TORN
BY SHAMAN

 

 

Muffled sounds . . . small points of light behind his eyes . . . the taste of wet cotton in his mouth.  He groaned through the material shoved behind his teeth and tried to lift his arms. The pain came roaring back into his awareness without warning and he gave a weak cry as it pulsed through him like a deadly river. 

The points of light behind his eyes grew brighter and then the world came into a hazy kind of focus as someone removed the blindfold he had been wearing.  A face swam in his vision, the bespectacled eyes peering at him as if he was some exotic species of insect.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr. Kent.” The lips on the face moved, matching the words, and Clark looked up in confusion.  Salt and pepper colored hair curling down to shoulders that were covered in an impossibly expensive Italian suit. Cool blue-gray eyes that were familiar yet void of the warmth and smoldering, barely contained heat that Clark always saw in Lex Luthor’s eyes.  No . . . not Lex.  It was his father, Lionel, who was looking at him as if he were on display in a zoo.  Lionel cupped his chin and raised his head, and Clark groaned again.  God, the pain . . . .

“Where am I?” Clark asked hoarsely, and Lionel Luthor turned Clark’s head from side to side in a clinical manner that chilled Clark to the bone.

“At present, you are in the basement of a warehouse owned by Luthorcorp.” Lionel answered, checking the manacles that bound Clark’s wrists.  They had been custom made at a tool and die company in Metropolis, the links forged from meteor rock sent by Lionel’s people from Smallville and melded with metal.  A swivel had been fitted into the ends nearest the cuffs, allowing Clark to be turned over without removing the cuffs from his wrists. Lionel had been watching the veins in Clark’s hands  swell and pulse for nearly a half an hour, and had come to the conclusion that his son’s best friend was much more than a farm-raised teenager who’d been adopted by his loving parents, the Kents.  There was much more to him than that, and Lionel suspected it had something to do with the blood . . . . the blood that was nothing short of a miracle, yet had no source. 
Or hadn’t up until now.

The boy whined in pain, and Lionel looked down at him.  No small wonder why his son Lex found him so fascinating; he was lean and well-muscled from years of farm work and his worn clothing stretched over every one of those muscles like an invitation.  His thick black hair, damp and curly with sweat, tumbled down just past the nape of his neck.  Lionel reached out to touch the raven-colored locks and Clark flinched back, his blue-green eyes full of pain.

“Mr. Luthor . . .  Mr. Luthor please, it hurts.” He groaned, and Lionel felt his groin tighten at the words.  The boy’s eyes were wide, expressive, and held a quality of innocence that Lionel couldn’t resist.  Your taste is impeccable Lex, He thought, I just hope you haven’t sullied the boy yet.  Lionel doubted that Lex had approached the Kent boy yet; he was barely sixteen and despite Lex’s sexual appetites, his only son had certain moral codes that Lionel found tiresome. 

“I know it does, son.” Lionel replied.  “It hurts because your shackles contain meteor fragments that were mixed in with the metal when they were forged.” He explained.

“Please take them off.” Clark said through clenched teeth, and Lionel smiled a smile that contained not one iota of good humor.  He bent his head close to Clark’s, his lips almost touching the boy’s left ear. 

“I will . . . if you tell me why the meteor rocks cause you such pain.”
Clark’s mind raced and he shook his head a little, the tendons in his neck feeling as if they were filled with shards of glass.

“Not the rocks.” He panted.  “The shackles, they hurt.  Take them off, please!”

Lionel chuckled as if Clark had told him a pretty good joke.  “Don’t insult my intelligence, Clark.  I’ve been watching you and I’ve seen what the meteor rock does to your body.” The older man reached down and yanked open Clark’s blue-checkered flannel shirt to reveal skin that was slicked with sweat.  “I did some experimenting while you were asleep, and it seems to me that the more of the rocks there are, the worse your condition.”  Lionel ran a hand over Clark’s chest.  “Now, unless you want me to test that theory again with you conscious, you had better tell me the truth.  Why do the meteor rocks affect you this way?”

