Inferno
By Shaman 

Clark slipped around a corrugated metal door as he watched two of Eric Marsh's friends leave the abandoned foundry.  Inside, Eric stood at a huge blast furnace and as Clark watched, the other boy melted down a large quantity of meteor rock.  Vial after vial of the green liquid was stored nearby, and Clark began to feel slightly dizzy.  He took a step backward, but was suddenly assaulted by Marsh's two friends.  Clark struggled against them, but his strength seemed to have left him at their touch.

"Well well, what do we have here?"  The sandy-haired boy laughed.  "Hold him."  He said to his friend.   

"You're not going anywhere."  The dark-haired boy growled, and Eric looked up at the sounds of a scuffle. When he saw Clark being held there by his friends, his eyes narrowed in anger.

"Were you following me, Kent?"  He asked.

"I know you robbed that truck!"  Clark replied, and Eric laughed.  

"Pretty smart, aren't you?"  He asked, and inhaled some of the green mist from his inhaler, and some of that mist drifted slowly out of his mouth.  "I'm smart too.  I found a way to have everything I ever wanted and no one is going to mess that up!"  Eric struck Clark until  blood flowed from his bottom lip. 

"You don't know what you're doing."  He groaned, and Shawn followed his gaze to where the supply of liquified meteor rock sat, next to the furnace. 

"Looks like you know about the meteor rocks."  Shawn observed, and Clark struggled against the other two boys. 

"It's dangerous.  I've seen what it can do!" 

"Like get me a multi-million dollar contract in the majors?"  Shawn punched Clark in the belly, sending him crashing into the wall nearby.  Clark, dazed and injured, can only look up at the boys as they haul him to his feet. Eric glared down at Clark.  "He knows too much."  He said in a low voice, and inclined his head towards the blast furnace.  The taller of the boys nodded, but then a dirty grin crossed his face. 

"C'mon Eric, let's have a little fun with him first.  Let's show him what happens to little punk sophomores who stick their noses where it doesn't belong!" 

Eric hesitated.  "What do you have in mind, Tim?" 

Tim ran his hand roughly through Clark's dark hair.  "I say we show him how strong we really are!  C'mon Dave, give me a hand."  The two boys dragged Clark over to a large iron anvil that weighed almost a thousand pounds and was exactly waist-high to a grown man.  It's surface, about six feet wide, was the color of faded ink and pitted with hundreds of strikes from a forging hammer.  Tim threw Clark across the rough surface, bending him at the waist and then rounding the anvil to face the wounded teenager.  Grabbing up a length of thin silver chain, Tim chained Clark's wrists together and lashed them tightly to a pole that stood on the opposite side of the anvil.  Clark struggled, and Tim grinned over his shoulder at Eric. 

"You want first dibs, champ?"  He asked brightly, and Eric strode over to where Clark was bent over and helpless.  He was high on the meteor mist, his inhibitions vanished. 

"Sure, why not?  It'd sure teach Kent here a lesson.  Wouldn't it Kent?"  Eric asked sharply as he reached around Clark's waist and unbuttoned his jeans.  Clark tried to thrash away as he felt his pants and underwear drop to his ankles, but Eric, riding the strength of the green mist, gripped his waist tightly with one arm while unzipping his fly with the other.  Tim and Dave, also high on the stuff, whooped and cheered their friend on. 

"Come on, Eric!  Give it to him!  Show him who's boss!" 

"No!  Eric please, you don't know what you're doing!"  Clark cried, yanking against the chains that bound his hands as Eric spit on his index finger and rubbed it up against Clark's anus.  Clark's blue-green eyes widened in pain and disbelief as he felt Eric's cock press up against him, and then force its way inside. 

"UH!"  He gasped, his mouth dropping open, and Tim walked around to face him.  He crouched down until he was eye level with the younger boy. 

"How do you like that, Kent?  How's it feel, farmboy?"  He laughed, and undid his fly.  He waved his erection in Clark's face, and then glided it across his lips.  Clark tried to turn his head, but Tim grabbed two handfuls of thick black hair and held his head tightly. 

