~kCk~
"Hello, pretty boy-how did your date with Wayne go last night?"

Clark moaned, and laughed a little. "Bruce had a wild idea last night. Well, wild for him, I guess. His script last night was…cute, actually." Clark shifted the phone to his shoulder and opened the fridge, poked listlessly at what he found inside. Frowned. "He wanted to walk in on me, catch me in the 'act'."

"Act?"

"Catch me jerking off. It was fun, actually. I had to pretend be embarrassed at first, and then get into it. Make a show of it. He came just watching me, can you believe it?"

Eric laughed softly, "Well, Pet, imaging you doing it, yes I can very well believe it. Bruce is so buttoned down all the time that his time with you is…well, sort of a safety valve, no?"

"Mmm. He is a bit tightly wound. Still, he's sweet. He's kind of strangely…innocent," Clark laughed again, and said, "and not. There's something in his eyes sometimes-" Clark shivered a bit. "Maestro, as much as I'm enjoying your call, I have the feeling that you wanted to ask me something more than how my date with Bruce went."

"You're positively psychic, beautiful one. I have a proposal…Luthor the younger has been making subtle inquiries about you, very low key but very interested. I was very surprised, more so when he invited me to lunch the other day and asked me point blank about becoming a client. Now darling, I expect he wants more than that-he had that 'challenge' look in his eyes. So. What do you think, are you up for a meeting?"

Clark grabbed a sparkling water from the fridge and opened it. "Alexander Luthor?"

"Don't be coy. You want to meet him. You should meet him."

Clark walked out to the balcony and leaned against the railing. He watched the sun start to set. The rooftops below came alive with gold and crimson, deep purple shadows sliding across the brick and glass..."I should, hmm? You have something on your mind, don't you Maestro?"

"Oh, darling-only your happiness!"
Eric hung up on a laugh and Clark drank his water and watched the skies go darker.

~kCk~

Clark had been hanging in the web for ever and ever and ever, his head down and a gag buckled around his head. Padded blinders kept the light out, earplugs kept sound out…he'd lost all sense of place. Time expanded for him, under the blindfold the world felt huge and limitless, as if he were endlessly falling. Until a soft, wonderfully scented hand curled around his chin, traced his cheek gently, and covered his nose. Cut his breath off until his body's instinct to fight for survival kicked in and he began to buck and twist against the restraints. Still, he waited desperately for it to come again when it went away. Without Claude's touch there was nothing, nothing but pain….

His skin throbbed from the small pain of the neurological wheel nipping tiny bites into it. It throbbed along the paths Claude had skated it: down his ribs, over his hips, between his legs. He jerked and wobbled in the webbing and moaned wetly around the rubber clenched in his teeth…he'd released everything, put it all in Claude's hands. No way to call an end. Suddenly soft lips he recognized moved against his cheek, tiny wafts of warm air…they moved, stopped, moved, stopped…Clark nodded, uncertainly at first and then more frantically. Yes. Stop. Please.

Clark woke up in Claude's bed, Claude's intense gaze swept up Clark's neck, to the thick vein throbbing near the surface, to Clark's eyes. "Let me…let me cut you. Or let me brand you. Right here," Claude said and drove his thumb into Clark's jugular, hard enough that Clark saw stars, and felt the darkness creeping in around the edges of his consciousness. When he opened his eyes again, his head was cradled in Claude's lap, and Claude was brushing the hair away from Clark's eyes and he knew right then he couldn't see Claude anymore. Claude brought out something dark and twisted in him, something not driven by guilt but driven by want. And wanting this-this thing with Claude would kill him or kill Claude. Something in him wanted to jump into the void Claude showed him, wanted to let it pull him down and drown him. Claude looked down at him and something close to warmth swam in the cold, hard depth of his eyes. "Clark," he murmured. He stroked the line of Clark's shoulders, the arch of his neck.

Claude let him go, and Clark walked unsteadily to the suite's bathroom. He showered, using the wash and shampoo Claude liked him to use. He ignored the robe, rubbing himself dry with Claude's wonderfully thick, soft towels. He lingered in the bathroom, still feeling a little high, not willing yet to completely let go of the feeling of…flying. Falling. He slid the cover over the bracelet and the darkness receded. Finally he walked out of the bathroom and quickly dressed. Claude was waiting for him at his desk in the central room. He turned to face Clark. Frowned when he saw Clark was already dressed.

