SV fic: The Dog final part

[roxy]

Title:The Dog
Fandom: SV
Pairing:Clark/Lex
Rating:nc-17
Warning: rape of a minor, non-consensual sex, dubious consent, humiliation, violence, prostitution
WC this part: 26,232






Chapter Eight
"You may bribe a soldier to slay a man with his sword, or a witness to take life by false accusation; but you cannot make a hound tear his benefactor." –
Sir Walter Scott


Clark was learning against the living room window. The sun turned his skin gold, and his eyes were closed, lips bent in a smile. That scruffy bear thing was in his hand, and he looked like he was sleeping. The slight green tint to his skin was less in the sunlight and he seemed taller. It was obvious to Lex he needed it, that it was vital to some part of his altered make-up. He itched to know what mutations had taken place in Clark, how they differed from his own. He touched his bare scalp and wondered why he had lost his hair and Clark hadn’t. Wondered again if Clark was made to be this way purposefully, instead of accidentally like himself.

He spent as much time as he safely could looking for information on Clark. There was no mention of him in any of the business records. Lionel had detailed records on all his fighters *except* Clark. The fact that there was nothing there was a giant red flag. He had to step carefully. Clearly Lionel didn’t want information about Clark to be public. That it was so well hidden meant it was dangerous as hell to look for it.

He’d even had Dr. Keller’s old research on him exhumed and went over it with a fine-toothed comb. He found plenty of interesting information about himself, but no mention of Clark. Lex knew Clark had been here as early as that, at least as early as seven years ago. He’d seen him as a boy in Lionel’s office, watched his dad kiss him—Lex’s stomach did a slow, sick roll. God, as young as that…he felt a shudder of sympathy for Clark. There had to be something, somewhere, on this kid. His dad was too inclined to catalogue and define every aspect of life not to have done so with Clark.

In the meantime, he’d settled into an odd and creepy kind of domestic situation with Clark and Philip. They took meals together, watched movies together, lived like bachelors together. He snorted at the thought. Sweet, except that one of them was trained to rip a man’s heart out on command. He looked over at Philip thoughtfully. He might be able to do that too. Philip looked up at Lex and cocked an eyebrow.

A tiny sigh let him know Clark was back at the table. Thankfully, he’d left that godawful stuffed thing at the window. He scowled at it—it was ridiculous, stupid—the kid was nearly a grown man and still walked around with it. He idly thought about taking it away. When he looked away from the window, he caught Philip staring at him. Lex smirked and turned his attention back to his breakfast and tried to ignore Clark’s tentative brushes against his sleeve.

The kid would not stop trying to touch him. Lex felt the pressure constantly, as though Clark was always just one minute from pawing all over him. It made him uneasy, to be the object of such obsession. He moved, flushed, and bit the inside of his cheek. It reminded him uncomfortably of Lionel. Clark might be in the cage, but both of them were thralls to the man. He was more than grateful not to have Lionel here, grateful that he was out from under the spell he wove…he stood abruptly. “I’m going out for a while.”

Clark made a face dangerously near a pout and Lex scowled at him. “Keep an eye on him; he’s supposed to work out today,” he told Philip, and Clark’s face fell. Philip stared at him with an expression so blank it was practically a slap in the face. Lex asked himself again why he didn’t fire the man, but he was good with Clark, and kept him busy, and Clark liked him…a lot it seemed.

He needed another handler. He’d meant to do that but he kept putting it off but. Yes. He really needed to take care of that bit of business. Take the stress off of Philip. He’d look into that today.

Philip was talking to Clark and Lex turned his attention back to them.

“—okay? After, we can watch a movie, your choice, Clark.” Clark turned toward Philip and smiled, a bright happy smile, and Philip smiled back, the tips of his ears turning pink. Lex frowned to himself. For a straight guy, he seemed a little too pleased by Clark’s attention.

He didn’t like it.

He didn’t like the way Clark smiled at Philip---and it shocked him. Close on the heels of it came the familiar spike of anger. He shook the feeling off, it was stupid. Why should he care about his father’s toy? This was business.


He went from the parking garage straight to the office in the Carver St. Building and asked his secretary if they’d gotten results from the search for a driver and did she have some candidates for the handler’s job he’d spoken to her about?


She raised eyebrows and looked a little put upon and Lex reminded himself that killing the help would be counterproductive in the long run.

“I sent you information on the candidates for the other position a while ago? Check your inbox. I just sent you the resume of a driver I think would do well for you. He drove for your father before being transferred here? He’s got an excellent record. He’s been with the company for quiet a while, nearly eight years…”

Lex felt a little shiver run down his spine. “Send him up in a half hour. I’ll let you know when to send up the candidate for the handler’s job.” He knew who it was…his heart pounded painfully in his chest….

He set the stage for his interview, striving to look like a busy man, a mature man with the responsibility of running a business. He deflated a little. An illegal and twisted fight operation that would get them all jailed for life--if they were lucky—and if his dad didn’t own every square inch of Metropolis…fuck.

The intercom buzzed and he sat straighter. He pasted a casual look of interest on his face. “Send him in.”

He was looking down at the pages on his desk when the door opened and he heard the faint footfall on the carpet. There was no sound, he waited and waited, until the silence made him uneasy and he looked up into the relaxed, incurious face of the man in front of his desk.

“Ah—you are…Raymond Conner?”

The man looked at him, a wry smile flitted over his features, before sinking back into the blank look. “Yeah…I’m Ray Conner. Sir.”

“Mr. Luthor will do just fine,” he said and felt like a giant ass. “I mean, Lex is fine.” Lex flushed pink and put the paper down carefully. “I’m looking for a personal driver, who understands the need for discretion. One trained in defense, who can also act as a bodyguard. I don’t like to have a lot of people around me,” he explained and blushed again, frowned—he didn’t have to explain anything to an employee.

Ray smiled again, a chilly little twitch of his lips. His eyes were cold and flat and Lex was horribly certain that the man didn’t know who he was…or didn’t care. Ray didn’t remember him. It hurt, surprisingly badly, yet there was the tiniest bit of relief. Maybe he didn’t know about the things he’d been doing, either….”Would you be interested in the position? It pays well…”

“Yeah. I’d like to get out of the pool. Some of those guys--” He stopped. “Yes. Sir. Lex.”

He drawled out the words and Lex blushed again, cursed himself. Why the hell was he acting like he was fourteen again? “Good. We just need to talk salary—it’s a live in position, do you need to make arrangements?”

“No. I live at Carver Street. In the dormitories. I don’t have anything I need to make arrangements about. When do you want me to start?”

Lex was surprised that it was just that simple. He felt his jaw loosen, and frowned. “Fine.” He stood. “This evening then. Gail will have everything you need, Stop and see her before you go.” Lex heaved an internal sigh of relief. This was the way to do it, as though this was a legitimate business….

Ray nodded. “Okay.” He inclined his head a bit and left.

Lex dropped down in the chair breathing heavy. Okay—that was…horrible. Looking at Ray reminded him of how horribly he’d failed Robin. He was nothing like the kind of man he would have wanted Lex to be. Thank God he didn’t know. He never wanted him to know.

* * * * * **
Clark watched the movie and kept sneaking looks at Philip. He was nice, nicer by far then anyone he’d ever known yet, except for Lionel…he frowned, his forehead wrinkled as he turned the thought over.

Lionel *was* nice, wasn’t he? He took care of him, fed him, bought him clothes, let him out to the sun…he took him to the Arena…he touched him, made him feel warm…that was nice, wasn’t it? Clark looked at Philip again and felt dizzy, uneasy. These thoughts were confusing him. He sighed. Ever since he—Lex came, his thoughts were getting more and more confused. He thought that pleasing Lionel was the most important thing he could do, and that everything else that happened in his life happened because he was stupid, or because he wasn’t as good as real people. But…Philip acted like he was, even after he saw him in the pit, he still acted like he was real. Not like Ernie, or Max or any of the others that had taken care of him for Lionel.

He slowly edged his way over on the couch, staring at the screen but sinking closer and closer to Philip. Philip seemed not to notice, eyes fixed on the screen also, but when Clark’s head brushed his shoulder, Clark could hear his heart beat quicker, and harder. After a moment Philip asked, “Are you tired? Do you want to lay down?” His words were calm but his reaction the opposite—his heart raced and Clark was close enough to him to smell sweat. Clark jerked away from Philip. He recognized that the man was going through a fight-or-flight reaction. It scared Clark. He didn’t understand it.

Philip stood and smiled, swiped the palms of his hands against his legs.
“Hey, come on, I’ve got something for you, anyway. I was saving it, but what do you say
I give it to you now?”

They went back to the little room, and walked into his bed, and even though Philip left the door open, Clark looked behind him to check. He liked the door open. It made him nervous to walk out—but it felt good to see it standing open. He frowned again, would Lionel lock it when he came back? He didn’t want him to…to lock it. He didn’t want him. To lock…Clark felt nervous, sick, his own heart raced. He shuffled a little closer to Philip and waited for what it was he meant to give him. He reached out and put the tips of his fingers on Philip’s arm. It helped, he felt less dizzy and lost. He pressed just a little and Philip smiled and patted his hand. He slid away at the same time. “I’ll be right back, okay? I’m going get dinner.”

Clark nodded and watched him leave. What would happen when Lionel came back? Would Philip leave, would Lex leave?

He bit his lip, chewed it. He’d—he’d rather that Lionel stay away, he thought. He’d rather have Lex. He heard his heart stutter, and weaved on his feet.
Oh.

He didn’t mean it, Lionel was nice, he was everything, he kept Clark safe from people who’d hurt him terribly if they knew he wasn’t a real person, like the people who’d hurt him when he was a baby…he dropped to the ground and whined softly…where was Bear? He looked around…where was he?

Philip was at the door, something gleaming in his hands and a big smile on his face.

“Lex told me you can read, and you don’t have any books and I thought you might want one. Do you—want one?” He looked a little less sure.

Clark stared, open-mouthed. When he could speak he said, “Lionel has a lot of books. Shelves and shelves…” he felt so stupid. What a stupid thing to say. And now Philip was looking at him strange, his hand going down…

Clark jumped to his feet. “May I see it please?” and held out his hand.

Philip nodded and put the book in his hand, “It might be...might be too hard for you to read. I didn’t think…”

Clark looked at the cover of the book, stroked it. It was shiny, smooth—he held it to his nose. It had a unique smell, a good smell.

“It’s The Giver. It’s supposed to be really good…the person at the bookstore thought so anyway….”

“It is—I’m sure it will be. Thank you.” Clark stood, squeezing the book in his hands, conflicting instincts freezing him in place. If it had been Lionel, or handlers from before, he’d know what was to come next. He took a small step forward--but Philip made it clear that he never expected that from Clark. Clark swallowed and made a small noise of confusion, and Philip leaned over and patted him on the back. “Go ahead Clark, look at it. I’ll come get you for dinner, okay?”

Clark sank to the floor, relief making his knees weak. He smiled up at Philip. “Thank you.”

Philip nodded and waved, walked away.

Clark opened the book. He adjusted the chain around his waist so that the little chip on the end wasn’t touching his skin directly and stretched out his legs. He leafed through the pages and frowned a little. There were no bright pictures, like Bertie and Clark, he could read the words, but they were small. He was a little disappointed but the book was a gift, and he should try to read it, it would be ungrateful not to.

He ran his fingers gently over the crisp pages, and thought of Lex. He was probably smooth like this, he thought, so smooth, so clean. Clark imagined touching Lex’s cheek, skimming over warm skin down to his neck, his chest…Clark felt a warm tingle, and imagined working his fingers around pink nipples, feeling them pebble up under his fingertips, tracing his way down Lex’s belly, down to where the skin was probably very soft, and nice to touch—he gasped. He imagined pressing his face down under Lex’s navel and breathing, just breathing, maybe the tip of his tongue gathering the taste of him…Clark ‘s eyes shot open and he blushed deeply. He put the book down and pressed his hand against his throbbing erection.

Philip called out to Clark and Clark stood awkwardly, adjusted his hardened length to lay more comfortably.

“Dinner, Clark.”

“Yes, I’m coming.” He slid the book under his pillow and went in to dinner.

* * * * * **
The next fight Clark had was almost a disaster. He wouldn’t fight at first, still wrestling with his confused thoughts about Lionel--about his place in the world. Lex threatened to return to locking the cage, threatened to take everything from him. He took a baton from one of the men and hit Clark, hard enough to bruise him. The pain wasn’t particularly unbearable, but it was Lex. Lex hurt him. Tears welled up in his eyes and he struggled to hold them back, afraid to make Lex even angrier.

Lex clicked the latch on the chain and Clark moaned low, against his will, felt it vibrate in his throat. His muscles jumped and twitched at the sudden release. He turned out of habit to face the pit and heard Lex whisper, “Bend your neck and fucking do as you’re told,” and felt the collar came off.

Clark felt the familiar rush of well-being and power, filling his heart, filling his dick. He ground his teeth, fighting against the impulses that the sudden freedom brought, that he’d been trained to feel. Clark stared at Lex, the crowd, at Philip. He stood still, and everyone tensed, reached for the batons at their side and Clark laughed. He tilted his head back and stared at the high ceiling of the Arena. Lex looked up too, Clark smiled. Lex didn’t understand—to him, there was nothing above them except exposed pipes, wires and girders, the underside of the floor above the old pool.

He dropped his head and Clark licked his lips, watched Lex’s pupils expand. He sniffed, breathed in Lex scent and sighed. Clark looked over his shoulder at the new man, the driver, who was looking at him, a calm and measuring look. He looked up too, and back at Clark…and smiled. A long slow smile that made Clark feel warm. He was good to look at but more than that—this man knew. Clark laughed again and Lex snapped, “What, what is it?”

For a heartbreaking moment, Clark felt so sorry for Lex, and reached out and stroked his cheek. It was as soft as he remembered, his fingers remembered and trembled. Poor Lex, poor caged Lex—he dropped his hand and flipped backwards into the pit and the crowd roared, ready for blood. This was it, he thought as he hit the floor of the pit with a crack loud as a gunshot. This was the only reason he was alive. The only reason Lionel wanted him. Today was not the day, he thought as he sidestepped the wild man rushing him. “Not yet,” he muttered and swung the berserker into the wall. He needed to think, to be sure *what* he thought….

* * * * * **
Lex watched Clark slowly beat the man to pieces and shivered. It was horrible and almost…he pulled at the tie around his neck and it slid into place. The heat began to bother him and he pulled the folded bit of purple silk free of his breast pocket, dabbed at his lip. He snuck a glance to his side, and saw that Ray was watching Clark, expressionless as always except when he glanced up once at the ceiling and smiled, shook his head. As always, Philip had his back turned to the pit; he watched the double doors as if a miracle waited behind them.

Ray caught Lex looking at him, so Lex asked. “What’s so damn funny up there?”

Ray raised an eyebrow. Pointed. “Up there? He could have left.—he could have jumped right through the roof.” He nodded at the pit. “I’m thinking it’s not your little sticks and collars and rocks that keep him here. And he’s beginning to figure it out. Lex. Sir. Boss.”