"Open up those pretty lips, Kent.  Come on!"  He urged, forcing Clark's mouth open and forcing him to accept his thick shaft.  Dave laughed and whooped behind them, hoping he'd get a turn.  The farmboy's mouth looked pretty damn soft. 

Eric grunted as he forced himself all the way into Clark's thrashing body, a sneer of lust stamped on his features.  The younger boy's muscles squeezed him rhythmically, like a slippery hand, and Eric dug his fingers into the flesh of Clark's thighs as he began to thrust harder.  Clark moaned in pain around the thick, hard flesh in his mouth, and then his body was twitching as Eric coated his insides with spurts of hot semen. 

"Ahhh, yeah!"  Eric groaned, and pulled away from the younger boy.  Clark barely had time to register that he had pulled out before Dave came forward and mounted him eagerly, his cock already rock hard from watching Eric and Tim abuse the helpless teenager.  He slipped inside Clark easily, the tight little hole slick with semen and blood.  Clark cried out in pain at the sensation, Dave's hot flesh burning the already abraded skin, and the sound was enough to drive Dave over the edge.  He shot his load down Clark's throat, making the boy gag and cough.  He backed away with a grin, smearing semen across Clark's mouth. 

"You give good head, Kent.  Maybe you oughta move to the big M and make a living out of it!"  He howled laughter, watching the boy's body shake with spasms of pain as Dave sodomized him. 

Eric took another hit from his inhaler, and zipped up his pants.  "Come on Dave, hurry it up.  I want to get this load out of here before nightfall." 

"Almost . . . . there!"  Dave grunted, and rubbed Clark's dark head roughly as he came hard, coating Clark's prostate with semen as it throbbed against him.  Clark's own unwanted erection begin to twitch and spurt just as Dave pulled out, and the older boy laughed as he watched Clark shudder through an orgasm that was frought with pain.  Finally, Clark collapsed against the anvil, his legs folding.  He fell belly down across the warm metal, and Eric spat on his bare ass. 

"You shouldn't have followed me here, kid."  He said, and unchained Clark's hands.  Along with Tim and Eric, they lifted the nearly unconscious boy up and carried him toward the blast furnace. 

"If he disappears, so do our problems."  Eric said, and heaved Clark into the inferno.  He slammed the furnace door and bolted it, and then turned to his friends.  "Let's go.  We've got work to do." 

The heat of the fire licked at his skin, causing it to blister.  Fighting unconsciousness, Clark slapped his left hand against the glass of the furnace door, and then pistoned out his right foot.  The furnace door flew from it's hinges, and Clark stumbled free of the flames and heat.  His clothes had been burned off of him, and he stumbled forward on one knee, naked and trembling.  Seeing that Eric and his friends had gone, Clark found an old gray foundry jumpsuit hanging on a hook near the furnace and pulled it on slowly.  The blisters caused by the fire had already healed themselves, but Clark's throat ached and his ass felt as if it had been torn wide open. He limped out of the foundry and began the long walk home, too tired to use his super-speed. 

                                                                                              

Lex Luthor cruised down Old Foundry Road in his red Porsche, his mind a tumble of unanswered questions.  If his father didn't have anything to do with the robbery of the LuthorCorp truck, then who was involved?  What had his father been transporting that he was trying so hard to keep secret?  And who had known about the contents of the truck, and how?  Pursing his lips in irritation, Lex swung the high-performace car around the curve near the old foundry, and was shocked at the sight that met him there. 
Clark Kent was limping down the road toward him, dressed in what looked to be like an old mechanic's or workman's jumpsuit.  His dark hair stood up in spikes and as Lex approached him, the younger man gazed at the car as if he'd never seen it or it's driver before in his life.  Lex threw the car into park and jumped out, his blue-gray eyes wide. 

"My God, Clark!  What the hell happened to you?"  He asked, putting both hands on Clark's shoulders to steady him.  Clark jerked away with a small cry, his blue-green eyes wide and unblinking.  Lex looked closer, and what he saw in that stare made his heart drop somewhere into the middle of his belly.  "Oh, God.  Oh no, Clark . . . "  He glanced around, but the road and the foundry was abandoned except for the two of them.  "All right.  Come on, Clark.  Come on, I'll take you home."  He said softly, reaching out for Clark and taking his right wrist gently.  Clark made a small sound that might have been a groan, and Lex soothed him.  "It's all right Clark.  It's me, Lex.  Hey.  Come on, look at me."  Lex said softly, and slowly Clark's expression turned to one of muddled recognition.  Finally, he blinked.  "Lex?"  He croaked out, and Lex nodded. 