“I don’t know!” Clark cried, wondering how long it would be before the exposure to the Kryptonite killed him.  “I swear I don’t know . . . . please, Mr. Luthor . . . . I don’t know anything about the rocks, please, let me go.”

“I wonder,” Lionel mused, “if my son would be interested in my little experiment. He’s been more than a little curious about you in the past, Clark, as I’m sure you know.  I wonder, would he like it, seeing you this way?” The hand on Clark’s chest slid lower, and then rested on his lower belly.  “I know I’m enjoying it a great deal.”
Lex.  Clark thought with an almost giddy relief.  Yes, let him call Lex, who would be outraged at his father’s actions and set him free.  But he’ll see . . . and he’ll know.  Another part of Clark’s mind whispered.  What would he do then?

“You are no doubt an intelligent young man, Clark.” Lionel broke into Clark’s thoughts as the older man reached down and yanked off his brown hiking boots and socks.  “So intelligent that you must know the meaning of the word ‘incentive.’  Am I right?” Lionel smiled as he reached for two lengths of rope that hung on a nearby beam.  Clark nodded a little.  “Yes . . . I know what it means.” He replied, and watched in terror as Lionel removed his worn denim jeans.  He then made a slip noose on one end of each length of rope and slipped them over Clark’s feet.  They tightened around his ankles, and then Clark gasped aloud as Lionel pulled his legs back towards his head.  Lionel tossed the free ends of the ropes over a beam that ran directly over the bed above Clark’s head, and continued to pull on them until Clark cried out softly that it hurt. His backside lifted up off the bed and jutted forward slightly, thanks to the angle of his legs.  He was now clad only in his white briefs, and his struggles made Lionel Luthor’s groin ache.  He was indeed a beautiful boy.  Lionel secured the free end of the ropes around a nearby joist, and Clark cried out in pain as his bound ankles bore the weight of his legs and the rope bit into his skin.  

“What are you doing? Let me down!” Clark yelled, and Lionel smiled down at him. 

“Incentive, Clark.  Your somewhat awkward position is an incentive for you to tell me why the meteor rocks cause you pain.  Don’t worry, the amount I’ve had put into your shackles is quite small; I doubt it could kill you.  After all, that’s not my goal.  I could have killed you a long time ago if I had wanted to.  No, what I want is what’s inside you, Clark.  Your blood, your bodily fluids.  They are the key to my eternal health, but first I need you to give up all of your secrets to me.”

“I don’t have any secrets!” Clark cried, his struggles making his bound legs swing from side to side.  “You’re making a mistake!”

“If you don’t have any secrets, then you won’t mind me putting in a call to Lex?” Lionel pulled a fancy cell phone from his pants pocket.  “I’m sure he’d come rushing down here to save you if he knew what I was doing.”

“No!” Clark whimpered, and Lionel bent down close to his ear again.  “Why not, Clark? Are you afraid he’ll find out your secret as well? Are you afraid of what he’ll say? Are you afraid of what he’ll do?” Lionel’s left hand reached around to caress Clark’s cotton-clad behind.  “Or maybe you’re afraid of what we’ll do to you together.”
 
“Lex . . . Lex would never hurt me.” Clark panted as Lionel continued to stroke his ass.
“Wouldn’t he? Perhaps you don’t know my son as well as you think you do, Clark. You don’t know of his darker appetites, of the things that he pursued in Metropolis after the sun went down.”

“He’s my friend- oh, God!” Clark cried as Lionel’s hand slipped inside his briefs to explore the flesh hidden there. The young boy’s legs kicked and struggled, but the ropes held fast and there was no escape. “Please. Stop!” He begged, and Lionel gave the twitching flesh one more stroke before withdrawing his hand.  He then brought his fingers to his nose and inhaled deeply, scenting the boy’s musk. “Oh.” He sighed, and smiled down at Clark.  “You’re unspoiled.”

“Un . . . unspoiled?” Clark managed to gasp, and Lionel nodded.  “A virgin.” He explained, and a blush heated Clark’s fair skin.  It told Lionel all he needed to know. With another smile, he turned and walked out of the basement, leaving Clark alone with his pain. 