Clark held his hand out to Claude-he had the bracelet on his palm. "It's been interesting, as always, Claude. But we're finished here." The desire to drown in Claude's ocean of pain had faded with the bracelet being closed but looking at Claude always brought a whisper of that feeling back. "I mean that this is done…"
"Done, Clark? What are you saying?" Claude brushed Clark's hand aside and said, "Stay. Stay with me, I'll-I'll do more than pay you, you'd be comfortable for life. I want you to stay, Clark."

Clark shook his head, and tried again to hand the bracelet to Claude, who stared at it like it had suddenly come to life. "You know how this works, Claude-I can't stay. I don’t want to stay."

He jerked his head up, snarled. Clark thought for a moment that Claude was about to rush him but he spun on his heel instead. He opened a desk drawer and took out a stack of bills. Clark wondered what in the world he had been planning-they'd never physically exchanged money-none of his clients did. "I'm…Claude. It doesn't have to end on a bad note-"

Claude clutched the money in his hand, the tendons standing out taut against the backs of them. "Jesus-just. Get out. And take that thing with you. We'll talk about this another time--"

Clark said, soft and quick, "You know I'm not coming back."

Claude froze, so quickly that only Clark could have seen it. "Fine. Tell yourself that. When you come crawling back, I'll consider letting you." He turned to face Clark. "It's not a game, this, not like what you do for Wayne or Leher or any number of faceless, disgusting johns you spread for. This is you, Clark, this is who you are." Claude threw the bills at him and Clark laughed at the shower of money.

~kCk~

Clark trotted down the wet street, his hand over the money in his pocket and wondered if Claude was right. He didn't think so…not really. Maybe some small part of him craved it, but it wasn't his essential nature, it couldn't be. He hailed a cab, intending to go home but gave directions to Eric's studio instead.

He let himself into the large, dark space and hit the spots. He looked, really looked at himself in the overlarge prints on the wall. He stared at the way the needles in his skin became wings in one print, at the thick satin ribbon Eric had laced around the needles corset-style in another….he stared at all the different shapes and patterns. Without his face, it was hard to tell what was on his mind in each shot but the more he looked, the less he believed Claude. There was peace in these photos, he looked solid and centered and not the person Claude wanted him to be.

By the time he relocked the studio and headed home he was sure Claude was wrong. And he was sure he needed a new client. Alexander Luthor wanted to speak with him, very much so, Eric claimed…he'd ask Eric to go ahead and arrange a meeting.




~kCk~

The next afternoon found Clark still muzzy, tired in a way that was completely of the mind, his body had healed the minute he he'd taken the bracelet off, he was just….

He sighed and leaned back against the wire back of the bistro chair and waited for his new client. He wore his costume--dark, plain jeans, a white button down, leather sandals this time. He'd let his hair do what it wanted, it was a little wild and tangled but he had a suspicion that the client would like it. It was taking a chance considering what Eric had told him but…Clark got feelings sometimes, little bursts of intuition. He followed them and was seldom wrong.

Clark twirled the straw in his drink and looked around the plaza. People crowded the space, music, laughter and conversation filled the air. Clark could have listened to it all if he'd cared to, he could have heard the crack of an ice cube in a glass of water from across the square if he'd wanted to but he blocked it all out. It was all unimportant. He concentrated on appearing calm, relaxed. This was not a 'date', not yet; maybe not at all, Luthor was late and that wasn't exactly a check in the 'win' column….

He waited, nearly an hour past the time the client had chosen. He didn't mind, not really--he had nothing to rush off to, but it wasn't a good precedent to set. Clark stood, tossed a few bills on the table and started to leave when a slim, well-dressed man suddenly dropped in the chair opposite the one Clark had been sitting in.

"Sorry, I had a meeting-it ran over."

Clark nodded. "That can happen." He turned away, headed for the square.

"Hey-where do you think you're going?" The voice was annoyed and surprised. Clark turned back.

"I don't wait. I have clients, too. Wasting time waiting for you-" Clark shook his head. "I don't need you; I was only meeting with you as a favor to a friend."

Grey eyes narrowed, trained on him like a gun sight. "Do you know who I am…?" It was said half in arrogance, half in genuine curiosity.

Clark smirked. "In the circles I travel? Of course I know who you are, Alexander Luthor. Metropolis' favorite son, billionaire, and a man who…I guess doesn't own a watch. See you around."

"Damn it, I'm sorry-Eric said you wouldn't wait for me. Or anyone. Have to say, you're awfully full of yourself considering you're a whore. Or escort or whatever thing you call yourself."