"It's me.  Come on, get in my car.  I'll take you home." 

"Home . . . no, I can't go home."  Clark replied in a flat, disconnected tone as Lex guided him into the passenger seat and then ran around to the driver's side to let himself back in. 

"Why not, Clark?  What happened here that you can't go home?" 

Clark closed his eyes.  Explaining seemed like too much of an effort, especially to the one person on earth whom he respected almost as much as his father Jonathan, if not more. 

"It's a long story."  He said softly, and Lex put the car into gear.  He sped off toward Luthor mansion, knowing that he could get the truth out of Clark faster if they were alone.  He could always call the Kents later and tell them that Clark was staying with him.   No doubt Jonathan Kent would growl and grumble, but ever since Lex had saved Jonathan from death at the hands of Roger Nixon, Clark's adoptive father usually gave in to Lex's requests. 
The two young men drove the twenty-minute ride to the mansion in silence, and Lex parked the Porsche near a side door that would let them in near Lex's study.  Clark was shaking and weak, and although Lex could see no marks or signs of injury, the haunted look in Clark's eyes told the young billionare all that he needed to know.  Lex helped his friend into the mansion, and then into Lex's private study.  He knew they wouldn't be disturbed there unless it was a dire emergency.  His people knew better.  He helped Clark into a soft leather recliner in the corner, and grimaced when he saw his friend wince in pain.  Lex turned and went to the bar where he poured two glass tumblers full of strong but expensive scotch whiskey.  He approached Clark carefully, and handed him the glass. 

"Here, drink this.  It'll settle your nerves." 

Clark accepted the glass, but didn't drink from it.  He continued to stare straight ahead in a semi-catatonic state.  Lex touched his disheveled hair gently, and Clark pulled away. 

"Clark, it's all right.  I'm trying to help you.  Can you tell me what happened?"  He asked as he sat across from Clark in a matching recliner, his pale, slim fingers curled around his glass of scotch.  Clark shook his head numbly, and Lex tried again. 

"What happened to your clothes?  Why are you wearing that jumpsuit?" 

"It's all I could find." 

"It's all you could find . . . ."  Lex replied coaxingly, hoping Clark would fill in the rest.  The younger boy just closed his eyes and then to Lex's dismay, tears began to slide out from under the closed lids.  Clark cried, but silently.  His broad shoulders shook but he made no sound, but Lex knew that if he allowed Clark to keep crying, he might never stop. 

It made you feel that way. 

Lex got up from his chair and went over to Clark, setting his scotch aside.  He took the glass that Clark still held numbly in his hands, set it next to his on the end table, and touched the boy's head gently.  "Shhhh, Clark.  It's all right."  He whispered softly, and drew the sobbing teen against his chest.  He stroked Clark's disheveled hair soothingly and finally the boy leaned against him, exhausted and shivering.  Lex slipped a hand under Clark's right elbow, helping him to his feet. 

"Clark, do you trust me?" 

"What?"  Clark asked, lifting his tearstained face to that of the serene billionare's.  Lex smiled a little, but his hand didn't leave Clark's head. 

"I asked you if you trust me." 

Clark looked bewildered for a moment, and then nodded slowly.  "Of course, Lex.  Of course I trust you." 

"Then come with me."  Lex told him, and led him out of the study and down the hall.  They stopped at the third door to the right, and Lex unlocked it with a key that was on a ring he produced from his trouser pocket.  The door swung open to reveal what looked like a professional spa.  There was a hot tub, several long white tables covered with clean, white sheets, and several sets of shelves that contained bottles and tubes of liquid in all shapes and sizes.  Clark frowned a little.  "What's this?" 

"It's my massage room.  I pay a professional massuse to come in three times a week and give me a rubdown.  It's extremely relaxing."  Lex explained.  Clark's sea foam eyes roved around the room. 