Lex Luthor, sitting behind his massive oak desk in the Luthor mansion, paused typing on his expensive laptop just long enough to pick up a tumbler of fine Gleddenfitch scotch.  He sipped at it, and then set it back down before resuming his information download.  He sighed deeply as he waited for the information to transfer to disk, feeling for once that all was right with the world.  His father hadn’t harassed him in several days, Luthorcorp stock was up, and a lovely young woman from Metropolis had left her name and number on Lex’s cell phone after they had met at a gallery opening the week before. Lex was toying with the idea of returning her call when his cell phone rang out the opening notes of a Mozart classical piece.  Lex caught it up and flipped it open. “Hello?”

“Lex, I was hoping I could coax you into the city for a few days, son.” Lionel Luthor said without preamble. Lex smirked.  So much for his old man getting off his back. 
“Hi dad, good to hear from you too.” Lex replied, and heard his father chuckle. 

“Lex, you know I don’t dispense with pleasantries, I find them a waste of words.  Now, I have something here in Metropolis that might interest you, and I’d like you to come out for a few days.”

“Dad, as much as I’d like to come and play cat-and-mouse with you, I have a lot of work to do.  Perhaps some other time.” Lex said smoothly, and Lionel’s voice hardened the slightest bit. 

“Lex, I promise that what I have to show you will be more than worth the trip.”
Lex hesitated, wondering what kind of twisted game his father was trying to draw him into now.  He knew it would be of little use to keep refusing, for Lionel would just keep calling and insisting he come.  He silently bid a reluctant farewell to the prospect of meeting his new young lady friend, and toyed with the laptop’s built-in mouse button.
“All right, dad.  I’ll bite.  Where and when?”  He asked. 

“My office, in the LuthorCorp building, one p.m. tomorrow.  I’ll send the chopper for you.”

“Don’t bother, I can drive it.” Lex replied, and hung up without saying good-bye.  If his father didn’t care for pleasantries, he thought with a sly smirk, then that shouldn’t bother him a bit. 

Clark awoke from a murky doze filled with pain to the sight of Lionel Luthor smiling down at him in that cold, clinical way once again.  Clark’s legs were still hoisted and tied, and the muscles cramped unmercifully he tried in vain to pull them free.  How long had he been trapped? A few hours? Days? He couldn’t be sure.  As Lionel checked the knots he’d made in the ropes holding Clark’s legs in place, the young boy made a weak but admirable show of bravado.

“My parents are looking for me, and you can bet they won’t stop until they find me!” He said fiercely.  Lionel nodded, a musing look on his face. 

“You’re probably right.  They are not doubt looking for you, and they won’t stop until they find you.  Or rather, what’s left of you.” 

“What do you mean?”  Clark asked, and Lionel walked around to face him once more. 
“What I mean, dear boy, is that your parents have been sent on a rather wild goose-chase.  Of course they know by now that you’re missing, but according to several eye-witnesses, you were set upon by three or four rather large men and pulled into a U-Haul van that headed in the direction of Gotham City.”

“Gotham City? That’s almost two hundred miles from Smallville!” Clark exclaimed, and Lionel nodded calmly.

“Two hundred miles in the other direction, to be precise.  Your father has no doubt gone to Gotham to search for you, and when the time is right, the police will find your bloodied clothes in an abandoned U-Haul on the outskirts of the city.  They will of course assume you are either dead, have been mutilated or both, thus ending the search for the unfortunate Clark Kent.”

Clark pulled on the handcuffs that bound his wrists to the bedposts.  His wrists and hands still throbbed from the affects of the meteor-tainted metal. 

“My dad won’t believe I’m dead unless he sees a body!” Clark shouted, and Lionel made a musing face as he picked up a tube of cherry-scented lubricant from a scarred oak table nearby.

“That may be true.  Your father might be as plain as the dirt that he cultivates, but he’s no dullard.  However, I doubt very much that he’ll be able to track you here.”  Lionel spun the cap off of the tube of lubricant and spread a generous amount onto his index finger.  Clark watched, his blue-green eyes wide with fear and confusion.  Lionel glanced up at him, and that knowing, dirty smile spread across his features again.  Clark began to tremble. 

