Title: Persuasion
Author: Kelandris the Mad
Author's e-mail: Kelandris
Author's webpage: The Space Between
Series/Sequel: Sequels "Torture" and "Frustration".
Disclaimer: Yes, practically everything I write involves characters originally created by other people. Those other people will hopefully feel flattered. Especially anyone from Millar Gough Ink or Warner Brothers. I'm not worth suing, really.
Archive: This page. Anyone else wants it, write and ask. Address is up there a few lines.
Category: First Time moving towards established romance, heavier layer of Angst, bit of BDSM here and there.
Rating: NC-17.
Spoilers: None so far as I know. No specific episodes mentioned.
Summary: Back at the castle, third time lucky?
Author's notes: This in no way is connected to Lanning Cook's "Persuasion", which is part of her "Identical" series. Other than that, I read *way* too much Kitty Fisher, sometimes.


"Persuasion"
by Kelandris the Mad


Two days. It had been two days. Lex had gotten tied up in a project at the plant, and outside of remembering Clark, and Clark's mouth, every 2.5 seconds, he hadn't given the boy much thought. So it was nearly a surprise when Clark pushed the door of his study open slightly, peering around the door.

"Clark," he said, trying to control the sudden racing of his heart. "Don't you usually come right in?"

"I, um. Wanted to make sure we were alone."

"Understandable. Hold on a moment." He tilted his head to one side, dialing a number on a small silver keypad.

"Neils, hello. Yes. I'm forwarding all calls to the house line. I don't want to be disturbed. Yes, I'm in my office. Thank you."

He pressed a button, closing the cover of the keypad, and slipped the earpiece from his ear. He set it down on the desk, rising and walking around to where Clark stood, shifting from foot to foot. His expression was priceless. Lex couldn't resist shaking him up just the least bit more.

"So. Get the harvest in all right?"

Clark froze. "The--"

"--Early corn, didn't your father say?" He blinked steadily, composed smile on his lips, hands lightly in his pants pockets. Avidly, he watched Clark for any sign, anything, that would explain what he'd heard.

"Um," Clark said, looking away. He shrugged. "Yeah. It took--it took some time. But yeah."

"Two hours."

Clark flinched and Lex stared at him, brow furrowing. Now what?

"What is it, Clark?"

"You were--watching?"

Lex grinned ruefully, shaking his head. "Clark," he said, caressing the boy with his voice. He stepped closer, slid his palms up Clark's cotton-covered chest, up to his neck, his jaw. He traced fingers along Clark's lips and watched him shiver.

"As attractive as you are, no. I had work to do. I was simply...curious."

"Luthor curiosity," Clark said, gasping out the words.

"Something like that." He leaned in, pulling Clark's face down for a kiss. The boy went willingly, opening his mouth for Lex's tongue, and Lex swam on the dizzying scents and taste of Clark.

Sunshine again, hay, earth. Candy. God. He'd been eating chocolate, the taste of it still heavy and dark on his tongue. Coffee. Clark so loved coffee. Probably had been drinking it since he was old enough to say the word 'cup'.

Afternoon sun painted them both in squares of red, gold, luminous white, shining through the stained-glass windows behind Lex's desk. He pulled back, staring at Clark's quickly dilating eyes.

"Couch?"

"Please..."

He led the boy over, sliding his hands underneath the t-shirt he wore, caressing the warm skin, pinching his nipples. Clark moaned, arching against him, and Lex just watched, eyes half-lidded with his own desire.

"Lex," Clark groaned. "Want you...want you *in* me...*please*, Lex, need you, need you to--"

Regretting, Lex silenced him with a scorching kiss, both of them breathing hard afterwards, but slowly shook his head.

"Why?"

"Because I didn't think ahead," he said darkly. He looked around the study, thinking how easy it would have been to stock a drawer with everything he might have needed. But he'd been distracted--oddly enough, by Clark. He hadn't thought it through. He hadn't thought the *need* through.

