INDEPENDENT LOVE SONG

PROLOGUE: Manic Monday

The last twenty-six hours and five minutes had been an absolute hell for Lex Luthor.  Completely exhausted, he couldn’t think let alone actually be expected to concentrate on the multiple nagging voices and tedious opinions.  Everything seemed to tilt oddly, sounds became distant and, ocassionally, tinny.  Everything bothered him to no end and his well of patience was bone dry.

Which explained why he was slumped on the floor of a relatively clean public stall, bald head pressed back against one metal section of the booth on the 14th floor of his father’s main headquarters.  The cold of the metal was stablizing to a certain extent, but he still felt mostly disjointed.

Since holding his head up seemed a formidable task and seeing straight was fast becoming just as severe a challenge, he’d felt it appropriate to designate a small break for himself and the other members of the board.  Twenty minutes.  Not that he could get that much sleep in twenty minutes, but it already seemed too long an intermission and he couldn't allot more time without a few grumbles.  He wanted this board meeting to go over well and be over quickly.  The last thing he needed was his father’s cadre of flunkies complaining to the man that his son couldn’t handle an itty-bitty board meeting.

He shifted, uncomfortable against the stall in the chilly restroom, and wished he could have just headed for his father’s office.  It had only been a few doors down the hall from where the rest of the committee sat, but he knew that, since he was ‘the son’, people in this building had less respect for him than they would his father, and he would have been interrupted constantly.  He'd wagered a comfortable position for privacy in that no one would come looking for him in a public stall nineteen floors below.

He'd also wagered some of his time.  It had taken him five minutes to get here and would take him the same to get back.  So he had ten minutes to sleep.  Ten minutes.

He moved into a cross-legged position, shut his eyes, and tried not to think.

+_+_+_+_+

Twenty six hours [and five minutes] earlier, things had been looking up.  Literally.  He had just kissed Clark and left the farm on the pretense of important business, jumping into his Porsche and hurrying away at speeds he knew were fast enough to get him home in just under fifteen minutes.

While driving, he had been able to concentrate on only the thoughts of what he was going to do to Clark the moment they were alone in the limo.  He had imagined Clark waving to his mother and Michael O’Brian, his driver, taking off.  Lex would close the partition between Michael and them, then cross the limo and climb on top of Clark's lap, touching, grasping, fondling, not allowing the farmboy to take over because he wanted to show his young lover just what he did to Lex.  So he'd tease Clark, drive him mad with every skill and trick he knew, make Clark crazy by bringing him so close to release then stopping and doing it all over again.  He’d do his best to torture Kent for three hours straight.  That was if he didn’t throw his friend to the floor of the limo, tearing away whatever clothes lingered between them.  Taking an aroused Clark into his mouth just to hear the screams of lust before Lex fucked him raw.

He knew, though, that the second half of that fantasy couldn’t happen until Clark allowed it, until Lex had made sure that he was ready.  He himself had been more than clear with Clark their first time… and their second.  He’d needed Clark inside of him then, filling his emptiness.  He still did.  He longed to have Clark throw him into bed, rip off his clothes and enter him roughly, viciously pounding him sore, sweating beautifully on top of him, coming inside of his body, sticky and sweet and thick, shouting Lex’s name at the top of his lungs…

He’d had to pull over at that thought and calm down before he got into another accident, one from which Clark would not be able to rescue him.

With Clark everything was so different.  He really cared for the boy.  He really…

Yeah.

Lex’s days of manipulation and destruction were over.  He would never go back, not as long as he had Kent, his purpose was clear: to live clean.

The kid had to be a hundred percent sure about it all before Lex would take even one step in that direction with him.

Kid, he had thought with a slight smile.  Only four years younger.  Clark’s age was still a pleasant surprise, and now he didn’t feel at all ashamed, didn't stop himself from thinking out the fantasies that had so plagued his conscious before.

He drove up to the manor, still "thinking".

He needed Clark and badly.  The boy was all he could recall, all his mind converged around, all he could breathe as of late.  Every night he went to sleep aching and woke in the same manner, hard and pleading.  This torture wasn’t entirely new to him.  At least, not since he’d met the tan dream with hair like the darkest ebony and teeth made from the whitest ivory.