The crowd screamed, a long animal sound of orgasm, and Lex braced himself. He found his breath coming shorter and he moved a bit closer to the pit edge, watching for Clark, and suddenly he was in front of him, big and wet, radiating heat, stinking of blood and sweat. He pushed against him, and Lex waited for him to settle down, but this time he grabbed his neck, forced his mouth open and kissed him, grabbed his hips and pressed his steel hard erection into him, squirmed until Lex was nearly riding his hips and rocked until Lex saw stars, was gasping. He could feel Clark’s dick twitch, and he rolled his hips, trying to line their dicks up. Clark pushed up and Lex’s head dropped back, “Ah—fuck—“ and the collar smacked into his shoulder and he heard Philip hiss, “Stop.”

Lex came back into himself with a jolt. Damn it! What the fuck was he doing—he pushed and Clark let himself be moved back…he was flushed, and hard, he was dripping sweat, his face was streaked with blood and he still managed to look like a kicked puppy.
Lex wiped at the blood on his own face and groaned silently, waved for Philip to collar and chain him again. Ray stared at him, silent, eyes dark.

“Get the fucking car already, he snapped.

Ray sneered and Lex continued. “I’m taking one of the other cars. You and Philip take Clark.” He turned away at the look of surprise on Ray’s face.

In the limo, he finally relaxed enough to breathe normally. So. Ray thought he was a bastard pervert. He thought the blood excited him. It was Clark that excited him; Clark made him want to rip off his clothes and just—fuck right there. Every time he got near him, he wanted to fuck him so hard…. Everything else was irrelevant—but Ray thought he was like his father. Everyone thought he was like his father. Clark thought he was like his father.
Clark.

* * * * * **
Philip rode with Clark in the elevator, alone. Clark leaned against the wall and trembled, slow waves that pushed him against the panels, made him groan. Philip wanted to get him to the showers as quick as possible. His face was a mask of blood, and only the area around his mouth and eyes were clean. Philip’s eyes kept going to that terrible clean white swath around his lips. He shuddered and Clark’s eyes shot open, pinning him.

“We’re here,” he stammered and Clark nodded, walked out without a word. He followed Philip silently to the shower and stood patiently as he adjusted the jets and ushered Clark in.

He usually left Clark at this point—he was always so keyed up and jumpy and Philip knew he needed the release of orgasm, but he didn’t like to watch. He wasn’t like those creeps from before. He figured it was no accident those abusive baboons had been in here.

He sighed, and leaned against the wall opposite the shower. Thank God he was straight--Clark had no concept of personal space, or private activities—how could he? But today…something was different. He thought he should stay…in case. Clark had acted so oddly that Philip was nervous—worried for Clark.

Clark kept his back to him; water running down his back, pouring in sheets off of him to the floor. Pink water swirled across the tiles and into the drains and Philip found his eyes following the play of muscle over Clark’s back, the pull and tug as he lifted his arms, shifted his feet, ran the soap-filled sponge over his ribs. He watched the foam run down his thighs and chase the water into the drains. He heard Clark’s breathing change, saw his movements change, Clark was jerking off. He was nearly flat against the wall, hunched slightly as if to cover himself. Philip could tell he was holding his breath, holding in the groans he usually let go.

Philip watched Clark’s ass flex and relax, watched his elbow move. He watched muscles in his back tense and watched him raise on his toes, heard him groan, long, low, breathy as he shook and his arm moved faster and faster until he gasped and froze, just his thighs trembling…come ran around the drain and down. A few seconds went by and Clark asked him to shut the water off.

“Your—your towel is on the hook. Go to bed.”

Clarks head whipped around. “You’re not walking me back to the room?”

“Clark, you’re a big boy, you can find it.”

Philip went into his bedroom and latched the door. He lay down on his bed and didn’t touch himself at all.

* * * * * **
The next time Clark fought, there was another change in his behavior, and this time Lex was totally unprepared. The collar was removed, the chain, the bracelets, it felt like ritual to Lex, like some form of worship—he waited, feeling his heart speed up, waited for the change to affect Clark.

Clark threw his head back and growled deep in his chest. It was low and vibrated in Lex’s ears and he was about to ask if anyone else heard it when Ray suddenly jerked upright and grabbed for a baton. Before Lex could move Clark was on him, crowding him against his men. Ray was trapped behind them, the bodies around him hindering his movement. The other men reacted slowly—they were used to a fairly docile Clark at all times. But this time—Clark snarled at Lex, his lips pulled back from his teeth and Lex thought, they’re a rather impressive set of fangs for a boy, before he felt them on his neck. Not penetrating, just pinching a fold of flesh between them, just on the edge of pain. So far he thought, but strangely he was unafraid. If Clark had planned to kill him, he’d be dead already.

Clark leaned back and Lex saw that his eyes were cloudy with frustration. “You make me want to kill you,” he rasped, pain making his voice rough.

“No, you don’t want to do that,” Lex said. Clark let himself be pushed back by the men; Ray nearly threw Lex behind him.

“Do I need to do take some action here?” he asked, more to Clark than to Lex.

“No, we’re okay…” Lex stared at Clark’s mouth. “We are okay?”

Clark snarled and shook his head, flinging it back and forth like an agitated lion and leapt down into the pit. He stalked up to his opponent and before the other could move, broke his neck. The crack of breaking bone was loud in the sudden silence. The crowd seemed stunned into silence. He was back on the pool edge before the crowd erupted into booing and yelling.

“Get him out,” Lex yelled, and they hustled Clark back into the limo.

Lex sat in the back, scowling at Clark. Clark stared back, defiantly. What the fuck—what happened to him?

* * * * * **
Lex and Philip hustled Clark into the showers, stripped him before he could move and pushed him in. Clark again nearly flattened himself against the tiles. Philip tried not to look because Lex was directly behind him and he was too aware of that, and Clark was in front of him and he was too aware of every move he made…he found himself straining to hear Clark’s breath, the tiny noises he made. He found himself trying to hear the slap of his hand against his belly…Philip shuddered and tried to back away when Clark arched slightly and moaned quietly. His back rippled, and he heard Lex’s breath catch.

Lex swallowed so hard he could hear it, and he said, “I—I ordered dinner…you two eat. I’m going out--”

“Ray?“

“He’s driving me.” And he was gone.

Philip heard a sob from the shower, and Clark turned to him. “Please, can you turn the water off?”

He looked so miserable, so not the defiant creature that had stared down Lex in the car. He patted Clark’s shoulder and drew the towel around him, and then pulled him in, and on impulse, hugged him. “I’m sorry, you poor little fucker. I’m so sorry.”

Clark gasped and began to cry in a quiet, hopeless way, shaking hard, fiercely biting his lip to keep any sound from escaping. Philip rocked him and stroked his shoulder, “Shh, shh, don’t cry, please, don’t cry. We’ll do something, we’ll help you, I swear.”

He had no idea what he was saying. He had no idea what he could do. He became aware that he was rocking back and forth and Clark was leaning against him, bit by bit he was leaning a little harder against him, and touching at every point. Philip was hyper aware of Clark’s damp heat, and he began to respond.

Clark’s lips touched his throat, and he didn’t stop him. The thought of him, naked, muscles working, flooded his mind and he got hard—Clark whined and pushed against him, pressing his legs wide and sliding between them, mouth opening over the tender skin of his throat and Philip gasped. It felt good, it felt…he moaned aloud,” I don’t know, I don’t know anymore….”

Philip pulled away and stared at Clark’s red flushed dick, and dropped to his knees, the hard tiled floor jarring him and sending a flash of pain up his legs. His cheek dragged the length of Clark’s leg. He fell forward and grabbed Clark’s hips to steady himself, bumped Clark’s dick and it made Clark shout, made his head hit the wall and the chain twisted under Philip’s fingers.

A few inches--an inch--a breath away. Clark’s dick slid back across his cheek and he shivered. Clark moaned and his hips bucked. A hot slippery streak of wet trailed from his cheek to his lip and his mouth fell open and the sharp taste bloomed on his tongue.

Water soaked into his pants from knee to shin, and his shirtsleeves were rapidly soaking the water from Clark’s legs, his hair was wet and sticking to Clark’s belly and his searching mouth found his dick. The heat and weight surprised him, his mouth felt stretched, he felt like he couldn’t breathe, and he felt his dick jerk in his pants, felt it spurt. He breathed through his nose, loud and ragged, his tongue swirled around and around the smooth head. It felt good under his tongue, it tasted good. Clark’s hands came down, hands cradled his head, so tenderly, for a moment, it felt right. Perfect…for a moment.

Shock froze him—the realization of what he was doing hit him all at once, like a plunge into ice water. Philip jerked back, tangling the chain in his fingers, pulling Clark from the wall, and dragging the chip over his balls. He shouted and came, splashing Philip-- hot liquid ran down the side of his face, into his neck. He felt his own dick move and spurt again, still hard, still hot…he dropped backward onto the tiles and stared up at Clark.

Clark looked down with a slightly confused smile that slowly faded, as he understood that Philip was as horrified as he was aroused.

“Sorry, sorry! I thought—but you--”

Philip staggered to his feet, shaking his head as he backed away. “No, no, it’s not—it’s all right, it’s all right.” He whirled and ran from the bathroom, blocking everything out of his mind.

* * * * * **
There was light under Lex’s office door, Philip knocked and walked in.

Lex was at his desk, on the floor around it was a sea of papers, pens, his phone—his desk had been swept clear. He fixed Philip with a cold glare, his eyes shone like ice out of his pale face. Two spots of pink on his cheekbones looked darker in the milk white skin. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. The light from the laptop washed his face and Philip knew he’d been watching the feed from the cameras.

“I need to get out--”

“Well, I can’t let you go. I need you here. And where else could you go and get paid what you get paid,” he sneered, “and then, there’s the benefits…”

Philip paled and ignored Lex’s comment. “I don’t mean quit. Can’t. Clark needs me…even though I fucked up horribly…oh God.” He sunk his head into his hands and stared at the floor until Lex spoke.

“I can give you a few days. Ray can cover.”

Philip nodded and then sank uninvited into the chair at the desk. “Fuck!” He gripped a handful of his hair and yanked savagely at it.” I don’t know what happened. I’m not gay, I’ve never touched another guy, never looked…but…”

Lex swung his chair to face towards the windows. “It’s okay.” At the snort from the other he said it again, “No, I really do mean it’s all right. He’s…” Lex laughed a little wildly. “He does something, doesn’t he?” He looked at Philip and grimaced. “I didn’t want to look. I’m sorry.”

Philip looked up, paled impossibly further, and then, turned a deep red as blood flooded his face. “Yeah.”

Lex swallowed. “Go pack. Do what you have to. Take a few days. The schedule’s clear. When you come back I’ll have someone to help.”


Long after Philip had left the office, he sat at the desk thinking, smoking, and staring out through the undraped windows. He sighed and played with the ashtray on the desk, swinging it one way and another. Ash spattered the spotless gleaming surface and he smeared it with the heel of his hand and smiled, thought of his dad and butt the cigarette out in the crystal ashtray. Nude Greek figures decorated the edge, and he wondered how someone as unsubtle as his father managed to fool so many people…

He dropped his chin on his folded hands. Clark brought trouble with him, he unsettled everyone around him. Just being near him had turned Philip’s world upside down, turned Lex’s world on its ear. He’d been content…well, resigned was probably a better word for it, but life was livable. Now…he wanted things, something he hadn’t for a long time. He wanted his own life; he wanted free. He reminded himself over and over that Clark had been the reason he spent those years in boarding school—unwanted and unloved. And then, God, there was everything he’d done to get Lionel’s approval, to feel that in some way his dad had need of him, cared for him….

He shoved back from the desk and jumped up. Clark had taken his place in a way. Clark had taken all of Lionel’s time, taken everything and he’d had to beg and bargain his way back. Lex tugged at his tie, cursed. The damn thing refused to sit right. He jerked and tugged on it and tried to order his thoughts as he tried to smooth his tie.

Shit. He sighed. He was being an asshole. He envied a kid--locked in a cage, abused and raped—fuck, they had the same life, only his cage was on the inside.

The truth of it was, unlike him, Clark was good. He just wasn’t human. Not his fault—Dad had done his best work there. He’d taken what must have been as close to a normal boy as people like Clark and he could get and turned him into a pet. A dog. Lionel was so good at altering people, tailoring them to his needs—Clark, his pet, Lex, his whore….

Before Lionel came back, he wanted to give Clark back his humanity. It was the right thing to do. If it was possible.

And he had just the person in mind to help. If anyone could help Clark, he could.





Chapter Nine
"No man can be condemned for owning a dog. As long as he has a dog, he has a friend; and the poorer he gets, the better friend he has." - Will Rogers

Lex watched the tall, dignified looking man walk along the sidewalk. He carried a short jacket with a local school’s patch on the shoulder, and a battered lunch pail. He greeted his neighbors politely as he walked, smiling and tossing off a casual wave to some, stopping briefly to talk, lean on a step, with a few. The neighborhood had seen better days, but it was obvious the people who lived there had pride in their homes. It was just as obvious they looked up to the man Lex trailed.

Lex followed him to the steps of a slightly rundown town house and stopped him before he opened the door. “I need to talk with you—now.” Lex knew he’d been noticed--and tracked--the entire time he followed him.

The face turned towards his, eyes deep and cold—unreadable. “I would think that refusing your calls would send a clear message.”

“I’m offering you a job, something you haven’t really had since…my father fired you.”

“Fired me and sabotaged every step I took, you mean—because a boy needed help. I thought.” He looked Lex in the eyes. “From what I hear, you don’t need a man like me around to crimp your…style.”

Lex heard the scorn in his voice and his heart broke, and froze in the same moment.

“Actually, I need someone like you, to fix a boy.” Lex rocked back on his heels, shoved his hands in his pockets and lifted his chin. He kept his voice level and soft, the way he’d learned to. It hurt to talk to him this way—the way he talked to Lionel. “A boy who deserves to be fixed.”

He shook his head and turned back to the door.

Lex reached out and grabbed his arm. The man stopped, head down, not looking at him. Quietly, in a voice full of menace he said, “Let go of me.”

“You need to see this.” Lex turned him until he was facing him and handed over an envelope.

“The first few are of your youngest son’s school,” he said as the man opened it. “The next few—the school where your wife works. And--your family at the park, lovely shot, don’t you think? Here’s your eldest in California. He chose a good school. Is that his girlfriend? She’s pretty.”

The man flipped through the glossy photographs over and over before finally looking at Lex—not with the fear he somewhat expected. Disgust filled his eyes.

“Why?”

“People—they’re so fragile, so in need of protection. I can keep them safe. From anyone…” ‘Even me’ was implied by the smile Lex gave him. It hurt more than he’d imagined it would. It was only knowing that he’d paid the price for this years in advance that kept him speaking. “You want to keep them safe, don’t you? You’ll be well paid, extremely well paid. And you won’t have to worry about them.” He indicated the envelope held loosely in the man’s hand.

“I—I.” He laughed, a sharp bitter bark. “I have no choice do I? I never expected this from you, A--Alexander. I always hoped you’d do better, break free…”

“Well, that’s none of your fucking concern now, is it Mr. Wald? Report on Monday, I’ll fill you in on your duties then. Keep the pictures. Maybe you’ll want to frame them.”

He walked away and felt the other’s eyes drilling holes in his back. Fuck you Robin, if you’d cared one mother fucking moment…his eyes blurred briefly. He wiped his nose on his coat sleeve like he was a child again, and swallowed a sob. He owed him, Robin owed him plenty.

* * * * *
He called Philip and Ray into the office, and asked them to sit.

He poured himself a drink, and offered drinks to the men waiting for him to fill them in on the reason for the meeting.