Clark let the brief jab of hurt flow right over him like oil over a stone. He folded himself back into the wire chair and smiled. "I call myself a whore. My clients call me whatever helps to make it palatable for them."

"Palatable…my."

Clark sighed, and just stopped himself from rolling his eyes. "Are we going to trade insults or do business? I canceled on a client who's just as busy and important a man as you are. I thought you seemed interesting, I see I was wrong."

Luthor stared at him, an ugly mottled red flush spreading across his cheeks. "If we come to some kind of understanding, how does this work? What are your limits?"

Clark leaned back in the chair and licked his lips; let his knees open a bit. Luthor's eyes went to the spot of wet on Clark's lower lip. "That's open to discussion. Something we can discuss when--or if--we contract."

Luthor smiled. "Contract. It's so formal. So dry."

"Mr. Luthor, it's anything but dry. You spoke to my friend, so you have some idea of who I am. I'm sure you're heard of me otherwise." Clark knew he hadn't been forgotten in the clubs. "These days, I prefer a more…private arrangement. If you'd care for that…" Clark slid a card across to Luthor "…call me." He stood then and walked away.

As he passed through the square, he surprised himself by hoping that Alexander Luthor called him, and that was odd, he'd never felt quite that way with any of his clients, even Eric. He wondered what Luthor's script would be. A thin rush of excitement flitted through him. He wanted to know.

~kCk~

"How did it go?"

"Oh well, he's kind of an asshole…."

"But you were interested anyway. I know you. You always go after the puppies."

"He's hardly a puppy, more of a wolf, that one."

"Oh love. He's so a puppy and you're already involved. You want him to call."

"Stop thinking you know me. And stop pimping me out to your friends." There was a silence, so long that Clark wondered if he'd overstepped with Eric-he hoped not. He was awfully fond of him….

"Clark…it's…I'm not a pimp. You have a…you help. I introduce you to people who I think you can help. Or who can help you."

"Like Claude?"

"Like Claude. He was a gift just for you. You needed Claude. You don’t need Bruce, or me."

"Of course I need you, Maestro. You're my best friend."

"And yet, I'm going to give you up, my beautiful one. I'm about to open my hands and let you fly."

"Are you stoned? I'm not going anywhere, cheesy metaphors notwithstanding. I'm here, whenever you need me."

"Oh Clark. I don’t know. I had a dream you were flying away from me, but you were smiling. Well, bleeding too, but my mind is a melodramatic cesspool."

Clark laughed, "That's why I love you, Maestro."

"Well, you say that now…" Eric's voice was soft and fond and Clark felt a little curl of guilt in his gut. He suspected Eric had more feeling for him than he would admit. It was…one-sided. He loved Eric, admired him, enjoyed his time with him but…was never going to be in love with him-or anyone, ever. And he was fine with that.

~cLc~

"So, I was thinking figures for our contract, unless you had something in mind."
"If I contract to you exclusively, I'm losing three thousand to five thousand a month. I'd need to have that much-at the least. I'm also losing dates. I get two to three hundred a date…." Clark's head was spinning, as much for the outrageous situation he found himself in, as Lex's-fuck, Lex's presence. It was….

Lex nodded. "All right. I was thinking…thirty-five thousand at the half way point, the rest to come at the end of the year. If you pull out before then, of course you wouldn't get the full amount, depending upon…when you cancel the contract."

Clark sat back, cocked an eyebrow at Lex. He smiled, "I didn't expect to have an option."

Lex looked at him in surprise. "I'm not asking for a slave."

"Well, some do. I've always turned everyone down. I need my own time, space to be myself. I…don’t know why I'm even contemplating this." Clark expected Lex to smirk, preen, remark on his irresistibility but he just looked thoughtful, serious.

"I know," Lex said. "I felt it the instant I saw you but kept pushing it away. There's a feeling…like I need to get to know you…but it also feels as if I already know you."

"Hmm. I suppose...anyway, I'm glad there's a--an-" he hesitated and Lex did smirk at that.

"An out, you mean." He put a set of keys on the table. "These keys are to an apartment of mine, on the outskirts of the city. It's nice there, almost rural but an easy drive back into town. It's yours, afterwards. And yours if you cancel at any time. I'm making you give up everything and I'm not heartless. You'll have this place, and a car. At any time you decide the contract has run its course. But as long as you're under contract, you're mine, in all senses of the word. I decided everything, from what you wear to what you eat to what you do when."

Clark gazed at Lex from across the table, sipped at the coffee Lex had ordered for them both. "How is that different from slavery?"