And Clark--Clark was moaning his name, pinching his nipples through the dress shirt he wore, *hard*, making him gasp.

"Please, Lex. *Please*. You have to. You're making me crazy, you *can't* say no--"

Oh, the joys of sixteen. Back when sex was immediate and necessary and vital to life as they knew it. On the other hand, Clark had that kind of effect on him *now*, and he was supposed to be past all that.

Hmm. A too delicious thought occurred, and he leaned over, pressing Clark against the couch, writhing over his body. Chest to chest, waist to waist, cocks grinding against each other through their layers of respective cloth.

"Do you trust me, Clark?" he asked, licking down to Clark's right ear. He got a moan in response, and he bit the earlobe, shocking him.

"Do you *trust* me?"

Shakily, Clark nodded. "But what--"

"No questions. Not now. Strip, and I'll be back."

"Strip--here?" He looked around, his eyes wide and nervous. "But what if someone walks in?"

"Then I trust you'll come visit me in jail, won't you?"

"Lex, no--"

"Yes," Lex breathed. "Do it." He turned, leaving the office quickly. If he didn't go *now*, he'd be too hard to walk. He took the stairs as quietly as he could, opening the door to his bedroom silently. He grabbed a few condoms, the bottle of lube, and one additional item from his bedside table, and then returned downstairs.

It didn't look like anything had changed, and he hadn't been that long. But--

He stepped back into his office. No outraged officers of the law. Just Clark next to the couch, naked, standing, eyes wide until he saw it was Lex.

"Oh." Breath rushed out of Lex suddenly, and he had to stop at the door. He paused for some long eternal moment, eyes traveling up and down the boy. Up and down Clark.

**Oh. My.**

Clark was slightly taller than he was, but definitely more muscled. Muscles moved, clenched, tightened, seemingly everywhere Lex looked, almost as if Clark could feel his gaze as a physical pressure over his golden-tanned skin. His cock jutted from the patch of curling black hair, the curls glinting in the sunlight, matching the blue glitter from the dark locks on his head.

He was so nervous. Lex just smiled, and watched Clark's nervousness increase.

"Still trust me?" he asked.

One nod, jerkily. Lex held up the condoms, placing them on the table by the couch. That earned another nod. He held up the lubricant, placing that by the condoms. Another nod. Then Lex reached into the back of his waistband, holding up a pair of handcuffs.

Clark stopped breathing. Lex listened for a moment, stepping forward, placing a hand on Clark's chest.

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"I--oh, Lex--"

"Yes or no, Clark." God, if he didn't get his clothes off soon, his cock might break through the fabric. He was so hard; just watching Clark think about it...think about the possibility...

**God, thank You. Thank You for giving me Clark. That was very nice of You,** he thought hysterically. And then shuddered, all over, when Clark nodded, clenching his eyes shut.

"Wonderful," Lex purred. He stepped close, kissing Clark, trapping the cold handcuffs between them. He listened to Clark moan when his flesh touched metal, and quickly, Lex turned away, stripping as elegantly as he could with a burgeoning erection and hands that wouldn't stop trembling.

Clark was so beautiful. So beautiful. Lex turned, dropping his boxers to the floor--brief whisper of silk on the air, making Clark shiver--and looked over his shoulder, watching Clark.

"Do you know how beautiful you are?" he asked throatily. Clark, wide-eyed, shook his head. "Well, don't forget, Clark. You are. You are *very* beautiful."

Looking over the situation, he decided quickly, turning one of the leather couch cushions over--in case he couldn't clean it, after all--and pushed Clark down over the seat. While Clark bent, head down, trembling, Lex moved the table back, and clicked open the handcuffs. The sound was like a thunderclap in the room. They both jumped, hearing it.

"Lex--" Clark sounded pained, and Lex knelt at his side. He stroked hair back from his forehead, looking at his wide blue eyes.

"Too much?" he asked softly.