Lex occupied himself with dropping ice into the tumblers, and slowly poured amber liquid over the cubes. They cracked and clicked against the sides of the glass, and the sharp odor of the alcohol filled his nose.

Ray took the tumbler with thanks and Philip took it silently, taking a quick gulp before looking at Lex impatiently.

“Is this about the help you said you were going to hire? Because I don’t like most of the guys over at the MAC.”

Lex thought for a beat—The Mac? Ah-the MAC—the Metropolis Athletic Club. The Pit over at Carver Street. “Yes, it is, and no, I didn’t hire anyone from the Carver St. Building. I went outside. I picked someone I have reason to believe will be loyal and discrete.”

Ray looked at him over the rim of the glass . “Did you? Good. Clark needs someone decent. Like Philip.”

And Philip blushed deeply, deeply red. He stared down at his feet and Lex looked angrily at Ray.

“What? What’s wrong…” he quieted at Lex gesture and looked thoughtfully at Philip.

Lex went on. “The new hire won’t be living on the premises, and he’ll deal directly with Clark but not involving any aspect of the business. He has no idea really, about any of this.”

“The fuck—I mean, why? How in the hell is that helping?”

“It will help Clark. I hope.”

Philip raised his head. “Help Clark—you want to break his conditioning, don’t you? You want…”

“I want Clark to be happy. If he can be. Do you?”

Philip silently nodded and Ray shrugged.

“What the fuck--I’m just the help. What the boss does means nothing to me. Your business is your business,” but there was a little light of curiosity in his eyes.

“His name is Robin Wald and--”

Ray stood and cursed. “You son of a bitch—what the fuck did you do to get him to agree?” Philip looked at Ray in open-mouthed shock, Lex just waited for the tide of emotion to settle, smiled the little amused smirk he’d learned to use to buy himself time. It was guaranteed to anger an opponent—and it worked as well as ever.

Ray took two steps over and knocked Lex on his ass. “You fucking Luthors think you own the world. You think everyone’s your dog.”.

Philip jumped up and tried to get between the two. “You don’t get it—you don’t know—he cares! He cares about Clark.”

“Wanting to have his very own personal fucktoy and caring are two different things. Luthors don’t care, they use.”

Lex laughed and climbed back to his feet, using his desk as support. “That’s right Ray, we use everybody around us. I’m using you and Phil here and I’m going to use Robin and Clark too, use him up and throw him away. Because we Luthors love to do that.”

He snatched his glass from the desk and snarled as a bit of liquid sloshed over his knuckles—he threw the glass at the windows. It hit the drapes and the dove gray turned black where the scotch splashed out and ran down. The glass hit the carpet with a thump and rolled.

“It’s not my fucking problem that you’re in love with someone who’ll never love you back—even I’ve never been that stupid. Suck it the fuck up and deal with it—hey, maybe Philip here will fuck you. Turns out he likes cock as well as pussy. Life’s a learning experience, isn’t it?”

He stalked out of the room and slammed the door to.

* * * * * *
Ray glared after Lex. “See? Just like his father--”

“You’re the biggest asshole I’ve ever met and that’s saying something in this business.”
.
“What? Didn’t you hear what he said? He insulted you, that’s what they do—find a sore spot and rip it open—fucking Luthors.”

“Shut up. I was starting to like you—shut the fuck up before I change my mind.”

Ray gaped at him. “You’re sticking up for him? And what do you mean--like me?”

Philip made an impatient gesture and snapped, “Can’t you see when someone’s beating the crap out of themselves? You can’t see how much pain he’s in, you dick?”

Ray remembered a little boy, curled in a corner of the limousine, weeping brokenheartedly, and swearing he’d never love anyone else ever again. He felt a twinge of guilt and countered with, “He lets his dad use him to get what he wants—he’s a whore. He lets his dad…” He stopped.

“Yeah, he does. And you blame him.” Philip stood. “You’ve seen Clark and know what he is, and you still blame Lex, you heartless dick.”


He walked to the door, and turned back toward Ray. “You know about shutting up before I dislike you? It’s too late.” He walked out.

* * * * * **
Robin used the keys he’d gotten in the mail to let himself into the apartment, and was a little surprised at how Spartan it was. There was a weirdly placed wall cutting the apartment in half. He walked around it and stopped short—the wall concealed a cage…there was a kid, in the cage. The door was open but…what the hell was going on?

The boy looked at him open mouthed, backing up a little when he walked into the cage.
“Who…who are you? Do you know Lex? Are you the new handler?”

Robin stared. What the hell. What did Alexander want him to do? What screwed up game was he playing? He walked closer and Clark seemed to vibrate with tension the closer he came. “Hello, Clark…that’s your name, right?” The boy nodded and Robin sat on the bed next to him. Clark swayed away. There was a lumpy bag of fuzz on his bed, and he grabbed for it. Robin blinked, opened his mouth, swallowed and went on.

“Luthor—Lex—wants me to be your friend. He wants me to teach you things. Would you like that?” Close up he could see that the boy clutching the ancient teddy bear was a little older than he’d thought, intelligence glowed in his eyes, but he radiated a kind of…innocence that shouldn’t be possible.

Clark nodded again, and for some reason seemed fixated on his hands. Stared openly and finally lifted his eyes to Robin’s.

“Can I touch you?”

Robin’s eyes shot wide. “What?”

“Can I touch you,” he asked again, and looked excited, “Is it okay?”

Robin narrowed his eyes and jumped to his feet. “Look--”

Clark twitched back away from him nervously. “I’m sorry. I made you angry.”

He looked so confused, so obviously unaware of the insult that Robin sighed and said, “It’s all right. Here.” He held out his hand and Clark touched him, so softly he barely felt it. He rubbed a little, the barest ghost of a touch, and smiled. “I thought you might feel a little different. You don’t. But it’s still nice.” He smiled up shyly at Robin.

Robin saw the smile was genuine, sweet, even and tried not to be angry. “Oh? Did you?”

“Yes, you’re so beautiful. What a pretty color.” He was animated now, excited again. “I’ve seen some of the fighters, other fighters. They’re a pretty color too, but I never get to touch them. Well, not like this. Hitting isn’t touching.” He frowned. “I’m—I don’t really like hitting all that much.”

Robin listened to him with mounting horror. What the fuck was going on?
He heard a cough at the doorway and looked up.

“Ray! I’ll be damned, Ray Conner!” He jumped up and hugged the former driver. “What the heck are you doing here? Are you--” his voice dropped. “Are you working for him too?”

Ray nodded, his face was bright red, and his eyes were glistening. Robin remembered a hair too late what had been said when they’d last seen each other. He felt acutely uncomfortable; and backed away as soon as was polite--afraid he’d caused Ray some pain. He didn’t want to hurt him—Ray was a heck of a good guy. “Are you…okay here, Ray?”

Ray laughed shakily. “Hey, I’m fine. I see you met your project. He’s a good kid. He needs your help. AJ’s trying to do something good, Robin. He really is.”

Robin sighed. “Yeah well, guilt will make you do that.” He looked at Clark, who was smiling at the doorway, eyes trained over Ray’s shoulder. A big good-looking guy was standing behind Ray. His eyes were cold and searching. Robin could see he was trying to get some measure of him. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Robin Wald.”

“Philip Knight.” The guy was giving him nothing. Robin nodded. He was loyal to this caged kid, that much was obvious. This Philip guy looked to Ray, checking out his reaction to Robin—probably gauging Ray’s behavior as a cue to his own. Ray didn’t notice.

“AJ wants you to help Clark out of the cage.”

“He does? But I thought…” Robin looked at the cage and felt a moment of guilt. He’d been so ready to believe that Lex would do something like this….

Ray shook his head. “This is his dad’s idea of a good time. AJ wants you to…help fix him.”

Philip frowned and stepped into the all ready crowded space and Robin noticed Clark begin to look a little panicky. “Who the fuck is AJ?” he growled.

Robin watched Clark. “AJ…it’s an old name for Lex. Your boss. And don’t curse in front of the kid.”

Ray and Philip both snorted. “Kid?” Philip sneered. “ He’s hardly a kid—he’s--”

Robin stressed, “He’s a kid. My student.” Clark’s head came up sharply and he stared at Robin, wonder in his eyes. “You’ll respect both of us, if you don’t mind.”

Ray sighed. “Robin, obviously AJ—Lex--didn’t tell you everything. Or anything, looks like. Let’s get dinner, and me and Philip, we’ll fill in the blanks. Clark, you want to turn in?”

Clark nodded but his eyes were on Robin, returning his scrutiny. He smiled and softly wished them good night.

Robin thought how amazing it was that he seemed to be a good kid—he had the feeling what he was about to learn was going to turn his stomach.

* * * * * *

Robin sat back and stared at the table. “Damn. I wish I didn’t know about this.”

“AJ—damn it—Lex didn’t want you to know all that—but I think probably to protect you, not himself or—his dad. But you need to know everything about this kid, you know? And he really is a good kid, I promise. It’s just that…well, he doesn’t know how to act. He only knows what he’s been taught. Be patient, and expect really strange behavior. Really strange.”

Philip blushed hard and choked a bit. “Yeah.”

Ray patted his shoulder, and Philip blushed harder. Robin watched--he wasn’t sure, but it was possible that Phil had a little crush kind of thing on Ray, and Ray was totally oblivious to it.

“Okay, than I have a big job. Look…I don’t k now what he thinks is going to happen, I’m not a therapist, or a teacher—hell, I’m a bodyguard.” He laughed bitterly. “Not even that, I’m a damn security guard now. I’m a big glorified hall monitor.”

Ray smirked. “I’ve seen some of those middle schoolers—I’d be afraid.”

Robin shook his head and sighed. “And by the way—that cage has got to go. If he wants that boy out of there, you’ve got tot get rid of it. He needs a proper bedroom. Some kind of normalcy.”

Philip looked upset. “You don’t understand. It’s all he knows, He won’t leave it at night. It’s like security. We tell him he can come and go as he pleases but he won’t leave it.”

“Well, guys, be prepared to do a lot of handholding. It’s got to go.”

* * * * *
Clark cried when they started to take the cage apart. He almost hyperventilated, whining as the walls of the cage room were carefully broken to pieces and taken out of the apartment. He paced and groaned and jittered, nearly pulled Bear to bits until Lex grabbed Robin by his shirt front and asked him did he have *any* fucking idea what he was doing and Robin looked a little panicked, but assured him it was for the best, he was doing the right thing.

Philip finally grabbed Clark and forced him into what was to be his room and made him sit down on the bed there. “Look, this is your room now, you see? You have a bed and a closet, and look, a bookcase…Lex put books in it for you. See? There are more books by Lois Lowery, cool hunh?”

That caught Clark’s attention, and after a bit, Philip managed to get him to explore the room, and the bathroom shared by the other bedroom.

Clark stopped and thought, out loud. “This is Ray’s room. What is Ray going to do? I can’t take his room.” Clark started to get upset again. “Ray’s my best friend—I don’t want to take it from him!”

Philip was stung—and felt like a fool at the same time. What did it matter what the kid thought? He and Ray were both grown men. He didn’t need to be some kid’s best friend, for God’s sake.

Clark turned to him and smiled as if reading his mind “You’re more than my friend,” he said. “You’re special. You help make everything better for me.” Clark blushed and Philip felt warm, happy and very pleased. Clark walked over and hugged him, and before Philip could move, kissed him. It was innocent enough, closed mouth and soft, but it made him almost instantly hard. Clark noticed and rocked against him.

“If you want to do it, that would be nice,” he said. “I’d like for you to touch my penis,” Clark blushed.

Philip coughed and gasped out, “Oh, Clark, I don’t—I think that’s not a good idea…I know for sure Lex wouldn’t like it.”

Clark looked puzzled. “Are you sure? I don’t think he knows I’m here sometime.” Clark sat on the bed and Philip sat next to him and patted his knee.

“Oh, he does he certainly knows you’re here, trust me.”

* * * * *
There was a knock at the door and Philip looked at his watch, “Hey, it’s almost lunchtime, you ready?”

Clark nodded, and stretched and yawned. He’d been curled on the bed, Bear under his head, and listening to Philip read him a story, one of the books Lex let him have. He sat up on the bed, and Philip rolled upright too.

The door opened and Ray walked in. “Hey guys, it’s lunchtime, lets go. And they’ve stopped tearing stuff up for the day, Clark…you okay?”

Clark nodded and jumped up.

Ray told him to go to Lex’s office; he was having lunch with Lex.

Clark’s eyes opened wide. “Really? Just Lex?”

Ray laughed s a little. “Yeah, just you and the boss. He wants to talk to you about today, all right?’

Clark looked a little puzzled. It didn’t really matter what he wanted but Clark thought it was nice that Ray asked him anyway.

* * * * *
Philip looked up at Ray when Clark left and sighed. “This is going to be…hard.”

Ray sat down on the edge of the bed and nodded. “Yeah—I’ve seen stuff like this before-- you try to control some aspect of your life when nothing else is in your control and you form attachments to things, talk yourself into believing you need it… He’s young and that’s good, but.” He shrugged. “He’s really messed up. I can’t see him ever being on his own.”

Philip felt a wash of sorrow for Clark. “What kind of people would give their kid to a monster like that?”

“I don’t know—but I’d love to have a few minutes alone with them.” He looked fierce and for a moment, almost as dangerous as Clark

“Yeah.” He put his hand on Ray’s shoulder. Left it here.

Ray turned to him. “Lex said something the other day. About you. Something not very nice.”

“Um, yeah.” Philip blushed deep red. “I did—something wrong. With.” He coughed. “To Clark.” He looked down at his knees. “I never—with a guy—I didn’t want to do anything to hurt him. I still feel horrible about that.”

Ray said, “I see. Well, I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think. Clark, he still trusts you.” He stood and wanted to walk away, but Philip’s hand slipped from his arm to his wrist and closed around it.

“I’m ashamed that I took advantage of Clark—but I’m not ashamed of feeling the way I did. I do.” He looked up finally and caught Ray’s eyes. “I’m not ashamed by that at all.”

Ray sat slowly, and exhaled. “Oh.”

Philip reached out and pulled him close, and Ray slid a hand behind his neck. “Stop me if I do something you don’t want.” Philip looked a little frightened but nodded, and Ray kissed him, gently, giving Philip room to move, to escape. He groaned, and grabbed the edges of Ray’s shirt. “Just kiss me, okay…just…”

Ray pushed him back, gently, slowly, kissing him to distract Philip from what he was doing, how he was unbuttoning his shirt, and opening his fly, a slow motion strip tease that made Ray shake as he move, and Philip had no idea what it was doing to him. He lay back, and let Ray explore all of him, calluses scraping over his nipples, his chest, belly—it was familiar, but so strange, strong rough fingers where he’d only ever experienced soft, delicate…it was perfect. It was good because it was Ray—it was better because it was Ray. It seemed like forever before they were both naked, and Philip was trembling in anticipation, and a little fear….

“God…” Ray breathed out, more of a groan than a word, and slid his hands around to cup Philip’s ass, squeeze it and raise it. He pushed against him, and Philip’s dick rose between them. He grinned at him, and kissed him again. “I’m going to suck you—you okay with that?”

“Oh yeah,” Ray gasped out, “Completely.”

