Deal part four
8/29/06 01:47 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyTitle: Deal
Fandom: SV
Pairing:Clark/Adam
Rating: 4
previous parts of Deal
Adam stood at the open study window, watched Clark shuffle up the driveway, book bag slapping against his back, and sighed. He looked bad. Weeks had passed and Clark seemed to be wearing away, bit by bit. The dreams were getting worse and worse, Clark told him, and he could see it even from here, see it in the line of his shoulders. Poor guy. It was weird, the worse the dreams got---the harder it was for him to stay awake.
He called his associate and asked if he’d mind chairing the meeting with the stockholders by himself, told him an emergency had come up. Again. The man reluctantly agreed.
“Hey Harry, I have absolute faith in you, as does the board. They know who’s really running the show, right?”
Harry had hung up after wringing a promise out of him to keep his absence as brief as possible. “I understand that things come up, obligations that can’t be put aside, but I do need you to be onboard with us. The board members need a show of solidarity, Adam.”
He sighed. Harry was such a worrywart. Thank god he’d agreed to take on the reins of LexCorp, or it wouldn’t exist, except as an afterthought of LuthorCorp. He had no idea why he was driven to keep Lexcorp healthy—he just knew he needed it to be. It’s be losing to Lex’s father if it wasn’t.
Clark was at the doorway, tapping gently on the frame. “Adam! I’m so glad you’re here. Are you busy, can I come in?”
Adam came up to him, and kissed him, light, chaste as always, and as always, felt a wave of warmth flood him, running from his mouth to pool in his dick. The fleeting touch of Clark’s lips just begged him to bite and nibble and lick…. He pulled back, and licked his lips; he could never kiss Clark without wanting to touch his own mouth, to feel the heat. “You know, Clark,” he said a little breathlessly, “This is your place, you don’t need my permission to enter any room.”
Clark smiled, and rubbed his cheek against Adam’s before stepping into the room. Adam swore to himself. God, the kid must have driven Lex half insane. No wonder….
“I know, you keep telling me.” He sat on the couch and grinned up at him. “And telling me.” Clark was in a good mood and that was great, but physically, he was a mess. Pale, drawn, wide dark blotches under his eyes, and from the way his collarbones stuck out, he obviously hadn’t been eating. Again.
“Clark…”
He let out a tired sigh. “Please, Adam, just let me lay down, I need some sleep, just a little. I promise I’ll eat after that.”
“Okay—but I’m waking you up in an hour and you’re definitely going to eat. And after that, we sit outside, okay, get a little sun. You look like a frog’s belly. By the way—I’m here for the week.”
Clark’s eyes lit up, and for a moment he flushed a healthy pink, his lips were red, and his eyes—that sparkling green of a wild ocean. Adam knew again why Lex had fallen for him. He was an Adonis, Clark. Just amazing…and just as suddenly, the color rushed out of his face, and he lay back, as if the emotion had exhausted him. He whispered, “I hate sleeping, Adam, I hate to sleep, but I see him then…”
He was out, snoring lightly and Adam sat on the couch next to him. He lifted Clark’s feet and laid them across his lap, and watched him.
******
When next Lex woke, it was to a new place, to an apartment, a lovely place, carpeted floors, papered walls, drapes and…what happened to the cell?
He jerked to his feet, tripping and stumbling, caught in sheets and surprised by the height of the bed. And it was a real bed—not a cot. It was wide, and the sheets weren’t hospital harsh and faded blue—these were fine quality sheets. He touched them and they were so delicious against his fingertips, he groaned, experienced a miniature sensory overload. They even smelled good—he rubbed his face in the linens and groaned again—whirled around. He blushed deeply, embarrassed that they’d seen him react like a fool.
He blinked. There was no window.
There were drapes, long, heavy drapes, the ends puddled against the floor. The bed was in an antique style, four poster, the couch in the room was velvet, heavy, with wood feet and trim—it was in an eye-watering, hideous reproduction Art Nouveau style, designed by someone who couldn’t possibly have ever seen an actual piece. He shuddered, and laughed at himself. He’d been trapped with only a cot in a tiled box for God knows how long, and he was critiquing the furnishings? Fuck, this was heaven—he jumped up and ran to the door set in the far wall, ripped it open. Behind it was—he gasped.