"Because all you have to do is say, 'I don't want to do this anymore'." Lex shrugged. "That's it. Just tell me you don’t want it and it all stops." He reached across the table, took Clark's wrist in his hand, pressing the bracelet into his skin. "You can wear this or not. It will be your only choice the year you're with me."

Clark slid his hand out from under Lex's and played with the handle on his coffee cup. "What if family needs me?"

Lex shook his head. "Let's not begin with lies." He took a bite of his salad. "This is really very good, are you sure you won't have one? My treat."

"Thank you, no. And…you're right. I don’t have anyone, it's true. I've been on my own for a long time," Clark smiled.

"Mm-hmm," Lex said. "And if you agree, you'll have an obligation to some one else. That'll take some getting used to, for both of us. But you…fascinate me. I want to know things that an investigation won't reveal."

Clark sighed. "There's nothing to me but what you've seen. I'm a whore. I'm alone. There is nothing more."

Lex pushed his barely touched plate aside and stood. "There's always something more. Call me when you decide." He smiled, bent over gracefully and kissed Clark's cheek, a brush of the lips, soft and fleeting. "Until then."

Clark watched him leave, his fingertips grazing his cheekbone. There was something dangerous about Lex, but also, something too attractive. From the moment they'd met, Clark felt this…magnetic pull towards Lex. He also realized that he'd decided the moment he agreed to the first meeting with Lex. Saying no had never really been an option. But…he didn't have to say yes right away. He pulled out his phone and punched a number. "Maestro. Are you busy? Good, give me a half hour to get there."

~kCk~
Le paid to have Clark's apartment packed up and the boxes that were to be put in storage sat at the door, awaiting the movers. Lex had made an odd point that Clark bring nothing and he'd complied--had let almost everything go, gave most of it away. He'd only kept his books, some clothes, his pictures, all of it packed in this bare handful of boxes and in the bottom of one, in a beautiful wooden box a client had given him-he'd tossed the blow but kept the box--was what was left of the necklace. He sighed, thinking of the necklace and how it had more or less led him here. He turned the bracelet on his wrist. With so much changing, he found his mind on the past without the slightest bit of fond nostalgia. All that he'd done, everything he'd gone through, and it came down to this, his whole "new" life, packed into a couple of boxes, about to go into storage.

Not much to show for his two years in his dream apartment.

He took a look around the empty rooms and smiled. His first "dream apartment" would have fit in this one easily. Apparently his next apartment was large enough to swallow this one and have room for another. He shook his head. He'd never have expected this that first week on the streets, vomiting in dumpsters, his mouth thick and bitter with the taste of strangers…he frowned and tugged hard on his bracelet. He never liked thinking back on those days. He'd been so alone, so confused and scared and angry, lost and wanting to believe that someone was going to save him. And in a way, someone had. Eric had done the best he could do for him. As much as was possible, Eric was a friend. Like Bruce. He'd developed a real fondness for both of them. Claude…Clark frowned harder. Claude might have been a miscalculation on Eric's part. No fault of his-how could he have known what mixing Claude and Clark together would create?
~kCk~
FALL
"This is your home for the year," Lex said, dropping his keys onto a tray in the entrance way. "This is the only apartment on the floor. I like space, and I like living alone." He turned to Clark. "I liked living alone…lately I've been." He shrugged. "I'm not sure what I want. I consider this to be an experiment."
An experiment? Clark looked Lex up and down, eyebrows raised, and smirked. "You do know hiring a whore isn't exactly the same as having a relationship, don't you? It's not going to prepare you for much of anything-"

"I'm aware." Lex cut in. When he spoke again, he looked thoughtful, and Clark wondered just what it was Lex was thinking. "I'm perfectly aware that this whole 'thing' represents a power imbalance…though in some ways…" he stopped short and glared at Clark."You know, you really don’t need to refer to yourself as a whore constantly."

Clark smiled. "How about companion? Entertainment? Or--your friend Bruce likes 'buddy'." Clark grinned and Lex glared impossibly harder.

"How about you don't mention Bruce again, or any of your other clients. It…"

"Reminds you of my profession?" Clark lost interest in baiting Lex and turned to look over the apartment. It was pretty much standard décor for Lex's set. Polished wood floors, hand-printed wall-coverings, wool rugs scattered here and there, leather and steel furniture-the average filthy rich bachelor pad. Everything by a designer's book, right down to prints and plants meant to represent a personal touch. Clark tilted his head. There really was nothing about the place that said, 'Lex Luthor lives here'. "Can I see the kitchen?"

Lex looked surprised. "All right. Do you cook?"