"Why did you bring me here?"  He asked, and Lex led him into the room.  "You said you trusted me, Clark.  No more questions.  I'm going to help you.  Understand?" 

Feeling as if he was moving in a dream, Clark nodded a little.  Lex smiled in approval and led him over to one of the long tables.  Then without further hesitation, Lex's pale hand went to the zipper of the old jumpsuit Clark was wearing and began to pull it down.  Clark tried to back away, but the calm in his friend's eyes stopped him.  He stood quietly while the thing fell away, revealing golden skin that was unamarred at first glance.  However, when Lex looked more closely, he saw deep bruises on Clark's outer thighs, and the skin of his inner thighs were smeared with a sick glaze of dried blood and something else that shone like dried egg whites in the gleam of the overhead lights.  Lex's eyes closed in sympathy.  His young friend's innocence had been torn asunder, and Lex was suddenly filled with a dull fury.  How dare someone take from Clark that which was such a large part of his personality?  How dare they change the boy that Lex had come to love, and take that thing that Lex had hoped to coax from Clark, in his own good time, and have Clark give it to him with love and willingness?  Lex's teeth clenched in anger, and Clark looked at him curiously. 

"Lex?" 

"I'm fine, Clark.  I'm . . . I'm just angry at the people who hurt you, that's all."  He had Clark lie belly down on one of the tables, and very gently spread his legs.  Almost instantly, he felt Clark tense up. 

"It's just me, Clark.  You said you trusted me, remember?" 

"I do."  Replied Clark in a small voice.  "It's . . . it's just-" 

"I understand."  Lex replied softly, and rinsed a clean washcloth in the sink near the table.  With extreme care, he began to wash the blood and dried semen from Clark's skin.  Inch by inch the younger boy relaxed, and Lex rinsed the cloth nearly half a dozen times before he was satisfied that all traces of what had been done to him were removed from his tawny skin.  In the back of his mind Lex knew that he was washing away evidence of the crime, but he knew that once he had coaxed from Clark the names of the men who had done this to his sweet friend, that Lex would swiftly and silently hand down his own special family brand of justice.  Comforted by this, Lex picked up a bottle of almond oil and opened it, letting the soothing scent enfold both himself and Clark. 

"I'm going to rub you down, Clark.  It'll take the ache out of your muscles and soothe you enough to let you sleep.  Understand?" 

Clark nodded wordlessly.  He knew that the bruises that Lex had seen would be gone as early as that evening, but the damage that had been done to him on the inside might take a bit longer to heal. He had been exposed to the Kryptonite mist while the older boys had raped him, and it might be several days before he felt completely healed. 

As for what was going on in his mind, well . . . Clark didn't want to think too much about that.  He let his head drop onto his forearms as he felt Lex's hands, smooth and sure, begin to work on his shoulders.  The oil was warm and smelled good, but there was something about Lex's touch that was more soothing than a thousand bottles of scented oil.  His eyes closed and he allowed himself to simply feel- until Lex's hands slid down toward his buttocks.  He felt the muscles there clench of their own accord and he was almost halfway to his feet before he realized he had even moved.  Lex stood off to one side of the table, his hands coated with oil and his pale brow furrowed. 

"Relax, Clark.  I'm not going to hurt you.  I'm just going to rub some more oil on you, and then pack some cotton in your rectum to stop the bleeding."  Lex's voice, smooth as warm honey but somehow clinical, made Clark's hackles rise. 

"No way, Lex!  No one's ever touching me there again!" 

"Clark, if you don't let me help you, I'm going to have to call your folks.  Now what would you rather do . . . . let me help you now so you can sleep in a little while, or spend the next twenty-four hours in The Smallville Medical Center with a bunch of male doctors and a rape kit?" 

That word made Clark's cheeks heat with a blush, but he knew Lex was right.  Going to the hospital would only cause him more trouble, more questions, more sympathetic looks from people he didn't even know.  Just the thought of the expression in his parents' loving gazes if they knew what had happened to him was enough to make him lie back down.  Lex nodded.

"I thought so." 

Chagrined, Clark lay his head back down and allowed Lex to rub oil on his lower back and buttocks.  He was grateful that Lex avoided his red and sore opening back there, and wondered exactly how Lex knew what to do in order to make him well again. 