“Please.” He said softly, his tone one of desperate fear.  Lionel reached out with his clean hand and grasped the waistband of Clark’s underwear.  They slid down as far as the boy’s bound legs would allow, and Lionel considered Clark’s exposed buttocks for a moment.  They were slightly paler than the rest of his sun-kissed skin, the tight little opening plainly exposed.  Lionel placed one hand on one of the soft cheeks as his lubed finger pressed up against Clark’s virgin hole.  Clark cried out in fear and tried to draw away, but the ropes held him tight. 

“No, no!” He screamed as he attempted to kick Lionel away.  The ropes holding his legs offered very little give, however, and they only creaked in response.  As Lionel’s finger slid inside him, Clark gave a cry of pain that was, to Lionel’s ears, a distinctly virgin-like cry.  He pushed his finger in further, feeling Clark’s strong young muscles squeeze and clench.  A sneer of lust flashed across Lionel’s features.
 
“Good boy.”  He purred as he reached the small rounded nodule of Clark’s prostate and began to gently press against it.  Clark groaned and whimpered as an erection he couldn’t control rose from his bare thighs.  Lionel reached down with his other hand to stroke it as he continued slowly to thrust his finger.  Clark closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as he silently prayed.
LexLexLexLexLex . . . .

Lex guided his glittering red Porsche into the parking space reserved for him at The Luthorcorp building and inserted his keycard into the slot beside the entrance.  The door slid open smoothly and Lex stepped into a plush, carpeted hallway.  There was an elevator a few feet down from the doorway and Lex pressed the UP button.  The door slid open and he rode up to the eightieth floor where his father’s office was located. 
Lionel’s secretary, a pretty woman in her forties with coiffed brunette hair, informed Lex that Lionel was waiting for him.  Thanking her, Lex paused only briefly at his father’s door before stepping into the room.  Lionel was on the phone, and he gestured Lex inside with a wolfish smile.  Lex’s brow furrowed with curiosity; his father rarely looked so pleased.
 
“Yes, next week.  Yes, of course . . . my secretary will have those numbers faxed right away.  All right, Thomas.  Yes, of course!  The next time I’m at the club.  All right.”  Lionel hung up and gestured to the leather swivel chair in front of his desk.  It was butter-soft and irresistible, yet Lex hesitated. 

“What did you need, dad?” This time it was Lex who spoke without preamble, and his father chuckled. 

“Need? Why, nothing, Lex.  It’s like I told you on the phone, I have something that you might like to see.”

“Oh? What?”  Lex asked, glancing around his father’s desk.  Nothing there, he noted, except a large laptop, a gold pen and holder, and a small paperweight.  No family photos, Lex noticed with a mixture of bitterness and a complete lack of surprise. 

“Oh no, its not here.” Lionel said softly as he rose from his chair.  “Its downtown, in one of the warehouses.  Perhaps you’ll accompany me to take a look?”
Lex thought it over, then gave a small shrug. 

“Sure.  I would have hated to have driven all this way for nothing.” 

“Excellent!” Lionel smiled, and put a hand on his son’s shoulder as they went down to the elevator and to Lionel’s limo, which he’d had waiting.  As they drove downtown, Lex mulled over in his mind what his father had in store for him.  Some new job offer?  Maybe a bribe to return to Metropolis where his father could keep a close eye on him? Whatever is was, Lex knew that his father did not intend to let Lex leave the city until he saw it. 

The warehouse was a dingy brick affair in one of the less disreputable parts of the city, and Lex saw the limo driver blanch a bit when Lionel told him to wait.  His father’s long black overcoat flapped around his ankles as they walked inside.  Their footsteps echoed off the cold and smutty walls, and Lex frowned.

“There’s nothing here, dad.  The place is totally abandoned!”

“Not here.” Lionel said, and Lex heard an edge of excitement tinge his father’s tone. 
“In the basement.”

“The basement?” Lex echoed in disbelief. 

