Wired for Action

Summary: A coda for Legacy. Clark is really pissed, and it leads to more than just a little shirt ripping.

Warnings: Rated NC-17. m/m. Spoilers for Legacy.

Lex could never quite decide when he'd gotten on the wrong side of chance. Sometimes he suspected it was in those days and weeks leading up to his unfortunate stint in Belle Reve, during the time he couldn't remember, some forgotten event that had set in motion a downward spiral of bad luck. Other times, he felt it went all the way back to his father's decision to banish him to Smallville, because, really, what had ever gone right for him since he'd stepped foot in that one-horse town? Often enough, though, he had the sinking feeling his hapless tango with ill fortune had begun the day he was born and wasn't going to end until he shuffled off this mortal coil.

So it really wasn't that surprising, in the final analysis, that spying for the feds had gone so wrong and in such an unexpected way. Oh, sure, it had seemed like a simple enough decision when he'd agreed to it. He could go down for his father's crimes, or he could help the FBI bring Lionel to justice. It was all a matter of survival, and if he hadn't exactly liked the idea of wearing a wire, of letting strangers in bad suits listen in on his most private conversations, he did vastly prefer it to spending the next five to twenty years being terrorized in the prison shower.

It really was just his luck that Clark had somehow gotten dragged into the whole mess. Lex had probably made it worse too, confronting the agent in charge, demanding he stay away from Clark and his family, making him even more suspicious of the Kents. He sighed tiredly as he hit the unlock button on his key chain. His luck had to improve soon, right?

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

The voice came out of the darkness and made him whirl around. To say he was surprised to see Clark standing there was an understatement of the highest order.

Clark marched over to him. "Did you send them after me?"

If not for years of experience dealing with Lionel, Lex would not have been able to respond so coolly. "Who?"

Clark's face turned red, and he crowded closer. "You know who!"

Then Clark's hands were on him, and it was like something out of a misshapen dream, the kind where gravity stopped working and anything could happen. Clark grabbed at his shirt, wild fingers digging into his shoulders. There was the sharp sound of rending fabric, and suddenly cool air was on his skin.

Clark glared at the microphone stuck to his chest. "How could you do that, Lex?"

"It doesn't have anything to do with you, Clark," he tried to sound calm. "My father set me up to take the fall for what happened at the lab, so I made a deal with the feds. It was the only way I could stay out of jail."

"And you didn't care who you sacrificed in the process."

"That's not true! I told them to stay away from you, that you had nothing to do with any of this."

"Then why did we have a whole army of agents swarming over the farm, tearing up the place, looking for--" His jaw tightened. "Who knows what?"

Lex shook his head. "I don't know, Clark. It wasn't supposed to be this way. I didn't think--"

Clark shoved him back against the car door. The impact knocked the breath of him, more out of surprise than anything else. Despite everything he knew about Clark, it had never occurred to him to be afraid.

"You didn't think, Lex? Or you just didn't care?"

"Clark, you have to believe me--" He had the tight feeling in his throat he always got just before a situation careened totally out of control.

"How'd you like to have your privacy invaded? To be violated like that? Maybe I should show you what it's like." Clark set on him again, big hands pulling at the remnants of his shirt, his pants, tearing his clothes open. "How does it feel to be completely exposed, Lex? Not too good, huh?"

Lex was shaking, and it was hard to pin down the exact cause, whether chill from the cool night air or simple rage or some complicated mix of shock and humiliation and desire.

"What do you want, Clark?"

"I want you to fix it," he said rather cryptically.

He grabbed Lex roughly by the arm, opened the door and pushed him across the seat to the passenger side. He got in after him, put the car in gear and took off with an impatient squeal of the tires.


Clark put a finger to his lips.


"Shut up!" Clark hissed and refused to say another word.

It became clear soon enough where they were headed. When they got to the mansion, Clark parked in the drive, got out, went around and pulled Lex from the car. The prospect of being hauled half-naked into his own home, in front of his staff, by someone who was not a deranged criminal but supposedly his best friend, made Lex dig in his heels in the driveway.

"Don't do this," he pleaded.

Clark ignored him and dragged him bodily toward the rarely used side entrance. It was some consolation at least that no one would witness the manhandling. Clark pushed him up the stairs, into his room and down onto the bed.

Lex stared up at him in disbelief. "What are you doing?"

Clark touched the wire on his chest. "I'm giving you a chance to make this right," he whispered. "So play along."


Clark lay down on top of him, and that answered that question, although it did make Lex wonder when the universe had been turned on its ear. Clark pressed his face against Lex's neck and murmured his name in the same breathy voice he used in all of Lex's most interesting dreams.

"I'm going to make you feel so good," Clark muttered thickly, before taking his mouth in a surprisingly dirty kiss.

And Lex began to wonder if perhaps he was having another break with reality.

It couldn't be just his mind playing tricks on him though, he finally decided, because no delusion could possibly feel like this, Clark's hot breath on his skin, restless fingers worrying his nipples, the edge of teeth against his lips with every dizzying kiss, perhaps meant in warning or punishment, but with completely the opposite effect.