"Lex?" 

"Yes, Clark?"  The pale, graceful hands slid down to his legs and massaged his calves. 

"How did you know?  I mean . . . when you found me on the road you seemed to know, even though I never told you." 

Lex smiled a little as he bent Clark's right leg up towards his head and began to rub his thumbs along the arch of the younger boy's foot.  "I saw it in your eyes." 

"You knew just by looking at my eyes."  Clark's tone was filled with doubt.  Lex started on the other foot, pausing to run more oil onto his hands. 

"I've been around, Clark.  When I saw you, and I saw the expression on your face . . . "  Lex hesitated, his expression thoughtful, and Clark glanced over his shoulder.  Their eyes met, and Clark's widened with amazement. 

"You . . . ?" 

Lex nodded and set Clark's leg back down on the table.  He went to the shelf that held the tubes of creams and oils, and picked up a wad of sterile cotton.  Clark started to sit up, but Lex motioned for him to remain as he was.  Clark obeyed but now his mind was burning with questions. 

"Lex, when?  Who?"  He asked, and Lex began to unravel the cotton.  He soaked a good portion of it in some antiseptic, and rested one hand on Clark's backside. 

"This might feel a little uncomfortable at first, Clark, but it'll stop the bleeding and help you heal."  He carefully spread Clark open and packed the ravaged area with the cotton.  Clark winced and yelped, but Lex's hands were quick and sure and in less than a minute he was done.  He helped Clark to his feet and offered him a soft white cotton robe to wear.  Clark shrugged it on with a sigh of relief, and Lex helped him sit down on the huge velvet sofa on the other side of the room.  It was a soft lavendar color with plush cushions and built-in footrests at either end.  Clark sank into it as Lex went to the mini-fridge and got them each a bottle of chilled Avion water.  He handed one to Clark, who smiled gratefully as Lex sat down beside him. 

"Thanks, Lex.  For everything." 

"It's nothing, Clark.  You're my best friend, I just couldn't leave you out there." 

They sat in silence for a moment, and then Clark turned toward him. 

"You never answered my question." 

Lex gave his friend a sardonic smile and sipped his water.  "I was fourteen, my mother had been dead for two years, and unfortunetly, there was no one around to pick up the pieces for me." 

"How did it happen?"  Clark asked, and then was instantly sorry when he saw his friend's jaw tighten.  "I'm sorry.  You don't have to tell me-" 

"No, Clark.  It's all right."  Lex took another sip of water and his blue-gray eyes tipped toward the ceiling, as if he were searching for the memory.  "I was home from school on a break, and my father was out at this big business function with one of the many women he had been seeing since my mother died.  It was late when they got back . . . around two a.m.  I was asleep when they came into my room."  He paused, and Clark was staring at him, wide-eyed. 

"When I woke up, they were both standing over my bed.  They were both pretty drunk, and then the woman dad had brought home sat down next to me.  Before I could say or do anything, she started to unbutton my pajama top.  While she was doing that, dad started explaining things to me.  It seems that this woman was a very high-priced call girl that dad had been paying to service his business rivals, and at the same time gather inside information on them.  She had come to him that night with some information that would help him to take over one of his greatest rivals, and she only wanted one thing in return." 

"What?"  Asked Clark, fascinated in spite of himself.  Lex took a long pull on his bottle of Avion. 

"She had a taste for young men.  The younger the better.  When she saw me, she knew she had found a perfect prize.  She traded my father the information that she had for my innocence." 

Clark's eyes widened in disbelief.  "You mean that your dad let her-?"

Lex nodded.  "He explained it all to me very presciesly.  He said that I wasn't a child anymore, that I was almost fifteen, and if I cooperated, it would all be very pleasant and pleasurable." 

Clark swallowed hard.  "Was it?" 

One corner of Lex's mouth twitched.  "It was, at first.  She was very experienced and she made me feel things I had never felt before.  I was a virgin, after all, a fact that only seemed to excite her more.  And while she introduced me to the world of carnal pleasures, my dad sat at my bedside and watched the whole thing." 

