Rating: NC-17
Characters: Lex and Clark
Summary: AU smut.
A/N: Written very quickly, and therefore is likely to be heavy on the mistakes. Actually, my computer was time-travelling and I didn't realize, so I believed it when it said that tomorrow was astrea9562's birthday. So, happy early birthday!!!



The finely striped line of the starched collar bit into golden skin as Lex pulled the silk tie taut.  A tiny gasp escaped the reporter’s lips, but it was quickly overridden by a guilty twist of his expression.  The reporter – Kent – lifted his left hand and used it, with gleaming wedding band, to loosen Lex’s grip.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” said the reporter in a voice that was none too steady, “but I think you’d better stop.”

It was as though Kent were doing a bad impression of that alien in blue tights which plagued Lex’s city; the voice was broken and the words were slightly too wooden, or maybe not wooden enough.  Lex cracked a grin and bit at the corner of the reporter’s jaw, kicking the stall door closed and then resuming his grip on the other man.

“I’m doing exactly what you wanted me to do, all through that press conference,” Lex replied easily, enjoying the contrast of his own confidence against Kent’s nerves and desire.  “I saw you.  I always see you.”

Kent couldn’t suppress a slight shudder at this admission, and Lex rewarded the slip of self-control with another harder bite, closing his teeth on the taut angle of bone and drawing them over late-afternoon stubble.  “You see me?” he asked, letting Lex move in closer, close enough for the merest brush of Lex’s hip against something hard and insistent, something far more sure of itself than the reporter was.

“I watch you,” Lex elaborated, and slid two fingers between shirt buttons under the tie, feeling hot silky skin.  “I watch you watch my mouth.”

Kent’s left hand, previously defensive, now turned traitor as well, smoothing gently over Lex’s mouth.  Lex caught Kent’s pinkie and let Kent watch this, watch Lex sucking and licking so close to that badge of homosexual repression, the gold band of propriety.

Kent wasn’t protesting anymore, not with words.  He pulled his finger out almost violently, but just as quickly, lost control again, and his wide hungry mouth descended, his broad hands pulling Lex in with sudden urgency.

There was no mystery now, not with Kent’s hips pushing towards Lex, no mystery whatsoever about what Kent wanted or when.  Lex let Kent push on his shoulders for a moment, taking the time to unknot the tie and tease open the striped shirt, taking another moment on the way down to greet each of Kent’s nipples, to rim his navel.  Kent didn’t properly appreciate these attentions, judging from the increasingly forceful way he was pushing Lex to the floor.

“Did you imagine this?” Lex asked.  “When I was talking about the defense department contract we secured?  Were you thinking about me sucking your cock?”

Kent had been thinking exactly that.  Lex could tell by the way Kent immediately opened his own trousers, fumbling and shaky.  And the scent of the reporter, the sight of the dark spot that must have been spreading on his boxers through the whole press conference, was almost enough to force Lex to surrender his control, too.  Lex pressed the heel of his hand against his own cock, glancing up to see that Kent had closed his eyes, licking a fine sheen of perspiration from his upper lip, the sign of a man who is either very ill or very aroused.

“Show it to me,” Lex ordered.  “Show me what you have for me.”

Kent blinked his eyes open, as though there was some confusion about what Lex meant, but he quickly tugged at his boxers and they fell to the floor, puddled with Kent’s trousers on the tiles.  Kent’s cock was heavy and flushed, his whole body straining to this single point.  For an instant, Lex imagined Kent tied to his bed, this beautiful man as his plaything, ringless and wanton and able to be this person outside the confines of a LuthorCorp toilet stall.  But Lex blinked the image away, and focused on what was in front of him, because there was no point in indulging the fantasy.  What he had now was all he would get, all he needed, in point of fact.  Lex’s obsessions were much more safely focused when he was infatuated with someone or something not so temptingly simple to own and destroy.  Superman was a better target than a lowly closeted muck-raker.

But his cock went down Lex’s throat like silk, like water and like something hot and hard and absolutely essential to survival.  Lex felt Kent’s thighs tighten, felt the reporter trying not to lose all sense, not to fuck Lex’s mouth raw.  Lex drew back and then went down again, consumed with the most basic of Freudian pleasures, the pleasure of fullness, of satiety.  Kent’s head tilted back hard enough to crash against the stainless steel partition, the noise momentarily drowning Kent’s frantic breathing.

