A Date With The President




Part Three



"Good morning, everyone." Lex Luthor strode into the Oval Office, wearing his trademark lavender and black, and was greeted by the four most important members of his staff, next to Charlene. "I hope you all had a good time at the ball. If not, lie to me."

"I think it's safe to say we had a wonderful evening," Marshall Brooks, the Senior Domestic Policy Advisor, replied. The staff was seated on the two ivory-colored couches in the center of the office, a low maple coffee table between them. Matching empty brocade chairs, placed opposite each other, completed the circle.

"Kel, report that," Lex told his Press Secretary.

"I will, Mr. President," Kellett McBride said. He made a notation in his portfolio. "What should I say about your date?"

"As little as possible," Wendy Thaler answered before the President spoke. The Director of Communications looked at Lex as he took his chair at the head of the semi-circle. "You were elected into office by a very narrow margin, Mr. President. We don't want to rock the boat too early."

"Why not?" Lex asked. "Half of the country is expecting me to do something radical, and the other half is hoping I will."

"Veranda thinks Mr. Kent is handsome, in a slightly nerdish way," Brad Winters added his two cents. "His record is so clean, it squeaks. He's already made a strong name for himself in Metropolis, in the few months he's been writing for the Daily Planet. He also is an almost direct link to Superman, who the country is currently fanatic about."

"Marshall, how many days until the next Congress convenes?" Lex inquired.

The older, heavyset gentleman slipped his half-glasses on his nose, opened his portfolio, and calculated quickly. "Seventy-six days, Mr. President."

"Seventy-six days," Lex repeated. He rubbed his lower lip thoughtfully. "I have two newly drafted bills I want passed at the first session, the ones we talked about last week. Marshall?"

"Any sort of relationship with Mr. Kent would cause a highly negative impact on the vote," Marshall replied, anticipating the question. "The two bills will be hard enough to push through. If Congress thinks you have a personal stake in the outcome, they'll be less likely to take the issues seriously and dismiss them out of hand."

"Congress is wary of anything to do with sex," Wendy pointed out. "So is the public."

"All right. Kel, if asked, say that I couldn't get a date. Joke it up a bit. If the jackals press for who accompanied me, tell them an old friend without naming names," Lex instructed. "Marshall, I want to know what the Republicans and Democrats want in exchange for passing my bills."

Kellett and Marshall both nodded and made notations. Wendy began to speak, but Lex preempted her.

"Three public opinion polls, Wendy," he said. "One on each bill and the third on what the country thinks about my dating, gender unspecified."

"Yes, sir," Wendy said.

"Anything else for this morning?" Lex asked. He received negative responses. "Then, meeting adjourned."

Wendy, Kellett, and Marshall left the Oval Office. Brad stayed behind, comfortable in his seat on the couch. Lex moved behind his desk and leafed through the pink message slips accumulated from the weekend. "Spit it out, Brad."

"Nobody asked how you felt about your ex-farmboy friend," Brad said conversationally.

"It's no one's business."

"Mr. President," Brad began, "I've been your assistant for four years, and your friend, and not once have you dated another male, even in the loosest definition of the word."

"That's because I was too busy working," Lex said.

"What about all the women you saw?" Brad said pointedly.

"Business," Lex replied.

"Business," Brad echoed skeptically.

Lex exhaled in irritation, tossing the memos on his desk. "I'm homosexual, Brad, and have been and always will be. I sleep with women for business, whether it's for PR, they have access to something I want, or to get my father off my back."

"I see." Brad looked thoughtful. "It also explains your vehement desire to have the bills passed, basically legalizing homosexuality."

"It should have been done years ago." Lex paced to the French doors and looked out the window. "This country is founded on the inalienable right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness... but only if you don't like to take it up the ass."

"So, your plan is to get the bills passed into national law, then pursue a relationship with Clark Kent."

"I don't believe in signs or omens," Lex turned towards Brad, "but the fact that Clark is legal, single, gay, and pops up in my life after I'm elected into a position where I can do something about the antiquated laws on homosexuality, is hard to swallow as merely coincidence."

Brad clapped his hands on his legs and stood. "Well, at least now I know why you never let me set you up with Veranda's sister."