"Oh my God."  Clark said softly.  Almost without thinking, he reached out and put a hand on Lex's arm.  Lex didn't seem to notice the contact; it was if he was lost in time, back in his childhood bed with his father's high-priced prostitute; a reward for a job well done. 

"After awhile, he wasn't content to watch anymore."  Lex said softly.  "The next time I looked up he was leaning over me, telling me not to cry out or he'd hurt me.  I didn't doubt it, any kind of cordial relationship that we'd had in the past had died with Julian."  Lex paused, the memory as fresh as if it happened the night before instead of eight years ealier. 

"He had his prostitute kneel by my head haul my legs almost all the way over my head and hold them there.  He . . .he said he liked to see the expressions of those that he pleasured."  Lex swallowed, and Clark heard his throat click audibly. 

"My father raped me as the sun came up outside, and his whore used my mouth to pleasure herself as she watched." 

"Oh my God."  Clark whispered again.  "Oh, Lex . . . I'm so sorry."  He squeezed Lex's arm gently.  "I'm so sorry." 

"Thanks."  Lex replied softly, finally conscious of Clark's hand on his arm.  He lay his own hand over it gently, and Clark didn't move away. 

"When it was over, both my father and his high-priced prostitute left without hardly a word, except for a threat from my father to never tell anyone, of course.  My only condolence was that the call girl's reward came at a high price; and that what they had done to me could be used against my father in the future.  Of course, my father wouldn't let anyone have that kind of hold over him, and  I was right . . . she was found dead in a run-down motel two weeks later of an apparent drug overdose."  Lex's expression was bemused.  "With no one to help me, I took care of my wounds as best I could."  Lex sighed and squeezed Clark's hand.  "That's how I knew how to help you."  Lex stood up and set his bottle of water aside.  "And now its time for both of us to get some sleep.  Come on."  Lex helped his friend up carefully and they left the spa to head down the hallway.  At the end of the hall, Lex opened another door to reveal a bedroom done in cherry-wood furniture and shades of purple, lavendar and white.  A gigantic bed topped with a scrolled headboard and covered with what looked like an acre of silk sheets and a thick downy purple comforter dominated the room.  Clark blinked; the colors and designs made it obvious that this was Lex's bedroom.

"Umm, Lex . . . shouldn't I sleep in the guest room?" 

Lex ambled over to the closet and removed a pair of blue silk pajamas.  "Under ordinary circumstances, of course, but I think with all that's happened to you today, I'd feel better if you slept where I can keep an eye on you." 

"Oh."  Replied Clark in a small voice, and Lex handed him a pair of red cotton pajamas that were so new that they were still folded and pinned together.  When Clark saw that they were his size, he looked up at Lex, puzzled.  Lex gave him a mysterious smile. 

"I believe in being prepared for anything." 

"Er- thanks."  He said uncertainly, and went into the bathroom to change.  When he came back out, Lex was already in his pajamas and had turned down the covers on the bed.  Clark hesitated. 

"My parents-"

"Have already been informed that you're staying the night here."  Lex replied, and climbed into bed.  "Clark, it's all right.  This bed can sleep six people quite comfortably."  His blue-gray eyes locked with Clark's uncertain aquamarine ones, and Clark wondered fleetingly why Lex would need a bed that could fit six people at once.  Lex only smiled at him gently.

"Don't be afraid." 

After what felt like an eternity, Clark climbed into the bed.  Lex was right, the mattress was wide and spacious and most definetly custom-made.  He rolled over onto his side and sank his head into one of the huge satin-covered pillows; a most luxuriant feeling of comfort.  The purple comforter was warm and soothing . . . as was, Clark was startled to find, Lex's presence only a few feet away.  He thought that he would lie there, tense and uncomfortable, sleeping in in the same bed with his best friend.  It was just the opposite, Clark discovered; Lex's deep breathing gave him a measure of assurance that he wasn't alone, and Clark had a strange feeling of being watched over.  Finally, exhausted, the younger boy yawned and his sable eyelashes swept closed. As his breathing deepened he fell into an uncomfortable sleep that was full of dreams . . . .