“Dad, there’s probably rats and God knows what-“

“There’s no rats.  Now come on.” Lionel stepped onto the nearby elevator and pressed the button for the lower level.  The old cables shuddered and groaned as it carried them down, and Lex hoped his father was right about the rats.  He was afraid of very little, but the sight of a rat made him shudder with revulsion. 

The elevator doors slid open and to Lex’s surprise, they stepped into a well-lit room with a concrete floor that was stained with age, but otherwise clean.  The air was damp and slightly musty, but the piles of moldy boxes and tangles of ancient machinery that Lex had expected were absent.  He frowned. 

“So? Where’s this thing that you hauled me sixty miles out of my way to see, dad?”  He asked sardonically, and Lionel chuckled in a way that told Lex he’d be sorry he ever asked.  A moment later, a soft moan came from the corner of the basement behind them.  Lex turned, and saw what looked like an old four-poster bed pushed into the corner.  Over the bed was a thick spider web of ropes, and . . . Lex frowned as he took a few steps closer, and another soft moan filled the air.  Lex took five more steps and saw everything all at once: the sweaty dark curls, the feverish sea-colored eyes, sun-ripened skin taut with pain.  Lex turned on his grinning father, his blue-gray eyes furious. 

“Dad? What the hell!” He shouted, and Lionel began to laugh. 

“Surprise!” He smiled as if Lex’s friends filled the basement with gifts and a large white birthday cake instead of his best friend in bondage. 

“Clark!”  Lex turned away from his father and ran over to the bed.  Clark looked up at him with an expression of relief mixed with pain, and Lex pushed the boy’s sweaty hair back from his face.

“My God, Clark, I’m so sorry.  Are you all right?  What did he do to you?”  Lex asked, tossing Lionel a seething look of hatred before reaching for one of the ropes that bound Clark’s foot.  Lionel spoke up as he stepped over to the bed.

“Before you touch that, Lex, I’d advise you to ask Clark if that’s what he really wants.” 

“What?”  Lex asked with extreme agitation, straightening up to face his father.  Lionel only nodded a bit. 

“I only say that because if you let Clark down without his permission, I will be forced to reveal to you something that I’m quite sure young Mr. Kent here doesn’t want you to know.”

“Clark?”  Lex asked, looking down at his friend.  Clark closed his eyes as his muscles twitched in pain. 

“Lex.  Don’t.”  He managed to say, and Lex’s eyes widened. 

“What the hell’s going on here, dad?”  He asked Lionel, who peeled off his overcoat and shrugged. 

“Clark can free himself from this bondage at any time he wishes, Lex.  The only stipulation is that he explains to me why the meteor rock that I’ve had melted into the handcuffs on his wrists cause him such pain.” 

Lex looked down at Clark’s chained hands and noticed that the veins there were a greenish-black.  They throbbed and writhed like panicked snakes, and Lex’s eyes narrowed.

“Clark?  Your hands!”  He said sharply, and Clark looked up at him with teary sea foam eyes. 

“Lex . . . I can’t . . . I don’t know . . . please.”  He said softly, and Lex looked up at Lionel as the older man grinned at him triumphantly. 

“He has yet to reveal his secret to me, even though I’ve pressured him several times.  Just to prove my point, Lex, I want you to watch this time.”  Lionel walked over to the scarred end table near the bed and grabbed up a jar of cherry-flavored oil.  Lex, long aware of his father’s eclectic sexual appetites, was hardly shocked.  Clark watched him with frightened eyes, his aching hands tugging on the shackles that bound them. 

“No.”  He said quietly, and Lionel’s eyebrows rose as he poured some of the oil into his hands and began to slather Clark’s cock with it.  Lex looked away, afraid of the stirring in his own loins. 

“No?”  Lionel repeated as he loosened his tie. 

“If you don’t want this, Clark, all you have to do is speak up.  You reveal to me your secret . . . and the pain is gone.”

Clark trembled and bit his lower lip hard, resisting the urge to speak.  He knew he had to endure Lionel’s abuse, for to reveal himself to the elder Luthor would no doubt mean the end of life as he knew it.  Lionel would tear him away from his friends and family, use him, drain him, and experiment on him.  He would never see the people he loved again.  There was also the matter of Lex . . . Clark treasured Lex’s friendship, and for Lex to find out his secret like this would shatter their relationship forever. 
For all these reasons, Clark had to keep silent. 