Lex snorted. "No offense, but Veranda's sister is a dog."

Brad chuckled and headed for the door. "I'll see you at ten."

"Send Charlene in on your way past."

Brad paused at the door and looked back at Lex. "Hey, Lex, how do you feel about Clark Kent?"

Lex's mouth twisted in a self-deprecating smile. "I've been in love with him for many, many years, and am still counting."








Clark stared in disbelief at the AP Bulletin at the Daily Planet. He removed his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and looked at the monochrome screen again. The information didn't change, it was still printed there in yellow and green.

Public Law No: 112-15. Sexual relations between two consenting adults, that is, persons aged 18 years and older, regardless of gender, race, or nationality, permissible by law in the privacy of residence, temporary, rental, or permanent, to wit: house, apartment, trailer, hotel, recreational vehicle, cabin, tent.... 112th Congress, H.R. 751, S. 152

Public Law No: 112-16. Marriage, to wit: a legal and binding union between two consenting adults, that is, person aged 18 years and older, regardless of gender, race, or nationality, permissible by law in every state.... 112th Congress, H.R. 752, S. 153

Clark was astounded. He'd be able to publicly date whomever he wanted, without the stigma that he was allegedly breaking the Kansas sodomy law. He'd be able to marry the man he fell in love with like a normal person, and his mom could help plan a wedding like she'd hoped to do before Clark had come out to his parents after college. It was amazing. The big, geeky gay alien could possibly have a Happily Ever After, after all.

Still gawking at the Bulletin monitor, it took Clark a few moments to realize his trousers were vibrating. He pulled the slimline cell phone from his pocket and answered the call, while re-reading the information on the screen once again with disbelief. "Clark Kent."

"Hello, Clark."

"Oh, hi, Lex," Clark said dazedly into the phone. "Is it Sunday already?"

They had a standing arrangement to talk on the phone on Sunday nights, whether it was for fifteen minutes or five hours. They talked about everything and nothing, just like they used to back in Smallville, and both men enjoyed themselves immensely.

Lex's chuckle rolled over the line. "No, it's only Thursday. Have you been working non-stop again?"

"Huh?"

Another chuckle. "Earth to spaceboy. What's got you so distracted?"

Clark blinked several times, his stunned amazement melting into giddy excitement. "I'm a happy fag."

Several nearby reporters stopped what they were doing at his declaration and stared at him. He blushed in humiliation.

Lex's sputtered laughter sounded in his ear. "That's good to know, Clark."

Beneath the AP Bulletin, the Metropolis Police monitor flashed.

10-55. 10-60. Fire at the Metro-Wexler building, 321 West State Street.

Clark was already rushing for the fire stairwell door. "Lex, I have to go. I'll call you later."

"You have the number," Lex said with amusement and understanding.

"Bye." Clark terminated the call, checked the stairs for people and, seeing no one, zipped up the steps and out onto the roof with superspeed. His outer clothes were hidden away in an air vent, his cape was unfurled, and he was flying towards the Met-Wex within nanoseconds.

Superman touched down on the cordoned-off street outside the fifty-story skyscraper. The fire trucks had just arrived. The yellow-coated firemen leapt from the barely stopped vehicles and hurriedly unraveled their hoses. Police officers were leading those who had evacuated the building, while several others kept the gapers at bay.

The second and third floors of the Met-Wex had orange flames spewing from broken windows. Black char stained the outside of the steel structure on the floors above. The fourth floor windows bowed outwards from the rising heat.

From the fifth floor, a chair came sailing through a window. Shattered glass rained down on the street. The chair bounced once against the hood of a police cruiser, denting the vehicle, before clattering to the ground. A white shirt soon fluttered in the broken window, indicating the need for help.

Superman used his X-ray vision to scan the building. The first through fourth floors were empty, however, the fifth, sixth, and seventh floors were packed with people. The emergency stairs were blocked by the fire.

Even carrying two at a time and at superspeed, Clark knew he wouldn't be able to clear the building fast enough before the fire spread. He quickly found the Fire Chief to coordinate their efforts.

"There are a few hundred employees still in the building," Superman told the Chief. "We need to get the emergency stairwell open. I'll start carrying people to the ground, but if you can find a safe spot to raise the ladder, too, use it."