A bathroom. A private bathroom, a tub, a shower, sink, toilet—he dashed around the room. He could bathe—now, if he wanted, for as long as he wished…he laid his hand on the cool, smooth ceramic of the fountain sized sink, and horribly, unstoppably, tears began to flow. He stood in the middle of the marble and chrome room, head down, hands at his side, and sobbed his heart out.
When he’d managed to control himself, he walked back to the large sitting-sleeping room, and opened other doors. One led to a modest closet hung with clothes—clothes!--the other to a tiny kitchenette. And this room had the expected mirror in it, the one-way glass. He sneered at the glass, looked through the cabinets.
Nothing breakable, nothing sharp—he laughed. Nothing…stabby. Grinning, he opened the tiny fridge and just as he expected, among other items, chilled bottles of TyNant rested on one shelf.
So. Lionel finally came out into the open, Lex thought, finally revealed himself. He snorted softly, lifted a bottle from the shelf and cracked it open. He strolled over to the drapes, sipping at the water, eyeing the other luxuries in the room. He pulled back the drapes. Dropped the bottle.
Water splashed out unheeded over the carpet, over his bare foot.
Desert. Scrub, sand, nothing…featureless, bronze hills swelling, rolling on and on and on, as far as the eye could see. Sand to the horizon. Heat shimmered the air. The sun was a brassy ball high in the sky, and if the windows hadn’t been tinted, he would have burned his eyes out.
Ah. He swallowed. Not Kansas, than.
He was still standing, open mouthed and stunned, when a knock at the door announced a visitor.
“Come in--” he coughed. “Come?” he said, a little weaker. He wasn’t sure if he had the choice to make.
Mr. Hati strode into the room, followed by a man pushing a cart holding covered dishes. Lex’s stomach almost cramped at the smell, real food, food with flavor, and texture, and heat…his mouth filled, he swallowed frantically, he’d kill himself before anyone saw him drool.
There was coffee, he smelt coffee—he turned away quickly and ground his fists into his eyes.
“Feel free to express your emotions, Alexander. It’s very attractive.” The words were breathed hot and damp in his ear. “You have no more work to do. Just enjoy and relax, until I tell you otherwise.”
An arm hard as iron locked over his chest, the other hand, papery dry, hot, slid over Lex’s bare stomach, teased open the waistband of his sleep pants. His fingers barely stroked the skin under his navel. Lex wanted to have no reaction—he wished desperately for no reaction. But with the smell of coffee, the feel of the silk against his starved body…the promise of food and warmth and comfort…it was too much. His head dropped back against the uniform clad shoulder behind him. He moaned, his dick filling, swelling in that hand, that hated hand…his eyes rolled back as Hati stroked and teased him, rubbing the palm of his hand over Lex, rubbing precome into his skin, licking at his scalp. Lex panted, and thrust into the man’s fist, totally unable to stop himself, or to stop the pathetic whimpers pouring out of him. Hati squeezed tighter, and he frantically fucked, clutched at, ground his ass against the man that helped to make his life hell—worse than hell…he arched and screamed, and came. It felt like fire pouring out of him, burning him, his dick--on and on until he collapsed, and only Hati’s grip on him kept him from dropping to the floor.
He stepped back. “You can eat now. I will watch.”
Lex looked at him, panting, shaking, “What about…” he indicated his wet pants, come smearing his stomach and chest.
“Eat.” Hati ordered. “Or, perhaps you are not very hungry?”
Lex hated the animal moan of fear that burst out of him, he nearly ran to the table as Hati chuckled.
“Here.” He took cover after cover off the dishes and exposed crisp skinned roast chicken, and slices of cloud white bread, golden butter, thick gravy and glistening bright orange carrots, crisp green beans--food, food, steaming and hot—he stuck a finger into the gravy and licked, and his jaws cramped instantly. His eyes flooded again, and Hati laughed, filled a plate for him. “Eat now, Alexander, enjoy the meal.”