"No...want you..." Clark whispered brokenly. "But--"

"Key," Lex said, placing it on the couch cushion next to Clark. "I won't hurt you. Any time you want out, you say so."

He bit his lip, ducking his head. Lex was a little concerned. Now what did *that* mean? He wasn't sure he should--

Damn. Farmboy was giving him ethics. Couldn't have that, now. With a swallow, biting his own lip, he touched Clark's side. But if he didn't want this--

"We don't have to do this," he said, putting the handcuffs beside the key. "You're uncomfortable."

Clark's mouth worked for a moment, and then he shuddered, all over. "Put. The cuffs. On," he said, gasping between words.

Lex picked them up, turning them so that the chain clinked in his hand. The sound echoed through the empty space, making them both jump again, and then he gently lifted Clark's arms, moving his wrists over the small of his back. Clark breathed out slowly, shivering. He slid his fingers around Clark's left wrist, measuring from memory, and clicked the cuffs on, locking his wrists together. Clark shuddered again, making another small pained noise.

"You're sure--you're sure you're--"

"Lex," he whispered. He leaned his head against the back of the couch. "Do. It."

Moving, single caress down the bound wrists, Lex moved Clark's legs aside, stroking down his firm ass, his muscled legs, tightly clenched. He stroked them until the muscles relaxed slightly, running his fingers over Clark's inner thighs until the boy gasped. Lex smiled, reaching for a small packet of lubricant oil he'd brought down with the condoms. This one was labeled 'Cinnamon'.

He spread half the contents on his fingers, laying the little plastic pillow beside him. He parted Clark's cheeks with one hand, sliding the lubed fingers around his hole, into him, coating him with the flavored oil. Lex kissed the cleft of his ass, feeling Clark jump at the touch. Other than a small gasp, the boy was silent.

"Still there, Clark?"

"Still..." he breathed. Well. It was an answer.

He leaned in, smelling sweat and skin and cinnamon, silver-sugar tang of sorbitol, some dark, musky scent that lay underneath the oil. Clark. Clark, here. He spread Clark farther apart and leaned in, licking the pucker, tracing every little wrinkle, every tiny ridge of darkened flesh. He spread Clark's cheeks further apart, and slid his tongue inside.

Clark gasped, air inrushing hugely, rocketing off the couch, and Lex brought him back down, gentled him, grabbed the chain between the cuffs when nothing else worked.

"Clark," he said, over and over. "Clark. Trust me? Still trust me?"

"Just--Lex...*God*...so *hard*--"

"I promise, I'll take care of that." Hands smoothed the promise into Clark's lower back, hips, upper thighs. His hands curled under, reached up, cupping his balls, reaching to run a finger along his cock, making Clark gasp and twitch. But the boy just shook his head, over and over.

"No. No," he said. "Not that, it's--" And Clark trembled again, pressing his face into the couch, groaning as if his soul was on fire.

Lex paused for a moment. He wanted this nearly enough to destroy every tie he had in this town, in this country, on this planet, if it went that far. But...something about this was making him desperately uneasy. Clark said he wanted this, but it made him tremble to the point of shuddering the couch, nearly. Clark was...afraid? Of this?

Of *him*?

But that was wrong too, he thought, because when he'd said they didn't have to take it this far, Clark had said yes, that he wanted to do this. And he liked--he liked what was happening...at least, Lex *thought* he did...

He leaned in again, lubed fingers running down his cleft, fingers swirling around the puckered edges. He could have come, right then, just listening to Clark moan and thrash on the leather. He slid his tongue inside him again, driving into Clark, breath heating the oil. Hot. So hot here, right now, and Clark begging, begging for him, begging to be fucked...So delicious. So needy. Such pained little cries...

His head was spinning dangerously. There was something in him that relished pain; he'd known that from far too young an age. His pain, someone else's; anguish drew him like no other drug he'd found. But this...this...helplessness, this...was that it? Clark wanted to be in control?