The Chief nodded in understanding and shouted instructions to his people over their headsets. Clark took off, heading for the broken window with the white shirt dangling from it. Yells of "Superman!" assaulted his ears as he hovered outside the window, quickly, but carefully, clearing the frame of the jagged glass shards.

"Clear a spot by the window," Superman instructed, his voice strong and calm. "If there is anyone needing immediate medical attention, they go first."

About a dozen men and women had taken fairly good control of the situation, and they helped Clark immensely. Panicked humans could be hard to handle at times, especially when their lives were seriously endangered.

Hours later, with soot-blackened face, hands, and costume, Superman left the scene in the capable hands of the fire department. The fire was extinguished, the building's employees evacuated with little injury, and the neighboring buildings were safe from danger.

Clark picked up his clothing at the Planet rooftop and flew home. The screenless bedroom window of his apartment was always unlocked and, at superspeed, no one would ever see him enter. He landed lightly on the threadbare carpet, dropped his clothes to the floor, and scrubbed a weary hand over his face. Superman didn't get tired from hard physical work, but the fear that he wouldn't be able to save everyone took its toll on him.

Carelessly stepping on the clothing strewn throughout his bedroom -- the dry cleaner had a field day with the state of his laundry when he brought it in -- Clark shed his costume as he headed for the bathroom across the short hall. His apartment was tiny, a single bedroom flat on the fourth floor of a six-story apartment complex bordering Suicide Slum. (He always left his car parked at the Daily Planet garage.) The permanently tobacco-stained walls were paper-thin, but he'd lucked out on obtaining a corner apartment, so only his living room/kitchen wall was shared with his neighbor. He had two windows, one in the living room and one in the bedroom, both with beautiful views of the neighboring buildings and alleyways. The water was always cold and the electricity sporadic, but Clark had lived for years in Quake-damaged, gutted buildings and abandoned cars and the apartment seemed luxurious in comparison.

After showering, Clark pulled on a pair of shorts, dug his cell phone from his discarded suit pants pocket, and wandered into the kitchen. The chipped linoleum floor cracked under foot as he crossed to the refrigerator. The yellowish glow from the fridge light caused several roaches to scurry from sight. Clark made a mental note to buy more roach motels, or start charging the bugs rent.

The fridge held the standard bachelor's supplies of take-out containers, soda -- Clark really didn't like alcohol -- and Tupperware containers from mom. He chose the pizza box crammed on the lower shelf, grabbed a soda, and shut the refrigerator door with his hip.

Somewhat blindly, he meandered through the still-packed boxes from Smallville, the unpacked stacks of books, music, and miscellaneous junk he hadn't gotten around to putting away, and random flotsam and jetsam he'd accumulated during the six months he'd been living there, into the living room. He turned on the lamp as he passed, shoved the stray clothing to one side of the ratty green couch, and sat down with a sigh. The pizza and drink were placed on a convenient group of boxes arranged as a coffee table, the moisture from the can and grease from the underside of the pizza box immediately staining the piles of papers, clippings, and research material strewn on the makeshift table.

Clark glanced at the battery-operated clock hanging on the otherwise bare wall. It was rather late, or early in the morning, but he knew Lex would still be expecting a return call. He hit speed-dial on his cell phone and unearthed his laptop from under the couch while he waited for the call to go through.

"White House."

"This is Clark Kent." It was all Clark needed to say to the operator. He was put through almost immediately.

"So?" Lex said without preamble, his voice groggy.

"Met-Wex had an accelerant-caused fire on the second floor," Clark said, presuming the question. He booted up his laptop. "Arson is a definite. The fire started in a storage room. My instincts are saying it was caused by a disgruntled employee from Stoneburner."

"Your instincts are seldom wrong."

"Hmm," Clark hummed in absent agreement. Phone tucked against his shoulder, he began rapidly typing one-handed -- one of the bonuses of having alien super abilities -- as he reached for a slice of cold pizza with the other.

"You're working again, aren't you." It wasn't a question.

"Sowee." Clark swallowed the bite of food in his mouth. "If I can get this article to Night Copy before 3:00 AM, it can be in the morning edition."