                      

He was back in the foundry, stretched tightly across the giant anvil.  Mocking laughter filled the air as he felt hands roving all over his naked body.  Searching fingers dug cruelly into his thighs as a rod of rock-hard flesh invaded his most private place, tearing skin and muscle.  Clark screamed and struggled, but the flesh invaded him again and again until it began to spurt and gush it's load against Clark's ruined insides. As it splashed against him Clark realized it wasn't semen at all, but liquid kryptonite. Rough hands picked him up and heaved him into the blast furnace, and Clark screamed as the flames ate him alive and the kryptonite inside him caught fire . . .

"Clark? Clark! Clark!"  The voice seemed to come directly from his own consciousness, and Clark struggled to reach out for it, to let it pull him away from the flames.  A pair of arms slipped around him, and Clark opened his eyes to find Lex holding him against his chest, the back of his head resting on Lex's silk-clad chest.  One more cry, forced from his throat by harsh exhale of air, echoed in the room. 

"Shhhh, Clark.  It's all right.   You were just dreaming, that's all."  Lex's calm, reassuring voice spoke in his ear.  Clark struggled to sit up, and he wiped a sheen of sweat from his upper lip and forehead.  He hardly ever sweated like this; it was no doubt the after-effects of the kryptonite he'd been exposed to.  Lex touched his shoulder. 

"Clark?  Are you all right?" 

Clark nodded a little.  "Yeah.  Like you said, it was just a dream." 

"That's one of the reasons I wanted you to sleep in here.  Afterwards you dream, and what you dream usually isn't pleasant.  I didn't want you to wake up like that alone in a strange place and have to try and find me in the dark." 

Clark was about to protest that, but then he realized that Lex was right.  It would have been worse if he'd woken up alone.  He felt the burn of sudden tears in his throat, and clamped down against them.  Lex sat quietly, his blue gray eyes never leaving Clark's face.  He could see the fear, the shame, the denial, and the growing trauma in his young friend's eyes.  It was always somehow worse after the fact, when you had time to really pick up and examine what had been done to you.  Clark made a small noise and a tremor ran through his big frame.  Knowing what he had to do and pushing the risk of it aside, Lex put his arms around Clark and drew him close again.  He slid his arms around Clark's waist, and put one hand on his head to stroke the raven-colored hair as Clark hid his face in Lex's pajama top and began to sob.  Lex held him, but silently, knowing that useless platitudes would hardly be a help against an onslaught like this.  Clark cried hard for nearly twenty minutes, and then he said something in a muffled voice that startled Lex out of his thoughts. 

"What, Clark?" 

Clark raised his head, his face swollen and tearstained.  He mopped his eyes with his shirtsleeve like a tired child, and Lex silently handed him a tissue from a box on the nearby nightstand.  Clark took it gratefully and wiped his eyes and nose. 

"I said I know who robbed your company's truck, and why." 

Lex started visibly.  "You do?" 

Clark nodded, and told Lex the whole story.  About Eric Marsh, the foundry, the meteor rock mist, and how he had come to be at the mercy of Eric and his friends.  Lex nodded thoughtfully, but Clark could see the fury in his eyes.  It was a quiet kind iof fury, and Clark reflected that he had seen that look in Lionel Luthor's eyes from time to time. 

"Lex?  Are you okay?" 

The cool mix of blue and gray turned toward Clark, and they glittered like sunlit steel.  "Yes Clark.  I'm fine."  He raised a pale hand and touched Clark's face, still stained with tears.  "Are you?" 

Clark shrugged a little.  "Yeah.  I guess I'm just a little freaked out by all of this."  He took a deep breath. 

"Lex?  After . . . after this happened to you, did it affect . . . you know, your . . . relationship with, um, girls?" 

A knowing smile curved along Lex's mouth.  "Is that what you're worried about, Clark?  How this is going to affect your relationship with Lana?" 

"What if it does?"  Clark fretted.  "What if I don't have any desire because of-"  Here Clark broke off and blushed furiously, and Lex felt his heart fill with both love and sympathy for the boy.  It had been him that had been raped, and yet here he was worrying how it would affect the people he interacted with. 

"It's not going to affect you that way, Clark."  Lex's voice dropped to a near whisper.  "After all, I've slept with lots of women since that night."  His eyes caught Clark's, and held them. 

"And believe me, Clark, I still have desires." 