He couldn't think any more. Warm, naked, presumed willing boy in front of him, and he couldn't think any more. Lex probed and licked, licking around the fingers that drove inside Clark, opening him up, priming him. Readying him. Clark groaned again, cutting the groan off in a cry, and pushed back against him.

He turned his fingers inside the boy, twisting them, pressing on various spots until Clark hissed air between his teeth, shuddering, thrusting against the cushion in front of him.

"Lex--so *good*--what--what did you--"

"That, Clark, is your prostrate. Source of male pleasure. Or so I'm told." He touched the spot again, feeling Clark clench around him, crying out. Sweat shimmered along his skin and Lex soaked in the sight of it, intoxicated. He'd seen the boy manhandling bales of hay into the back of his truck and not break a sweat. This...made him sweat. It was dizzying.

Lips twisting into a smile, he pulled his fingers out, coating them with more of the oil. He blew again on the liquid as he slid more fingers into Clark, twisting again, tongue extending, tasting the moment the liquid warmed with his breath.

Clark bucked back against him, *hard*. Guttural noises filled the air and Lex knew he should wait, knew it, but he rose to his knees and pushed Clark back against the couch, thrusting against him, sliding his cock along the cleft. Snapping open the cap on the lube, he reached for a condom, unrolling it down with unsteady hands. He smoothed lube on the condom, onto his fingers, and held his cock at the base, trembling, positioning the head and pressing against Clark's hole.

Suddenly he paused, breathless. This was it. No more interruptions. No parents, no staff, just this moment, this long moment of golden afternoon, and golden Clark. Clark, who sounded as if he were two steps away from breaking down entirely. Thrusting back against Lex. Trembling as if he'd been wired for current. On one of the thrusts back, Clark got the angle right, and the head of Lex's cock popped inside.

"Oh..." they breathed in unison. Lex tossed the lube aside and then pressed in, pulling back on his hips, sinking slowly into Clark. The boy tossed his hair on the couch, litany of Lex's name on his lips, begging abjectly for things Lex couldn't quite make out. God--was it important enough for him to stop?

**No,** he thought fiercely, **no stopping. Not now. Not when--**

He pulled out, nearly to the tip, Clark flinching now, little jerks and spasms that clenched muscles around him. Unbelievable heat. Unbelievable tightness. Unbelievable rightness of this, and Lex thrust back inside, harder, groaning himself now at the sheer sensuality of Clark, in cuffs, and Lex, in him. Fantasy fodder for days. Months. Maybe years. And he was here right now, recording every moment on his neurons, every small sound, every cry, every time that Clark thrust back, shuddering, pleading...something about the cuffs?

He pulled out, breathing hard, cock so hard it was *painful* at this point--but he wanted to see Clark, see Clark's face, Clark's eyes. He had a sudden need to know and a total disregard for couch-cleaning bills; he guided Clark until he was lying on his back, legs wide, eyes wider.

Clark's face took on a pained cast, and Lex knew it couldn't be comfortable, his hands bound behind him, pinning the cuffs to his flesh. But, oh, just the image of that, just the *thought* of that, was enough to tell Lex it wouldn't be much longer. One hand fisted around himself, sliding him back into Clark; the other hand circled around Clark's straining cock, pulling the foreskin back, tracing an index finger over the sensitive head.

Clark cried out, arching off the couch, sending him deeper inside. Lex found his rhythm quickly, murmuring reassurances to Clark, holding one leg up with his hand. The other was jacking Clark roughly, the boy thrusting inside the tight circle of his fingers, almost whining. The near-agony on his face was staggering. Lex just watched, breathing hard, and jacked Clark harder, until Clark was arching up against him, crying out, nearly screaming now, Lex's name, apologies, urging him not to hate him, and--what? What was Clark saying?

In one moment, everything changed. Between one moment and the next, Clark came, shuddering, spurting over Lex's hand, the couch, his own belly. He shuddered through it, panting hard and fast, shaking, deep muscle spasms that gripped Lex like a fist. In that one moment, Clark called out Lex's name, arching his head back, and Lex saw distinctly the tendons on his throat raise, tightening like steel cables.