Lex sighed good-naturedly. "You work more than I do and I run the country."

"The news never sleeps."

"Apparently, neither do you."

"I sleep," Clark said. He felt sort of strange writing about Superman's assistance in the Met-Wex fire, but he couldn't exclude it. "I sleep between the time the morning edition deadline has passed and Alyssa."

"You watch Alyssa?"

"I'm in her book club, too."

"You need help."

Clark laughed. "Probably."

"All right, oddball," Lex said, laughing. "Mark your calendar for May 1st. We're having a State dinner and I want you as my guest."

"Who's the dinner for?" Clark chomped down on another slice of pizza.

"Some high-ranking Chinese muckity-muck."

"Tineez mugidy-mug?"

"Clark, don't speak with your mouth full."

"Sowee." Clark could hear Lex roll his eyes.

"Anyway," Lex said, "Charlene will give me a dossier on who it is when I need to know. So, should I put you down as a yes?"

"I'll have to clear it with Perry, but I'm sure there'll be no problem," Clark replied. "He liked my exposés so much last time, he asked me who I slept with to get the information."

"Who'd you say?"

Clark grinned. "You, of course."

A hitched breath was the only sound over the now-silent line.

Clark's smile faded. "It was a joke, Lex."

"Yeah, uh, I- I'm not really awake here. Normal people are asleep at... ugh, 4:40 in the morning."

"Then I'd better stop bugging you," Clark said. "We wouldn't want a cranky President. You might blow up a country because someone annoyed you."

"Funny," Lex said. "I'll see you on the first. And bring an overnight bag. I'd like to spend Sunday with you."

Clark's smile returned. "I can't wait."

"Me, neither," Lex responded with soft fondness. "Goodnight, Clark."

"Goodnight."



Part Four





"Mr. President, are you certain?"

Lex stood with his hands clasped behind his back, watching out the window as the last guests arrived for the State dinner. The men were clad in tuxedos and the women in subdued evening dresses, and none of them were Clark Kent. In the window's reflection, Lex could see Kellett's concerned face.

"I'm certain, Kel," Lex replied. "My laws have passed, we're both over the age of 21, and currently have no other romantic entanglements."

"The press will be brutal," Kellett warned.

"The press is always brutal."

"The public won't like it, either," Kellett said, reminding the President of the poll results about his dating.

"Then, they can elect a new President." Lex looked over his shoulder and smirked. "In four years."

Kellett pressed his lips together and nodded. "Very well. I'll prepare for Monday morning. You'd best warn Mr. Kent, however. He's the one who will be under serious scrutiny."

"I will."

Kellett left, and Lex returned to watching out the window. It was a pretty spring night in DC. He could see the Washington Monument, like a magnificent spire rising from the earth. He could make out the edges of the Lincoln Memorial, too, lit up in reverence to one of the country's leaders.

A self-deprecating smile tugged at a corner of Lex's mouth. The Lex Luthor Memorial would most likely be a rainbow, especially if the evening went as hoped.

Clark Kent. Lex's father was going to have a fit. He had strongly disapproved of their friendship when Lex lived in Smallville and now Lex planned to publicly date the former farmboy. That was, if Clark consented. And if he ever arrived.

Lex crossed to the phone and dialed Clark's cell phone number by memory. When he received the voice mail, he hung up with a displeased frown. Aside from the office phone at the Daily Planet, Clark only had the cellular and he claimed it was always with him. If he was in DC and on his way to the White House, he should have answered.

Lex rubbed a hand over his scalp, then ran his finger along the edge of his collarless white tuxedo shirt. He hoped Clark was all right. Clark had a dangerous job, exposing secrets that people would do anything to keep quiet. He would have been safer as a private investigator, as he commented once on choosing as an alternative career, chasing after cheating spouses and insurance frauds.

"Mr. President," Charlene appeared in the doorway, "it's time."

Lex tugged at the hem of his tuxedo jacket and followed her out of the room. "Clark hasn't arrived yet, has he?"

"No, sir," Charlene replied. "Do you wish to wait?"

"No. No." Punctuality was extremely important to Lex, and it was politically discourteous to keep the Chinese Prime Minister waiting.