Until Clark entered his life he’d never wanted any other human being to share his bed.  Not once.  If he’d wanted sex, he could get it, just like that.  No problem.  He’d never had to please himself out of desperation before, and truthfully, he liked it.  It was a kind of sweet tribulation that helped him to feel alive even without Clark’s presence, and it made every moment with the boy worth just that much more.

He had parked his car in the garage and instead of going into the house, he took off for the gym and it’s indoor pool.  He changed into his baggy orange swimming trunks, wondering what Clark would say if he knew that Lex had strayed from the darker and more sedate spectrum of the color palate.  Then again the boy had yet to see the crimson sheets made of raw silk in Lex’s bedroom, and that was a problem Lex wanted desperately to address.

Lately, he’d found swimming to be soothing and immensely relaxing, but after about fifty minutes of on and off laps and just floating he reluctantly admitted to himself that, this time, it wasn't working.  He was still too sexually keyed up at just the idea of all that time open to him with Clark.

He’d have to attend a single board meeting with his father, but it would only last a few hours in the very beginning of his trip so he’d have the rest of the time to be with Clark.  He had a few non-sexual things planned, things that he knew Clark would like- hopefully love- and then…  And then there was the bed in his condo.  The king-sized bed, perfectly plain with it’s fluffy comforter, soft cotton sheets and big-ass fluffy pillows.  He imagined taking it slow there, tasting everything, pushing Clark to the limits and seeing just how the other boy would react.  Touching him all over, running his hands over that smooth skin and through that amazing hair.  Lex would be lucky if he was able to do anything with his mouth other than devour Clark’s lips.  So tender and springy, relaxing…

He also found himself impatient to have Clark’s sweaty body in his arms after sex.  Something about Clark seeming the cuddle type just rang true.  The way that Clark had clung to him in his office had stuck with him, torturing his body, specifically his arms, hands and fingers.  Though he’d never admit it to anyone but Clark- and wasn't that the only one he needed to admit it to?- Lex found himself warming to the idea of post-sex snuggles.  He would always wince at the cutesy little feminine terms, but he could see himself holding Clark close for a very long time afterwards.

Suddenly, it wasn't about stupid emotions that didn't belong.  It wasn't just about sex, the 'already fucked you, get out of my house'.  It was about wrapping his arms and legs around someone, not just any someone, but a Clark-someone.  Feeling that heat, smelling that after-sex smell mixed with the unique smell of Kent and just… being.

Unfortunately for Lex, these thoughts were only making everything worse.  He refused to relieve the pain unless absolutely necessary, unless blue balls came forth, making their call of indefinite pain.  He wanted to be insane for Clark, wanted that three hour trip to be utter bliss and sweet agony.

So, Lex had headed for his punching bag that, in it’s first two weeks at Luthor Manor, had seen more action than his old one in more than five months.  Now that he had permission to touch Clark whenever and wherever he reasonably wanted, it was driving him nuts not to have the boy at his side all the time.  Mix his sexual frustrations with his father’s completely unforeseen and perpetual malicious adjacency, and he was gaining arm strength, and improving his uppercut and high kicks like crazy.  He’d put more hours in at his gym that week than he had with paperwork, and he could only hope that his vigilant father would not take notice of the whacked priorities and work still due.

After punching and kicking and punching some more, he was drenched and completely fatigued.  He checked his watch to find that he’d spent forty minutes on this version of physical exertion, not nearly as much as he’d thought, but it gave him time to shower eat and do a little work before going to bed early.

He planned to get plenty of sleep, wake up at eight- late for him- have everything in order for the board meeting so that he himself wouldn't prolong the conference, then go pick up Clark and have Michael drive slower than usual and non-stop to Metropolis.

If everything went well, he'd be coming loudly with the road less than two feet beneath him, Metropolis straight ahead, and Clark throbbing within, release mere seconds away.

All hopefully on the inside of the next 16 hours.

+_+_+_+_+

There are many different types of satin in the world, and within that multitude, there are only three kinds as far as basic cleansing customs.  There is the kind that is machine washable, the kind that is hand washable and the kind that is dry-clean only.

Lex’s were machine washable.

The new maid sent them to be dry-cleaned.

This made Lex very angry.