“Wait--” He turned Philip, eased him to his side. He kissed Philip’s hip and said, “We can do it together.” He took him in his mouth, and Philip quivered from head to toe, kissed the tip of Ray’s dick, swirled his tongue over it and let it slide past his lips. He slammed his eyes shut and tried not to freak—his dick was in Ray’s mouth, Ray’s in his, hot and wet, and it…tasted so good. Felt so good, warm and full on his tongue—he couldn’t stop licking, working his tongue around him. The head felt so warm and smooth and he wanted to swallow it down as far as he could—he gagged a little, and drooled a lot-- but Ray moaned like it was the best blowjob he’d ever had. Between the noise Ray made, and the slick wet suction around his dick, he was trembling on the edge of orgasm before it seemed possible—he’d never come this fast with any of the girls he’d been with. Fuck, he’d never felt this free or this hot before.

His body felt on fire, he was drenched, and dizzy, and he couldn’t stop trying to suck Ray’s dick as far as he could into his throat—he came, so suddenly he couldn’t do anything except shake. Ray groaned long and loud around his dick, and he twisted his hip, it made his dick slip a little further into his throat, and the sensation must have been right—he yelled out Philip’s name and jerked and all Philip could do was hold him tight and swallow.


Ray pulled slowly away, jerking a little as aftershocks hit him, making Philip grin, and lick his softening dick. Ray held him off when Philip tried to take him back in his mouth.

“No—no, wait, wait a little…shit. That was, you were amazing.” He reached out and cupped Philip’s cheek. You *are* amazing.”

Philip felt a blush burn up into his face. No, I’m not. But thank you anyway. That was really wonderful for me. I…I… thanks.”

Ray laughed and pushed him a little. “Come on, let’s get dressed I’m starving.”

* * * * *
Lex was waiting for Clark in his sitting room. He was at a table set with linen, china, and crystal, music played in the background. Clark hesitated when he entered—it was a lot like dinners with Lionel…did that mean? Hope flared for an instant before dimming. Things usually didn’t happen the way he thought they would, most times, they ended badly.

Lex got up and seated him sit at the table, and then, began to explain what was on the table. He didn’t sit—he walked around the table pointing out various items, their use, their names.

It was a lesson, Clark realized, with a sharp stab of disappointment. Lex was teaching him what to do if he ever ate with people. That was kind of him. Lex looked pleased, as if he were enjoying himself. Clark smiled. It was very nice to see Lex smile. It made him glow, made him even more beautiful.

When he was finally satisfied that Clark would remember what he was taught, he sat and told Clark that every day, he was going to have lessons. Very soon, no one would know that Clark hadn’t had a normal life.

Clark felt little flashes of memory during some parts of lunch, memories of a red-headed woman, and setting the table, just the way Lex described, but with fewer bits of silverware. He shook his head. Those thoughts were distracting and useless, hey made his stomach hurt.

Lex shook out the napkin and folded it across his lap, and Clark followed suit. “Did you like the new bookcases, Clark?”

“Yes.” Clark stared at the table. “Will Lionel let me keep them? Will he let me keep the room?”

“Yes, he will, because I said so.” Lex sounded so confident, that Clark believed him…mostly.

They ate, and Clark found it impossible to keep his eyes from Lex. Lex smiled back, another free, happy smile, one that spread through Clark’s body like wine. He blushed, and Lex blushed and then, suddenly he stood and threw his napkin on the table.

Clark, can I--do you want to come to bed with me?

Clark gasped and nodded—yes, yes. Always yes.

Lex took his hand, and pulled him gently to the bedroom, and Clark looked about with awe. This was Lex’s bedroom…so different than when Lionel used it.

The deep dark purple and brown of the furniture, the linens made the room feel warm, and the thick comforter on the high, big bed made Clark want to throw himself into it. He was sure he’d sink into it like a cloud, a Lex scented cloud. The smell…all around him was the scent of spice, and Lex, so many shades and flavors of Lex. He groaned, harder than he could ever remember being, happy, nervous—he wanted Lex to be happy too.

Lex walked him backwards to the bed, unbuttoning his shirt as he did, pulling it down over his arms, undoing the snap of his pants, they slid down with Lex’s hands smoothing over his skin, and he never knew it could be a good thing to take your clothes off—and then, Lex took his off too, handing each piece to him. It was a wonderful thing to take your clothes off, he thought in awe. Wonderful.

Clark took the clothing, pressing each item to his nose, and folding it carefully to set aside. When every piece was folded, and set on the end of the bed, Lex prowled up Clark’s body, gently pushing him flat, to lay down on him. Clark thought he was going to die, Lex was everywhere, pure, strong, filling his pores, his mouth, as well as his nose. Clark quivered, parted his lips to breathe, the tip of his tongue sliding to see-could he taste him-- Lex pounced on him, taking his mouth, parting his lips more with his tongue, kissing until Clark moaned aloud. Kisses, so sweet, so soft, and Lex’s penis was hard, warm against his belly—this was a wonderful thing, kissing, it was different than any he’d ever had. It was—right. Clark lost himself in the buzz and warmth of kisses, the plush feel of lips against his, he pressed the little scar on Lex’s mouth and felt it slip between his teeth. Lex moaned in his ear, breath tickling him as he groaned clothes off, god, we need to be naked, now!

Clark chuckled and let Lex pull off the rest of his clothes, the collar swung under his fingers, the chain whipped about in his desire to have Clark naked as fast as he could.

Clark shook and moaned, his happiness almost complete, forced out the thought that Lex didn’t take the chain or the collar off, but that didn’t matter, what mattered was his slim cool hand, teasing his foreskin, fingers rolling the slip of skin, pulling it down, up and rolling it back, unveiling the red crown, and rubbing the fluid that poured out over his hand, over the head…he arched and quivered—now—now, and he leaned over to take the sensitive head of his penis in his mouth. Clark shouted, tears rolled down his face.

Lex let him slip from his mouth—“not yet”—he kissed him and lifted his legs to either side of his waist. Clark closed his eyes and waited, trembling and feeling as if he was about to fly out of his skin, he waited for the thrust into him, when nothing happened he opened his eyes to see Lex staring at him, eyes wide, and mouth parted. “You’re mine, aren’t you? You want to be mine.”

“Oh yes, I do, I wish…please, come into me, please.”

Lex groaned and slid in, and Clark felt full, and warm, finally…his heart beat wildly for a moment, and then the beat matched Lex’s beat for beat, breath for breath, they pushed together, rode the wave of ecstasy together…Lex began stroking him, and his penis throbbed inside him, it stroked in and out of him, and each stroke sent heat flaring through his body, made his heart swell, the feeling got bigger, and bigger, and hotter, his penis throbbed, and wet so much, and then—he came, waves and waves rising from the very center of him, the feeling of Lex’s penis inside him made him cry, and the flood of heat when he came inside him made him feel alive, and loved and human…for a little bit, it was miraculous. Even when Lex yanked him closer with a hand wrapped around his collar, it felt like a miracle.

* * * * *
When Lionel came back from Japan, the first thing he did was call Lex to him.

“I missed you son.” Lionel cocked and eyebrow at him and smiled. “How did business go while I was gone?” Lex heard it as ‘did you destroy my carefully crafted business, did you run my money maker into the toilet, you idiot.’

“Fine. Everything is fine—I brought everything with me…” He fumbled the discs in his hands, and clutched at the files that threatened to drop to the floor. He reached up and jammed a few fingers into the knot of his too tight tie.

Lionel smiled. “Sure, son, sure.” He held out his hand and took the proffered items and let his fingers slide across his hand. Lex shivered. His hand was too hot and too dry, the skin felt too soft, thin….

Lex wanted to hurt him so terribly bad, wanted to smack the smile off his face. “Can I go now? I’m tired—it’s been a long day, I’m sure you’re ready for sleep as well.”

Lionel chuckled. “Certainly. Right you are. Lex…you’re dismantling the cage.”

Lex stood a little straighter and jammed his hands into his pants pockets. Smirked and answered, “I saw no point to it. And you did say I had complete control over *all* the fighters, am I correct?”

Lionel leaned back in his chair and raised his eyebrows, looked Lex in the eye and drawled, “Certainly you had that…still do. I never said he *had* to stay in the cage. Clark always had a choice. Choices are what makes life interesting, am I right?” Lionel smiled and nodded. “You’ve changed a bit. I thought you would. Continue running the fights. You’re doing an adequate job.”

He looked up, expressionless, studying Lex. Lex’s fingers drifted over to his tie, patted the bit of purple silk in his pocket. “By the way, you did an acceptable job laying groundwork for the Japanese merger as well. Everything fell into place as I wished and I’m pleased.”

He stood and came around the desk and Lex panicked, froze. No. Lionel leaned on an arm against his desk and smiled. “You didn’t embarrass me. That’s good.” He drew long fingers over his zipper, over the growing bulge under the dove gray wool fabric of his trousers. “I’m giving you the fights to run permanently.”

Lex felt his throat closing up, his mouth was dry and his tongue felt stiff. He nodded, and wanted to back up, but he couldn’t break the gaze his father had on him.
“Come here.”

He took a single step and stopped.

“Come here,” he said again and pulled his zipper down. “Show me gratitude.”

Lex closed his eyes swallowed and stepped closer. He felt his dad’s fingers, thin and dry, hard as bone, close around his head, push him slowly to his knees. He felt wool, and heat, Lionel’s finger on his lip, pulling his mouth open. “Go on.”


Afterward, as Lex stood and walked to the apartment door, Lionel said quietly, “Send Clark up, will you?”

“Of course.” He said and hoped none of the ice that was stabbing under his ribs showed in his face. He turned and walked out of the room, he was certain he heard low laughter.

* * * * *
Clark was nearly exploding—part of him wanted to go to Lionel immediately and part of him wanted to run far away. Lionel—Robin said that he had a right to make decisions. He told him that, but he didn’t tell him how to do it.

Lex…Lex had been so kind to him. Being with Lex had felt like he was making his own decision, like he’d chosen to lay down with him and touch him until he came, like it was his choice to let himself be filled that way. Whether he was making a decision or not didn’t matter, it was Lex, whom he’d waited for, it felt like a lifetime, waited for to make him whole. Being with Lex was being a real person.

He turned the book Philip had given him over in his hand. Robin said that the boy in the book made a choice and it wasn’t an easy one, it was even a painful decision but…how was Clark supposed to do that? He had no place to go. There was no land faraway that he could go to. He had no one else except Lionel. Lex he longed for with all his might, but Lionel…he belonged to.

Lionel was waiting….

* * * * *
Lex sat at his desk and smoked cigarette after cigarette, filling the ashtray, covering the surface of the desk with ash, dripping liquor across it as he gulped straight bourbon…he laughed. Clark had run out of the apartment, practically panting for it. If he’d had a tail, he’d have wagged it. Fucker. He giggled and tipped the glass back, slopping alcohol over the front of his shirt, splashing the desktop. Oops! He put the cigarette in the corner of his mouth and yanked off his tie, trying to clean the top and smeared wet ash around. He threw the tie down and laughed again. He very, very carefully set the glass down, entirely concentrated on the task, muttering to himself as he did.

He stood and wandered around the office, thought about calling Robin, calling Ray.
He threw himself down on the couch. Everyone was out. He’d sent Philip and Ray out earlier with orders not to come back and then, had sat down to seriously and thoroughly drink himself into unconsciousness.

He wasn’t anywhere near that when Lionel called on him to pick Clark up. Lex felt sick. He didn’t think Clark would be back tonight. Fuck, fuck, fuck…He staggered to his feet. Here I go.


Clark was ruffled and crumpled, he smelled like sex—like sweat and come, he was red-faced and there were bruises visible on his wrists, his neck. A necklace of bruises right under the collar worked their way down…in the open vee of his shirt he saw more. Clark’s eyes were red; he kept them trained on the floor.

Lex nudged his foot with his. “Had a good time?”

Clark was quiet. Lex nudged harder. “I asked you a question.”

Clark dropped his head more, his hair swung down to cover his face. He nodded, and Lex laughed.

“Yeah? What did he do—you look a little chewed up.” A tremor shook Clark and Lex kicked his foot. Hard. “Tell me what you did.”

“Tell me.” The elevator door opened and Lex pushed him out, and Clark gave him a shocked look, staggered forward into the room.

Lex heard a tiny metallic click. He stopped Clark and turned him around. There was blood on his shirt and Lex lifted the hem…blood ran down his chest in thin rivulets and Lex saw that he had rings through his nipples, rings with little green gems winking from them…he touched them and Clark jerked, moaned.

“He—he said you could take them out…please?”

“Why? Why should I, they’re pretty.” Lex grinned and pulled at the rings. Clark groaned.

“It hurts…”

Lex pushed him back into his bedroom, talking, non-stop, more to himself than to Clark. “You’re marked, he marked you—why shouldn’t I do it too? You’re his—I don’t care. He took everything from me—you –I’m taking you…hurt you, hate you….”

He slammed Clark against a wall, and yanked at his pants. “Off--take your things off.”

Clark shuddered, and quickly took his clothes off. He tried to fold them but Lex ripped them out of his hand and threw them on the floor. Lex said, “He’ll buy you new clothes. Now get on the bed.”

Clark climbed up onto the bed and Lex said, “Lay down, spread your arms and legs. Now.”

Clark did so and Lex shook. God damn, he was beautiful. He was amazing. Even bruised and bleeding, he was incredible. His dick began to fill and Clark dropped his eyes and bit his lip

Lex walked around the bed, staring at him, licking his lips and smiling at Clark. Clark shuddered. “Turn over, on your knees.”

Clark turned quickly as he could, and Lex shoved his face down into the pillows, and yanked at the chain until the chip was in his hand. Clark shivered and Lex could tell he was trying to be still. He laughed. “You’re so fucking obedient, just like a fucking collie.” He leaned over and barked in Clark’s ear. Clark didn’t move, the tiniest whimper leaked up from the pillow.

He put his hand on the skin right above Clark’s cleft, and pushed down. He was painfully hard now, his dick dipping hard and rising to his stomach when he pushed a finger inside Clark. He grimaced; Clark was wet, and loose, come dripped from his hole when he pulled his finger out. Lex wiped his hand on Clark’s back and when he sobbed, he hit him.

“Bitch, whore, slut…” he hit him, and cursed him and ignored the gagging sobs and hopeless moans. He slammed into him, immediately fucking him hard and grinding the stone into his skin, cursing—hating himself so much, hating everything about himself, he hated himself….

He pulled out and pushed the chip inside and while Clark screamed, jerked himself off. He screwed his eyes shut, and desperately willed himself to come. He managed to spill across Clark’s back and dropped his head, gasping and shaking. He pulled the chip free.

Clark shuddered and groaned, his skin shivered and twitched, but he didn’t move.

Lex got up, and nearly ran to the bathroom. He was on the floor and shoving his head into the toilet, threw up violently. He gagged and retched until his stomach felt crushed and empty, his face was running wet with sweat and his eyes burned behind his closed lids.

He had no idea how long he sat curled in on himself on the floor, before he finally stood and rinsed his mouth, brushed his teeth to try and rid himself of the awful acidic taste.

When he walked out to the bedroom, Clark was still in position, on his elbows and knees. His thighs were streaked with blood and come, his back was coated in streaks of come, and every so often, a slow shudder would rock him. He was quiet.

“Fuck,” Lex screamed. “Move, do something—hit me!” He ran to Clark and yanked him around to face him. “Hit me—hit me!”

Clark shook his head, his face was wet with tears and Lex yelled, “Get out, go to bed—just—get out.”