There were fewer people invited to the State dinner than there had been at the Inaugural Ball back in February. The formal dining room had been set with ten smaller tables, seating six each. The table linens were red for the occasion. Lex was seated with the Prime Minister and his Chief Aide, and Brad and Veranda. Clark's seat was noticeably empty.

But not for long.

The Associated Press members scattered throughout the room took notes and flash-less photographs as Clark strode into the room. He walked directly over to the Presidential table, as if he belonged there. Gossip flew, questioning who was the nerdy-looking guy with the proud shoulders and gorgeous smile.

Clark laid his hand on Lex's shoulder, preventing him from rising, as he joined the table. "Hello," the tuxedo-clad Clark said, apple-cheeked and ducking his head in apology. "Sorry I'm late. The flight from Kansas was delayed because of the weather."

"It's all right, Clark," Lex said. A wide, purely happy smile creased his face. He turned to the Prime Minister. "Mr. Prime Minister, please meet Clark Kent, my date for the evening."

Clark's hand tightened briefly on Lex's shoulder. Lex glanced up and saw surprise flicker across Clark's face before a polite welcoming smile was directed at the Chinese Prime Minister. He began speaking fluently in Mandarin without pause or hesitation, as if it was his native language.

The Prime Minister laughed and replied in Mandarin. Clark laughed, too, as he sat down beside Lex. Brad and Veranda looked impressed, as did the Prime Minister's Aide.

"I didn't know you spoke Chinese, Clark," Lex said, equally as impressed as everyone. "Where did you learn the language?"

"Beijing," Clark replied.

"You've been to Beijing?" Veranda said.

"I go at least four times a week," Clark said, a mischievous grin appearing. "Beijing Chinese Take-Out is my favorite restaurant in Metropolis."

The gales of laughter from their table drew stares. The gossip flew wilder, even more so when the newcomer leaned intimately close to the President to whisper in his ear.

"Date, Lex?" Clark questioned quietly as dinner started around them.

"Yes," Lex answered, turning his head to look Clark in the eyes, their faces scant inches apart. "Unless you don't want it to be."

Lex was taking a serious risk, one that could lead to a loss of a friendship recently re-found. But having Clark reappear in his life under almost perfect conditions was as if someone was daring him to take a chance at having everything -- money, power, and love.

Through the dorky glasses, Clark's vibrant eyes glittered with emotions too numerous to identify. "Gee, I don't know, Lex. Do I want to have a date with the Sexiest President in decades?"

"You're making fun of me."

"A perk of dating."

Lex arched a brow. "So... we're dating?"

Clark ducked his head, cheeks flushing slightly, and peered at Lex through his lashes. "I'd like that."

Lex's heart flip-flopped and a lazy smile crossed his lips. "Yeah. I'd like that, too."

Clark flashed one of his brilliant grins, straightened in his chair, and began eating his dinner.

Lex started to eat his own meal and caught sight of Brad and Veranda both watching him unabashedly. He gave them a questioning look. Veranda giggled behind her hand as Brad gave Lex a thumbs up sign.

Lex... blushed.

The Prime Minister, his Aide, and Clark chattered away in Mandarin off and on throughout dinner. Clark wasn't doing it to show off, but rather to make the Prime Minister feel more comfortable. The Prime Minister seemed inordinately pleased, as well.

When the meal ended, tables broke apart and guests mingled. Lex did his duty and introduced the Prime Minister around. Clark wandered off to mingle on his own, undoubtedly sniffing out story leads.

By 10:30 PM, Lex was politicked-out. The Prime Minister had already left, along with his Aide. The guests were lingering over drinks, coffee, and second dessert, or dancing to the string quartet. The Associated Press gathered information on who spoke or danced with who, what they were wearing, and the identity of the mystery man who had boldly joined the President's table.

Lex was tired. He'd spoken with the guests he needed to and many of those he didn't. He'd let Clark's name slip to the appropriate higher-ups, to put them 'in the know' before the newspapers reported on Lex's date. He'd complimented the wives on their dresses, asked after their families, and smiled until his cheeks hurt. He'd fulfilled his Presidential duties for the evening. Now, he wanted ice cream.