After all they were his pajamas.  His.  His satin pajamas.  His black, satin pajamas.  His black, satin pajamas that he wanted to take with him to Metropolis so that Clark could…  So that Clark could…

Yeah.

So, after only three hours of sleep, and restless hours at that, he was standing by his bed, yelling at the maid to find the fucking things before the helicopter got here and picked him up.

Find them or she was fired.

Please, understand.  She'd only been working there for three days and-

That didn't matter.  Find mine or pack yours.

Then Sam Loomis came in and the world changed colors.  He was here to calm Lex, to pacify him, and Lex knew this because the expression on the older man's face was one he hadn't seen since he was fifteen, drunk and pissing on Lionel's new desk in hopes of making his father's return to their flat in London a joyless and bitter one.  Not that he had to work to make it one, it's just he'd rather have actually deserved the hostility and cold rejections for once.

Sam, ever the distinguished chap even in his robe and slippers, had taken Lex by the hand just as he once did when the boy was just a child.

Lex needed to sit.

He did so on command.

Please, understand, he'd only had three hours of sleep.  He needed more but he couldn’t have it and he had to go to Metropolis now because his father had emergency business to take care of and his head hurt and he just wanted to sleep.  Something had to give here.  Why couldn’t she find his fucking pajamas, Sam?  Why?

Loomis, sitting beside Lex, had nodded calmly, smoothing his hand slowly over his young master’s back, and explained.  She hadn’t actually lost them, young Master Luthor, she’d just sent them somewhere.

Lex didn't understand.  Where?  Why?

Sam remained calm, explaining that she sent them to be cleaned, that there were more important things than pajamas, and that Lex could just take a different pair.

The depleted Lex had screamed that he didn’t want a different pair, that those were his best and his favorites and that he had to take them with him.  He was tired and they would make him feel so much better.

Sam had departed then, commanding that Lex change and pack.  Lex did so, never questioning, but only hoping that the old man would bring him his night clothes so that, when Lex was in Metropolis, Clark could…  Clark could…

Yeah.

Clark could.  Just like they talked about.  On the phone.  When he was in Gotham.  And Clark was so god-damn far away.

Hands and fingers and tongues, oh my.

The only thing black that Sam had brought back, however, was Lex’s coffee, and after ten minutes of packing and sipping Lex began to see the logic of Sam’s argument.  After fifteen he realized that it really wasn’t the new maid- what was her name? Sermi!  That was it.- that it really wasn’t her fault.  She was foreign and nineteen and alone in America.

He felt bad for making her cry and scaring her, threatening to take away a posh job that she needed.  Something about sending money home, or something…

He headed out of his room and down the steps with his coffee, nodding to himself.  It really made sense when you thought about it all.  She sent his pajama's to be cleaned.

Lex surprised his staff- everyone except Sam, of course- by walking into their lounge area near their quarters and apologizing to her very sincerely in Italian, her native language, and kissing her on the hand.  He was not at all caring that a Luthor had just admitted he was wrong to a servant and in front of at least ten others.  Right then he was Lex, his mommy's kid and he'd just treated someone like daddy did and though daddy might have had excuses, Lex did not and was to apologize immediately.

He was very sorry, Sermi, but he was just awful tired and his father had ruined some incredibly important plans by calling so early- at two AM- and demanding that he come to the city now by helicopter instead of tomorrow by limousine with his…  his friend.

Yeah.

His friend.

She had forgiven him as immediately as he had apologized and, being new, had not grasped the full weight of the circumstances.  Had this been Lionel, however, there would have been no doubt that Hell had indeed frozen over and angels were ice-skating on the remains.

He left the lounge, still feeling like a heel- why? Luthor’s weren’t supposed to care- but proud of himself and enjoying the surprised and amiable looks he had received from the select few members of the staff that had witnessed the event.

In his sleepy, childlike state, 21 year old Alexander Joseph Luthor had thrown a temper-tantrum- his first in a little over nine years- over a pair of pajamas, then had come down to apologize to a maid.  He knew the rumors would most likely reach his father but he didn’t care because he knew that they would also reach the rest of his staff.  Maybe that meant they wouldn’t be so damned scared of him.

