Take your chances.
The first circle ends with a sharp crack against his back--blinding, amazing *pain*, nothing like anything Clark can remember. Fine, hot lines of sensation running through every nerve, almost dragging a scream out of his throat before he bites down on his lip, shocked by the taste of blood.
He's still shaking when his eyes crack open. Sees Lex's feet, slowly circling him again. A pattern, then. Deliberately drawing it out, making every nerve shudder in anticipation, skin trembling on the edge of oversensitization.
The only sounds are the quiet click of Lex's shoes on the rough concrete, the steady drip of water from a pipe somewhere in the distance.
The second time is faster. Sharp heat drawn across his shoulders, like molten lead must feel poured on bare skin. Shocking, forcing out a sound that's almost a groan before he bites his lip again, pulling weakly at the chains holding his arms high above his head. Forced too-straight by the lack of give, no way to slump, move away from this even if he wanted to.
Another slow, even circle, like Lex is following some arcane line in the floor that only he can see. Another sound now, softer--Lex's hand stroking the leather. Then the wet sounds of his mouth.
"Only human," Lex murmurs thoughtfully, as if to himself. Clark watches, eyes glazing, as Lex lifts his head, tongue chasing red taste. "No difference."
Jesus, Lex is tasting his *blood*.
The third stroke is lazy--quick, too fast, pain an afterthought across the center of his back. Hotwired in some mysterious way into his cock, which is hard and jerking with every touch of that leather.
Something so wrong in not fighting this, even if it were possible. His mind's trying to clear enough to figure out where the rock is, how the fuck Lex *hid* this, but....
"Fuck." Forced out between his lips with the shock of pain across the back of his thighs. A stutter-step of Lex pausing, and he hates himself for the whisper.
"Lead lined room," Lex says conversationally, and Clark shivers as Lex comes closer, brushing damp leather against his chest. Damp with sweat, definitely, blood maybe. Slick, wet sounds when he draws it down, almost touching Clark's cock before it's pulled away with a soft snap. "Don't be too hard on yourself, Clark."
"Fuck you." It sounds more like an invitation than defiance. Closing his mouth, he waits, but Lex only circles him again, trailing the leather over his naked hips like an afterthought.
The next stroke forces the air out of his lungs--fast, hard, rippling sensation, Lex seriously put his strength into that one and Clark can't breathe through it. Hot spikes of pain shoot through every nerve *everywhere* in his body. His arms pull uselessly at the chains before he forces himself still, wincing at the pull of muscle, aware of the sting of sweat slicking his back.
"I had those designed just for you in mind." So Lex noticed him struggling. "Titanium reinforced, but I think at this point, cotton candy would hold you, wouldn't it?"
Probably. Clark's lucky he's still able to keep his feet under him. His arms are aching from the strain. God alone knows how long he's been hanging like this. Unconsciousness can be a bitch.
Another stroke, sharp and hard and breathtaking, then Lex is circling again. Coming to a rest where Clark can see expensive loafers and the edges of tailored black trousers. Lex, always dressed for any occasion, be it meeting or torture. Probably just the right tie, too. Clark wonders a little lightheadedly if there's an etiquette book that covers this sort of situation.
Slim, hard fingers twist in his hair, jerking his face upright. Lex is Lex--fifteen years since the first look, first touch, and the blue eyes are the only thing that's really changed.
"You're still too pretty, Clark." Studied, like a stock report or a battle plan, searching his face carefully, like he's looking for something specific. "I could fix that."
Gently, the whip is brushed over his mouth, pressing hard against his lower lip, smelling of salt and sweat and blood and every lie he's ever told.
"Lex--" Saying anything's a surrender, though Clark has no idea how. The blue eyes refocus, sharpening, leather stroked across his cheek, leaving a metal-smell behind. Slowly, holding Clark's eyes, Lex leans forward, tongue brushing where the whip touched, fast and sharp and catlike. The scents of cologne and expensive wool and anger. So close. Too close.