Lex ate, come drying on his chest, gluing the silk pants to his skin, and he ignored it. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he frantically stuffed bits of food into his mouth, and drank wonderful hot coffee, rich and strong, gulped down a tiny glass of too sweet white wine that made his head swim, moaned as he bit into dripping strawberries, fat and red and sweet, swimming in a dish of cream…
He sat back and gasped. He was full, so full it was uncomfortable—he couldn’t remember having eaten so much, ever. Ever. His stomach rolled a bit, and he groaned. He couldn’t help it; he’d eaten like he was afraid the food would be taken from him. He was ashamed at how much the fear of that had motivated him.
“If you want to eat like this again, you will do whatever I say. All of this,” he swept a hand around, “depends on what you do. For me.”
“You want me to be a whore,” Lex spat.
“Among other things, yes,” he answered casually. He stood, and walked out of the room. A moment later, the cart was removed.
Lex sat at the table and crushed the tablecloth in his hand. Well. Well.
*****
Lex woke early, and was ordered to make himself presentable, which was not as annoying as it might have been because he took the opportunity to indulge in a long hot shower. He soaped every bit of himself, smoothing lather over his skin, inhaling the wonderful fragrance. Relishing the feel of being clean, of soap that didn’t rub his skin raw, of water that pounded tight muscles, and kept it’s temperature. He sighed and leaned his head against the wall and let the water pour over him. He wondered for the millionth time, what Clark was doing. If he assumed he’d moved back to Metropolis without telling him. Wondered if he missed him, maybe looked for him. He had the feeling a long time had passed since he’d been…caged. Clark probably didn’t even think about him any more, he was busy with his friends and his parents, certainly, why would he miss some guy he hadn’t even really known that long….
Lex sighed. He missed going to the house, and the barn. He missed watching Clark do his chores, big chest gleaming in the sun, the way his jeans rode low on his hips, and sometimes, he’d track the path of a bead of sweat, rolling over his back, lower and lower until it hit the band of his jeans and darkened the material there, and God—did he want to darken that material too, he’d wanted to come all over that broad, muscled, sweat glazed back, he wanted to come all over his ass and watch it drip down between—he clenched his teeth to muffle a scream and bucked his hips, shot against the shower door. He gasped and dropped back against the heated ceramic wall, his eyelids fluttering.
He shook his head, and cradled his sensitive dick. Seems he was alive again….
continued in 4A
Fandom: SV
Pairing:Clark/Adam
Rating: 4
previous parts of Deal
Adam stood at the open study window, watched Clark shuffle up the driveway, book bag slapping against his back, and sighed. He looked bad. Weeks had passed and Clark seemed to be wearing away, bit by bit. The dreams were getting worse and worse, Clark told him, and he could see it even from here, see it in the line of his shoulders. Poor guy. It was weird, the worse the dreams got---the harder it was for him to stay awake.
He called his associate and asked if he’d mind chairing the meeting with the stockholders by himself, told him an emergency had come up. Again. The man reluctantly agreed.
“Hey Harry, I have absolute faith in you, as does the board. They know who’s really running the show, right?”
Harry had hung up after wringing a promise out of him to keep his absence as brief as possible. “I understand that things come up, obligations that can’t be put aside, but I do need you to be onboard with us. The board members need a show of solidarity, Adam.”
He sighed. Harry was such a worrywart. Thank god he’d agreed to take on the reins of LexCorp, or it wouldn’t exist, except as an afterthought of LuthorCorp. He had no idea why he was driven to keep Lexcorp healthy—he just knew he needed it to be. It’s be losing to Lex’s father if it wasn’t.
Clark was at the doorway, tapping gently on the frame. “Adam! I’m so glad you’re here. Are you busy, can I come in?”
Adam came up to him, and kissed him, light, chaste as always, and as always, felt a wave of warmth flood him, running from his mouth to pool in his dick. The fleeting touch of Clark’s lips just begged him to bite and nibble and lick…. He pulled back, and licked his lips; he could never kiss Clark without wanting to touch his own mouth, to feel the heat. “You know, Clark,” he said a little breathlessly, “This is your place, you don’t need my permission to enter any room.”
Clark smiled, and rubbed his cheek against Adam’s before stepping into the room. Adam swore to himself. God, the kid must have driven Lex half insane. No wonder….
“I know, you keep telling me.” He sat on the couch and grinned up at him. “And telling me.” Clark was in a good mood and that was great, but physically, he was a mess. Pale, drawn, wide dark blotches under his eyes, and from the way his collarbones stuck out, he obviously hadn’t been eating. Again.