In the same moment Clark shook himself, and Lex saw tears falling from eyes that were clenched shut, and he heard a grinding sound, like metal being pulled apart. It ended with a loud *clink*, and something skittered across the floor. He turned to look, seeing a curved bit of twisted metal lying on the hearth, and for a moment he wondered how it got there.

Then Clark's hands were on him, pinching his nipples, stroking over him. Oh, yes. So good. So very good, and Clark was still trembling, clenching down on him so *hard*, Lex thought for sure he'd bruise tomorrow, on a part of his anatomy that generally, he didn't favor bruising. Soft chime of metal striking metal in the air, chains clinking, and he didn't think about it, didn't think about anything but how wide Clark's eyes were and how good he felt and how good *Lex* felt, in Clark...Another pinch of his nipples and it made him look down for one moment, seeing Clark's hands on his chest.

And his brain stuttered to a halt. Clark's hands. On his chest. Each one oddly braceleted with a silver cuff, dangling two loops of chain. The chains chiming in the air, Clark trembling, arching against him, and the cuffs--

Clark had...snapped the cuffs. Eyes going wide, he looked at Clark, who bit his lip and looked back, and there was something in the look, something in the tense body beneath him, something he'd never seen before in the boy. It pulled him to the edge and past the edge and sent him careening over, before he had time to react to Clark's sudden panic. He was thrusting into the boy rapid-speed, both hands rising to grab Clark's calves and brace against them, and he was coming, coming, coming like benediction, like salvation, like the blessing of all the angels.

Trembling. Shaking. Returning to earth. Realizing he had a body, that Clark had a body, that he needed to pull out of Clark or he'd start thrusting again, still hungry, still wanting. Licking dry lips, he pulled out, hearing Clark groan beneath him. Then he slumped to lay across Clark's chest, uncaring, unthinking.

Clark moved to raise his arms, stroke the back of his head, and the chains clinked together again and Clark froze.

Lex, eyes closed, face pressed to Clark's chest. He smiled, content, listening to Clark's heartbeat. Strong. Powerful. Calming. Beat-beat. Beat. Beat-beat.

"We should get those off, Clark. But I think we're laying on the key."

"Yeah," Clark whispered, and there was that odd pain, that odd tension in him, and everything crept back in.

The cuffs were case-hardened steel. He knew. They hadn't been sex-shop play-toys, they'd been Galls' finest, Smith & Wesson chain cuffs. Nickel-plated steel, heat-treated, and up to now, worth every penny he'd paid for them. They'd been part of the first shipment of equipment for plant and castle security. And Clark...Clark had just...snapped them, hen...

**When he couldn't hold back anymore. That's why he was so nervous. He was afraid he'd get too aroused and snap them in a--a fit of passion?** It was plausible enough.

Save for one thing--no one was strong enough to snap steel chains. No one.

He looked up, seeing tension and worry on a face that should have been as happily replete as his. He thought for a moment. Right approach to keep the trust he had, for some bizarre reason, earned from the boy. Had to think of the right words. Had to *think*.

But his mind replayed the moment when Clark had snapped the cuffs, snapped them effortlessly, and suddenly, he was hard again, thrusting against Clark's hip, breathing, gasping.

Oh, God--what Clark could *do* to him...That kind of strength. That kind of...and perfectly leashed, perfectly in control...most of the time. There were times when he couldn't control it--like now, when...and he moaned, burying his face in Clark's chest for a moment, closing his eyes. He wanted, the wanting like pain in him, and he had no words, he had no way, just now, to tell Clark why.

"L-Lex?"

After a moment, he opened his eyes again and Clark was watching him, hair fallen across his face, tearstained cheeks flushed, body still shaking. Lex rose, legs like cellophane noodles, and felt along the couch until he found the key. Picking it up, he turned to Clark. Still thinking at high speed, he sat on the rug between the couch, and the table he'd pushed away, reaching for the boy.