"Tastes human," Lex murmurs, hot wet breath against his skin, then pulls away. Above his head, Clark's fingers are grasping at cold air.
Freeing his hair, Lex steps back, and there's no time to brace himself, nothing but the sudden stroke--and yeah, Lex is strong, too strong, no fucking *clue* before now, opening a wide ribbon of pain across Clark's stomach, and his cock jumps again, spitting precum into the darkness. "You like this."
Clark can taste blood in his mouth when he licks his lips. "Get to the--killing part, Lex. No--no games."
"Who said I was going to kill you?" And if Lex doesn't sound genuinely surprised, Clark will eat that Kryptonite rock. "You really don't know me at all."
The scary part is, Clark's beginning to think he does.
The next stroke catches him just below the ribs--soft place, erogenous zone, Lois used to love to lick him there for hours just to watch him squirm. Blank mind and panting breath, Clark hopes to God he didn't scream, and the taste of fresh blood on his tongue confirms it.
"Careful, Clark. I don't want you to hurt yourself." Gentle fingers touch his mouth, pushing between his lips, and Clark wonders if he's strong enough now to bite through those fingers that press so carefully .
He lets Lex press against his tongue, coming away bright with blood that Clark can see. Red. Human. Like Lex said.
"We need to take care of this." Pacing away, and Clark lets his head drop, sweat dripping off his face, sliding painfully down his back to hiss on every open wound. Sharp slides of stinging pain, nothing like the whip, but so close.
Then something's cold is against his mouth--little give, leathery taste, and he opens his mouth without thinking as Lex pushes, seating it firmly. Sharp straps slide behind his head, buckled tight, forcing his mouth open wider.
"There. Can't hurt yourself now." The amusement's as obvious as Lex steps back, admiring his work. "Lovely."
Circling again. Clark blinks the sweat from burning eyes--please sweat, let it be sweat and not tears, please--trying to focus his vision. Lead lined room, right, and X-ray fritzing with the meteor. There's got to be a way out.
Leather shock against his ass--God, God, *God*, blooming pain that streaks everywhere. Muffled sounds escape the gag, nothing that Clark can stop, leather pressed hard against his tongue, and god, it tastes like Lex. Like Lex's fingers after he takes off his driving gloves--scent and taste combined, surrounding him, and he shudders even harder when a cool hand traces the line of a welt from Clark's shoulder to the middle of his back.
"You never asked," Lex says, finding another line of torn skin.
Asked *what*? It shouldn't be important, but God, it is, and the pain is somehow focusing. He can't speak, but he can look, turning his head enough to see the edge of Lex's tilted head as he follows the patterns on Clark's back with the tips of his fingers. Fascinated.
"You remember--I suppose you should. Your brief stint as human? Or rather, the first one." Lex pauses, and--God. Hot breath on his back, Lex's tongue, God, insanely sensitive and Lex is *licking* him.
"You broke your ribs in a schoolyard fight, didn't you?" Lex's voice tickles his back, another slow draw of that impossibly slick tongue, stinging wherever it touches. Clark's never been this hard in his life.
"That's human, pain." Both hands holding his shoulders lightly, like he'll break if Lex presses too hard. Then he pulls away, stepping back, another slow circle of Clark's body, like he's taking inventory.
Biting down on the leather, Clark lifts his head enough to see Lex watching him. Curious, interested smile, like Lex looks at his lab rats, but--more focused. More intense.
"If I fucked you now, you'd feel it." Lex's eyes slide down his body, stopping at his cock only briefly. "You'd feel every second. Just like a human."
A brush of leather against his cock--fuck, that damn whip, and Clark tries to jerk away--thinks he tries anyway, can't be sure, but he never loses the contact. Slowly, Lex draws it over the wet head, circling briefly, before tracing the length.
He's shuddering constantly now.
"Feel this, Clark."
