Lex Luthor wasn't quite certain into what rabbit hole he had fallen.

The party was an intimate affair. The guests wore their finest frippery. A long table with place settings for twelve took up most of the room. A crackling fire danced behind the wrought iron grill in front of the fireplace. The chandelier cast crystal patterns on the dark paneled walls.

Behind the table, in front of the leaded glass window, a man with a bushy beard and long hair argued with a photographer. Apparently, only Jesus was allowed to do Big Arms. Lex's father was there, with bigger hair than Jesus but a neatly trimmed beard and mustache, scowling manfully and pompously, and wearing a name badge that read: 'o Hell, my name is Satan.' In the corner, Martha and Jonathan Kent stood side by side, a large basket at their feet. Someone in a kilt stopped in front of the Kents, and Jonathan said something and handed the Scottish man a platypus.

Lex walked past four Hobbits tussling on his oriental rug and over to the Kents. "Mr. and Mrs. Kent."

"Beauty is only skin deep," Jonathan intoned. He handed Lex a platypus.

Lex looked at the platypus. The platypus looked at Lex.

A tinkle of laughter turned Lex's head, and across the room laid a harem of nude women around the feet of an equally nude Clark Kent. Clark had wings. Pearlescent, finely feathered, beautiful wings.

Lex mumbled farewell to the elder Kents and he and his platypus made his way to the angel.

"Clark," said Lex, looking at the nude man, "you're naked. And you have wings."

"Lex," said Clark, smiling innocently, "you're naked. And you have a platypus."

Lex looked down. He adjusted his platypus to cover his dick, hoping the platypus wouldn't bite.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lex saw a bright white light on the far side of the room. Curious, he ventured over, and found a bit of the rug had curled back, like the edge of a page of paper. Where the rug curled back, the bright white light was exposed.

Lex found that he needed both hands to pull on the piece of rug, and set his platypus down. It ambled off on its webbed feet. Lex grasped the edge of the rug and pulled. The rug came free, peeling away like cheap scotch tape, revealing a blank white space hidden behind it. More of the room disappeared as Lex pulled: the walls, the fireplace, and the table and place settings for twelve; Jesus, Satan, angel Clark and his harem, the Kents and their platypi, until Lex was alone in a wall-less, floor-less area of white with a crumpled ball of cellophane in his hands.

Lex tossed the cellophane ball away. He was on a blank slate. Tabula rasa. Nothing around him or under him or behind him or on him to hide around, under, behind, or in.

He was exposed.

Lex sat. Ankles crossed, arms around bent knees, head bowed.

A platypus ambled by.

"You don't get anywhere by sitting on your ass, Lex," his father growled, towering over him. Lionel picked up the platypus and left.

Lex didn't move. He had nowhere else he wanted to be.

A warm body pressed behind him, warm arms wrapped around his waist, warm cock bumping the lower curve of his back. Breath warm against his ear, "Lex, you're naked."

"Clark, you're naked, too," breathed Lex. A soft laugh danced against the softer skin of his bare skull. Soft wings encircled them both.

"Do you believe a man can fly, Lex?"

"People can't fly, Clark," Lex stated logically. Stubbornly. Forlornly.

Clark's response was a feather-light whisper on a breeze: "I can. With you."

Lex lifted his head.

A field of newly cut grass stretched before him, and long, leafy branches stretched above. He was sitting shaded from the hot summer sun beneath an old oak tree. A soft, white cotton sheet was wrapped around him and a warm body pressed against his bare back.

"Hey, sleepyhead," ghosted a murmur in his ear.

Tilting his head back, Lex received a lazy, happy smile from a tousled-haired Clark. Lex tentatively smiled back. He felt something hard bump the curve of his lower back. He said, "Clark, you're naked."

Clark tumbled them both abruptly onto the soft bed of grass. He knelt over Lex, the sheet draped on them both, and laughed lightly and said, "Lex, you're naked, too."

Lex traced a finger along Clark's strong jaw. "Your father gave me a defective platypus." A tiny frown appeared between Clark's brows. Lex tried to smooth it out with a gentle touch. "He said that beauty is only skin deep."

"When did he say this?" Clark asked. "And why are you thinking about my father, here and now?"

"It was in my dream, just now," Lex answered. A corner of his mouth curled up. "My father was in it, too."

"Oh, well that settles it." Clark melted on top of Lex, forearms framing the bald man's head. He rocked slightly.

"Settles what?" Lex said with a hitch in his voice.


That made no sense, but Clark was kissing Lex so it didn't matter. Clark thrust gently against him, mouth brushing against his bare skin, nipping and licking. The sheet billowed slightly as they moved.

Clark whispered, "Fly with me."

Lex replied, "I love you."

There wasn't a platypus in sight.


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