Then again he had a temper like dad, so maybe it was just nice for them to see him not being such a dick for once.

+_+_+_+_+

He knew when he was doing it that it was stupid.  Clark would want to hear the words, not read them.  He should just leave the note at the apology and wait for Clark's presence to proclaim the emotion that meant a lot coming from him.

Well, it meant a lot coming from anybody really.  It just seemed like it meant more when you never said it.

He was sleepy, tired.  Pooped.

He would diminish the meaning if he just wrote it.  Clark needed to hear it after all.  Remember?

His handwriting really sucked dick when he was tired.

The excuses ran through his mind within the span of maybe five seconds.  Then he wrote the words.

And I love you, too, Clark.

It felt so good.  To admit it.  To believe it.  To know it was mutual and not to fear never hearing them returned.  After all, how many times had Clark told him that he loved him?  It felt like a million with the way Clark was always eyeing him, those heated rainforests appearing to know every little secret inside.  He knew, however, that it had been twice.  Two times.  Two times that the boy had uttered words Lex hadn't heard since…

Yeah.

Since.

Hadn't voiced 'since' either.

It felt like he had, though.  Every time he looked at Clark there was something there, something tangible, and every time he touched Clark, there was a fire in his fingertips, his head, and… his heart.  He felt like every time his lips met Clark's there was an urgency to let the kid know just how he felt, but he was lacking the…  the experience.  The skills and know-how.

His zero to Clark's two felt like a million to one.  Clark never pressured him, never even mentioned it, but he seemed to know.  Not only what Lex was thinking and feeling, but what he'd soon be saying.

And I love you too, Clark.

It would have to do for now.

+_+_+_+_+

Lex's private helicopter was down for repairs so he was driven to the airport to use one of theirs, delaying his arrival time at LuthorCorp Metropolis Headquarters by a good twenty, twenty-five minutes.

Father would not be pleased.

Still tired but with three cups of coffee settling down for the night in his digestive track, he figured he could handle a few hours out and about.  He had no idea what any of this was about other than what he was told: it was an emergency.

The helicopter circled around the top of his father's headquarters and he checked his watch.  3:12 AM.

~Shit.~

This was not good.  Lionel should have been in the air twenty-two minutes ago.

"Take us down!"  He shouted to the pilot, motioning with his hands.  He turned to his window, glancing down at his father, accompanied by two men in suits holding briefcases.  The man's hair was whipping in the false wind generated by the two choppers, one in the air and one on the heli-pad ready to take off at an instant's command, and it only intensified the fierce expression on his face.  Lex could see the fire as his father's eyes met his from twenty feet in the air.

~Fuck.~

"I said TAKE US DOWN." he shouted, beginning to lose his composure.  This really wasn't what he needed right now.

He knew what he needed.

~Clark, I miss you.~

"I cain't, sir," started the pilot, his southern accent sounding harsh and surreal to Lex's cultured ears.  "I gotta wait til I have confirmation."

Lex grabbed the man's earphones and ripped them off, yanking them from their plug and tossing them to the floor.  "You have confirmation." he shouted.  The rotors were bad but the shouting was really doing a number on his head.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I need-"

He grabbed the man's jacket and read the name tag.  "Damson.  What's your first name?"

"Jake."

"Well, Jake, do you see that?"  He pointed to his father's angry stance and Damson nodded.  "Good.  That is your confirmation."

Damson started to object and Lex tightened his grip on the jacket, pulling the pilot closer.  "You don't get our asses down there yesterday and I'll make sure my father knows who to blame."  He calmed.  "You get us down and me with my feet on concrete in less than forty-five seconds,"  he tapped on the nametag for effect.  "I'll make sure he knows who to thank."

Damson nodded and Lex sat back, tense and anxious.  In all honesty he'd rather be in the fucking helicopter, but he knew when his father meant serious business, and this was it.  An 'emergency'.  His father had never in almost three years used that term with him, so he knew the situation had to be grave.

Thirty seconds later he was almost close enough to jump with comfort. He patted Damson on the shoulder.  "Good job, Jake."

Swinging open the helicopter door, he ignored his heavy overcoat's attempts to give him wings and glanced down, waiting until the rung was three feet above the rooftop, then he stepped out on to the metal step, balanced and leaped gracefully to the hard surface below.