Lionel’s oil-slicked hand continued to stroke him, and Clark groaned in shame as his cock grew hard under the man’s hand.  A moment later, his hips were bucking helplessly as Lionel leaned over and all but swallowed the hard flesh. 

“Uh! No, please! Stop . . . Lex, please . . . make him stop!”  Clark cried, and Lex looked uncertainly from his friend to his father, who was obviously enjoying his task.  It occurred to him that if Clark did have a secret that was worth protecting, then his young friend had been lying to him since the day they’d met.  Anger and resentment flared in Lex’s chest, and for a moment, he considered helping his father until Clark cried out the truth.  Lionel glanced up at his son, and read that thought clearly in the enigmatic young man’s eyes.  He smiled in invitation; Lionel was no fool, he had seen desire for Clark Kent in Lex’s eyes before.  Clark was writhing and moaning under the constant suction, and it was clear to Lionel that this boy was indeed a bona-fide virgin.  He’d never had a blowjob before, and Lionel was certain he had never been bedded.  If anything, Lionel admired his son’s restraint.  It must have been agony for his son, who was a very sexual creature, to spend time with this boy day after day and not take advantage. 

Lionel suddenly felt Clark tremble and he reached up with his free hand to massage Clark’s testicles gently.  The fine black fuzz covering them lacked the coarseness of adulthood, and lust shot through Lionel’s groin at the feel of them.  A moment later Clark was coming hard, his thick seed spurting into Lionel’s throat.  The older man gulped it down, savoring its salt and spice.  The stuff was his own personal fountain of youth and he knew it, Clark’s confession or no.  He backed off with a loud slurp, and smiled up at his son. 

“Perhaps next time you’d like to join me?”  He asked, and Lex looked down at Clark.  The young boy was trembling and twitching with the aftershocks of his orgasm, and like his father, Lex knew that it had been Clark’s first from another’s touch. 

“Dad, could I have a moment alone with Clark?”  He asked, and Lionel shrugged.

“Of course.  Just keep in mind that I intend to remain within earshot, and if you attempt to free him, I’ll punish you severely.” 

“I understand.”  Lex replied, and Lionel vanished through a small door nearby that Lex presumed was a bathroom.  He waited a moment, and then leaned over Clark. 

“Clark.”
The teen’s eyes, a feline mixture of green, blue and amber, fluttered open and looked up at Lex pleadingly. 

“Lex, get out of here.”  He said softly.  “I don’t want you to see this anymore.”

Lex sighed and pushed Clark’s dark hair out of his eyes.  He reflected briefly that the tumble of curls truly were black, like a raven’s wing, instead of dark chestnut or deep brown with reddish highlights like other brunettes he knew.  Clark’s hair had no red highlights; it was as glossy and black as a jungle panther.  Lex’s hand continued to stroke through it as he spoke. 

“Clark, if you really do have a secret like my father says, it’s best that you tell him.  Believe me; he won’t hesitate to take your virginity.  In fact, I think he’s planning on it either way.”

“Then you have to stop him!”  Clark pleaded, and Lex sighed. 

“Come on Clark.  We both know you have a secret, just be honest with me and quit hiding.”

“I’m not hiding anything!”  Clark cried angrily, and Lex glanced down accusingly at Clark’s hands. 

“I think you’re lying to me, even now.”  Lex said softly, his blue-gray eyes glittering with anger. 

“The meteor rock is doing this to you Clark, now tell me why!”  He shouted.  “Did the meteor shower change you?  Did it change you like it changed Tina Greer, and that old lady at the retirement home who could see the future? Goddamn it Clark, just tell me!”
 
“Lex, please!”  Clark cried, and all of Lex’s frustrations and uncertainty over Clark boiled over.  He struck his friend several times across the face, leaving flaming red handprints on Clark’s fair skin.  Clark cried out in pain and betrayal and through the haze of his rage, Lex heard his father laughing. 