It shouldn't be unexpected, but it is. Burning, intense, short circuiting everything and Clark screams, knows he does. Black crawls up in front of his eyes, and he's falling into a pain-filled darkness he never wants to leave.
He comes conscious to aching arms. Hanging--his feet aren't beneath him, full weight held by the chains, and it's a slow, painful struggle to get his balance, get some of the weight back down. Not much--the chains are tighter now, holding him perfectly straight, unable to even slump.
"With me?" Soft against his ear, and there's fingers in his hair, stroking gently. Thumb slowly sliding across his sweat-slicked hairline, gentle and almost sweet.
His eyes don't want to open--a force of pure will to do it, to lift his head, and Lex is so close he could taste his skin if the fucking gag wasn't in the way. A gentle hand--a leather-covered hand, slick and smooth--presses against his chin, lifting his head more. "There we go, Clark. Good."
Fingers slide into his hair and he hears the buckle being unfastened, pulled away so carefully, not even a jerk of his hair. Lex eases it out of his mouth, stepping away to leave it somewhere, and something in Clark aches, almost lunging after him, missing the contact.
He's dehydrated and exhausted and hungry--God knows how long he's been away from the sun, no wonder he's thinking such bizarre shit.
His cock's alive with pain. Almost as nauseating as the meteor rock hidden somewhere in this room. Lifting his head, he tries to scan again. Nothing.
When Lex comes back, the leather-coated hand strokes his jaw, massaging gently.
"How--how long?" It's his voice and nothing like it. Raw as the skin on his back.
"You were out about an hour," Lex answers easily, fingers pressed to the heavy muscle at the back of his cheek. Slow, steady massage that lowers the ache, pushes it away. "Down here? Thirty six hours, give or take."
Working his jaw, Clark hears a pop, and Lex steps back, touch gone. His body misses it.
"Why?" And Clark could be asking himself the same thing. Lex raises an eyebrow in something very close to amusement.
"You always wanted to save me." Lex's voice is rich with indulged amusement, like a pet has just performed a new and slightly bizarre trick. "No matter what, you always thought--you did, didn't you?" Genuine amusement. "You always thought if you just tried hard enough, you'd succeed."
"Lex--" His voice sounds rusty, like he's forgotten how to use it. Scratchy. Breathless. Too low. Heavy.
Lex takes a step closer, close enough to see the dilation, leaving the thinnest strip of electric blue circling endless dark. "I'd have paid money years ago to have you say my name like that."
Husky. Clark shuts his eyes.
"You wanted to save me. Because you thought I needed saving. Because you thought--what *were* you thinking, Clark? I never understood."
Breathing out, Clark forces his head up, looking at Lex. "You--were my friend. You--I--"
"I'd do anything for my friends," Lex answers meditatively. "Anything I think they want. And certainly whatever they need."
It's almost enough to make Clark laugh. "You--you think I need *this*? Being--being fucking *kidnapped* and beaten and strung up from your fucking *ceiling*?"
"No." Painfully low voice. "I think you need to be reminded."
Something catches itself in Clark's throat. "...you...."
"I couldn't wait forever for you to grow up," Lex says as if Clark never spoke. Reaching out, Lex brushes a leather-covered thumb beneath his eye. It comes away wet.
"I--was human." God, he remembers that. Lois. That life that he always wanted, snatched away--God. Dammit. No.
"You didn't stay that way." Another slow stroke. "You chose to be human and then chose not to be."
"Had to change back." Lex could never understand, even if he was there that day. "Had to--"
"Save the world, yes, I've heard this one before." Stepping back, Lex moves from his line of sight--too much effort to follow. The slow steps return and Clark sees the whip, coiled casually in one hand. "That's the problem with you, Clark. You make bad decisions, always have. First Lana, then Chloe, then Lois." Lex shakes his head and lets the leather loose, shaking it gently in the cool air.
"Not--bad. Right." He can't look away. Can already feel it on his back, skin burning, and no, God no."
