hackthis_archive | SVFF. Lex/Clark; Lex/other

Completing this challenge was really touch and go, but I have prevailed, damnit.

SVFF Challenge
Author:

hackthis wrote for

lolitaluthor
Pairing: Clark/Lex & Lex/Other
Rating: R
Option A: Clark and Lex do Las Vegas. (Completed)
Option B: Clark and Lex as The Godfather. (I almost considered this too.)

Smallville/Ocean’s 11
Las Vegas Dealer

In no language known to man or Luthor did the word ‘vacation’ mean Las Vegas.

Lex was certain of this.

A proper vacation meant private islands off Fiji where Lex could coax Clark to sunbathe without his swim trucks. Vacations happened at plush hotels in Bali or the Caymans; they were full of rich food and blue water and time spent in bed. Real vacations involved maisons in Monmartre and abusing good chocolate for prurient uses.

In no universe that Lex inhabited was ’vacation’ associated with being trapped in the middle of a desert in Nevada.

Las Vegas was vodka shots at Calvin, correction: Snoop’s, Birthday party at the Hard Rock Cafe with Marshall and Andre. It was lap dances on business accounts at Olympic Gardens and sweating in 116 degree heat. Las Vegas was being locked out of hotel rooms by CEO progeny, bare-ass naked and streaking at three o’clock in the morning after taking the orange pill and the green pill and that purple one found under the bed next to the used condom.

Las Vegas was karaoke with Asian clients doing fifty-different incarnations of Elvis while swinging their hips and belting out ‘Jailhouse Rock.’

In short, the debauchery of Las Vegas was a lifestyle choice, not a vacation, and Clark was going to pay dearly for assuming otherwise. No Colgate smiles or gentle cosseting was going to assuage Lex’s foul temper at their final destination.

This was his surprise? What was next: joint holidays with his father?

Lex grumbled as he was jostled by a little old lady making a beeline for the nearest slot machine.

“I’ve never seen a blue-haired Elvis up close,” Clark whispered as they attempted to cut through the crowds at the airport and head to the baggage claim.

“Yes, well, I’m sure he’s never seen a blue-spandex clad superhero up close, either. You all should get together and compare notes,” Lex snapped as he was jostled again. He stumbled as another elderly lady almost mowed him down, but Clark just grinned back maliciously.

“That‘s what you get for being mean to me,’ he said triumphantly.

Clark had made them fly commercial, which was more constrictive than being tied up by Rachel Dunleavy. If Clark hadn’t confiscated his cell phone before they Metropolis... as soon as they got home, Lex was going call the FAA and lodge a dozen complaints.

“You brought me to Las Vegas, Clark. I’ll show you mean,” Lex retorted as they paused to find the correct luggage carousel. “Just wait until the return trip where I call the jet and let you take the cattle car back home.”

“It wasn’t that bad, Lex.”

“Were we on the same flight? I’m not sure what carrier you were flying, but my flight was four hours and they only gave us peanuts, and that was in first class. The brat in coach wouldn’t stop crying about his fucking dinosaur, and I wouldn’t have used that sad excuse for champagne to clean my toilet.”

The look on Clark’s face went from moderately amused to slightly insulted, and Lex automatically slid his hands into his pockets. He was not going to offer physical comfort. He was not going to try and make things better. He was pissed off, and he was stranded in Vegas. This was not his idea of rest and relaxation.

“Lex, you don’t know how to clean a toilet.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Yes, and neither is all your bitching.”

“I am not bitching,” Lex shot back hotly, but he bit his tongue when Clark pursed his lips. The look was very Martha Kent, and practically demanded contrition, but he was a Luthor. He was strong, dammit.

“This is a vacation. It’s supposed to be fun; you’re not supposed to spend the entire time acting like Lois.”

Lex inhaled sharply. “That was low, Clark.”

Clark’s feral grin showed his teeth in all their glory. “I know, but it was effective.”

Lex considered Clark carefully, all the while keeping one eye on the conveyor belt lest some hooligan try and make off with his luggage to sell the contents. One never knew when dealing with commercial airlines and baggage handlers who were probably kleptomaniacs.

“We could get the next flight to LAX and have the jet take us to Hawaii,” he offered for the eighth time in three hours. He only had their best, most prurient interests at heart, and Lex was nothing if not persistent.