"Sometimes, I'm not very good but it's…relaxing. I. I bake," he said and waited for Lex to laugh at him.

"Do you really? My cook rarely makes anything like a dessert, Dad's order-I mean--can you make oatmeal cookies? I enjoy oatmeal cookies occasionally." he said and sounded so wistful that Clark turned to look but by the time he turned, Lex's expression was bland and smooth and totally uninterested. "You surprise me. I wouldn't imagine baking being useful skill in your profession."

"My profession, sure." Clark said and forced the sting out of Lex's words. He was going to have to watch himself around Lex. The first way to lose yourself was to care too much about what a client thought outside of sex. A small part of the reason he'd decided to take on this year-long job with Lex was that he'd been beginning to care too much about Bruce and starting to feel conflicted in his friendship with Eric. Lex had seemed the perfect outlet, notwithstanding Eric's ridiculous assertion that Lex wanted more than exclusive sex and some--kink he hadn't yet admitted to. Clark hoped that he hadn't made a mistake. He shook off melancholy thoughts and turned to Lex. "Speaking of my profession, where's the bedroom?"

Lex smirked and turned in a way that struck Clark as being incredibly graceful. An unexpected flare of desire flashed through him, a wish to see that grace applied to himself. He could feel his cheeks warm a bit, and quickly took control, pushed that inconvenient thought away. He needed to see what Lex's script was first.

Lex led the way to a suite dominated by a bed, a truly monstrous bed, big enough to contain Lex and a football team. There was what seemed to be a wall of closets broken by double doors leading to a bathroom. Facing the bed was a small sitting area and another set of doors that opened to a glass enclosed balcony. Light was everywhere, lending the entire room a sunlit glow and Clark felt an answering burst of light inside. This was…a good place. A warm place.

"Nice," Clark said.

Lex raised an eyebrow at him. "Thanks. This is my room. I'll show you yours."

Clark was surprised. He'd thought that he'd be in Lex's bed…well, Lex had yet to reveal his script so….

Lex led Clark back out to the living room, past the kitchen, down a narrow hallway and into what looked like another apartment. There was a small living area, a tiny kitchenette and a bedroom, not quite as large as Lex's but a good deal bigger than the one in his recently abandoned apartment had been. The bed was also bigger than his own had been, and Clark liked that. The bathroom held a tub deep enough that he'd be able to soak, and a shower that he'd be able to use without parts of him constantly grazing the walls. He smiled. Okay. This was odd, but it looked promising. He'd not been certain whether he'd be allowed privacy. This was a good sign.

"Through there are the rooms that staff use when they're asked to stay, which isn't often. There's also a laundry room and pantry, I'm pretty sure…"

"Is this your private apartment?" Clark asked.

Lex shrugged. "You can get cleaned up if you like," he said, not answering Clark's question. "Take some time to get familiar with your rooms."

Clark nodded, knowing he'd been pretty much dismissed. He shut the door to his suite and noted that there were no inside locks on any of the doors within the rooms put aside for him. The living room had a TV, and whatever gadgets folks bought to go with their TVs. Clark had no real interest. His own television was small, low tech and hardly used. He was a reader. He felt a hot, tight, flash of regret for his books; it would have been nice to have old friends with him. There was a bar flanking the TV, facing that a smaller version of Lex's leather and steel couch. Clark frowned-too short and too much metal to be comfortable for him. There was no dining set, just a breakfast bar that separated the kitchenette from the living area. It wasn't very well stocked but he was sure Lex would allow for that. In fact, he found a list on the black granite countertop--whatever items you need, list them and it will be taken care of. Clark nodded. Just what he expected of Lex.

The bedroom was clean, almost Spartan but in a way that appealed to Clark. It held only a bed and night stand, the bathroom was stocked with various items that he'd need, including a disturbingly well-stocked first aid kit….

In the large closet that took up one wall, Clark found clothing, all of it his size, footwear of a dizzying variety. None of it was his. Lex had apparently already spent thousands of dollars on clothing he wanted to see Clark in. There was a mahogany valet set off to the side of the dressing room with what Clark assumed was clothing Lex had selected for him to wear this evening. Clark shrugged. He was getting some idea of the script, now.