“Excellent, son!  Excellent! Make him talk!”  Lionel shouted as he strode across the cold concrete floor towards them.  Even as Lex continued to strike his friend, Lionel reached out and grabbed the young boy’s cock.  He dug his fingernails into the soft skin, and Clark’s back arched with pain.  He began to cry, and Lionel reached out to loosen the ropes that bound Clark’s ankles.  His legs fell to the mattress with a thump, long since numb and as unmovable as fallen trees.  Lionel rolled the boy over, the swivel casters on the cuffs rolling freely.  Lex backed off then, breathing heavily as he pulled off his black leather overcoat.  He flung it aside as he watched his father push Clark’s legs up under his belly to hike his ass into the air.  Clark moaned and squirmed as he felt Lionel’s hands on his skin, and he moaned into the mattress. 

“Please Lex, please.” 

“We’re past that now, Clark.  If you can’t be honest with me then my father is right, you were never my friend!”  Lex snarled, and rounded the bed to kneel in front of Clark.  He hauled Clark to all fours and the younger boy looked up at him, his sweet, expressive eyes begging. 

“Oh God, Lex . . . . no.”  He whimpered, and Lex tangled his left hand in the thick dark curls as he opened his fly with the right.  His erection sprang free and Clark tried to turn his head.  At the same time, the mattress tilted as Lionel mounted him from behind, the older man’s thick organ searching out Clark’s tight opening.  Clark screamed in terror and as he did, Lex shoved his erection into the boy’s mouth.  Clark whined and gagged, his eyes rolling as Lionel penetrated him slowly.  Lex tightened his hold on Clark’s hair and held him still.  Clark finally gave in, whimpering softly around Lex’s erection as Lionel filled him up inside with hot, hard flesh.  The bed began to shake as both father and son assaulted the quivering teen, their strokes matching evenly.  Clark, sandwiched in the middle, could only concentrate on the task Lex had given him to keep from thinking about the pain.  He knew it was no longer about his secret; as Lex had said, they had passed that point long ago.  Now it was only about what Lex had longed for in his heart since the day he and Clark had met, and for Lionel it was about domination and power. 
Lionel grunted suddenly and drove forward roughly, his hips grinding into Clark’s ass as he spurted several loads of hot semen into the quivering boy beneath him.  Clark gave a muffled cry, his eyes going wide and pained.  Lex watched Clark’s face with rapture, and the look of pain and amazement in the boy’s sea foam eyes was enough to push him over the edge.  He gave a low, harsh cry, and filled Clark’s throat with thick seed.  Clark gagged and choked, the stuff dripping off his chin and onto the mattress.  Both men pulled away from him at the same time and Clark collapsed, exhausted and hurt, onto the bed.  Lionel chuckled and looked up at his son. 

“I have to say, Lex, that I haven’t had this much fun with you since . . . hmm!  Well, since ever!” 

His rage deflated, Lex looked down at Clark.  Thin rivulets of blood ran down his inner thighs, his face smeared with semen.  Lex swallowed hard, unable to believe what he had done.  He had become the thing that he had always feared . . . . he had become his father’s son.  Lionel was beaming at him with approval, but Lionel’s love wasn’t worth Clark’s life.  Not in this world or any other.  The secrets Clark harbored within his soul would remain there now forever, the fragile bond of trust between the two young men now broken.  Forever, Lex feared, because of his loss of control.  He looked down, agonized, at the face of his young friend and saw an expression there that he knew all too well; hadn’t he, after all, seen it the mirror day after day?  It was the face of a tortured youngster who had been commanded by someone to give something he couldn’t, and got only pain and humiliation in return.  It was his own face, and now it was Clark’s as well.  Lex’s mouth dropped open in a howl of pain and loss as Lionel Luthor began to laugh; it was a laugh of delight and satisfaction.  In destroying Clark Kent’s innocence he had destroyed his son as well and now neither could harm him.  He grinned and swept up his overcoat as he walked towards the elevator, leaving his heir crouched and weeping over the inert body of the only creature on earth who had ever loved him.