"And unlike you, Clark, I'd do anything for my friends."
The slice across his back is sheer agony--and his cock hardens instantly, blooming pain everywhere. Another rise of black, but he forces it back, wanting to hold onto consciousness, clinging by the barest thread.
"You'd do almost anything for your friends, Clark. Save our lives, help fix our mistakes, but you never took it that extra step. Stop the mistakes before they start."
Another lightning fast lash, and Clark knows he yells and doesn't care. raw sound in the back of his throat, and he wonders if he's ever stopped screaming. Lex's voice is the only thing he can hear.
"I should have done this years ago, but I overestimated your martyr complex. Definitely underestimated Lois' influence." Another hot slide across already-injured skin, and Clark tries to pull away and can't. Too tight.
"Wanted you to figure this out for yourself. Everyone makes mistakes, and I thought you'd learn from yours."
Clark can't count anymore--each stroke is like the first one, fast and hard and hot and real, more real than anything Clark's ever experienced.
"You're a friend, Clark." Low, honey-smooth voice. "And if this is what it takes--"
Straight line across his back, opening skin, blood a thick smell in the air. No air and no way to feel anything *but* that, blood pounding so hard in his ears he can't even hear his own desperate panting.
Cool fingers cup his chin and lift his head, and Lex is staring at him, wide-eyed and fascinated.
"Human, Clark." One hand drops away, palm sliding around his side, over his back. Then coming back, dropping, fingers closing tight and hot around his cock, slicked with sweat and his own blood. Oh God....
Raw, painful sensations, over welted skin and Clark's hips move into it--faster and harder, making soft, strangled sounds in the back of his throat, body shaking, trying to get closer, get *more*. Whimpering through clenched teeth and he won't talk, won't say anything, won't--
"I love the way you say my name," Lex whispers, and he's so close they could kiss. "Say it again and I'll use my mouth."
And God, Lex is jacking him harder, perfect pressure, wrapped pussy-tight around him, slick and wet and impossibly sexy. Leaning up just enough for a hot tongue to thrust inside his ear.
"I'd love to fuck you like this," Lex murmurs, twisting his wrist, and Clark can't help his choked moan. Lifting his free hand, Lex brushes the tip of his finger against Clark's cheek, then turns it so Clark can see his palm. Blood red and thick, sliding down to his wrist. "Just you and me." And God, it's impossible that he's getting harder, then Lex steps the inches separating them, body to body, free hand sliding around his waist, running briefly over his back before pressing bare, hot fingers against the cleft of his ass. raw skin there, but Clark barely notices
"Push inside you, like this." A hot, slick finger circles the hole, then presses in, and Clark bucks into it, shuddering at the feeling. Too long. Too fucking long since..."Feel that?"
Slow, steady strokes to match the ones to his cock, and Clark tries to keep his focus, tries to think, but nothing's coming through but more. Please. Now.
He could be saying it.
"Stretch you out for me, nice and open." Another slick finger pushes inside and Clark can *feel* the stretch like he never has before. Brief, thrilling wrongness, that's his fucking *blood* Lex is using to slick the way, but it doesn't seem to matter. Nothing matters but the steady, excruciating jack of his cock, the two fingers twisting inside of him, hitting that place--
"Say my name," Lex whispers. "I'll suck you off here and now. My mouth wrapped around your cock, down my throat. Say it, Clark."
No. No. "Please--" God, even tighter. Faster. Rough burn, not enough slick, still so good, but god. "Please, Lex. Lex. Lex--"
"Keep saying it. Nothing else." A third finger is pushed into his ass--oh God, that's what this is for people, for humans, this is how it feels. Full and stretched, painful and so good it scares him.
Then Lex is on his knees, hand moving away, bracing on his thigh, sticky and heavy. Hot breath on the head, then Lex licks the tip, looking up. Watching Clark watch him. Beautiful mouth open.