“No, Lex.”

“We could be there by late afternoon. Black sand beaches, Clark. You could try surfing. I’ve seen you watching Surf Girls on MTV, I know you want to.”

Clark’s eyes flickered at the mention of surfing, but he shook his head. His hair fell into his eyes, and Lex felt something constrict in his chest. No. He was strong. He was the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. He did not take vacations in Las Vegas.

“I could take you anywhere in the world: Prague, Egypt, the Galapagos, Brazil, New Zealand?” Lex was getting desperate. “I heard they have great surfing there.”

“I don’t need to go ’anywhere,’” Clark said.

Lex sighed in the manner of the long suffering. “Just tell me again, why Vegas?”

Clark leaned forward and snagged his beat-up duffle bag off the conveyor belt. “Chloe and Wally had a good time here.”

“That’s not what I would call a ringing endorsement.”

Clark frowned. “How about because I’ve never been before?”

“But I could take you gambling in Monte Carlo…”

“No, Lex.”

“Clark, please.” Lex’s luggage came around, and he grabbed his garment bag, slinging the strap over his shoulder. The bag was quite light considering, but when Clark had said he was whisking Lex away for a sun-filled weekend, Lex had thought that meant on a small Caribbean island. Las Vegas was not a Caribbean island, even if he counted that newest disaster to crowd the strip, The St. Croix.

“No, Lex.”

“It wouldn’t cost you anything.”

“No.”

“I know you want everything to be equal, and what have you, but I really don’t mind. I like paying for you. It doesn‘t bother me.”

Clark eyes darkened, and Lex mentally strapped on a helmet. He’d hit the wrong button.

“Well, I do mind,” Clark snapped, his voice drawing the attention of several people nearby. “Money isn’t everything; I know you forget that sometimes.”

Lex’s face burned, but he glared when the blue-haired Elvis glanced at them questioningly. He hadn’t come all this way to be chided for wanting to do something nice for his lover. Philanthropy was supposed to be a good thing. Besides, Clark could have made hundreds of millions of dollars with his abilities; he didn’t have to earn a pittance scraping away at The Daily Planet. That wasn’t Lex’s fault.

Letting his mouth get away from him when he was dealing with Clark, that was his fault.

“Look,” Clark began again, guiding Lex away from curious ears. “I know you can buy everything on God’s green earth and several orbiting moons, but can you humor me this once? Please?”

Pretending to look thoughtful, Lex took several seconds to straighten Clark’s shirt and brush out the ever-present wrinkles. Clark’s eyes followed his motions warily, but he did nothing to stop Lex’s minstrations, which said a lot. Clark hated it when Lex fussed, and once again Lex was felled by the Kent pride. Sighing, he shook his head, and motioned to the double doors. “If I must, I must.”

Clark grinned, hefting his duffle bag onto his shoulder. “You won’t regret this,” he said, briefly squeezing Lex’s hand as they left the airport and walked into the oppressive heat.

The change in temperature made Lex’s mouth go dry.

“Regret is not a strong enough word,” he rasped out, eventually. He was going to have to work on his lexicon. Thank god he had only agreed to three days.

::

Thankfully the Bellagio was much more Lex’s speed, and on the ride up in the elevator, he made a silent agreement with his pride not to make too much of the money issue. It didn’t often come between them, but when it did it could get vicious, and if Clark was trying to do something nice for them, Lex would do his best to appreciate the effort. At least it wasn’t camping.

The suite, however, was an unexpected shock. To put a rather fine point on it, it was the epitome of splendor and luxury without the gaudy Las Vegas glitz. More over it was so far outside Clark’s price range that Lex grew very suspicious. Plasma screen televisions in the bedroom and living room, and a gorgeous view that was completely wasted on the strip.

“Who...,” he began, strolling from room to room. “How...” he said, pausing at the entrance to the bathroom.

Dazed and not a bit confused, he finally came to a stop at the bar where Clark was standing, glass in hand and smile firmly in place. Taking a seat on one of the stools, Lex allowed Clark to pour him a glass of the champagne that had materialized. It was nothing like the appalling fizz on the plane over, and Lex murmured appreciatively.

He was not going to ask.

He was not going to ask.

He considered Clark’s grin over the rim of the glass as he sipped, and placing the glass on the bar, he reached out and tugged Clark into the space between his outstretched legs. His fingers tangled in Clark’s hair as he pushed the black locks behind Clark’s right ear.