"Cover for me," he instructed Brad as he passed by his Chief of Staff. "I won't be returning."

Clark was unobtrusively hovering near a knot of Senators, listening in on their conversation. Lex latched onto his elbow and led him away. "You'd better not be working on our date, Kent."

"But they were talking about the Sunny Anti-Trust Act..."

Lex studiously ignored the pout that formed on Clark's lips as he signaled to his Secret Service Agent, Tom, that they were leaving. Clark followed docilely as they slipped out of the dining room and headed to the residential wing of the White House, with Tom right behind them.

"Tom," Lex addressed the stone-faced man. "We're leaving the grounds."

"We are?" Clark said, surprised.

Lex stopped by a phone sitting on a table in the ornate hall. He picked up the receiver, pressed a button, and spoke to the person who answered the line. "This is the President. Bring the sedan to the south-east entrance."

Hanging up, he answered Clark with a quirky grin. "I'm in the mood for some double chocolate chunk ice cream. How about you?"




Tom was not happy. Lex could tell by the evil scowls cast his direction every so often by the agent. Too bad, so sad. At least a half-dozen agents had followed the bullet-proof sedan in a separate vehicle when they'd left the White House and more had descended upon their location when they'd stopped at The Mall. The agents were spread out over the area, keeping the vagrants away and protecting the President and his date, who were sitting at the edge of the Reflecting Pool, tuxedo trousers hiked up to their knees, legs dangling in the cold water, as they ate their double-scoop cones.

"It sure isn't clear like the Kansas night sky," Lex commented, looking up at the stars. The Mall lights were so bright, they distorted the view.

"Do you miss home?" Clark asked, licking a drip of strawberry ice cream from his hand.

"I miss my cars," Lex said with a dramatic sigh. "I miss just getting into my Porsche, or Ferrari, or BMW, or Astin Martin, or Mercedes--"

"I get the point, Lex."

"--or Lamborghini," Lex continued with a devilish curl to his lips, "and going for a drive, my veins throbbing to the music, the feel of leather gloves on my hands, the vibration of the car as she eats up the highway at deliciously naughty speeds."

"Oh, man, that sounds wonderful." Clark smiled prettily. "Can I have your Lamborghini so I can go for a drive like that?"

Lex chuckled. "Not a chance."

"I can be your proxy driver," Clark coaxed. "You can enjoy your car vicariously through me."

"Forget it," Lex stated with mock severity.

"Not even if I beg?"

"Not even then," Lex said. "Begging has never changed my mind once it's made up."

"Darn." Clark sighed forlornly. "And here I was hoping to sink into the leather seat behind the wheel of the Lamborghini and feel her enclosing me in her slick embrace, to slide my key into her ignition, bringing her purring to life." His voice slipped a seductive notch. "Coaxing her to move for me, pumping her clutch as I shift into higher gear. Steering around the curves with a smooth caress by my hands. Listening to her sweet sounds, her body trembling around me, as I take her for a long, hard ride."

Lex swallowed thickly, ice cream forgotten. "If I was a woman, I'd be all over you right now."

Clark's gaze dropped to Lex's mouth. "Are you gay?"

"Yes."

"That's close enough."

Their lips met in a chocolate and strawberry kiss. Clark was not awkward, tentative, or virginally innocent, as Lex had imagined, but that made it all the more real. His mouth moved over Lex's, strawberry tongue lapping at chocolate lips. Lex's shiver was not caused by the leftover cold from the ice cream.

Clark hummed softly in the back of his throat as he angled his head, deepening the kiss. Lex's fingers threaded into Clark's midnight hair, opening beneath the onslaught of sensations. It didn't matter that his ice cream was melting all over his other hand and undoubtedly on his tuxedo. For too many years, he'd been waiting for this very moment, and it far exceeded every wish and fevered dream.

"Lex," Clark begged sultrily, pulling slightly away, breath hot against Lex's lips, "can I have your Lamborghini?"

"Yes. Bastard. Anything," Lex growled. "Just kiss me again."

Clark laughed softly and complied. Slanting his mouth over Lex's, he initiated another deep kiss.