Clark's heart began to slam against his ribs, and he found that he couldn't look away from the sudden hunger in Lex's eyes.  "You do?"

"Yes, Clark."  Lex's voice trembled slightly as he leaned forward, and kissed the younger boy very gently on the mouth.  Clark replied with a startled intake of breath, and Lex's hands came up to carefully touch Clark's face as he kissed the boy twice more.  When he pulled away, Clark's eyes were wide and wondering. 

"Lex . . . " 

"Don't worry.  I would never hurt you."  Lex replied, and one hand ran through Clark's hair, marble against onyx.  He lay Clark down, knowing that if the boy wanted to resist, he damn well would have by now.  Slipping one hand under Clark's pajama top, Lex began to slowly stroke and caress Clark's nipples as he lowered his head to kiss and nibble the soft skin of the boy's neck.  He felt the beginnings of stubble along the jawline, and rubbed his cheek against it as his fingers coaxed the nubs of flesh on Clark's chest into aching hardness.  Clark groaned aloud. 

"Lex . . . Lex . . . " 

"Shhhhh."  Lex soothed him, and the hand dipped lower to vanish into the waistband of Clark's pajama bottoms.  The boy's body jerked in surprise, but still Lex felt no real resistance.  His hand closed around flesh that was already hardening in response to his touch, and Lex marveled at the size of the boy.  Big, he thought.  Almost too big for just -turned- sixteen.  He pulled the pajama bottoms down slowly, with care, leaving Clark's erection bared to his hungry gaze.  Clark looked up at him, his eyes full of confusion.  Lex saw trust there too, though, and the sight was almost enough to bring tears to his own eyes.  He began to move his hand slowly, up and down, caressing Clark with a loving touch that made the boy moan. 

"I want to be the first to show you that it doesn't break you, Clark.  It can bend you, it can twist you, but it can't break you."  Lex leaned down and flicked the tip of his tongue over the head of Clark's cock, licking away the jewel of shimmering liquid that had collected there.  Clark watched, amazed, as Lex took the hard flesh into his mouth and began to suck on it.  A part of him had always known that Lex's tastes strayed toward the eclectic, but this scenario was one Clark had never dreamed of.  He laid back and accepted it, however, because outside of being with Lana, nothing had ever felt so right.  He felt safe and protected and . . . and yes, loved.  Lex loved him, and it was just the two of them here, and that was all right.  These thoughts exploded and spun in all different directions a moment later as his orgasm rose up like a phoenix from the ashes to consume him in a different kind of fire.  His back arched and his eyes slipped closed as he let the sensation shoot through his body.  Afterward, he collapsed, exhausted, and Lex sat up with a small smile on his face and his chest heaving slightly from his ministrations.  The front of his silk pajama bottoms were wet with a spreading stain, and the fingers of his right hand were sticky as well.  Clark began to sit up, but Lex shook his head and lay down beside him.  He curled up next to the younger boy, laying his head in the hollow of one broad shoulder. 

"Do you know how long I've wanted to do that?" 

"Uh, no.  For how long?" 

"Since that day on the bridge, when I came to and felt your lips on mine." 

"I was giving you mouth to mouth!"  Clark exclaimed, looking comically surprised, and Lex laughed out loud. 

"Yeah, and you were doing a hell of a good job, too.  I could taste you for the rest of the day." 

"LEX!" 

Lex laughed again, thinking that he'd say anything to bring a blush to those high cheekbones.  He slipped his arm around Clark's waist. 

"How are you feeling?" 

"Sleepy.  And not so sore."  Suddenly taken by a feeling he couldn't control, Clark raised his head and kissed Lex's temple.  The young billionare blinked in surprise.  "What was that for?" 

"To thank you."  As Lex looked up, Clark flashed him his usual bright grin.  "Of course, that's just for starters.  When I'm feeling better, maybe I'll think of another way to thank you some more." 

Lex looked amazed for a moment, and then the both of them lay down, safe and secure in each other's arms.  Lex rested his head into the hollow of Clark's shoulder again, not at all surprised that it was a perfect fit. 

"I'm looking forward to it, Clark . . . . I'm most definetly looking forward to it."

                                                                           THE END