There was another room, and Clark stepped inside, wondering what it could be. He found a small office-lines walled with shelves full of books and that made Clark smile. There was a desk with a laptop set up on it, and everything a person with an addiction to stationary stores could possibly want. It made Clark laugh softly. He sat in the chair by the desk and groaned-the damn thing was unbelievably comfortable and he got a quick flash of Lex riding him in the chair. He blushed, but then figured, what the hell…he dropped the guards he'd put up the minute he'd seen Lex again and just…reveled in the man's scent, enjoyed what it did to him, imagined having Lex spread open on the fabulous chair, wild eyed and panting for it, begging Clark to suck him in. Clark imagined his taste, how hard he'd come…his eyes flew open; his breath coming a bit faster and he was half-hard in his jeans, and wholly annoyed. Damn it…Clark shook his head. This was going to be more work than he'd imagined….

Lex sent for him and he wore the clothing he'd found. Lex didn't smile but it was in his eyes-they darkened when Clark stepped in the room.

"Sit." Dinner was laid out and Clark sat. Lex served himself and Clark. Clark waited until Lex gave him permission to eat.

"Clark," he drawled, "Eric told me how smart you were, how intuitive, that you could tease out a client's desires in a few heartbeats. I wanted to test that."

Clark dropped his eyes and blushed. Having complete control over his body made that blush a simple thing to do. "I see."
"I think you already know what I want. And what I don't want. I'm not wanting a-a friend, a relationship. I'm wanting staff at my beck and call, twenty-four seven, you understand? I don't want to wait the time it takes for a cab to arrive at my door when I have an itch."
Clark nodded and kept his eyes on the plate. Lex wanted what Bruce had wanted without the pretense of friendship. He wanted an inexperienced, awed by his surrounding, boy. Which didn't jibe with his enjoyment of Clark's sarcastic give and take…what did he really want?

He lifted his head to meet Lex's eyes and said, "Whatever you want. You paid for it." And Lex smiled.

"Yes, yes I did. So…" he pushed back from the table, food ignored and said, "I think you should earn it."

"Yes sir," Clark said, he rose from the table in one smooth move-copied from Lex. He moved down the length of the table with as quickly and gracefully as he could, sank to his knees in front of Lex. He licked his lips, swallowed as if he was a little nervous and reached out for the button on Lex's pants. Eased it open, the zipper down, and revealed completely bare skin so smooth it didn't look real; it had a slight sheen that captured his eyes and fascinated him. He'd thought the smooth even texture of Lex's skin was makeup but now he saw his whole body was that smooth and almost featureless; all of him possessed that slight marble-like sheen. Here, on his knees and close to Lex's dick, the scent that curled though Clark's body and mind intensified and his mouth flooded with saliva. He moaned inside his closed mouth and pushed his nose into the open vee of Lex's pants. He kissed along the slight swell of stomach revealed, hooked his fingers into the waistband of the pants, gently slid them down until they were even with the waist of some sinfully tiny and mostly pointless underwear. Clark chuckled, ignored Lex's quiet, offended huff. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss against Lex's warm skin, drew his lips across it, moaned as the wonderful scent intensified, flooded his senses….

"Shit…" Lex whispered. "You like this, don’t you? You want this…"

Not this, Clark thought, he just wanted…needed Lex. His fingers twitched, and he bowed his head. "Can I?"

"Shit, yes, do it," Lex rasped. "Suck me, now-just-" whatever he was going to say broke off as Clark yanked the pants down and under Lex's ass, beyond gentleness or patience now. His dick fell into Clark's aching fingers-they wrapped around the perfect weight and shape and feel of Lex's dick. He ran his nose up the length, and then worked his tongue down towards his bare, sleek skin, and then was running fingers over and over Lex's balls, learning their silken weight, the warm and above all the intoxicating scent of him…he groaned and opened his mouth over Lex's dick, screwed his mouth down until the head was blocking his throat-felt the head push past any resistance and into his throat. He stopped to calm himself and force breath through his nose. Lex was babbling, streams of filth and nonsense that should have made Clark laugh but instead had him leaking and twitching in his expensive pants.

"I'm going to fuck your throat-"

Clark groaned around Lex and Lex shouted, lifted his hips from the chair and grabbed handfuls of Clark's hair-began shoving his dick in hard and fast, fucking into Clark's throat in a way that would have had anyone else choking. As it was, Clark's eyes watered, drool coated his chin and dripped onto Lex's skin, he rocked on his heels with the force of it and his own dick was so hard, so ready that it hurt. Lex grunted and cursed and fucked harder and Clark felt it right down to his balls. Drool and precome filled his mouth and he swallowed and Lex screamed-Clark could feel the crown swell in his throat every time he swallowed and he quivered and shook and his dick twitched so hard he thought, for a second, that he'd come…

He reached under Lex and swirled his finger around the tight pucker of his hole and when it opened and almost sucked his finger in, he did come.