For a long moment Clark didn't move. Then, with a strangled, awful sound, he dropped bonelessly from the couch into Lex's arms, and clung to him, shuddering. The chains clinked softly around his wrists.

Lex slid his arms down Clark's shoulders, to his hands, brought them up between them. He stroked the dark head briefly, carefully unlocking the two halves of the cuffs, setting them quietly behind him on the table, and smoothed his fingers across Clark's wrists. Amazing. No bruising. Reddening, yes, but nothing more. He had to have pulled with tremendous strength to get them to break, but--

Lex picked up one hand, kissing the palm, moving down to kiss the inside of the wrist.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Clark looked up at him, incredulous.

"I mean it," he said softly. He stroked Clark's hair, trying to gentle both their breathing, trying to calm down. "I shouldn't have pushed it."

He looked down and saw fresh tears sliding down Clark's face.

"I--I thought I could--" Clark's voice was small, broken, and Lex ached, hearing it. He wrapped his arms around the boy, rocking him slightly, feeling all the tense muscles slowly relax, one by one.

"Please, Lex...don't ask."

Lex almost smiled at that. "Have I asked yet?"

Clark said nothing. Lex raised his head again, looking at him.

"Don't hate me," he whispered.

"Clark, how could I ever hate you? I--love you."

His throat had tried to close up on the words, almost managed to crush them unsaid. But not quite. Even though those three little words terrified him worse than what was teasing at the edge of his very scientific mind.

Love. Love? Did he mean that? How could a Luthor know enough of love to mean those words? Any Luthor. *Him*. And Clark...

There was a little too much truth now, in the room with them. Declarations of love and deep physical revelations, and they either needed to do this more often or stop doing it at all. Though Lex thought, at this point, he'd just *die* if they stopped.

"Clark," he purred, combing his hair back. "When can I see you again?"

Clark shivered. "You mean--you still want to--"

"Hmm, you may have a point. I mean, you're beautiful, and you have the most incredible mouth, and a *natural* talent for fellatio, and you're pretty much sex on two legs, frankly. And the handcuff thing? Kind of a turn-on, actually." He stared at Clark, stroking fingers over his throat, feeling him inhale.

"Plus, you're the only one in this misbegotten town that seems to think I'm worth anything. Why *would* I want to spend time with you?"

That got him kissed, breathlessly, mouth moving in a heated stripe from lips to cheek to the lobe of his ear and down in a curving path along his throat, making Lex arch against him, crying out.

"Tomorrow," Clark whispered, kissing him. He rose from Lex's lap, stepping back, reaching for his clothes. He looked up once, pausing in pulling on a t-shirt, and his green-gold eyes were lambent with fresh desire. So much that Lex nearly pulled him back down, unwilling to let him leave, wanting more contact, more Clark, more...everything.

Sighing, he rose, reaching for his pants. He pulled them on, zipping them efficiently, and looked at Clark.

"Tomorrow," he said. "I'll be here. The staff will be gone."

He watched as Clark left, turning to the window, watching as the boy got into his battered red truck, driving slowly away.

Tomorrow. And in the meantime...he walked over to the couch, plotting trajectory, and ran his hands along the back of the couch. Something rough pricked his fingers, and he pulled out a curving, twisted bit of metal. He walked towards the bar, leaning down, picking up the bit of metal he'd first seen. The two halves of the link were stressed, the metal rough and matte where Clark had broken them, but it was obvious that they fit together.

His hands clenched on the broken bits of metal, the edges cutting into his palm. He shuddered at the bright burst of pain, gathering up clothes absently from the floor. He shrugged into his dress shirt one-handed, unwilling to release the link sections for now.

**Clark,** he thought. Tomorrow. Dear God, yes. Tomorrow.

END
***************
Kelandris the Mad
drink to me only with thine eyes (ben jonson)

Write me. In case you'd forgotten.

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