“Clark…”
He let out a tired sigh. “Please, Adam, just let me lay down, I need some sleep, just a little. I promise I’ll eat after that.”
“Okay—but I’m waking you up in an hour and you’re definitely going to eat. And after that, we sit outside, okay, get a little sun. You look like a frog’s belly. By the way—I’m here for the week.”
Clark’s eyes lit up, and for a moment he flushed a healthy pink, his lips were red, and his eyes—that sparkling green of a wild ocean. Adam knew again why Lex had fallen for him. He was an Adonis, Clark. Just amazing…and just as suddenly, the color rushed out of his face, and he lay back, as if the emotion had exhausted him. He whispered, “I hate sleeping, Adam, I hate to sleep, but I see him then…”
He was out, snoring lightly and Adam sat on the couch next to him. He lifted Clark’s feet and laid them across his lap, and watched him.
******
When next Lex woke, it was to a new place, to an apartment, a lovely place, carpeted floors, papered walls, drapes and…what happened to the cell?
He jerked to his feet, tripping and stumbling, caught in sheets and surprised by the height of the bed. And it was a real bed—not a cot. It was wide, and the sheets weren’t hospital harsh and faded blue—these were fine quality sheets. He touched them and they were so delicious against his fingertips, he groaned, experienced a miniature sensory overload. They even smelled good—he rubbed his face in the linens and groaned again—whirled around. He blushed deeply, embarrassed that they’d seen him react like a fool.
He blinked. There was no window.
There were drapes, long, heavy drapes, the ends puddled against the floor. The bed was in an antique style, four poster, the couch in the room was velvet, heavy, with wood feet and trim—it was in an eye-watering, hideous reproduction Art Nouveau style, designed by someone who couldn’t possibly have ever seen an actual piece. He shuddered, and laughed at himself. He’d been trapped with only a cot in a tiled box for God knows how long, and he was critiquing the furnishings? Fuck, this was heaven—he jumped up and ran to the door set in the far wall, ripped it open. Behind it was—he gasped.
A bathroom. A private bathroom, a tub, a shower, sink, toilet—he dashed around the room. He could bathe—now, if he wanted, for as long as he wished…he laid his hand on the cool, smooth ceramic of the fountain sized sink, and horribly, unstoppably, tears began to flow. He stood in the middle of the marble and chrome room, head down, hands at his side, and sobbed his heart out.
When he’d managed to control himself, he walked back to the large sitting-sleeping room, and opened other doors. One led to a modest closet hung with clothes—clothes!--the other to a tiny kitchenette. And this room had the expected mirror in it, the one-way glass. He sneered at the glass, looked through the cabinets.
Nothing breakable, nothing sharp—he laughed. Nothing…stabby. Grinning, he opened the tiny fridge and just as he expected, among other items, chilled bottles of TyNant rested on one shelf.
So. Lionel finally came out into the open, Lex thought, finally revealed himself. He snorted softly, lifted a bottle from the shelf and cracked it open. He strolled over to the drapes, sipping at the water, eyeing the other luxuries in the room. He pulled back the drapes. Dropped the bottle.
Water splashed out unheeded over the carpet, over his bare foot.
Desert. Scrub, sand, nothing…featureless, bronze hills swelling, rolling on and on and on, as far as the eye could see. Sand to the horizon. Heat shimmered the air. The sun was a brassy ball high in the sky, and if the windows hadn’t been tinted, he would have burned his eyes out.
Ah. He swallowed. Not Kansas, than.
He was still standing, open mouthed and stunned, when a knock at the door announced a visitor.
“Come in--” he coughed. “Come?” he said, a little weaker. He wasn’t sure if he had the choice to make.
Mr. Hati strode into the room, followed by a man pushing a cart holding covered dishes. Lex’s stomach almost cramped at the smell, real food, food with flavor, and texture, and heat…his mouth filled, he swallowed frantically, he’d kill himself before anyone saw him drool.
There was coffee, he smelt coffee—he turned away quickly and ground his fists into his eyes.
“Feel free to express your emotions, Alexander. It’s very attractive.” The words were breathed hot and damp in his ear. “You have no more work to do. Just enjoy and relax, until I tell you otherwise.”