Luthors didn't jump out of helicopters for just anyone, and currently Lex had only two people on his aviation list: an infuriated, impatient, demanding and late Luthor Senior in an emergency, and Clark.

Any type of Clark.

Lex caught his father's eyes as he covered the short distance between them, but didn't give Lionel the satisfaction of lowering his gaze.  It wasn't his fucking fault that he was late.

As he approached he watched the minion to his father's left open his briefcase and pull out a manila folder.  "Father, I-"

"I haven't got the time for this, Lex."  Lionel's grating, almost robotic voice sounded even more petulant and monotone than usual.  He held out his hand to the side and the minion passed him the file.  Lionel took it without a glance backwards and shoved it towards his son as if brandishing a sword.

Lex snatched the files away, keeping his own unruffled composure as his father's nose flared in contempt.  The folder was easily two inches thick.  "A little light reading?"

The two lackeys behind Lionel jumped into the helicopter, speaking with the pilot.  His father's two best bodyguards were in there as well, making Lex frown.

~What the hell?  Has Dad been threatened?!~

A small pang of worry passed through his gut before he could repress it and it confused the hell out of him.

"Don't toy with me, Lex.  I need to be in Hawaii within the next seven hours and this delay has cost me dearly."

Lex was flabbergasted.  Hawaii?  "Why did you wait?"

Lionel pointed behind him.  "Everyone in that convoy and you," he said jabbing his tanned, manicured finger at his son.  "-are the only people I can afford to speak to this about.  I've got several leaks that just recently burst and we've a need to tighten security."

"What hap-"

He nodded to the folder.  "It's all in there.  There's a briefing on this emergency situation, as well as the information for a few small deals I need you to take over tomorrow."

His stomach fell.  He knew his father's idea of 'a few small deals'.  When Lionel placed a day of business together, it lasted all fucking day.

"You've got an acquisition, a signing for a merger, and you're going to have to direct the board meeting."

~FUCK!~

"That's going to-"

Lionel held up his hand to silence his son and Lex bit the inside of his mouth in anger, tightening his fingers around the papers.

"That folder is divided into sections.  Read each one carefully.  After you've finished with the transactions, I’ll be expecting a report on each account."  He narrowed eyes at his son and years of ingrained discipline kept Lex from rolling his own.  "I'll accept nothing less than the drafted output and return on these deals, Alexander."

"Yes, Sire," he sneered.

Lionel glared at him for a moment, then turned around, boarded the helicopter and slammed the door.

Lex stepped back and watched his father take off, suddenly feeling his joke of a three hour sleep coming back to haunt him.  For a moment, he swayed there dizzily, thinking that possibly this was all just a nightmare, a bad dream that Sam would be waking him from any minute.  Waking him at eight o'clock in the morning, mere hours away from his limo and his Clark and his city.

~Clark.~

Then the downdraft from the turning helicopter slapped him across the face, tearing him from his trance and throwing him back into reality.  He sighed, wondering just how much of his weekend was going to be his to spend and how much he was going to end up devoting to his father.

+_+_+_+_+

At five forty-eight exactly, Lex's traitorous eyes slammed shut and his head fell back against the padded backrest of the dining room chair.

He'd made it through all of the information once- speed-reading had been a required skill since he began high school and spent more time fucking around then studying- and had tossed aside the less important things, familiarizing himself with the acquisition and the merger.

Half the assholes in the board meeting had no clue what they were doing and Lex could pull his own ignorance off as disgusted and apathetic boredom mixed with condescension to the first degree.  He'd wing it and wing it well; he'd done it before, he could do again.

With the others though, there was a necessity was to know all and see all, more so even than his associates.  The merger needed the most attention as this was something he knew his father had been struggling with since before Lex had begun work at the plant.  The acquisition was of a small family operated chain of grocery stores.  In black and white it looked clear, fine and dandy, but Lex new that the more personal the transaction, the more emotionally tied the meeting was going to get and the harder it was going to be to get the owners to sign the damned papers.

He'd feared the possibility that he might fall asleep so he'd set his alarm for seven-thirty AM just in case.

He opened his cemented eyes to Chopin's Funeral March dragging itself ominously through the air.  He looked at the clock.