Chapter Ten
“You gonna bark all day little doggy, or are you gonna bite?" - Mr. Blonde "Reservoir Dogs"

Clark ran, Lex’s words filling his head, pounding in his head. He went to what was left of the cage room and threw himself on the floor. The bed was gone, the trunk was gone and he had a new bed, a room, a door, a bookshelf all his own. He had a rug and pillows and blankets…and right now all he wanted was Bear and his cot.

He sobbed, he couldn’t even take a shower because no one was in, no one except Lex. Clark felt a deep ripping stab of sorrow and…something else, some thing that felt hot and sharp and made him want to be in the pit.

He sat up and wiped his face. Robin said…Robin said he could make choices, on his own. If that was true…than he chose to take a shower.

He stood and hesitated at the open wall of the cage. He shuddered, and swallowed, felt the collar ride up as he did. He shouldn’t. He wasn’t supposed to. A shiver washed over him and he shook his head. He growled. One step forward, one more, and before he knew it he was in the shower room.

It took him a few seconds to understand the controls and he found the wash and the shampoo—he thought for a second, realizing that if he washed all the smell would be gone. His eyes watered, and hurt and then the sharp hot thing in his chest got bigger. He turned on the water, as hot as he could stand it, and poured wash over his skin. He scrubbed every inch, scrubbed until it almost hurt. He glanced up and saw the camera—for the first time, he really *saw* the camera.

Robin told him every day, ‘There are always choices Clark, big and little.’ Today, he made choices, he chose to shower because he wanted one—and now, he was going to choose to kill the camera. He walked to the corner of the room, reached up and pulled the lens off. There. He smiled. That made the hot thing less painful.

* * * * * *
In the morning, Robin worked with him, helping him to be more like people. Normally Clark loved it, it was like going to school—but today, he had questions that maybe Robin couldn’t answer.

Robin seemed disappointed to see him sitting in what was left of the cage, and frowned. He frowned even more when Clark asked him the question he’d been thinking about all night.

“Does Lex love me?” he asked.

Robin hesitated. “Well, he wants to help you become your own person. He cares.”

Clark stared at Robin. He was lying about Lex---what if he was lying about—everything? What if all the people around him were lying all the time. How would he know? Clark felt his heart speed up. Maybe it was okay to lie to him since he wasn’t a person…Clark’s head pounded. He knew some things, and he knew that those things were true. He knew about love—he knew if from his book.

He knew that what Lionel and Lex did to him was not love. There was no love, not for Clark, who had nothing, not even a name. Not for a boy named for a dog.

* * * * *
Lex kept distance between himself and Clark for a few days, tried to minimize contact with him at the pit. He had no idea what to say, how to begin to apologize for what he’d done. He had no idea if it was even possible to apologize, so he’d taken the coward’s way out again. He’d avoided Clark, had kept busy at the MAC and…elsewhere.

In his own way, Clark seemed to be avoiding him as well. He hadn’t reacted to him at all, not when their paths crossed, not on the ride to the Mac…it was as if Clark was somewhere far away. Hiding. Lex bit at his thumb, worried it painfully. It was his fault. He’d done a terrible thing to Clark. What if…what if he never came back? What if Clark left him alone with his dad….

He watched the bare, broad back in front of him; sweat gleaming on his shoulders, his hair curling against the nape of his neck. Clark was still, head down, unmoving…closed down and wrapped inside himself. Ray looked a little on edge, glancing back and forth from Clark to the crowd around the pit, and Philip, as usual, faced resolutely away from the pit, staring back towards the door they’d come through. The pit handlers stood around Clark, talking, laughing, not really paying attention to him. The crowd murmured and yelled occasionally as the fight ahead of them drew to an end. A loud shriek rising above the roar of the crowd let them know it was time and the pit master beckoned them forward.

Lex looped his fingers under the collar and pulled Clark’s head down, Clark looked at him from under the hair falling over his forehead, growled low enough that only Lex heard. Lex was startled, and Clark curled his lip--stood still as Lex took the chain off, unlatched the collar. He waited, eyes closed, for the effect of the stone to wear off—quicker than thought, he reached out and grabbed Lex’s wrist.

“Run…” he whispered, and was gone in the blink of an eye.

Lex jerked around towards Ray, and Ray was watching the pit, mouth open and face gone pale. The complete silence of the crowd finally registered on him.

He heard a chuckle and edged towards the pit.

Clark was walking around and around the agitated fighter in the pit. No matter which way he lunged, Clark wasn’t there. He laughed quietly, feinted and danced around the other man, driving him to a frenzy. Finally, he stopped and let the man attack him with a roar. He leaped at Clark, he howled, his arms swung, he tried to grapple with him and Clark broke his wrist. And then, broke his arm, and then, his shoulder. He broke his kneecap with a kick, it popped with a wet crack, broke his shin and the other screamed as bones pushed through the skin. The drugs kept the man from passing out, kept him awake and aware of each snap of bone. Screams faded and became sobbing, moaning, begging for release, as Clark worked bit by bit on the body…the crowd was soundless, and Lex could hear Clark talking to himself. He watched him peel back the skin over the fighter’s chest, and put his hand into it, carefully take it apart with a look of intense concentration. Intestines spilled when he opened him to the crotch and at that point even the drug they shot the fighters with couldn’t keep him conscious.

Clark looked up and caught Lex’s eyes. Stood legs apart, opened his pants and jerked off over the bloody shape on the floor. A last grunt and come spattered on what was essentially a corpse and the crowd went insane, the roof shook with their roars. Ray looked green, Philip closed his eyes and stared at the door--he refused to look. Lex vomited over the lip of the pit.

His eyes were streaming, but he still saw the scene from hell all too clearly--knew it was his fault. He staggered to his feet—he’d told him to run…he took a step back and stopped. Shrugged. Hell, he’d said it before, if Clark wanted him dead….

Clark landed lightly on the edge, and came straight for him, his eyes were blazing, but it seemed only Lex noticed. The guards around him waited, some grinning, some bored, it was the same after every match—the freak came out of the hole excited, no big deal. This had just been a better show than most.

Before anyone realized this time was not exactly the same as other times, he’d planted a blood and come slicked palm in the middle of Lex’s chest and pushed, hard. Lex flew backward, bowling over guards and spectators and Clark walked on, angry, radiating menace and was almost at the doors before one of the guards managed to climb over the tangle of people and struck him behind the knees with a baton. He crumbled to the ground, and the other guards were on him, he was hit again and again before Ray got to him, put the collar on, protected him.

Lex got up, clutching the middle of his chest, gasping for breath around the jagged pain. “Leave him the fuck alone,” he shouted, “we’ve got it under control--leave him.” Fuck. They were in deep shit now. Lionel was bound to have a fit. There were pieces of the guy everywhere down there. Clark had acted monstrously, purposely…Lionel was going to loose it.

Lex looked around and was startled. There was no underestimating the blood lust of the supposedly civilized. The crowd seemed to love it, watching Clark dismember the other fighter, they’d been silent as the grave, he’d been certain they were shocked senseless, horrified. But now…they were screaming, calling Clark’s name—wanting more blood. Bastards.

* * * * *
“I just got reports on yesterday’s event—what happened?” Lionel swung the desk chair to face Lex, a thoughtful frown on his face.

“I don’t know. He just—got weird.”

“He just got weird? Are you twelve? That’s your opinion on what happened?” Lionel got up and paced. “Not that the…display…bothered the clientele in the least, in fact they enjoyed it. They had no idea what danger they were in.” Lionel frowned at Lex and went back to his chair, sat and leaned back, studying him. “What do you think you’re doing to Clark? What do you think you’re going to end up with? Clark’s not human, you know.”

“What?” He gulped and loosened his tie a bit. “Not human--” his voice went dry, “Do you mean…”

“It took work, careful work, to turn him into my dog. And you want to ruin it. Why? Do you think he’s going to be grateful? He doesn’t know anything else. He’s the pet of anyone strong enough to be his master and you…” Lionel shook his head.

“You said—you said I had charge of him. You said he didn’t have to be in the cage. “

“I said he didn’t *have* to be in it. I thought you’d be smart enough to see he *needed* to be in the cage. And now it’s gone. How are you going to put him back in the cage?” Lionel swung his chair to face the windows. “I think I have a solution. Send him in. you can go back to the apartment. I’ll call for you later.”

Lex stood quickly, swallowing and swallowing. The dryness wouldn’t go away, the tie was too tight, and his neck hurt. “Right away.”

He left and was already calling for Philip to bring Clark to Lionel’s office. He was in his own office before Clark left the apartment.

* * * * *
“He hurt you, didn’t he?” Lionel asked, and Clark was silent, eyes fixed on the floor. Answer me.”

Clark looked up and shook his head.

Lionel raised an eyebrow. “No? No, he didn’t hurt you or no, you won’t answer me?” He smiled when Clark looked confused, trying to figure out how to answer and not actually speak. He turned red when he realized Lionel was laughing at him.

“I had something made for you on my trip.” Lionel got up and came toward him, and Clark noticed he had a little gray box in his hand. Clark started to back up—gifts were bad…Lionel opened the box and Clark gasped and fell to his knees.

“Do you like it? The characters mean beloved pet. You are, you know. Here…” He clasped a thumbnail sized disc of green carved stone to the collar and smiled as he sat back. “I love you, Clark.”

Clark looked at him through a fresh haze of pain. His stomach cramped and he shook his head.

“I love you Clark. And Lex hurt you. But don’t worry; I’ll make it better. Tonight, I’ll fix it all for you.” He smiled gently and stroked Clark’s sweat wet hair. Clark whined, and shivered, dropped to his knees.

“I know how to make you happy.”

* * * * *
Lex stood in the middle of his room, thinking….

He slid the lilac tie through and around his fingers, enjoying the smooth feel—he thought about how nice his childhood had been compared to the life he was living now--and laughed out loud. God—who’d ever think that he’d look back on that fucked up stew of abuse and neglect with nostalgia? He was still chuckling when he looped the end of the tie over a hook in his closet and started to tie the other end around his neck. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and tried knotting the end around his throat with numb fingers.

Who would miss him? Robin? Sure, yeah, why not--the guy whose family he’d threatened--or Ray, the guy who thought he was a whore and worse?
Maybe Philip—he’d only ruined his life completely, sure he’d miss him…Clark? He might be wrong but he was pretty certain Clark was going to kill him when he got the chance…maybe Dad would miss him. Maybe, when he got bored and needed to rip the wings off of something.

Lex reached up to pull the knot tight on the hook…reached up and yanked on the silk and for a moment, red pinwheels bloomed under his lids and then…

Fuck. No. He ripped open the knot and threw the tie and kicked a hole in the wall. “Fuck no. Fuck no. I must be a damn idiot! If I go--I’m taking every one with me.”

He was breathing so hard his ribs heaved, and he stalked to the door. He was going up there and taking Clark back and then, maybe throwing that old bastard over the balcony, no—no, that was too quick--whatever he was going to do to him, it was going to hurt. It was going to be loud and messy and hurt like a mother fucker and—and--maybe Clark would want to help….

Lex yanked open his bedroom door. His dad and two of his personal bodyguard stood outside the door. One lifted a gun, barrel pointed at Lex and his dad said,” Hello, son.” Lex felt a punch to his chest and an icy pain spread out from the punch…he looked down and saw a dart protruding from his chest. “Hey—damn it,” he managed before falling flat into night.

* * * * *
Lex woke up face up and staring at a ceiling. There were pipes and girders and cable snaking over them all, and he realized he was at the MAC. In fact, he was in the pit.

Weird, he thought. It’s clean but you can still smell blood, and the painted concrete was cold. And slightly rubbery, he mused as he dug nails into the surface. He debated moving…obviously he’d have to move soon. His father’s sense of humor was remarkably basic for a man who prided himself on moving beyond his roots. This little stunt of his was on par with shoving a caterpillar into an ant’s nest.

He listened and heard asthmatic breathing—not him—and whirled to his side not a minute too soon. The heavy boots of the other fighter landed, with an unbelievably loud crack, where his head had been. As soon as he moved, Lex felt a ridiculously overwhelming flood of well-being, a feeling of invincibility filled him-–he couldn’t be hurt, he was immortal and indestructible and…fuck—so fucking drugged up—he shook his head and fought to control the feeling. Okay, focus, remember how to direct the feeling…he babbled to himself and watched the circling fighter…suicide. He grinned to himself. What the fuck had he been thinking? He should have known Dad was going to kill him eventually—all he’d had to do was wait for the day. And surprise! He fought back giggles. Wish he could see the next time Dad tried to fuck Clark…should be interesting.

He dodged and weaved as he thought and then, the fighter kicked out and connected.

A flash of pain shot up his side and exploded in his chest—the drug worked to dull it but it still rocked him, hurt him. He twisted out of reach and was punched in the back, and kicked again, stars looped in his eyesight but the drug made it seem funny. He caught sight of the other guy smiling at him and…did he have filed teeth…Lex hoped that it was just for intimidation, and giggled.
Right.

He managed to hit the other once or twice, once a solid hit to the nose and blood flew everywhere before he got smacked into a wall. He hit with a bone-jarring thump, vibrated from head to toe. He heard a crack, and his arm exploded into sharp edged pain. Damn it. He was dead now, he could barely hold him off with two arms let alone one…the other came running at him and he leaned against the wall and waited. Death was coming at him, bloody faced and irritatingly brainless. He never pictured quite so stupid a death—anger flared, seared him with it’s intensity, and the fighter hit the wall hard as his defenseless prey dropped under him.

The fighter was stunned and Lex’s deeply ingrained school yard reflexes took over—he took advantage of his momentary reprieve, came up behind the groggy fighter and kicked him in the neck with every ounce of strength he had.

He was as shocked as the crowd when he heard a crack and the fighter slumped over.
What the fuck…he survived? He looked down at the dead man stupidly. He was still alive, still breathing and the other guy was dead? This wasn’t happening. There was no way—the crowd roared and brought him back to himself. He looked up to the edge of the pit and saw his dad looking down at him with a speculative smile.

He might have to rethink that suicide thing.

* * * * * *
He was back in the apartment, bruised, still more than a little high, and alive. That was the most miraculous thing—he couldn’t believe he survived that shit. He felt so fucking alive, so grateful to be breathing because now he was going to use it. Make sure he came out on top.

He called his staff together and was pacing, jittering, drinking, as they came in. He grinned up at them as they settled around the room.

Ray stared at him. “What the fuck happened to you--”

Lex laughed. He knew what a sight he was. He was bruised and dirty from head to toe, one eye was nearly closed, his lip was ripped through at the corner, he was purple and yellow all down one side of his chest and he was crisscrossed with small cuts and raw spot… “Fuck this—most of it will be gone by tomorrow or the next day,” he laughed, and drank. He was buzzing and floating at the same time and he felt…invincible. He gulped a quick swallow and hissed as the liquor stung him—when the drugs wore off, he was going to pay for this. “I spent a little time getting up close and personal with the entertainment at the MAC…”

Philip gaped. “You were in the pit? Clark—“

Lex made a cutting motion, “Not Clark. Lionel.”

Robin glared at him. “Why? What did you do?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Lex gaped, laughed. “You think he punished me for being a bad boy? Am I going to get a lecture on respecting your elders?”

“No, not that…you did something to Clark he didn’t like.”

Lex flushed, deeply ashamed, but chose to ignore Robin. “Well, I ruined his dog—“ He grinned and gulped from the glass in his hands. He rolled it in his palms and the amber liquid turned cloudy and rust colored from blood the motion swirled in it. “But that’s neither here nor there now. First—let me tell you my story—and then, I’m gonna want advice—how can I overthrow Lionel Luthor?” He grinned wide and cheerful.