Fire sparked low in Lex's belly, flames of want spreading rapidly throughout his body. He greedily drank from Clark's sinful mouth, tasting desire and lingering hints of strawberry ice cream. He hungered for Clark, physically, mentally, and emotionally. Need made him hard and throbbing.

Clark's glasses suddenly scratched Lex and he broke away abruptly. Both men panted heavily, Clark staring hotly at Lex over the tops of his fogged hornrims, which had slid to the end of his nose.

"Anything?" he asked breathily.

Lex nodded, doubting his ability to form a coherent syllable.

Clark's tongue moistened his already wet, shiny lips. "Then, I want you."

Lex's heart hitched. He swallowed audibly and whispered, "Oh, god."

Inelegantly, he scrambled to his feet, losing the remaining ice cream cone. It would be a treat for the raccoons. He grabbed his socks and shoes in one hand, Clark's arm with the other, and dragged Clark to the car. Clark's laughter was husky, desirous.

The ride back to the White House was never-ending torture, even though it was only a five minute drive. Tom's blackened scowl and the chauffeur's knowing smirk were ignored completely, as were the other curious looks from the night Secret Service Agents in the residential wing.

Lex barely paused to lock the bedroom door before attacking Clark. Their mouths came together with little finesse, passion overriding technique. Sticky hands pawed at studs, buttons, and cufflinks. Clark's glasses were tossed negligently over a shoulder. They made a stumbling trail to the queen-sized bed, clothing discarded without care for cost.

The blankets on the bed were shoved down with impatient disregard, the cool white sheets more accepting. The two men tumbled upon the mattress, bare-skinned and hard, bathed in the glow from the outside lighting, shining through the filmy white drapery covering the windows.

"Clark," Lex's raspy whisper was barely heard over the heavy breathing and pounding hearts. He thrust helplessly against Clark, the springy black curls at Clark's groin tickling sensually, as he dove in for another voracious kiss.

Clark was all planes and thick muscle, with broad shoulders, narrow hips, and a long masculine frame. There were no curves or softness. He was undeniably male.

Large palms cupped Lex's ass. Clark ground their pelvises together with just the right amount of roughness. A pleasured moan rose from them both, mouths parting.

Clark looked up at Lex with heavy-lidded eyes. His fingers stroked intimately down the cleft of Lex's buttocks. "Where are your condoms, Lex?"

"Drawer," Lex answered, hissing and bucking when the tip of a dry finger entered him. "Oh fuck."

Clark's lips curled into a grin. "Pick A, B, or C."

"What?" Lex focused lust-dazed eyes on Clark.

"A, B, or C?"

"Uh, A,"

"Then, the response is: 'that's the plan.'"

Lex pushed himself up fully on his hands and stared down at the man lying under him. "Pretend we're in the middle of having sex and my brain has turned to mush, and explain what the hell you're talking about."

"First, this isn't the middle of sex, it's just the beginning," Clark corrected with a glittering gleam in his eyes. Lex shuddered. "Secondly, you said 'oh fuck,' and response A is: 'that's the plan.'"

Lex stared some more. "Clark, you're weird."

Clark snickered. "I'm also naked, horny, and in bed with the President of the United States, who is equally naked and horny."

Hurt like he hadn't felt in a long time cut Lex, followed by anger. He moved off Clark and turned on the nightstand light. He squinted in the sudden brightness, but kept his embittered eyes on Clark. "If you're here only because I'm the President, then get the hell out."

Clark sat up quickly, wearing a stunned expression on his face. "Lex, how can you even think that?"

"You'd be surprised at how many offer because of my title," Lex said flatly. "The number is even more than when I was just the Luthor heir."

"Well, don't count me in that number. I want you because you're sex personified and I'm easy." Clark colored after he spoke, reminding Lex that this was Clark Kent, who would never use Lex like that.

Lex's tensed shoulders slumped in relief and apology. He rubbed the back of his head self-consciously. "Sorry."

"Lex, don't be sorry. It's a valid concern."

"One that doesn't apply to you," Lex forced a joke, "because you're just an easy lay."

Clark blushed again and looked sheepish. "Yeah, I am. Unlike you, the offers are sparse, so I take it when I can get it."