8:04

"Oh, shit!"

He sat up quickly, wincing at the excruciating pain in his neck, shoulder blades, back and butt.  It felt as if he'd been pummeled by a lot of people who didn't care much for him.  Plus there was the ever popular dry cotton ball morning tongue, only a new flavor came with it this morning: coffee grit and…  and something sour and pungent and frighteningly familiar.

~Please tell me that I didn't.  Please.~

He swallowed and gagged on the taste of some unidentifiable liquor.

"Fuck."  He ran his hand over his face.  Why had he allowed himself to drink anything?  That was the last thing in the world he should have done and he knew it.  So, what had him drink-

~Clark.~

He dropped his head to the large, heay oak table, banging it twice before the pain inherited from his brilliant sleeping position entered into frame and he just froze.

He'd been thinking about Clark.  About how instead of sex in a limo, then just a few hours in some board meeting where he'd discuss the plant briefly and leave for his sweet and sexy farmboy, he now had an incredible amount of work to do.  It would last all of Friday and some of Saturday.

"God-damn you, Lionel," he muttered into the papers, which were spread out all over the table.

So he wouldn't be seeing Clark until Saturday morning.

Just.  Fucking.  Wonderful.

+_+_+_+_+

He'd made special arrangements with his driver to keep Clark busy until he called after the board meeting, wherein he would explain himself that he was unable to see Clark until early the next morning.  He'd tell Clark not to wait up for him, all the while cringing in pain for he knew that there was nothing he was going to need more that night than seeing his beautiful, angelic farmboy with those full lips and that sexy hair.  Not to mention the incredible bod and a heart that never let up.

At nine AM he went over the acquisition with his father's assistants, and at ten sat down with the man.  All Dale Forman had to do was read and sign, read and sign, read and sign.  How many times he been over the deal with Lionel's people, Lex didn't know, but the fact that Lionel was having his son handle the affair did not go over well.  Forman had refused to sign the papers, demanding a better deal and it had taken Lex an hour to explain that his father wasn't going to give a better deal than what was already on paper.  It took more than forty-five minutes for the man to sign every one of the papers, leaving a very nervous and agitated Lex less than half an hour to prepare for the luncheon dealing with the merger.

It was only supposed to be a light discussion then a signing, but after reading the records, Lex knew it was going to be anything but.  Sure enough when the time came Fanny Domino and Mark Fairfield brought up several unacceptable terms and made the suggestion to reschedule when Lionel was around.  Lex knew that they were looking for any reason to draw this out longer and perhaps get more from his father, so he declined on the rescheduling.  They talked for a while longer then Lex got a call from Lionel's secretary, Marion, about the board meeting being set in one hour.  Domino had suggested working on it Saturday and Lex internally panicked.  He called Marion back to postpone the board meeting until the merger was finished, took Domino and Fairfield back to his father's office and alternatively sweet talked and grilled the partners until, at 4:52 PM an agreement was finally made.

Lex had then rescheduled the board meeting for five-thirty, pissing off many of the board members that had homes to head home to, but at this point he didn't care.  He'd finished a task that his father had clearly handed him just to see him fail and he'd accomplished it in a little over four and a half hours.  He was on a high and knew Clark was on his way to Metropolis because he'd not received an apologetic phone call from O'Brian telling him that his rural friend would not be joining him.

The thought of Clark had given him a boost of energy through the paper signing dealing with the merger and through the first twenty minutes of the board meeting.  That was when he realized that no one was going to agree about anything and because he'd scheduled it for a time when a lot the members would normally go home a lot of the hostility was not only quadrupled but aimed at him.  Adversaries became allies in the face of an ultimate foe: the youthful Luthor scion who obviously had no clue how to run a business.  There were sides to arguments brought up, he was sure, just for argument's sake and specifically to piss him off.

It was working.

An hour and fifteen minutes into the meeting he decided that everyone- especially him- needed a breather.  So he passed out a twenty minute recess and fled from the room as if on fire.

Heading down in the elevator, all he could think of was how much he missed Clark and how his foolish hopes for seeing the boy before Saturday morning had been crushed completely by the stupid morons in the meeting.
 
 
 
 
 
 

To be continued...