Lex gasped, tried not to work himself down on Clark's finger but when Clark moaned, sucked harder and writhed against his leg, he threw his head back, began cursing low and hoarse as he lost it completely. Clark tried to open even more as Lex shot hot and thick down his throat. It was the most intense feeling he'd ever experienced outside of Claude's rooms. When he came back to himself, he had his hands planted on Lex's thighs, waiting as Lex too came down slowly. Being this close to Lex was a like living a dream and Clark made the most of it, just taking in his scent, sucking and licking at him until Lex shoved him away.

"Ah-enough!" He dropped against the chair back and stared at Clark, and Clark could just imagine how fucked out he looked-he felt totally fucked out, dripping wet, hair plastered against his face, chin still wet and his pants rumpled and damp at the crotch. He took a shaky breath and waited for Lex to direct the next step….

"You should take your plate with you when you go to your rooms," Lex said, "No sense letting good food go to waste." And then he got up and left, went to his bedroom without a backward glance.

Clark sat stunned, on his knees and staring at the empty chair. He'd never felt like that--ever, not with Bruce, not even with Eric. Had never come that way before, not even when he'd first discovered his dick and all it took was the touch of his hand and intent to get him off….

Clark stared at the empty chair. He was-furious. Worse, he didn't even know why.

In the morning he woke up to a fresh outfit laid out for him, the smell of coffee in Lex's part of the apartment. He showered and dressed and went out to greet his boss, his hair still dripping because he had a feeling Lex would like it. He met Lex in the hall, but Lex barely glanced at him. He had a cup of coffee in one hand and a briefcase in the other.

"There's coffee, food-Cook will make you something else if what's there doesn't appeal to you." And with that he was gone. Clark gaped after him. What the hell had just happened?

The man was spending thousands to…keep his cook company? Clark didn't expect them to be great friends but this…this was odd. No, this bordered on fucked up. He wanted to call Eric but he had no phone. He had no car, no money, not a damn thing that belonged to him, not even the underwear he wasn't wearing because he thought Lex might want to-damn it. Clark shook his head, confusion making him angry.

There was no way Lex had to honor that contract if he broke it in a day-he also had to consider that though Lex couldn't actually stop him breaking it, Clark was sure he'd tank his business and he didn't like the idea of starting over in a new city. He had no doubt that Eric notwithstanding, Lex could-would--ruin Clark's business in Metropolis easily.

Clark walked into the huge kitchen and the woman in a crisp uniform, standing stiffly by the fridge, gave him a cold glance. "There are prepared pancakes, bacon, an egg over easy; Mr. Luthor seemed to think you'd enjoy that. There is fresh fruit also," the cook said without making eye contact with Clark.

Clark smiled at her anyway, and said as warmly as he could, "It sounds like my favorite breakfast, Miss…Mrs.….?"

She made no response except to say, "If that will be all?"

Clark felt oddly dismayed by her lack of response-normally he didn't give a shit what people thought, whores developed a thick skin pretty quick if they wanted to survive. Clark was angry with himself for feeling anything. Damn Lex. He dismissed her with a breezy wave and a smirk. "Thanks for this. Have to keep my strength up, right?"

Her eyes were as cold as when he entered and there wasn't a trace of emotion on her face. "If that's all-"

He shrugged. "I'm good."

Moments later, he heard the front door open and close. The silence in the apartment was fog thick. He frowned and carefully sampled what was on his plate. It was good-perfect eggs, fluffy pancakes that were almost as good as his mom's and reminded him of Sunday and being lazy and safe and. Fantasies.

He picked it apart, slowly ate half of it and knew he should have eaten less than that. Not if he wanted to keep his shape, not if he was expected to eat dinner with his-with Lex this evening.

cLc

After breakfast he absolutely did not hide out in his suite. He rearranged things to suit himself, killing some time, before looking over the books in the shelf. He was mildly disturbed to see that half of them were copies of books he owned. It was probably ridiculous for him to be affected by that but it made him uncomfortable to think that Lex might have picked through his belongings. Lex was already taking so much….

When Lex came home that evening, he called Clark in to dinner. Clark wore a fresh outfit that of course Lex had selected for him, and once again dinner was…postponed. Lex had him get on his knees and blow him--again, and walked away--again, though this time after eating his dinner. Clark sat through soup, salad, entrée and coffee in clammy, come-drenched trousers before he was dismissed.