* * * * *
Clark shuddered helplessly, swallowed, almost gagging on thick saliva as he watched Lionel stalk around the room. He had no idea how long he’d been there, alone for the most part…days, hours….

“The boy is like a rat—a goddamn cockroach. He just won’t die.” He laughed. “He’s my son, *that* much is clear. Well, he won’t last long. Let him stew for a while and then—into the pit again.”

Clark groaned, a low moan of sound he couldn’t keep behind bleeding lips.

“What’s wrong, Clark? Hurting?”

Clark was kneeling, head to the floor, his legs a solid burning ache under him. The stone was making him sick, sicker than he’d ever been. Every movement, shudder, aching breath, made him want to throw up.

“I don’t want you to worry about not fulfilling your duty to me--Lex took your place tonight.”

Even under the weight of so much pain, Clark was horrified. Lex wasn’t a fighter, he couldn’t survive the pits, not long…it was all his fault. If he hadn’t been so angry none of this would have happened. Hot tears burned his eyes and made his head pound. “Please…please…”

“Please? What would you give, Clark? What would you bargain with?” Lionel laughed. “I own you. He still owns you, Clark, piss poor specimen of a man or not—at least he is a man. Don’t forget that. You’re owned by us.” He yanked Clark to his feet by the thick collar. “Those people sold you to me for the price of a rundown house and some dirt. You are a possession. Understand? Whatever happens to you is under my control. Go home.”

Clark staggered forward and Lionel stopped him and tugged on the nipple rings. “Maybe he’s not as concerned as I thought he might be. Take him back.” He gestured to his men standing at the door and turned away.

Strange men took him to the elevator, and Clark’s stomach rolled and fought—they didn’t let him stop for his clothes. Naked, sweating and close to vomiting, he rode the elevator back to hell.

Hell was everywhere now. He used to think it was just in the pit, because the men called it hell. But he’d come to understand now, that it was in Lionel’s apartment too, and it was because of Lex he knew it was so. Lex had shown him it could be in his apartment too. Hell could follow him anywhere. In the back of his mind he thought that he knew the source of all hells…a yellow house somewhere, surrounded by yellow flowers with brown faces, blue curtains hiding devils behind them.

Hell was in the elevator. The men played with him until the door opened, and all he could do was try not to get sick over Lionel’s possessions.

The door opened and Ray and Philip were standing there. Lex floated up into his view and he wasn’t sure if he were real or not. Lex shouted at him and tried to drag him out of the car, or maybe hit him, he wasn’t sure and then Lex was shouting at him and Philip and Ray were shouting something at the devils from Lionel’s room. The air got thicker and thicker and soon it was too heavy to breathe, it was on fire. He turned to Philip for help, holding out his hand, his heart was calling out for him, Philip would help him. Lex slapped his hand down, and ordered everyone out.

Clark was alone with him, and he tried to find the part of him that had filled with hot sharp anger, and it slipped out of him like water between his fingers. Lex had suffered as well as he had, suffered in the pit out of his mistake. Lex was going to kill him for that…Clark heaved a sobbing breath of relief. “Please.”

“I will, trust me, I will do everything you want.”

The room spun wildly, he closed his eyes and waited for Lex to kill him. Inhaled, and Lionel’s scent filled his nose, and blood and the drug from the pit and vomit and come…he staggered forward, took another step and fell into space.

* * * * *
Light woke him, and something under his back—he was lying down. The collar lay like an iron band on his throat and Lex was standing over him watching him lose the fight for breath. Everything was slipping away, pain, fear--he closed his eyes and waited calmly, all he had left was sorrow. How sad it was that Lex was letting him die, he thought. How sad that he’d never see him again…

* * * * *
He opened his eyes and snorted in shock. He was alive. He was warm. A steady stroking that he realized was a damp washcloth spread heat across his skin. He felt lighter, more awake…the painful rings in his chest were gone and the cloth was washing away traces of blood there. The bracelets were gone…the collar was gone…the chain. The collar was very near still; he could feel it seeking him out, trying to sink it’s claws into him again.

Lex looked down at him. “Are you awake?”

He nodded carefully, waiting for pain that didn’t come.

“Good.” He pushed the sweat soaked hair back from his forehead and Clark closed his eyes. The touch was so soft, so tender…a flickering memory of red hair, and aqua grass dissolved as he tried to reach out for it. Lex spoke on as he stroked Clark’s hair.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything—I’m sorry that you’re…” his voice caught before he went on. “…that you’re afraid of me. You won’t believe this, why should you…I love you.”

Clark opened his eyes, looked up into Lex’s red eyes. Purple shadows under his eyes made them even redder, so red around the edges of his eyelids, they looked raw.

“Change is coming, love, even bigger changes then you’ve lived through so far. You’ll have to be very brave. Because these changes—they might—will hurt you, Clark. They’ve barely begun, and already they’re hurting your friends…” Lex stopped and rubbed viciously at his eyes, but the look he gave Clark was fierce. “That’s change, Clark, sometimes it’s painful. Sometimes the price is…is…awfully big. But sometimes it’s worth it.” Lex got up to wet the cloth again and Clark heard him mutter “God, I hope to fuck it’s worth it.”

Lex gathered the collar and everything else and said, “You’re free. You belong to no one but your self. Do what you want. Your choice, Clark.” He stepped back and looked at Clark, waiting….

* * * * *
“Hello, David. Remember me, Lex Luthor? We worked together on the merger—“

*Lex. How could I forget? Not when you went out of your way to make our working …relationship…so unforgettable. *

Lex laughed lightly, as if the shit had said something actually amusing and made a face at himself in his mirror. “I’m glad you haven’t forgotten me…actually; I called to ask a favor.”

“A favor? Well…what sort of favor are we talking here? “

I’m setting some plans in motion that I hope will leave me in the driver’s seat, so to speak, at Luthor Corp.”

“Really? That’s blunt. Getting rid of dear old dad are we?”

“Yes.”

There was a moment of silence and then a chuckle. “You always did have a way with words, Lex. Good. I’d rather work with you.

“The sort of work I’ll be doing from now on is much different than what I’ve been doing. In other words no more benefits.”

“Shame. But if it means viciously screwing your old man I’m behind you. Come see me today.”

* * * * * *
Lex warned everyone to keep their heads down. He only discussed his plan with Ray, told him that it was the best way to protect Robin and his family from his father. This way—he’d be able to slip him out from under Lionel’s nose. He knew how to work this particular person, he’d dealt with him before. He had no doubt that he’d get what he wanted.

Ray winced as he watched Lex get dressed and Lex laughed. He tucked a square of purple silk into his jacket pocket. “Years too late for that, guy.”

Ray held his shoulder. I’m sorry, AJ, I’m so fucking sorry.”

Lex yanked away from Ray’s hold. “Don’t be. It just means I’m ready for today.” He turned away from Ray’s concern and walked quickly to the elevator. “Watch out for the kid—make sure Robin’s with him.”



He was at the office building in an hour, and waiting for Brand in his private office.

David Brand walked in and stopped. “Fuck. What a shame…”

Lex was relaxed on the sage green sofa, the black silk lining of his open coat set off the dove gray trousers and mauve shirt and tie…Lex was presented on his couch like a gift. His head tilted back and he smirked at him, his ankles were crossed and showed off his handmade shoes perfectly. One arm was thrown casually across the back of the couch and the other rested across his chest. He knew what he looked like—he always did.

“Tell me what you want—this favor.”

“I want to know that if Lionel’s out of the picture, you’ll support me—and make sure the others support me too.” He shifted slightly, just enough to keep Brand’s interest. “On a personal note, I need safe passage out of Metropolis for three people. That means your private jet.”

“My jet? Are you going to tell me why you need this?

“It’s for someone I owe heavily. Someone important to me.”

Brand’s eyes lit up with greed. “How important?”

Lex relaxed and both arms were now across the back of the sofa, pulling the shirt tight against his chest. “Very. I would be very grateful for anything you do. This one last time…”

Brand licked his lips, “Yes to everything. If you can manage to take it from him, however you do it, yes.” he was breathing a little heavier now. “In fact, in light of recent events—the more damage you do, the better.”

Lex held his hand up, and stopped Brand in his tracks. “I need you to do it now.” Brand took another step towards him and Lex smiled and shook his head.

“Oh, yeah, okay. Now.”

He made swift arrangements and then turned to Lex with a shark’s grin. “Make it really good if this has to last me forever.”

Lex sneered. “Oh, it will, it will.”

* * * * *
He was spread over the couch, one leg shoved up high against his chest and the other trailing on the ground. His perfect pants were draped around his ankle, and his shirt was still buttoned and shoved up under his armpits. His coat was under him; Brand was fucking him hard, shoving his face into the lining, grunting like an animal. Lex grit his teeth and thought of—something, everything, anything to make this pass.

“Do yourself, I want to see you come.”

Lex groaned and dredged up images usually guaranteed to get him off, Jeremy in the bathroom long, long ago, Clark falling back against the wall when Philip sucked him off, coming all over his cheek, his chest…he jerked himself hard and fast and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from calling out, and managed to come, spilling over his hand and Brand’s and the goddamn fucking lining of his coat…thank fuck that was over and Robin was safe. He laughed weakly. Jesus, how many times had he taken a fuck to protect him?

Brand grinned at him. “It was good, hunh?”

“Yeah. The best I ever had.”




Chapter Eleven
You think dogs will not be in heaven? I tell you, they will be there long before any of us.
--Robert Lewis Stevenson

Lex started calling in favors owed him--one of the few lessons Dad taught that actually made sense. He called a school acquaintance who’d relocated rather abruptly to the west coast with Lex’s help, and told him that he was about to employ a discrete and skilled body guard. Of course the man readily agreed, relieved that repayment was going to be that simple.

A few more calls and Lex made sure that Robin and his family would be comfortable, close to Robby. His wife would receive a job offer that should make her happy--and would be nearly impossible to trace back to Lex—he doubted Robin would look too hard into it. Satisfied that that portion of his plan was completed, he met with Philip.

“Clark will need help getting used to a…” he stopped and laughed a little. “well--a normal life…does the thought of taking care of Clark bother you? Are you afraid of him?” now…

“I could never be afraid of Clark, never.”

“Good. I was hoping you’d say that.” He shrugged his shoulders and adjusted his coat. “All right. I’m going to talk to Lionel.”

Philip swallowed. “Good luck, Lex.”

Lex nodded. “Thanks. Here, these are the keys to Escalade. This is the address of the place I told you about. It should be in good shape—Dad never wastes anything. This is the phone number of the couple who are caretakers—they know to expect someone soon. They don’t live on the property, but they’ll be available to you. There’s an account in your name….” He put off Philip’s protests. “You need, it—I have no idea how long it’ll be before I can catch up with you. Ah. I think that’s everything. You have to make Clark your number one priority. Understand? You have to be up for the job--are you?

Philip nodded.

“All right.” Lex walked back to his desk and pressed the intercom. “Ray.”

There was a knock at the door and Ray came in. He glanced towards Philip and then towards Lex. “Ready?”

“In a moment. There’s something Philip wants to talk to you about,” and he left the room.

* * * * *
Philip stared at Ray, and back to the closed door. He shifted from side to side, and laughed weakly. “Well shit, I don’t…he’s…” He shook his head. “This is the weirdest shit that ever happened to me. I never…never expected anything like this. I mean…” He stopped, shook his head. “Weird.”

Ray tilted his head and said, “Hey, you’re gonna give me a complex. Did I screw something up?” He rubbed his head; buzz cut hair moving not at all.

Philip jerked, “Oh, no—no, not you. Didn’t I say it was the best thing that ever happened to me? Because, damn…” He took a step forward. “It’s so damn unfair.”

Ray shrugged. “What’s unfair? Nothing’s changed. We’ll talk about all this after, but now, I want you to know. The last few months? Have been the best I ever had, too.” He turned away and muttered ,”And I think I love you.”

Philip stared at him. “I—shit. Really?”

Ray started to speak, and Lex opened the door, “Sorry, we need to move--ready?”

Ray was instantly all business. He straightened, glanced back at Philip with a smile and a wink. “Always ready.”

* * * * *
Lex called Robin into the suite and told him that he planned to help Clark get away. Told him also what arrangements he’d made for him.

Robin stared at him. “So, essentially you’ve cut me out of this and re-arranged my entire life,” he said.

“Look, I’m trying to protect you from what’s about to happen, and if I don’t succeed, I’m trying to protect you and your family, like I promised.”

Robin nodded. “I’m not ungrateful for what you’re trying to do. But you must know, none of this would have been necessary if you’d kept on the path you were on as a boy. Now…you seem to be trying to regain it, and I wish you luck. I understand that you thought you had to be valuable and useful to your father. I understand that, now, you’re looking for some redemption by helping Clark. I hope you succeed, that you don’t end up taking advantage of a basically innocent young man. I’m sorry AJ. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I can’t bring myself to respect you. Maybe…maybe some day, I can again.”

Lex smiled at him, nodded his head and smiled the whole time Robin spoke, murmured “Of course, I see, yes, yes,” and gently guided him to the apartment door, to the driver waiting to take him, and his family, to the private airport where the jet waited for him, where freedom, and a new life, waited. The uppermost thought in his mind was that his ass still hurt, and he had a vicious cramp in one thigh. He nodded, and when Robin stuck out his hand, he automatically took it, and shook it.

“I’ll be thinking about you, AJ. I’ll pray that someday, you become the man you were supposed to be.”

Lex nodded again, and considered grabbing him by his tie, and not letting him go until he described, in all the detail he could remember, the times his father screwed him with the unspoken promise—the promise that had only existed in Lex’s mind-- that Robin and his family would be safe….

“Good-bye. I hope you have a good life. Your new boss is a decent enough guy—at least, he’s a better man than my dad was...the guy you worked for for what—thirteen years? Fourteen?” He shrugged and grinned. “Thanks, by the way. Dr. K never touched me again after that.’ He laughed. “Funny how things work out, eh?”

He shut the door softly behind him, and took a minute to calm his breathing, to unclench his teeth.

He did what he had to do, and now, that chapter was closed.

* * * * *
Ray glanced at him when he came back to the office, and said nothing. He scratched the back of his neck, and when he caught Lex’s eye, asked softly, “You okay?”

Lex rolled his shoulders, tightened the knot of his tie with a jerk. “Never better.” He cocked an eyebrow at Ray. “One down, more to go—ready?”

Ray hesitated for a moment, looked thoughtful and asked, “Do you think that Philip and Clark will be okay? ‘Cause I’m assuming you mean for them to take care of each other? That’s the real deal isn’t it?”

Lex gnawed at his lip and finally sighed. “Yes. Clark cares about Philip—I think he loves him. They’re set for life.” He looked down. “I don’t think…I don’t think my dad’s going to give in easily. Or at all. I’m sorry.”

Ray put his hand on Lex’s shoulder. “AJ, anyone who doesn’t get you is an idiot. Anyone who can’t see what kind of man you are, doesn’t deserve to see it. I’ll go anywhere with you, follow you any where, and be proud to.”

Lex looked up at him, and was overwhelmed by the depth of feeling in Ray’s eyes. “Thank you. You have no idea what it means to me to hear that. I want to believe it.”

Ray tightened his grip. “Believe it.”