He was not going to ask. He was going to get laid.

“All right, Superman, are you going to tell me how you swung the posh suite and the rather questionable first class tickets, or am I going to have to use force?”

Clark just grinned and leaned forward. “I think that the application of force is a good idea,” he said before kissing Lex firmly on the mouth. The kiss tasted fizzy, and Lex wondered how long it would take for him to pry himself away from Clark and order strawberries from room service. It was a shame he wasn’t the sort of man to carry chocolate with him; it would have gone perfectly with the champagne. It was almost as much a shame as Clark eating that last Snickers on the plane.

Lex’s hands slid over Clark’s chest and moved downward to cup Clark’s ass, even as Lex’s spine began to rub against the marble edge of the bar. He could take a little discomfort as long as Clark continued to do that thing with his mouth.

Clark murmured his approval as he thrust shallowly against Lex’s hips, and Lex nipped at his earlobe. “You said force, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, I think the force would be stronger in the bedroom, don’t you?”

Clark pulled back, his lips wet and swollen, and Lex felt his cock twitch. He swallowed when Clark nodded, and slid off the stool with some difficulty. The bedroom wasn’t that far away, he could make it, but only if Clark let go of him and stopped thrusting against his ass.

Lex sighed as Clark’s hands slid around his waist and one dipped into the waistband of his pants.

“Here is good, too,” Lex amended, as Clark brushed his lips against the back of his head and the side of his neck. He thrust against Clark’s hand, and groaned when Clark squeezed. There was a lot to be said for superheroes and horny reporters.

“What about forcing the answers out of me?” Clark inquired as Lex turned in the circle of his arms and began unbuttoning buttons and unfastening belts. The violently red and yellow ‘S’ only made Lex pause for a second before he began looking for the hidden zippers.

Lex kissed him harshly. “You’re Superman; you are the force.”

Clark let go of Lex long enough to help in his disrobing. “I thought that was Luke Skywalker.”

Clark’s belt landed with a thud on the bar, and Lex inhaled sharply as he slipped the khakis past Clark’s hipbones. “I’ll call George Lucas when we get home. I‘m sure I can make him an offer he‘ll accept.”

::

It could have been worse.

Through the clanging of jackpots and the cigarette smoke and the bustle of people, Lex knew for certain it could have been worse. He wasn’t terribly sure how, but after being stranded on a desert island for forty-three days, surviving two black widows and countless murder attempts, he felt certain that running into Rusty ‘sometimes Ocean’ Ryan in the lobby of the Bellagio wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to him. He just couldn’t think of anything worse right now.

“Lex, you look good,” Rusty said, circling Lex like a hustler picking his target. “It’s been a while, but you know I was thinking about looking you up after I left Vegas.”

Lex turned around, keeping a wary eye on Rusty’s every move. He was resolutely not looking at how well turned out Rusty was. He was not looking at Rusty’s ass in imported silk suit trousers, either.

“You were going to look me up for what, Rusty? I‘m not sure I can afford to be found by you, and the last time I heard from you, you were making a living stealing from kids in Hollywood.”

Rusty gestured to the atrium with a nod of his head, and Lex found himself following along. Against his better judgment. Clark wouldn’t know where he was if he left, but if he stuck around and Clark met Rusty...

Well, Lex really didn’t want Clark meeting Rusty. And not just because Rusty’s smile naturally implied torrid sex and illegal activities.

They walked several steps away from the main floor, towards the High Rollers room, before Rusty rounded on Lex again and flashed that know-it-all grin. “I’m a changed man, Lex, I’m surprised you’d think I’d still do things like that.”

Lex would never admit to snorting in derision, but he did. “What did you always tell me, Rusty? ‘Men like me don’t change? We either get old or sloppy, but we don’t change.’”

Rusty laughed. “So you were listening to me? I thought you were too busy planning my death.”

“After all that money you stole from me, you can’t really be surprised, can you?”

The last time they’d been together, Lex had lost fifty-three grand in half an hour in a poker game. That never would’ve happened if Rusty hadn’t sucked his brain out his cock earlier in the day.

“I didn’t steal it, Lex. I won it from you fair and square.”

“Right, Robin Hood, you were just liberating it for the good of the people.”