A corner of Lex's mouth turned up. "That confirms my belief that all people are inherently blind and stupid."

"Flattery--" Clark began, getting to his knees. He braced his hands on the headboard on either side of Lex's head and leaned in close. "--will get you kissed."

"You're gorgeous," Lex baited, shaking off the lingering broodiness. "Beautiful. Sexy. Exqui--"

Clark swallowed his words in a ferocious kiss, pressing him back against the headboard. Clark's lips moved over Lex's with bruising passion, tongue stabbing into his open mouth. Lex's desire was re-ignited instantaneously, his groin tightening. He moaned deeply, sliding his hands along Clark's muscular arms.

Clark shifted his weight, one hand lowering to grasp Lex's dick in a firm fist. He pumped with teasing slowness, until Lex tore his mouth from Clark's with a curse and a groan. "Clark..."

"You are so hot," Clark murmured, eyes raking over Lex's body. He lowered his chin and focused on his stroking hand. "Why didn't we do this before now?"

Lex banged his skull against the headboard several times, accompanied by a throaty whimper. "Too young. You were too young."

"You thought about it, though?"

"Every. Fucking. Day."

Clark's voice dropped to a low rumble. "Me, too."

Lex clawed at Clark's chest, eyes wild with lust. "Now. I want you now. Top, bottom, just now."

"Yesss," Clark hissed, swooping in for another fierce kiss. Teeth clacked together, scraping and biting rapture-bruised lips. Tongues dueled in a vicious dance of passion.

Clark reached blindly for the nightstand, almost toppling out of bed. He broke the kiss, growling, and with unbelievable dexterity, leaned far over, pulled out the entire drawer from the nightstand, and straightened again.

He abruptly smirked. "Found your porn."

"Claaarrk," Lex drew out exasperatedly. He sat up and grabbed the condom box and bottle of lubricant from the drawer. "Can we get on with it, please?"

The drawer landed on the floor with a thud, beside the bed. Clark snatched the condoms from Lex's hand and looked at the box. "It's not open." He glanced at the bottle in Lex's hand, which still had the safety seal around it. "Neither is the lube."

"That's because I haven't gotten laid in a very, very long time," Lex admitted. "So, if you wouldn't mind hurrying along, it would be greatly appreciated."

Clark laughed and, thankfully, hurried along. Lex gritted his teeth as a condom was rolled onto him. He fumbled with the safety seal on the lubricant until it was taken away from him.

Clark opened the bottle with ease, poured some on his fingers, and handed the bottle back. Lex had expected the slick substance to be spread on himself. Instead, he watched, open-mouthed at the carnal image, as Clark braced against the headboard, reached back, and stretched himself.

At Clark's self-satisfied moan, Lex pinched the base of his cock to keep from coming already. "Clark, please," he begged hoarsely.

Clark nodded and moved. He folded his forearms on the pillows beside Lex and bent over, legs spread and ass raised. Lex was behind him within seconds.

"Oh, god. Oh, Clark." Lex sank to the hilt in one long thrust, hands scrambling for purchase on Clark's lean hips. Clark rocked back against him and he garbled incoherently.

"Jesus, Lex," Clark breathed. "Just... Lex."

"This is going to be short," Lex rasped between clenched teeth as he began to move. After six strokes, he was on the cusp of orgasm. He grabbed his balls, tugging hard in hopes of prolonging his climax. It was no use. It had been too long, Clark was so hot and tight, and it was Clark.

Lex stiffened and cried out. His orgasm was ripped viciously from him, bringing the world to a shuddering stop. White stars danced wildly behind tightly closed eyelids. He couldn't breathe. His heart hammered in his chest, bursting to escape.

He felt Clark moving. His ears picked up the slick sound of a hand on flesh. He pried open his eyes and saw Clark's elbow at an angle to his body, his arm jerking back and forth rapidly.

Lex pulled out, replacing his spent cock with his fingers. Clark practically howled when Lex found his prostate. He came with Lex's name on his lips, spilling onto the white sheets beneath him.

Clark fell bonelessly onto his side, panting and grinning like a loon. "Awesome sex and I get the Lamborghini, too. This date rocks!"

Lex sputtered in laughter. "Clark!"



Continued