They stood for a moment, Lex soaking up the feeling of…love. Respect. Everything he’d ever wanted and never received from anyone. It was hard to let go, but he did and they walked out of the office. Another chapter closed, Lex thought, and tears blurred his vision for a moment. Well. He sighed, and pasted the sardonic smile he reserved for evenings with the Luthors on his face.


Up in the elevator to Lionel’s office they stared at each other, smiling.

“You scared?” Ray asked.

“I can honestly say, at this moment, I am absolutely scared shitless.” Lex said and fiddled some more with his tie. He frowned and seemed to be in thought for a moment.

"What?" Ray asked.

Lex looked up at Ray, and felt a sudden loosening of a knot that had been twisted inside him since childhood. Something let go, and it felt like—freedom. It felt good. Maybe not for long, he thought and a little shiver of fear raced through him, but hey—it felt good. “Nothing,” he laughed. He yanked off the tie and threw it on the floor. “Not a damn thing.” He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit up. Ray frowned.

“Those things will kill you, you know.” and waved his hand.

Lex sucked in smoke and laughed incredulously. “You have got to be kidding me. We’re both going to be dead in a mother-fucking minute.”

Ray stared at Lex’s wide cheerful grin and then laughed too. “Shit, we are, aren’t we? He checked his gun and grinned, spread his legs and bounced a bit. “Yep. Still scared?”

Lex took a deep drag and ground out the butt in the brand new carpet. “Completely, mindlessly, ready to pee myself. What about you--scared?” he grinned and blew a last lungful of smoke toward the opening doors.

“As a bitch,” Ray grinned back.

* * * * *
Lex and Ray ran a gauntlet of Lionel’s men, posted here and there in the hall to the office, lounging in the outer office, and all eyes were on the two of them. Lex swallowed.

‘There’s no way in hell we’re ever stepping out of that office again—but Dad won’t either.’

Lionel’s man stopped Ray at the office door, but Lionel called to him to let Lex through. It was plain how unhappy the man was not to frisk the two of them. Lex nodded at Ray and they walked in together. Lionel was sitting at his desk, a warm confident smile creasing his face. bastard….

Son. And well, well—there’s a face I haven’t seen in a while. To what do I owe the pleasure?

I won’t bore you with small talk, Dad. I’ve decided to take over your organization; I’m debating killing you. I’m taking Clark.

“Oh my, I don’t think that’s possible, son. You haven’t got the backbone for the first, or the second, and Clark—Clark needs me.”

Lionel looked too amusing, Lex thought, staring cross-eyed at the barrel of the gun pressed against the bridge of his nose. Lex was proud that the barrel never wavered, and he asked in a conversational tone, “Why? Why, and consider that a blanket question for everything you’ve ever done to me, all my life?” Lex didn’t look behind him, he heard a click, and Ray murmuring, “Lock this office down, or you die and he dies.” There was a low rumble, and steel doors rolled behind the mahogany office doors. Lex was impressed—he hadn’t known they were there.

Lionel was glaring at him, angry that one of his dogs had slipped the leash. “Why? It’s obvious. Everything I do is designed to make you strong. Stronger. You’ve always lacked backbone, Lex—all your life. I’m trying to make you worthy--” He stopped and gasped in pain, and Lex poked him hard in the forehead with the gun again, rocking his head back. A red mark bloomed on his brow. “Tsk. Dad, Dad.”

Ray snapped, “Don’t move, motherfucker,” and Lex heard the other man groan in pain, and smiled.

“Worthy? What—do you think you’re some kind of god or…I wonder if you even understand why you do the things you do? You weren’t making me strong. You used me, tried to break me, and when I wouldn’t break exactly the way you wanted, you tried to kill me.”

“It was your fault. You lost use for me, and then you tried to damage my pet, who has more worth for me you could never have.”

Lex stared into his eyes; examining him, trying to see into the depths, spoke softly, almost to himself, “…you were losing interest in him physically. He was getting too old, and you were starting to lose money on his fights. What did you plan to do with him, Dad? What was next in store for him—cutting him into pieces, trying to see what made him tick? Or just playing with him until he died? You are a deranged, disgusting and sick mother fucker.”

“Lex, Lex when will you learn? Overemotional as always.” Lex’s outburst brought a smile to Lionel’s lips. “You never learn. I tried to teach you--”

“Please-- shut up. I’m trying to decide why I shouldn’t kill you right now.” Lex pushed Lionel’s head as far back as it would go into the chair, and Lex heard a dull wet crack behind him.

“Getting troublesome,” Ray said, and holstered his gun. Lex smiled at his father.

For the first time that evening, Lionel began to show a touch of real fear. “You’re in my building, surrounded by my men. What makes you think you’ll even make it to the outer office alive?

“See, here’s the thing—I don’t care that much. I mostly want to kill you.”

“I’ve done everything I can for you, tried to help you…”

He stopped, gulped hard and rose slightly from the chair, pressure of the gun barrel under his chin making him push up. Lex laughed, “Shit, I almost shot you right there.”

Lionel wheezed, “Do you want to know about Clark? I can give you information. You think you know but you really don’t.”

Lex felt a tingle of curiosity, but shook his head. “I don’t care.”

“He’s not human.”

“I know, you told me that already. He wasn’t, but he will be…”

“No, I mean that literally. Physically, he’s mutated so far that there’s nothing human about him. He’s changed to something—alien—and it could happen to you. Are you sure you don’t want to know?” Lionel clamped his lips together and Lex felt the little flicker of curiosity turn into a flame.

“Show me.”

Lionel shook his head.” Not unless we have a deal. No more talk of killing me, and I’ll let you go, alive.” His tone was slightly scolding, as if Lex was a misbehaving toddler. “And, I’ll let you go with the information. You’re getting far more than you had to begin with.”

“Here’s the deal—give me the information and I won’t kill you when you leave.”

Lionel’s eyes flicked toward the computer screen in front of him. “All right.” He pushed his chair back and Lex stiffened, the gun swinging up again to center on his dad’s forehead.

“Careful son, I just need a little room.” He smiled at Lex. “Technology is a wonderful thing, but as time passes, people forget the old ways and sometimes, the old ways are the best.” He felt along the dentine molding that decorated the edge of the massive mahogany desk, and with a muted click, a thin drawer opened, slid out like a tray, and sandwiched between two slices of veneer, Lionel revealed a disc. He smirked at Lex raised eyebrow. “What you want is here.”

“Give it to me.”

“Let’s trade. Your gun for the disc.”

Lex smiled. “Or, I could just shoot myself in the head and save you the trouble.”

There was commotion in the outer office and the metal doors screamed. Lex sprang forward, quicker reflexes enabling him to grab the disc. “Looks like I have it all” he grinned and the blast doors rolled back, the wooden doors burst open. He sprang forward, yanked Lionel over the desk, and pressed the gun against his chin. “I’ll kill him.”

“Let him go,” Lionel yelled, voice garbled by the metal jammed under his mouth. “Let him go!” The men parted and Ray yelled, “Come on, let’s go!”

Lex stared at his dad, stared at the gun pressing his mouth open and thought, I can pull the trigger, right now, pull it and those evil eyes will never look at me again.” His free hand slid up to his throat and he blinked when he realized he wasn’t wearing a tie. He smiled down at his dad and turned his head toward Ray. “All right—let’s go.”

The minute he took his eyes from him, Lionel struck out and Lex staggered, another blink and he was being rushed backward by a heavy body, and Ray was yelling, “Drop, drop!”

Lex realized he meant him, but the heavy body pushing up against him suddenly wasn’t, hands like bear traps grabbed him around the neck, and the leg, flung-- he was airborne—

“No, no!” He heard Ray shout, it sounded odd, echoed and it was nearly drowned out by the sound of splintering glass.

It hurt when he hit the window, his hands felt like they were going through a brick wall instead of a pane of glass. His scalp tore, his forehead--the coat he had on, a heavy pea coat to replace the sleek wool he’d ruined, kept most of the glass from his torso—his stomach dropped as gravity reached out and began to yank him out of the sky. Wind screeched past him and stole his breath, his stomach crawled towards his throat and he fought to scream. He closed his eyes and waited for the end.

* * * * *
Clark and Philip were on their way to the garage. Clark looked a little nervous, worried, and Philip tapped him on the arm.

“Walk normally, Clark. Look sick.”

Clark grinned briefly at Philip, and Philip smiled back. He’d explained that the change Lex spoke of was come at last—that they needed to get as far from Lionel’s city as they could. That Lex would join them soon as he could, but his heart beat faster when he said that, it was plain as day now, so clear, everything was now. If he concentrated just the littlest bit, he could smell that Philip sweated a little when he said that, he could hear the blood rushing in to surround his organs, and hear his lungs over inflate…Philip was lying but it didn’t surprise Clark. It was human, he supposed. It was normal for them to lie.

He slid into the car with Philip and sniffed—Lex’s scent was so thick in the car it made him a little hard. He relaxed and enjoyed the smell, the feeling. His eyes were closed as they left the garage but he knew where they were, he knew that in the opposite direction lay the MAC, and he knew every point in between. He could feel the direction, like a gentle tug in the center of his chest. It was comforting, in a way.

He idly let his hearing grow, evaluated and ignored Philip and cast about for familiar sounds and there it was…Lex. His heart was beating faster—Clark sat up with a frown. Faster, what was wrong— there was a tremendous spike in the beat and it was bumping all over. Clark lunged against the seat belt, “Go back—go back now!”

Philip yelped as Clark reached out for the steering wheel. “Stop before we have an accident--I can’t go back, he’ll kill me if we don’t leave now!”

Clark looked at him, red eyes snapping. He growled, “I’ll kill you if you don’t.”

Are you afraid of him? Phillip heard Lex’s voice in his head, oh hell yeah, he thought,—I seriously am.

He wheeled the car around and they headed back to LuthorCorp with a roar. “What is it?”

“Lex is in terrible trouble, hurry.”

That meant Ray was probably dead, everything was different now. He drove fast as possible back to the tower. They screeched to a stop half a block away and saw a shape flying almost gracefully out through a shattered window, sail through the air. Clark gasped and Philip jerked his head toward him, “Clark, is that--” there was a shriek of metal being terribly abused, and Clark was gone, the car door spinning like a top on the street.

* * * * *
Lionel leaped up from the desk as his man threw Lex through the window, glass blew all around the room and he closed his eyes as pinpricks hit his cheeks. He gave himself a correct moment to grieve—and counted Lex as sacrifice to whatever god haunted his family. He given his son and his wife, and he’d gotten the best of it. He smiled. No one stood against him—no one.

* * * * *
Philip stood on the street and watched the black bundle dropping from the window floors above. It fell silently, tumbling a bit before straightening out and dropping straight down—he knew it was Lex.

He dashed inside and ran for the private elevator, he was inside the bulletproof car before anyone could stop him. He pulled the gun Lex insisted he carry free of the holster, and leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths, trying to steady himself. The car shot straight up to the office floor, and he was already pulling the trigger as the doors opened.

He dropped the single guard in the hallway, and wondered where the others were, heard gunshots coming from the open office door.

Inside the door was a frozen tableau from hell. The drapes at the window fluttered in a slight breeze, glass sparkled over the carpet, and the office was open to the sky. Ray lay on the floor, blood pooling around him. He surged forward, heart slamming in his chest, and the faster it beat, the slower time seemed to move—he was ready to die for Ray, more than fucking certain that he would. He was watching Lionel’s men respond, guns raising toward him in slow motion, waited for them to fire—and suddenly Clark was in the open frame of the window, eyes wide and lost, Lex cradled in his arms.

As the men shot, he pulled Ray out of the office, back to the elevator and inside. Philip’s hands were bloody where he touched him, and Ray was staring at the ceiling, lips working and his chest rattling, struggling for air. Philip slumped down until he held Ray in his lap, pressed his hand over the wound in his chest. Ray was going to die, but at least he wasn’t alone. Lex would be safe, Clark was with him. What ever came next was fated. He pressed his lips against the ice-cold forehead and whispered. “Love you, too.”
Ray’s eyes moved and fixed on his. His lips moved, and the elevator door opened.

* * * * *
“Clark, come here.” Lionel snapped, and Clark stumbled forwards, caught in the drapes.

“Put him down,” Lionel pointed to a spot, and he immediately laid Lex on the floor.

“Good boy…he has something of mine, I want it back. In his pocket—a disc.”

Clark felt like the collar was on again, it pinched his throat, made it hard to breathe, to think. He reached inside Lex’s coat, and tears dripped from his eyes. He couldn’t—it was a small thing, if he did what Lionel said, he might leave Lex alone….

Weak fingers wrapped around his wrist, and he was looking into gray blue eyes, into Lex’s still face. “I love you Clark, no matter what. It’s okay.”

“Clark!” Lionel barked. “Do as I say, now!”

Clark shook his head, again and again, like a dog throwing off water. He whispered to Lex, “Can we leave now?” and Lex nodded.

“Yes, yes we can.”

“Clark!” Lionel was furious, he was losing control over—everything. Clark looked at him, stared right into his eyes, for a second, before looking down at Lex. “Keep your head close to me, and hold on tight, okay?”

Lex nodded, and he fell back, bullets spattering against his back, Lionel shouting in the back ground “—get the batons—don’t stand there looking stupid—FUCK!”

Clark was out and rising, higher and higher, faster, towards the only safe place he could think of, Lex’s office at the MAC.

* * * * *
He laid Lex on the couch, and waited. After a while, Lex’s eyes fluttered open. He looked up at Clark and smiled.

“Hello—I guess I’m not dead.” He looked around the office and raised an eyebrow, turned to Clark. “So…you can…fly?”

Clark nodded, tears in his eyes. “I needed to and…it happened. Lex, my—Philip, Ray…they’re gone. Dead.” Clark choked, and tears ran, dripping over his chin.

“How do you know, did you see?” Lex pushed himself up and groaned. “How can you know…”

Clark wiped his face. “Philip is dying—I can hear it…” he flinched. “They’re dead.”

“Fuck, Clark. Can you hear…how can you? You can fly and…the fuck…you can hear all the way across town?” He laughed at himself, winced at the stinging cuts around his mouth.

“I can hear everything when I want to. I can hear *everything*…” he looked a little dazed for a moment, and then snapped back to Lex. “But I can silence all of it when I want, now. I can see…far, and deep. I can do so many things. I want to show you what I can do.”

Lex nodded, eyes wide and startled. He fumbled in his pocket. “I got something from Dad, something that might explain more about you--and me. Now, I just have to keep it from him—“ he gasped and turned white—pain shot through him as tiny slivers of glass worked their way out, cuts and abrasions tried to heal.

Clark yanked him to his feet and shoved him into the chair at his desk. He found scotch, a glass, and shoved the full glass into Lex’s hand. “Here, this will help. You need to, to, get strong again.”

Tears still ran, and his breath hitched from moment to moment. Lex watched him mourn and felt—disconnected, as though Clark’s sorrow had nothing to do with him. It seemed so private—so deeply felt. He almost envied Clark his pain. He swallowed the burning liquid and gasped as fire hit his stomach. “Okay—okay, we need to get out of here—quick.”

“I can fly us!” Clark looked pleased to be able to help.

“I’m not sure what to look for from the air…I imagine we can follow the interstate—but you have to fly high enough to keep hidden, and still see the road…”

Clark pointed at his eyes and smiled. “I can see—forever.”

Lex grinned back. Then lead on, my friend, lead on.”