“It’s not my fault you can’t play poker.”

Lex glared at Rusty, who just chuckled in response, but Lex wasn’t fooled.

“Who are you robbing this time, Rusty? I hope it’s not someone who’s actually going to want their money back.”

Rusty opened his mouth, ostensibly to deny any such thing, but Lex never heard the words because they were swallowed up by Clark calling his name. He hadn’t forgotten about Clark, he’d just been distracted. Shit.

Rusty was one very well-dressed distraction.

Turning sharply on his heel, Lex smiled as Clark jogged over to where he stood. He didn’t have to look at Rusty to know he was sizing the new arrival up, and discreetly Lex reached back and smacked Rusty‘s arm with the back of his hand.

Clark’s smile faltered a bit when he came to a stop at Lex’s side. “I was looking for you in the lobby, what are you doing over here?”

“Just catching up with an old friend,” Lex said automatically. He blinked when Clark’s face darkened. Right. He didn’t have old friends. Sliding a possessive arm around Clark’s waist, he turned back around when Rusty cleared his throat.

“Rusty this is Clark. Clark, Rusty.”

Clark made a move to shake hands, but Rusty laughed when Lex intercepted the motion. Physical contact with Rusty was always a sketchy thing, and Lex did not want Clark exposed.

“Nice to meet you,” Clark said, and Lex bit back a laugh. People always thought it was nice to meet Rusty until he robbed them blind, the good looks tended to fool them.

“Likewise,” Rusty said, taking his time to give Clark an appreciative once over. “You gamble?”

“Not really.”

Rusty laughed, again. “Smart boy.”

This time it was Lex’s turn to look disapproving.

“Rusty...”

“I wasn’t looking for a game, Lex, just offering you some advice. If you were planning on betting on the boxing match tonight, I’d pass.”

Lex opened his mouth, and then shook his head. “Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.”

Rusty agreed. “No, you probably don’t.”

The ringing of a cell phone cut off whatever else Rusty was planning to say, and Clark glanced at Lex inquisitively.

“If you gentlemen will excuse me,” Rusty apologized, slipping the phone out his jacket pocket and glancing at the digital read out. Lex nodded, and used his hand to guide Clark away from Rusty’s conversation with someone named Danny. As they left the atrium, Clark looked back at Rusty and then turned to Lex.

“Who was that, and why do I have a bad feeling about the match tonight?”

Rather than go back to their suite, Lex urged Clark toward the street and out of the hotel. Whatever was happening at the Bellagio that evening was quite clearly something he didn’t want to have any knowledge of.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, prompting Clark to hand the valet the ticket for their car. “Whatever it is, it won’t hurt anyone anywhere they can‘t afford it. Besides, you don’t like boxing anyway.”

“Lex.”

Lex shook his head. “You’re the one who wanted to take a vacation, stop worrying.”

::

Lex had never been in a Vegas hotel that wasn’t overrun with gamblers, but when they returned to the hotel late that night all the tables were closed, much to Lex‘s amused chagrin. The following morning the lobby of the Bellagio was practically deserted save for people he assumed were guests and large groups of suited men that blended in about as well as vermilion and green wallpaper.

Lex wasn’t sure what had happened, but if he were a betting man, he would guess that Rusty was involved somehow. It didn’t make him as nervous as it should have, but his arm moved to the small of Clark’s back instinctively. No matter how invulnerable Clark was, Lex was always going to feel the need to protect him from the ethically-challenged side of life.

He kept his head facing forward but exchanged nods with a passing gentleman who he realized seconds later was Terry Benedict. Things began to fit themselves together like the engine of a car, and Lex shook his head as they emerged into the bright Nevada morning. That must have been one hell of a scam Rusty had pulled, and Lex missed whatever Clark whispered in his ear. He nodded absently instead, and thirty minutes later found himself standing in line to see something called Blue Man Group at the Luxor.

When the first drum sounded forty-five minutes after that, Lex found himself longing for luaus, roast pig, Clark lying naked on black sand beaches, and he contemplated praying to a god he didn’t believe in just to get him out of this sad excuse for ‘performance art.’