The next day was a repeat of the first, and the day after that. And the next. For days he had breakfast with The Ice Queen, read brand new copies of books he'd read before, waited for Lex to come home at which time he redressed Clark, had sex and dinner and Clark was about to explode. He'd had more interaction playing sex doll for Claude than this….

"Clark," Lex said, and pushed away from the table. Smirked when Clark stood, only Clark didn't ease his way down the length of the stupidly long table, this time he stomped towards Lex and let every bit of his frustration and anger show. He had a long fuse, but like Jonathan Kent, he had one hell of a temper once that fuse was lit.

"What do you want from me, Lex?" Clark felt satisfaction at the fear--quickly suppressed-that made Lex's eyes lighten, his pupils shrink, and then blow wide as Clark loomed over him, bracketed him with hands spread wide on the chair's arms.

"Clark, what I don't want is you in my space like this-back away."

"No," he said, and dropped to the floor. He shouldered between Lex's knees, and yanked his zipper down so hard and fast that Lex yelped and had to grab at the chair to keep from sliding off. Under the straining fabric, Lex was hard, blood red and like hot steel in Clark's hand. Clark didn’t bother teasing, he just said, "Go ahead, fuck my mouth," and opened it over the head of Lex's dick and Lex moaned, grabbed handfuls of Clark's hair and shoved Clark down.

Clark's stomach flipped and churned, he was too aroused, to the point it was overwhelming. He hardly recognized what he was feeling. Lex inside of him, Lex controlling him, whether he breathed or not, how he moved…he shuddered and moaned, and Lex pulled him up and then down again with a sharp jerk. His dick popped into Clark's throat and stilled there. Clark gagged and gagged, tears spilled out of his eyes, saliva ran from the stressed corners of his mouth, over his chin-

Clark found when he managed to clear his eyes and lift them to Lex's that Lex wasn't even there with him. Lex's eyes were narrow slits trained on some distant spot. He held his lip between his teeth, no, he was biting down, so hard the flesh was white, and then a wash of pink tinted his teeth, and he was straining up, trying to get deeper. Clark wasn't afraid-not breathing for a few minutes would hardly kill him-he'd dug his way out from under the ruins of his parent s farm with dirt in his mouth and lungs and-and it hadn’t killed him, couldn’t kill him-Lex jerked and came, so suddenly it spilled back out of Clark's mouth. Lex pulled back, still coming when he pulled out, splattered Clark's chin and throat. This time he leaped out of his chair and ran from the room, trying to adjust himself as he did. Clark folded until his forehead rested on the chair seat, drawing in shaky breaths, struggling to calm the trembling racking him. He wiped the back of his hand across his chin. His hand shook so bad he just made more of a mess….

Screw Lex, he was going to break the contract, he thought. He was still thinking he would break it as he stood under a hard, hot flood in the wonderfully spacious shower that was supposed to be his for the year. He let the rush of water needle warmth into his skin. The damn contract--Luthor said that he could break it at any time. Still get the apartment, the car…whatever money he'd deposited in his account….Clark smacked his head against the tiles, jumped when they creaked. He felt a ripple of uncomfortable guilt when he saw cracks spidering across one of the glass tiles. He stomped out of the shower, glowering. What the fuck was wrong with him? This was unacceptable; he was acting like he was fourteen all over again. He flung open the bedroom door and stumbled to a stop. Shit!

Lex was sitting on the edge of the bed. He glanced at Clark before looking down again and Clark thought he looked almost…embarrassed. He rose off the bed, holding out his hand. Something balanced on Lex's palm. A phone. "I thought…you might want this. It's the latest-"

"I want my own phone back."

"This one's better, yours was a joke-it was three years old at least! This is the latest model, it does-"

"I really don't care what it does. I'd like my phone back please."

"Clark-this-you will take this one."

Clark crossed his arms and his towel fell. He ignored the slight chill, frowned harder and said, "I. Want. My. Phone."

Lex's eyes went wide-his gaze tracked from Clark's ankles to his dick and froze there for a moment until he blinked hard, and frowned. "Well, that's impossible," Lex snapped, "All your old stuff is-is--gone." He threw the flashy, bright, brand new phone that no doubt no one else had yet, on the bed, didn't even turn to watch it bounce. Impressive, Clark thought. "Use this one, or don't, I don’t care." He walked swiftly, stiffly, from the room.

Clark picked up the phone and stroked it with his thumb, staring thoughtfully at the closed bedroom door. He had the script now. He looked down at the phone and smiled. "Gotcha," he murmured.

There was a possibility that this was going to be fun.

part three