Deeper.  Faster.  Kent’s cock sliding down Lex’s tongue, Kent’s fingers clamping on his shoulders hard enough to *hurt*, dammit, but it was so good.  This was what Lex had been thinking about at every press conference for months, this moment of completion when Kent needed Lex this much, so much that it made Kent’s breath escape in tinny shallow wheezes.  Lex tuned his hearing more finely, and listened to the messy sounds of his own breathing, his movement, the wet click of his mouth against skin.  Lex’s cock was hard, so hard, but that would wait.  Right now, Kent needed to be full, too.

He had never had a finger in his ass before.  He even made some motion to stop Lex, but Lex moved quickly and hit Kent’s prostate in time to deactivate all rationality.  Lex pictured the sterile and perfunctory sex Kent must have, he and his picture-perfect little wife from some useless town in Buttfuck Kansas, the way Kent probably held himself over the wife like a hovering angel, like a monument or a firmament or maybe a suffocating blanket, the way she would dutifully fake an orgasm, the way he would dutifully fake his, squeezing his eyes shut and thinking of – of Lex.

Lex’s mouth and fingers working in tandem now, and Kent’s grip had abruptly gone from ragingly fierce and painful to slack and trembling.  He was close.  He was shouting, short sharp bursts of almost-hurting noise, as though he was close to screaming or death.  Lex drew Kent in as far as he could and sucked, holding Kent’s cock still while Lex’s fingers pumped in and out of Kent’s ass, hard, vicious, unforgiving.

Lex looked up, eyes rolled up in his level head like a medieval saint, just in time to see Kent come.  His messy hair was sticky with sweat, his mouth open and wet, his eyes open but unseeing, his brows drawn with agony.  Lex felt the orgasm after he saw it, two separate points of pleasure, visual climax and then oral, Lex’s own eyes fluttering closed to concentrate on tasting and feeling.

Kent’s stomach muscles were still twitching when Lex shook himself out of his daze and clambered to his feet.  Fast, this had to be fast before Kent began to feel that band tightening on his finger.  Lex turned Kent by the shoulders, slamming him against the partition, and opened his own pants, settling his cock in the hot groove of Kent’s buttocks.  It wouldn’t take long, not the way Lex was feeling, but he needed Kent to stay muzzily compliant for – oh, Christ – about a dozen more thrusts, Lex’s hands pinioning Kent’s wrists against the steel like the Vitruvian Man.  Kent’s ass crack was slippery with sweat, and that helped, that made it faster, better.  God, Lex wanted *in*, he wanted more than this shallow half-embrace, more than this harried race, but no, this was what it was and Lex didn’t need more, didn’t need more than what he had, no more than this unsatisfying and slippery-fast headlong tilt into – Kent’s back muscles tightened, and he was tugging at Lex’s grip, and it had to be now.

Now.

Lex reached down and gave himself one hard stroke, stepping back just enough to watch himself come in messy spurts on Kent’s ass.  Kent jolted at the hot splash, but he didn’t turn until it stopped, tense and still and a study in post-coital regret and self-disgust.

Lex retreated to the opposite wall to sag into relaxation, giving Kent enough room to maneuver himself into order and clothing again with eyes averted.

“You think it’ll be better now,” Lex said, zipping up his own pants and buckling his belt.  “Now that we’ve fucked, you think you’ll get over it, right?”

Kent wouldn’t look up, wouldn’t answer, just stared down at his fingers while they buttoned the striped shirt, knotted the silk tie.

“But next time,” Lex said, reaching for the stall door’s lock, “it’ll be even worse.  Because you’ll know what it’s really like.”

Kent had no idea, not like Lex did.  Unfulfilled fantasy was always safer than the other variety.  It was lucky for Lex that he had chosen such an unspectacular specimen to fulfill his own fantasies, he mused as he glanced in the mirror on his way out of the bathroom.  Unlike poor clumsy Kent, Lex wouldn’t feel the desire to do this again.

Up close, the reporter didn’t actually look that much like Superman.