::

The Little White Wedding Chapel was at the very end of Las Vegas Boulevard, and Lex’s eyes grew considerably larger as they went from passing by to pulling into the parking lot. His palms grew moist and his mouth went dry as Clark pulled into a space and shifted the car into park. Visions of taffeta dresses, flammable silk and sinking planes filled Lex’s vision, but when he opened his mouth to demand an explanation nothing came out. When Clark reached over to the glove box, Lex’s lungs seized up.

Obviously he was having a panic attack. He hadn’t had asthma in years.

Before Clark could say anything, Lex had unfastened his seat belt and bolted out of the car. The parking lot began to swim before his eyes, and he dropped to his knees and gasped for air, shivering violently when Clark appeared at his side and wrapped himself around Lex protectively.

Clark’s hands smoothed Lex‘s scalp, and carefully he tried to rock Lex in his arms. “Lex, what is it? Are you all right? Do you want me to get you to a hospital?”

Lex gasped and shook his head. “I can’t -- wedding -- are you fucking insane?”

Clark’s grasp loosened considerably, allowing him to move alongside Lex, but he didn’t let go completely. “I wasn’t… I mean I was. Eventually. But not here. Not today.”

Clark hands stroked Lex’s back as he worked hard to get a handle on his breathing, and Lex took several shuddering breaths before he felt back under control. If it any been anyone else he would’ve had them killed for seeing him so unhinged. Stupid invulnerability.

“You weren’t what?” he demanded.

Clark’s hands fell away, and Lex ignored the inner voice that demanded he rectify the situation immediately.

“I wasn’t… I mean I was. I was looking for the map,” Clark conceded, his cheeks coloring.

“The map?”

“I had reservations for us at this spa, but I couldn’t remember where it was, so I pulled over… I thought that the spa would be a nice thing to try, you know, with the whole vacation thing.”

Clark’s voice trailed off again as shrugged helplessly, all the while keeping an appraising eye on Lex’s reaction. Not that Lex could blame him. He felt decidedly unstable and ignorant. He hated feeling ignorant. “First the plane tickets, then the hotel, now the spa. What the hell is going on, Clark?”

Clark shrugged again, splaying his legs out on the asphalt. “I just wanted to do something nice. For us.”

“For. Us,” Lex repeated as thought the idea were a novel concept.

“Yeah, I got the hotel and stuff from Perry, and I thought it’d be nice to get away…” Clark motioned around, looking away from Lex.

“From Perry,” Lex parroted, again.

“No, not away from Perry, but away from, you know, stuff. The other stuff was a thank you -- shut up it does happen sometimes, Lex -- after the back-to-back exposes that Lois and I did on City Hall and the DOT. He thought it would be nice with all the long hours we‘ve been working.”

“Perry White do something nice?“ Lex considered the white chapel behind them before turning back to Clark. “You were supposed to come to Vegas with Lois?”

White hadn’t liked Lex since that debacle involving White’s cousin, Lex’s ex-dealer and Toby. Obviously he was trying to break up Lex and Clark. Lex was going to take the Planet from that match-making, intervening, moralistic bastard and chop it up into Sunday gazettes. Why had he let Clark confiscate his cell phone before they left Metropolis?

“What? No! Perry sent her to some canyon ranch spa in Arizona where they’re supposed to teach you how to relax.”

Lex made a noise of derision. “That’ll be the day.” He was silent for several seconds watching traffic pass by, and thinking. Okay, so White wasn’t trying to break them up. Fine, then he could keep his dishrag of a newspaper that advocated truth, justice and same-sex marriages.

“You were going to ask me to marry you?” he said finally, glancing at Clark.

Clark looked nonplussed at the change of topic, but he still reached out and traced Lex’s face with the tips of his fingers.

“One day. I mean if you want, you don‘t have to.” Clark gestured back toward the chapel and then towards Lex sprawled on the pavement. “I know how you feel about the whole marriage thing --”

Lex cut him off decisively. “Oh, I want to.”

“Oh,” Clark paused. “Oh. Okay.”

Lex squinted as Clark grinned at him, and reaching out he slid his hand along the leg of Clark’s khakis. “One day.”

Clark nodded. “One day.”

“Can I help you boys?” a voice spoke up from behind them, and Lex brought up his hand to shade his eyes from the sun reflecting on all the rhinestones.

“Elvis?” he said, disbelief etching every line of his face.

“The one and only,” the blue-haired man replied with a huge smile. His bouffant hair-do reflected the sun like a blue mirror. “But you can call me The King.”