"Say my name, Clark."
When he sucks the head into his mouth, Clark stops breathing. God hot/tight/wet/good/perfect sucking pressure all around him, tongue finding the marks of the lash and licking, sucking, pressing, pain and pleasure and need.
Chanting Lex's name, unable to stop, and the fingers in his ass are still moving, still stretching--readying him for Lex to fuck him, please, yes. Sex has never been like this, never, edged sharp and bright and good
God, so good it scares him, and he's twisting against the metal above him, grabbing for the chain and holding on, thrusting as best he can, needing Lex's mouth, Lex's fingers, needing everything.
Another twist of insanely long fingers and Clark screams it. God, Lex, yes, and he's coming, so hard it jerks his entire body. Shuddering, twisting, turning, trying to get more, and then it's freefall and God, it's....
Never been this good.
Never been anything close.
Awareness seeps in, and the first thing Clark notices is...
Lifting himself on his elbows, he's shocked to feel--nothing. No strain of tendons and stretched muscles, no agony in back and stomach. Rolling over, he looks down at perfect skin, unmarked like nothing has happened.
Like nothing *had* happened.
Reaching down with shaking fingers, he traces the places the lash had touched. Rolling back over, he slams a fist into the headboard.
Strength is back.
Clark stares at the hole without anything like understanding.
He sits up too suddenly--but no rush of vertigo. All's back to normal in Clark's world. Behind his eyes, he can feel the familiar warmth of heatvision.
Lex is leaning into the door--suit jacket discarded, tie loosened, two buttons of his shirt undone.
"About eight hours." Lex tilts his head. "Looks like keeping you out of the sun also has some--interesting effects." He nods toward the window, curtains pulled back enough to pool golden light in a puddle on the bed.
Clark can't help touching his stomach--nothing torn, no pain, *nothing*. Only the memory.
"Your clothes are on that chair," Lex says, settling more comfortably against the doorway, watching Clark with unreadable eyes. "You can leave whenever you're ready."
Superman's uniform, neatly pressed, laying across the desk chair. Frighteningly bright in the earth-toned room, not belonging at all.
"Why are you letting me go?" Swiveling, his feet find the floor, but for some reason, he can't quite make himself move. "What are you playing?"
"No game." Nodding to the window, Lex looks at him again. The barest trace of a smile curves his lips. "It's almost sunset. No one will see you leave this high up."
"Where are we?" Stupid question. "Lexcorp Tower?"
The smile widens. "Yes."
Nodding, Clark presses his palms into the heavy comforter. He--should get dressed. Now. It's hard, though--hard to stand up, and there's nothing, not a single strain of muscle anywhere. Superman, free of Kryptonite, perfectly healed. Like nothing has happened at all.
It makes him shudder, and he forces his feet to move, crossing to the desk chair, staring down at the blasphemously bright material laid casually over the antique wood.
"Or there's option two."
He turns around too fast--missing the vertigo, the dizziness, missing *feeling*. God. Lex takes a step into the room, pulling the door closed. Reaching for the dresser and picking up a flat, plain black box. Leather, Clark notices somewhere in his head. Like a jewelers box.
When Lex opens it, Clark blinks, feeling the softest trace of--something. Something he *recognizes*.
"What is--that?" Not pain, not even when they're this close, and Lex lifts it out. Shining platinum, elegantly understated. Set with one tiny, dark-green stone, flaring to life, matching the hard pulse of Clark's blood.
"Lead backing," Lex says thoughtfully, turning it over in his hands. A collar. Jesus.
"What--" But he can't quite take his eyes off it, how the light picks it up, the brilliant green sparkling in the faint tendrils of sun. "Lex--"
The slow smile is thoughtfully amused. "Get dressed, Clark." Gently, Lex replaces it, and Clark watches the green wink out beneath the black. Placing it back on the dresser, Lex watches him as he reaches for the uniform.
