The Chair

DC and WB own them. Yeah, sure.

This is for amaresu. After all, it's all her fault ;) Rated R for sexual situations. Vague kinda spoilers for 'Exile'. CLex, of course. Thanks to everyone who helped :)

Feedback would be loooooved.

He wasn't ignoring Clark. Despite what his friend seemed to think (judging by the increasingly dirty looks being cast his way), he absolutely wasn't. Lex just *really* needed to get these figures done.

He'd informed Clark of this several times; specifically pointing out that he had free reign of all the facilities in the castle. Surely there was *something* he could find that would help pass the time.

Naturally Clark hadn't left the room. And judging by the recent heavy sigh, he'd also resigned himself to staying there for quite some time.

Fine. Clark could pout all he wanted, stare at him wistfully for as long as he could, and make snide comments about "being able to buy enough accountants to put every bank out of business" for the next two hours, but Lex wasn't budging.

Hell, he'd *told* Clark he wouldn't be ready for several more hours but Clark had turned up early anyway, all big smiles and red plaid.

Besides, he liked doing this work. Sometimes it was as frustrating as arguing with his father but when it was done, when he looked at the gloriously complete spreadsheet, he was always able to relax back into his chair and let out a very un-Luthor like sigh of satisfaction.

So. Yes. He was doing this. Clark could wait.

"Clark," Lex surprised himself by saying. He really hadn't been intending to speak.

Clark, who had been in the process of pulling a particularly rare first edition out from his bookcase, suddenly shoved the book back in and whirled to face him.

Lex tried not to wince. "I really am going to be tied up here for another couple of hours," he gestured towards the paperwork and laptop on his desk, "why don't you watch a movie? You know I have all your favourites here," he added, trying to make the prospect sound more appealing.

Instead, he watched as Clark's grin faltered and started to feel vaguely guilty...until, suddenly, the grin was back.

Except it was different. It wasn't wide-eyed faux-American farm boy smiling...smirking. It was dark, leather-wearing-inducing, needful...lustful.

Lustful?

Confused, Lex peered over his own shoulder. Once he'd confirmed that Lana hadn’t suddenly appeared behind him he turned back to face Clark.

Who wasn't there.

Blinking, Lex had just remembered how (though not why) Clark had vanished so quickly when his friend was suddenly back in the room.

Of course Lex only knew Clark was back due to the small whirlwind forming around him and the pressure on his arms. By the time the mini-tornado stopped, Lex was actually glad he didn't have hair because he could imagine the state it'd be in all too well.

Continuing with that line of thought, he took in his own state.

Interesting.

He was duct taped to his chair.

He was beginning to suspect that his fatal error had been the use of the words 'tied up'.

As if he hadn't already seen the proof with his own eyes, his body backed him up. His arms were taped firmly to arms of his chair, and there were several rings of the duct tape going all the way around his chest, upper arms, and the backrest of the chair, holding him upright.

Lex wondered, for a few moments, if this was just a prank. Maybe something Clark had been wanting to get out of his system ever since he’d been strung up in the field two years ago and Lex was just a convenient target.

And yes, Clark was just about the only person in the entire world – possibly even the entire universe – who'd be able to get away with this without facing some sort of swift and extremely painful retribution.

Still. He was taped to his chair. And prank or not, Lex wasn't particularly amused. He eyed his laptop hungrily, the blinking cursor mocking him now, just *begging* for him to insert the next letter...and it was possible he was getting a little carried away.

Clearing his throat and automatically attempting to straighten his back (a moot point), he moved his gaze back to Clark. Maybe if he leant and tipped over the chair, his nose would hit the save button and holy shit was Clark really looking at him like that?!

Lex felt immeasurably dense.

There was no Lana, phantom or otherwise. Clark wasn't pulling a prank (though in the context, that now didn't sound like such a bad idea...). All Lex could do was *gawk* – there was no other word for it – as Clark threw the empty roll...rolls of duct tape on top of Lex's desk and stepped around said desk. Then, keeping his hands on the backrest either side of Lex’s head, he pushed the chair all the way back until it hit the wall.

Lex *may* have gasped.

He continued to gawk as Clark hovered in his personal space, grinning wickedly (*wickedly*?), before pulling his hands away and sliiiiiiiiding down until he was kneeling, the smile only growing bigger as he obviously delighted in pulling down the zipper on Lex’s pants.

It wasn't the only thing growing bigger.

Oh dear God. He was making *puns* now.

But really, who could blame him? His brain obviously wasn't functioning at its full capacity as he looked down into those warm, amused eyes. Shuddering as a hand freed him from his layers of clothing, he had a sudden – and some might say stupid – thought of "Holy shit! Clark’s GAY!" two seconds before Clark's lips wrapped around his cock.

Oh this was bad, this was really really bad.

Ohhhhh, that was gooooood...

Fuck. The door was open. Anyone could walk by. His staff could walk by. They could walk *in*.

Yes, in, in, just like-

And most of his staff were from Smallville. Clark was from Smallville, and if anyone saw them now it'd be a little like getting blown by Mickey Mouse.

Though Lex personally doubted Mickey had the technical experience to do exactly what Clark was-

"Fuck!"

His body moved or, at least tried to, arching against the restraints. But Lex was learning that Clark could be a vindictive bastard when he wanted to, and he'd used the whole fucking roll to keep him attached to the chair.

The duct tape squeaked as his upper body tried to move, his hands trying and failing to reach that beautiful head of hair and somehow, astoundingly, Clark was chuckling around him...and that was it.

He may have screamed. By that point he didn't fucking care.

He was going to hurt later where he'd been pulling against the tape, but Clark was ripping it off him like it was made of...of...really really fragile stuff that broke really really easily.

"You destroyed my thought processessesses..." He managed to mumble, but Clark was smiling – different, yet again – and literally picking him up out of the chair; carrying him out of the room.

He really should have been objecting to being carried. He really should have been asking Clark what the hell that was all about. He *really* should have been asking what the fuck he'd been getting up to in Metropolis.

But there was a strong, firm neck just by his mouth that shuddered when he licked it. This could be some new development of Clark's alien physique. This required his thorough and absolute attention.

So Lex decided – purely for scientific reasons – that he should investigate.

~FINIS