Lex gaped while Clark smiled. Elvis kept talking. “Didn’t I see you boys at the airport the other day? I was dog tired after my trip to Graceland, had to see my mama, but I coulda sworn I saw, y‘all.”

“Yeah, yes,” Clark amended. “You did.”

“Are y’all here to get married? Because if you are, you’re in luck, I just finished tuning up my guitar. Broke a string. Priscilla just bought me a new pair of blue suede shoes, and Bessie, that‘s my hound dog, she‘s just got back from the doggie parlor.”

Lex and Clark shared a small grin before helping each other to their feet.

“We’re not getting married today,” Lex began.

“But we’ll definitely come back and visit when we’re ready,” Clark added.

Elvis considered them both thoughtfully. “I see y’all aren’t rushing into it, which is a good thing, but I still think you could use some help from Elvis today.” He reached into his jumpsuit and pulled out two small flyers. “So, I want y’all to come down and see me perform at the Flamingo tonight, all right?”

Clark looked at Lex hopefully, and Lex nodded his head in agreement. He couldn’t say no to the King, even when he had blue hair. Besides, this was supposed to be a vacation.

Taking the proffered fliers, they walked back to the car and waved before getting into the rental. Lex watched as Elvis walked back to his chapel, and as soon as the door shut behind him, Lex turned to Clark with a grin.

“Superheroes and gentlemen, Elvis has left the parking lot.”

-finis-

Notes: Thanks to

ethrosdemon without whom this would never have gotten off the craps table. I have no doubt that you didn’t mean this, but you know how free I get with interpretation. Dedicated also to my benevolent LJ Fairy, thank you so much. Thanks to

meret and

serialkarma for beta duty and prodding, all remaining fuck-ups are mine.

*Also, for the lovely

serialkarma, who really has gone above and beyond in helping me get things ready for this week, a little something extra. I'd also like to thank

andariell for all her IT guru-ness as ten minutes ago I couldn't even get into this file.

Appendix A: Four Things About Rusty Ryan

What’s the first rule of poker?
Leave emotion at the door.
-Ocean’s Eleven

The first thing Lex noticed about Rusty was that nobody else noticed him. From the second he strolled into Asia de Cuba, to the moment he elbowed himself a place at the bar next to Lex, people made a point of trying not to notice him.

Oh, they responded if he nodded at them, but for the most part people did their best to act as though he didn‘t exist. He was the proverbial pink elephant in the middle of the living room, a concept Lex was well acquainted with. It was quite clear that it didn’t bother Rusty, either, and Lex liked that. So he wasn’t offended when Rusty quite blatantly poked him in the side, even though he didn’t apologize.

Instead, Lex nodded slightly, and made room for Rusty to share his perch at the bar.

Rusty had stubble around his jaw and perfectly mussed spiked blonde hair on his head. He smelled good, but not in a deliberately splashy way, and the bartender served Rusty a drink and a bowl of cocktail shrimp without any prompting, thereby insinuating that Rusty had clout or power or good credit.

Lex certainly liked that.

Of course, Lex was twenty, young, very sexually active and tended to like anything as pretty as Rusty was. It was a shame Lex was looking for a game tonight and not a lay, but perhaps those two things could be made to work together. So when Rusty slid the large goblet of shrimp and cocktail sauce Lex’s way, he smiled to himself. Taking a piece, graciously, Lex made a good show of sucking every last bit of cocktail sauce off before biting down firmly on the chilled shrimp.

Rusty just chuckled, his amusement evident. “My, what sharp teeth you have,” he said, gazing momentarily at Lex before taking another swig of his drink.

“I only bite if you ask nicely,” Lex prompted, remembering the story that Pamela used to read to him before bedtime.

Rusty laughed and motioned for the bartender. “Rusty,” he said, making no movement to shake Lex‘s hand.

“Lex.”

When the bartender arrived, Rusty nodded to the drink he’d just finished. “I’ll have another one and so will he.“

Lex shook his head. “I appreciate your offer, but I’m not looking for company tonight.”

Rusty laughed. “Neither am I.”

::

Three, four, five drinks after they met, Rusty and Lex were still at the bar, even though the evening was kicking into gear all around them. Girls came and went, and waiters bustled all around nervously, but neither one made a move to leave.