The material slick and strangely plasticy, especially when compared to Lex's sheets. Leather. Lex's skin.
This is fucking *insane*.
Grabbing the top, he pulls it between his fingers--solid, Kryptonian weave. Almost impossible to tear, burn, destroy, and Clark's done everything now to test that. His hands stop moving of their own accord, and when he turns back to look at Lex, something flares in the blue eyes. Something Clark hasn't seen since the last time they spoke, the day their friendship ended. Something--undefinable. But so damn close to hope.
"I know." Nothing else. Lex, cool and casual and no blood on his hands, but God, Clark can still *smell* it. Feel it. He's crossing the room without even knowing it, reaching for Lex's hand, lifting the fingers. Perfectly manicured nails, but there's blood trapped beneath.
God, the *scent*. Leather and soap and Lex and this, blood. Metal-sharp, from wounds that don't even exist anymore. He's raising them to his mouth without knowing why, sucking one finger in, feeling Lex tense, eyes holding his in a gaze Clark can't possibly escape.
Tongue finding it, licking it, *tasting*. Salty-sweet, and he can't help sucking, drawing the next one deeper. God the taste--memories of pain and Lex's mouth wrapped around him, and he--
Oh God. No no no no.
Pulls them out but can't quite let go, and Lex's other hand is in his hair. Gently stroking, pulling out the curls with careful fingers.
"Lex." It's pulled from somewhere impossibly deep inside, somewhere Clark never knew even *existed*.
"Say my name again," Lex murmurs, wet fingers pressed against Clarks' mouth. Holding in words that don't seem important anymore. "Say my name again and I'll put it on you."
His whole body shudders--skin suddenly electric, cock jumping hard and pressing against his stomach, and when Lex moves his fingers, Clark shivers.
"Lex. Please, Lex."
The metal is cool against his skin, but warms almost instantly, wrapped around his throat, and he shivers again when it's clasped together. Weakness--familiar, wanted, *needed* closes around him, and his legs collapse.
Lex catches him, easing them both to the floor. Gentle hands on his face, tilting it up.
"How do you feel?"
Weak. Tired. Wired in some bizarre way Clark cant' explain, so he doesn't even try. Just enough to breath--Lex's scent all around him, warm and comforting, gentle thumbs stroking across his cheekbones and God, this is...this is....
"Weak." When he looks up, Lex is nodding, simply watching him, and Clark let his eyes fall closed, leaning into each slow stroke. So fucking *right*, somehow, just to kneel here on warm carpet and feel this.
Just let it happen.
"Bad decisions," Lex says softly, stroking his hair back. "But you're learning. I can help with that."
Clark nods slowly. His entire body--God, so different. Not nearly as powerful, like being muffled, but so much more intense. Like every touch is electric, and he shivers when the strong hands slide to his jaw, forcing his head up again.
"Tell me how you feel."
The fingers tighten instantly--tight, almost pain, shocking Clark's eyes open. Lex is staring at him, blue eyes intense and filling up the world.
"Clark, how do you feel?"
God, so *much*. Looking back, trying to put his thoughts in order, harder to do with the rock so close, against his skin. Breathing out, he reaches up, one hand covering Lex's. "Human."
Lex smiles lazily. "Good."
It's--exhausting. Exhilarating. Clark wonders if he'll ever get used to this--this feeling. Weak and normal and not-strange and--this. Lex. Touching him. Possessive stroke to his face, then cupping his jaw. Leaning forward, and the kiss is--perfect. Warm and gentle and exploring, opening his mouth and pressing inside, and Clark thinks he can still taste himself there--semen and sweat and blood. Sucks on Lex's tongue, drags his arms around Lex's back and Lex pulls them together, hard enough that he can feel Lex's cock hard against his hip. Slow, deliberate grinding, and Clark's dizzy from the rock, from the feel of Lex against him, from *everything*.
"Shh." A tender kiss, barely brushing his mouth. "Later."