* * * * *
Lex sat up in the dark, face illuminated by the screen, shaking hands trying to work the keys. He shook his head. There was so much information, so much that Lionel hadn’t connected. The shower of meteorites, the deaths that day, unexplained disappearances, the appearance of monsters…he rubbed at his healed cuts and abrasions. The adopted son of Jonathan and Martha Kent. The son that didn’t exist anywhere. The lack of information about Clark was beyond the scope of a pair of poor farmers to manufacture. The story was so thin, anyone who bothered could have seen right through it. His father had been greedy and only wanted Clark—his body.

Lex wanted something else. He wanted the truth. Once he knew it, he’d have the truth about himself, too.

He glanced over at Clark; sound asleep on the couch, his black hair tumbled over his face, one hand pushed under his cheek, the other between his knees. He was angelic and beautiful, even sleep-puffy, with a crust of drool at his lips. Lex smiled briefly before focusing on the information again. There was something missing here. He went through all the information he could find on himself and Clark. His blood was different, but so was Clark’s. There were some similarities, but Clark’s was just…odd.

Lex opened a file labeled Midwich, and found that Lionel had speculated that Clark was born to someone already effected by the meteorite’s radiation. He postulated that Clark was at best nominally human, that he might represent some giant step in evolution.
Lex snorted. Idiot. There was too much, Clark was more than superhuman…

Compounding the oddness was the fact that Lex had met Clark before; the time in his dad’s office hadn’t been the first time. That farmer and his son—those were the people Lionel had stolen Clark from.

Clark wasn’t even his name.


Lex read with growing horror what his dad had done to Clark--to Cal--to his family, and all with a sense of righteousness. He’d had no remorse in turning a little boy into a thing—*trying* to turn a little boy into a thing.

He found there was follow-up to the Kents. They were still in the farmhouse, and Lex swallowed, faint with nausea, wrung out from his descent into hell. How horrible could that have been, to go on living in that house after everything that had happened….how horrible.

His dad had to pay for that. For turning everyone’s life into a nightmare. He sighed. At least one good thing came of this—Robin was free.

Clark snuffled a little and burrowed into the couch. Lex watched, and his heart broke. Two good things. No mater what, Clark was his own man now, free of all chains and free of all pain. He could live like he was meant to, free, part of the world.

“Clark—Clark, wake up.”

Clark woke all at once, and Lex was a little startled. He was used to Clark waking slowly, painfully from sleep. He was used to him crying out in his sleep. This was –different. He was alert, instantly. He reached out and pulled Lex to him.

“It’s morning…I feel the sun,” he smiled. “I feel…good.”

Lex sighed. “Clark, we have work to do, in Metropolis… probably lots of different places…”

Clark smiled. “Lex, I can fly us anywhere you want to go.”

“Good. First, I need to make calls. And I’ll need your help for—other things as well.”

Clark nodded.

* * * * *
Starting from the MAC and working his way up the hierarchy of Lionel’s business, a switch in allegiance was offered, from Lionel to Lex Luthor. Terms were simple, join Lex or die. Allying themselves with Lex offered the ultimate in protection. Once in, they were in for life, there was no looking back, no leaving his employ.

They were all insured, however that once in—there would never again be a day in which they had to think about money, or look over their shoulders—as long as their loyalty was unquestionable.

And to insure that he would have unquestioning loyalty, he paraded before them the fact that he had the ultimate enforcer. As he explained to Clark, the bosses, the cartels, had to fear him more than they ever feared his father. Fear first, to capture them, he told Clark and then, to hold them, love. He would make them come to love him. Love was the definitive trap, he said.

But first, they needed to fear him more than death.

Clark told him he understood.

The final meeting with the last pocket of resistance took place at the MAC, in the basement of the former poolroom. Lex had given in to all demands and walked into the meeting with every appearance of being unarmed. Lex’s men stood outside the room, and he walked in to a meeting with men surrounded by armed bodyguards.
It was…a good faith gesture.

The men allied against him were veterans in the game of death and deceit. These were men that had allied themselves to Lionel but remained autonomous in their own cities. They feared no one, trusted no one. They greeted Lex’s arrival with laughter; in each and every eye was a look of amused contempt for the Luthor whore. The very bitch that Lionel promised had no place in his organization except at his feet. Now here he was, puppy fangs exposed and playing at being a man. They laughed amongst themselves, and knew that Lionel had never deserved his place if a thing like that could overthrow him. Certainly the rule of Lionel Luthor had come to an end. They would divide up what was left.

Lex sat opposite them at the table, looked at the faces filled with arrogance, contempt, disgust. He smiled and began to speak.

“My father promised you long ago, that you would all become and remain, wealthy men. He told you that joined into one unified colossus, nothing could stop you, and in this, he was correct. He asked for your loyalty, and you gave it. I’m not asking you for anything. I am going to give you something. Step down and you keep your lives.”

He stood, and the men stared at him, before breaking into laughter.
Lex smiled and let the wave of laughter subside, and said, softly, “Clark.” He stepped aside, and focus turned towards the doorway, through which sailed an arm, followed by a torso, and before the guard’s guns cleared their holsters, most of laughing men in the room were dead. Clark worked quickly, and messily, except with a few that Lex chose, and the deaths of those chosen were slow and methodical, and loud. Very loud….

What underlings Lex decided should live were given instructions: talk, talk as much as you want, spread the news everywhere, and pray that Lex didn’t come again.

. Resistance was increasingly rare after that.

* * * * *
Rain whipped against the window, lashing the windows with torrents, bolts of lightning ripped the midnight black in two. Thunder crashed and rattled the panes in their frames.

Lionel watched the tumult, enjoyed the wild display. He was safe—for the moment. However much it galled him that Lex was dismantling his empire, he knew it was temporary, Clark or not, there was no way that boy could hold on to all this. He grinned.

Here in Suicide Slum, he was untouchable, anonymous. And he’d stay that way for as long as he liked. This building, that had been burned and rebuilt, with ashes in the mortar, and ghosts locked forever into the walls—this building would see him rise again, like a phoenix. From this base, he’d take back everything, and punish the disloyal, destroy those who stood against him. Most of all, he’d destroy Lex, bit by bit, slowly, and he’d make Clark the instrument. Once Clark was back with him, he’d break him, and search through the pieces for secrets.


Thunder roared behind him, lightning filled the room with a pure white light. The power cut, darkness fell abruptly. Spots danced before his eyes. He turned to face the fury raging outside and for a moment, thought his eyes were playing tricks on him.
The black outline of a man filled the window, fire where it’s eyes should be. The glass ran like water, and it stepped in, smoke rising off its skin and the stink of blood filled the room.

Death, waiting for him.

He came closer, closer.

“They’re dead. All your men are dead.” It stood in the room “I can do it now. I know what you did to me, the people who knew me…all this… pain…” It shook its head; droplets flew and struck him, warm drops. Tasting of salt and steel. “You should feel it too, feel it like I do….”

It came closer still and wrapped its hot sticky arms around him, flesh to flesh, sticking there, slick with still liquid blood here. It began to squeeze.

“Clark!” he gasped, “Stop! Stop this now.”

Clark laughed, and squeezed, his grip slowly tightening, he said, “I don’t think you can tell me what to do now. You don’t own me anymore.”

Lionel screamed, a high startled burst of sound and his ribs popped and cracked.

“I wish I had more time to spend with you, but I have to go see the place I came from and kill those people too.”

Lionel felt one last flash of triumph, he wanted to speak, but—

Clark saw the look in Lionel’s eyes, before they faded. Lionel felt he’d won something at the end, but he didn’t care. He took what he needed and dropped the broken corpse to the floor and threw himself out of the window.

* * * * *
He walked down the dark halls of the musty stone building, searching for Lex, and found him in the library, where Lex had set up an impromptu office.

He dropped Lionel’s head on the desk in front of him. Lex yelled and jerked to his feet, slapping the desk chair away—it spun away and tipped to the floor and Lex crowded against the wall behind him. “FUCK!”

.“I killed your father.”

Clark looked worried, a little afraid, but also, Lex had the horrible sensation, looking for some kind of…praise. He glanced back at his desk, and had to bite his lips viciously to keep from giggling—Lionel looked just completely pissed off.
“Ah. So I see…you know, a simple re-telling of events would have been enough for me, really.” He moved away from the dead eyes. It was horrible really, how much death hadn’t changed them. “Looks like Metropolis belongs to me without question, now. Or should I say, us?”

Clark shook his head hard. “What ever makes you happy makes me happy. I don’t need a city.” Clark came closer. “But I do want something.”

“Of course, anything…” He gestured towards the desk “—can you”

Clark flashed a quick, too bright grin and was gone, a brief fluttering of paper and pool of dark fluid getting thick and tacky on his desk the only reminder of the gruesome souvenir that’d been sitting there.

Lex shook his head and before he could move, he was wrapped up in Clark’s arms. “I want something,” he repeated, and pressed his length against Lex’s back. He was too warm, and sticky in spots, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Clark loved him; it spilled out of his touch, seeped out of the warmth of the touch of his lips.

“Ask me anything,” Lex sighed, and Clark’s big hands slid up and down his body, pushing out tension and filling him with a warm sense of home.

“I want those people—those Kents.”

Lex stiffened. “How…how you mean, want, Clark? You want to get to know them? We can visit…”

“Lex! You know what I mean. I want to—to punish them. I want to hurt them.”
Lex could feel Clark’s heartbeat speed up, his breathing deepen.

“Clark, I can’t do that. They don’t deserve to die.”

Clark pulled him around to face him. “You won’t give me this one thing? I’ve done everything you asked, and you won’t give me this to me?”

It was…frightening and heartbreaking at once. Tears stood out in his eyes, his lip quivered horribly like a baby asking for a sweet, and only the smear of blood across his cheek destroyed the effect. Lex pressed back a impulse to wipe it away. “Clark--I’m doing it for your sake. To protect you. Those people were innocent—they tried to save you. I can see it in Dad’s notes. They fought hard for you…remember Bear, your blanket? No one throwing a child away does that. They were victims too—“

“Shut up!” Clark screamed, and froze. The look of horror on his face would have been laughable if he weren’t so completely terrified. He moaned, his shoulders curled in and he begged, “Lex—you have to tell me, it’s—it’s fair.”

Lex sighed, and told him, “The caretakers…they’re your parents. They live not far from here…” He folded his arms and moved away to lean against the door. “Your choice Clark. The world is full of choices.

Clark nodded, eyes red and wet. He eased closer to Lex, until he was leaning against him, and Lex relaxed against his heat. “Clark—there’s so much you should know about yourself. They can tell you—these Kents.”

Clark shook his head. “No.”

“Then go. Here—this is where you’ll find them.”

* * * * *
He dropped down on the road that led to the Yellow House. It sat at the end of a road lined with dark trees that pointed up like spread claws at the sky.

The House. He crouched a little, trembling, wishing Lex had come with him. He could feel evil thick in the air, creeping into his lungs, drawing the breath out of him…blue curtains hung lank at the windows, concealing the hell inside. Yellow flowers twisted their brown faces toward the sky—he imagined he could hear them screaming. The Devils were in there, hiding, waiting for him, waiting to drag him in…he backed away from the house, cold all over, when suddenly a sharp noise startled him, and a heavy weight struck him. Without thinking he struck back, and crushed the skull of a dog.

He stopped. A dog…a real dog….

Blood smeared his face when he rubbed at his eyes, a whine escaping from him. A real dog—and he killed it. He stood quivering over the corpse, and suddenly there was screaming, and shouting, and a man and woman stood on the wide porch of the devil’s house.

The woman had her hands over her mouth but Clark could plainly hear her screaming. The man, a big man with blue eyes and yellow hair, shouted at him, came storming towards him. Ingrained habit dropped Clark into position, waiting for the attack, ready to kill.

“No, no, Jonathan!”

The closer the man came, the more Clark could smell that he was afraid—the woman too.

He took a deep breath. It felt like the world was shaking—pain worse than wearing the collar filled him, and made him want to cry, but he stepped forward. He was ready to kill. These were the people that had given him up to a monster, they deserved death. He growled and as the man came close, he reached out, wanting to hurt the man as badly as they’d hurt him.

The woman made a strange noise—he thought of the dead dog, and something deep inside him splintered…she came out farther onto the porch. She gripped the porch rail and whispered, “Cal…Cal?”

It was horrible. The sound of her voice made his head feel like it was breaking. He was breaking and shattering, falling in a million pieces.…he felt soft hands on his cheeks, he tasted something warm and sweet, heard laughter, and one word echoed in his mind, Lara….

“muh…” he whimpered, from a throat tight with pain so deep it made the world stop for a long, long moment. This was…wrong. It was all wrong and he needed to get away. He needed to go to someplace safe.

He pushed the man away, and staggered back, sides heaving. His mouth was thick with sour saliva, he shook his head and breathed heavily though his nose. The stink of grass rotting in the fields, the wet sour smell of the cows, the musty moldy scent of earth clung to the inside of his nose and gagged him….

One second, one minute—he needed…there were tears in the man’s eyes, he heard the woman crying and he needed…to get away, far away. “You should hope that I never come again.”

His eyes glowed red, and he bared his teeth, and the man said, “Please…”

The woman held her shaking hand out and said that word again.

Kal.

Kal was didn’t matter, Kal was dead. He stepped away, away from deceitful devils, and shot straight up into the air. Without a look back he turned his face to home and headed to Lex.

* * * * *

Epilogue

The King of Metropolis was on his back in an acres wide bed, purple sheets so soft it was ridiculous, the mouth wrapped around his dick so hot and wet it was insane. His prince groaned deep in his chest as he pressed harder, tried to force more of his dick into his throat.

From the living room, Lex could hear a storm crashing through the towers of his city, he heard the snap of the drapes and a crash as the wind blew something over—didn’t matter, all that mattered was here, all that was real was in this bed…

He shoved Clark to his back and lifted his legs, pushed in deep, and he groaned, stroked in and out and Clark yowled like a cat in heat. His dick lashed and strained against his belly and Lex fucked him hard, fast. Come spurt hot and thick, painting milky stripes across his broad chest. Lex’s dick flexed in response and the hot muscles clamping around him wrung an orgasm out of him, made him scream….

Clark smiled up at him, blinking as he slowly came back to himself. Thick muscles moved lazily as he rubbed the come into his golden skin.

“My turn.”

Hard again, or still hard, his lover pushed into him with almost as little care as he’d taken, and it hurt enough to make him cry out, and that just ensured he’d get fucked harder. It was perfect. Beautiful lips, soft and warm closed on his shoulder, rough tongue scrubbed against the tender flesh, and sharp teeth ground into him. Perfect. Pain and pleasure made a delicious cocktail, the only drink he could lose himself in. Pain grew until it was pure as crystal and filled him, made his ecstasy that much more brilliant. His orgasm, when it broke, was like dropping into the center of a star....


The moon was strong and high, and bright enough to shine through the rapidly moving clouds. Rain blew away, driven on by the wind. Lex lay still, listening to the receding storm. He was comfortable, with Clark’s head resting on his shoulder, his forehead warming his throat. A corner of the purple sheet was tucked and rolled under Clark’s chin, and even deep in sleep he was clutching Lex. Every so often, he’d whimper and move, and hold on a little tighter. Lex wondered what he dreamed about, but never asked him. Never. If Clark’s dreams were anything like his own, he didn’t think he could stand to know.

All he needed to know was tomorrow was another day—another day that was his.

The End

Infirmier: “So you essentially turned a man into a dog.”

Bart: “Like my saint of a mum used to say: Get 'em young enough and the possibilities are endless.”--
Danny The Dog