Lex was waiting for the concierge to slip him into the kitchen poker game that the restaurant was notorious for, and Rusty, apparently, just had time to kill. It was possible that Rusty was a trust fund kid, but something about his behaviour - too good manners - and patterns of speech, told Lex he was wrong.

In the end, it really didn’t matter to Lex, he figured that killing time staring at someone as pretty as Rusty was definitely not a bad way to spend an evening.

When Rusty climbed up on a bar stool to rest his head on the counter, Lex followed suit. Around them people ordered drinks, but they paid them no mind and continued to talk about Warrior Angel, Spiderman, and who was the greater superhero.

Lex shook his head and laughed when Rusty made some flapping motion with his arms and said something derisory about Cal’s purple wings, but he still noticed that Rusty wore a chunky silver ring of the third finger of his right hand.

Rusty said it was gift from a friend, although he didn’t mention names. However, as far as Lex could tell, Rusty made a point of not naming names. He also made a point of making polite and amusing conversation, although later on Lex wouldn’t be able to remember any of it.

Nevertheless, the second thing Lex noticed about Rusty, that really got his attention, was the enormous tattoo that started around Rusty’s left wrist. It crept up to places Lex’s eyes couldn’t follow, and was covered by the very nice imported silk shirt held together by platinum cufflinks that Lex vaguely recognized as a pair he might own. Rusty wore the sort of clothing that spoke volumes about how much money he got from somewhere, which really made Lex wonder where exactly. Every time he asked, he found the subject changed, but when Lex reached out drunkenly to trace Rusty’s tattoo, Rusty didn’t stop him.

His expression flickered slightly though, and before Lex knew what was happening, Rusty had dragged him off his stool, out the restaurant, and down the hall past the elevators to the bathroom.

::

The bathrooms in the Mondrian were very clean, which Lex had come to realize was not a sure bet in LA. Obviously the hotels and the restaurants he was expected to frequent all had their A Grades, but Lex knew all about the power of Kinko’s. Perhaps more tellingly than anything else, Lex had been spending his time in places that really didn’t give a damn about hygiene at all.

That was last thought Lex had about anything at all when Rusty dragged him into the cubicle at the end of the bathroom, and began unbuttoning his pants with a fervor Lex’s slightly inebriated fingers would never have managed.

Rusty graced Lex with a few dry kisses, as Lex scrambled not to fall into the toilet. He moaned rather piteously when Rusty’s hands dug hungrily into his boxers, and bit his lip hard at the first feel of Rusty‘s mouth on his cock.

He couldn’t even remember getting hard, and now he couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t. He’d come to Asia de Cuba to play games, and now he was being played, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care when Rusty’s mouth was so fucking hot.

Lex banged his head against the wall of the toilet, one too many times, and almost felt bad about gripping Rusty’s clothes to thrust as hard as he could.

While the alcohol worked against him, his age worked for him, and it didn’t take long for Lex to come yelling some drunken thing that made no sense at all.

He gasped as Rusty efficiently buttoned up his slacks, and made sure Lex's shirt was tucked in properly. He straightened Lex’s collar, straight his own collar, and then pressed a hard kiss to Lex’s parted lips.

“I had to do that before the game began,” Rusty said, by way of apology as Lex tried to make his eyeballs stop rolling in his head.

It took several seconds for Rusty’s words to sink into Lex’s brain. “Game?”

“You came to play poker, right? I couldn’t spend the entire night across from you wanting to do that. Now I can focus.”

Lex gaped. He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off when the door opened to the washroom and a voice called out. “Rusty? Are you gonna get this game started or what? You’ve got seven other people waiting in the kitchen.”

::

With a little time for revision and mental replay, Lex could remember how many fillings Rusty had in his mouth. With some prompting at a perfume counter, he could probably figure out what cologne Rusty had been wearing, and he only had to lick his own lips to remember that Rusty drank his Jack and coke heavy on the whiskey.

But the fourth thing that Lex learned about Rusty took place in the kitchen of a very upscale hotel, and it was that he played poker better than anyone Lex had ever met.

When Lex recused himself from the game only forty-five minutes after he‘d sat down, he was more than fifty grand lighter than he had been when he begun. Yet he left with a smile on his face, and a phone number for Rusty Ryan that he was sure didn’t work.

-finis-

Current Mood: happy
Current Music: Embrace ‘Hooligan’