An arm hard as iron locked over his chest, the other hand, papery dry, hot, slid over Lex’s bare stomach, teased open the waistband of his sleep pants. His fingers barely stroked the skin under his navel. Lex wanted to have no reaction—he wished desperately for no reaction. But with the smell of coffee, the feel of the silk against his starved body…the promise of food and warmth and comfort…it was too much. His head dropped back against the uniform clad shoulder behind him. He moaned, his dick filling, swelling in that hand, that hated hand…his eyes rolled back as Hati stroked and teased him, rubbing the palm of his hand over Lex, rubbing precome into his skin, licking at his scalp. Lex panted, and thrust into the man’s fist, totally unable to stop himself, or to stop the pathetic whimpers pouring out of him. Hati squeezed tighter, and he frantically fucked, clutched at, ground his ass against the man that helped to make his life hell—worse than hell…he arched and screamed, and came. It felt like fire pouring out of him, burning him, his dick--on and on until he collapsed, and only Hati’s grip on him kept him from dropping to the floor.
He stepped back. “You can eat now. I will watch.”
Lex looked at him, panting, shaking, “What about…” he indicated his wet pants, come smearing his stomach and chest.
“Eat.” Hati ordered. “Or, perhaps you are not very hungry?”
Lex hated the animal moan of fear that burst out of him, he nearly ran to the table as Hati chuckled.
“Here.” He took cover after cover off the dishes and exposed crisp skinned roast chicken, and slices of cloud white bread, golden butter, thick gravy and glistening bright orange carrots, crisp green beans--food, food, steaming and hot—he stuck a finger into the gravy and licked, and his jaws cramped instantly. His eyes flooded again, and Hati laughed, filled a plate for him. “Eat now, Alexander, enjoy the meal.”
Lex ate, come drying on his chest, gluing the silk pants to his skin, and he ignored it. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he frantically stuffed bits of food into his mouth, and drank wonderful hot coffee, rich and strong, gulped down a tiny glass of too sweet white wine that made his head swim, moaned as he bit into dripping strawberries, fat and red and sweet, swimming in a dish of cream…
He sat back and gasped. He was full, so full it was uncomfortable—he couldn’t remember having eaten so much, ever. Ever. His stomach rolled a bit, and he groaned. He couldn’t help it; he’d eaten like he was afraid the food would be taken from him. He was ashamed at how much the fear of that had motivated him.
“If you want to eat like this again, you will do whatever I say. All of this,” he swept a hand around, “depends on what you do. For me.”
“You want me to be a whore,” Lex spat.
“Among other things, yes,” he answered casually. He stood, and walked out of the room. A moment later, the cart was removed.
Lex sat at the table and crushed the tablecloth in his hand. Well. Well.
*****
Lex woke early, and was ordered to make himself presentable, which was not as annoying as it might have been because he took the opportunity to indulge in a long hot shower. He soaped every bit of himself, smoothing lather over his skin, inhaling the wonderful fragrance. Relishing the feel of being clean, of soap that didn’t rub his skin raw, of water that pounded tight muscles, and kept it’s temperature. He sighed and leaned his head against the wall and let the water pour over him. He wondered for the millionth time, what Clark was doing. If he assumed he’d moved back to Metropolis without telling him. Wondered if he missed him, maybe looked for him. He had the feeling a long time had passed since he’d been…caged. Clark probably didn’t even think about him any more, he was busy with his friends and his parents, certainly, why would he miss some guy he hadn’t even really known that long….
Lex sighed. He missed going to the house, and the barn. He missed watching Clark do his chores, big chest gleaming in the sun, the way his jeans rode low on his hips, and sometimes, he’d track the path of a bead of sweat, rolling over his back, lower and lower until it hit the band of his jeans and darkened the material there, and God—did he want to darken that material too, he’d wanted to come all over that broad, muscled, sweat glazed back, he wanted to come all over his ass and watch it drip down between—he clenched his teeth to muffle a scream and bucked his hips, shot against the shower door. He gasped and dropped back against the heated ceramic wall, his eyelids fluttering.
He shook his head, and cradled his sensitive dick. Seems he was alive again….
continued in 4A
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8/31/06 12:08 am (UTC)