Clark lined great, sucking kisses over his chest and down his belly. He took Lex's eager cock in his palm, almost possessively, and stroked it. "You're leaking for me," he said. "I like that. A lot."

Lex's porno world and the real world were colliding, and all he could do was stare and wonder what the hell had happened to his sweet, if somewhat duplicitous, farmboy, and moan out loud when Clark did things to him that by all rights a teenager living in Kansas should know nothing about.

Increasingly desperate noises streamed out of Lex, against his volition, and Clark's smile needled him with its smug triumph.

"Oh, yeah. You want it bad, don't you?" Clark drawled, sounding like every X-rated movie ever made. "Don't worry. I'm going to give it to you. I'm going to give it to you good."

Lex did not expect Clark's mouth, so when Clark bent over him, there was a blackout in his head, all thought, every other reality obliterated by the shock of hot-wet surrounding his cock. Clark sucked him, not haltingly, not like some amateur getting his first taste, but with confidence and gusto, and it gave Lex a whole new insight into Clark's lost summer in Metropolis.

He dug his fingers into Clark's shoulders, hard, wanting to make Clark really feel him, to know exactly whose cock he was gobbling up. When he came, he was shaking, screaming random obscenities.

Clark sat back on his heels and wiped his mouth with his hand. "Where's the lube?"

Lex lay crumpled on the bed like a day-old flower, weak and wilted. "Don't you think--"

"Or would you rather I fuck you dry?"

"In the nightstand," he answered promptly.

Clark got it and opened his pants, and Lex's mouth dropped open, because Clark had <I>a lot</I> more going for him than just his beautiful face and super-human strength. He knelt between Lex's spread thighs and smeared slick stuff on them both.

Apparently patience was not something Clark had learned in Metropolis, or else he thought a sore ass would help Lex remember his lesson better, because he didn't waste any time on such niceties as opening or stretching.

"Fuck!" Lex screamed at the first rough thrust.

Clark laughed in an unsettlingly raunchy way. "Oh, I'm going to fuck you all right."

And he did. He fucked Lex so hard the bed shook and groaned as if on the verge of collapse, and the sweat ran down Lex's face and stung his eyes, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't stop making desperate gurgling noises that were really rather embarrassing.

He knew there was a possibility he was going to be incredibly angry when this was all over, but while Clark was inside him, commandeering his ass, lighting up every filament of pleasure in his body, all he could do was dig his heels into Clark's back and beg, "Fuck me, god damn you! Fuck me!"

Clark left bruises when he came, his hands clutching at Lex's hips the way shipwreck survivors grabbed for the last life preserver. Lex had never before found it appealing when people left marks on him during sex, but people were people and Clark was Clark. He came so violently he was sure he would still have a headache from it the next day.

It took a while for Clark to stop shuddering after his orgasm, so long in fact that Lex was tempted to ask him if he was okay. Finally, though, Clark seemed to regain himself. He jerked the wire from Lex's chest and hurled it across the room.

"Now they have some explanation for why you're so interested in me," he said. "They think we're fucking. So you just let them go on thinking that."

Lex smiled. "Sure, Clark. But you do realize--" He took him by the hair, not gently, and pulled him in for a kiss that would have left bruises on anyone else. "It's not just what they think. We <I>are</I> fucking."

Clark turned a delightfully vivid shade of red, and Lex was pleased to see that whatever sexual adventures he'd had in the big city had not taken the blushing farmboy out of him entirely.

"Um. I-- You mean you--" Clark stuttered, as if genuinely surprised Lex might have some interest in doing this again.

Lex tangled his fingers in Clark's hair, rubbed at the back of his neck, until Clark yielded and presented his lips to be kissed. There was nothing scalding or urgent this time, just light, reassuring pressure, soft brushes of their mouths together. Clark settled beside him on the bed, and Lex held his face gently in his hands as he leisurely explored him.

At last he pressed a kiss to Clark's forehead. "You'd better go. Your parents are going to be worried."

Clark nodded and got up, straightened his clothes. "Um." He shifted his weight awkwardly.

Lex smiled. "See you tomorrow?"

Clark blushed in a pleased way. "Yeah."

At the door, he stopped and turned for one last look, and Lex made it worth his while, stretching lazily on the bed, letting his thighs fall open, wanting Clark to carry with him this picture of him, naked and willing. Clark swallowed hard and had the "oh, shit!" expression of someone who realized he'd just gotten in way over his head, mixed with a glint of horny enthusiasm, knowing he was going to get laid again very, very soon.

When he was gone, Lex smiled up at the ceiling. All in all, it had not been a bad night. Clark had made his point. Lex had gotten off the hook and was, so far at least, willing to overlook the indignities he'd suffered in the process. They were both significantly less sexually frustrated than they had been only hours earlier. And if things continued to go Lex's way, Clark would never have to know the microphone had been off the entire time they'd been together.

Maybe his luck was finally starting to change.


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