More Morgan/Clark
Jul. 9th, 2004 09:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
serafina20Continuing on with the Morgan/Clark prequal to Lex Luthor, Ace Reporter with Part 3. Rated NC-17
Part 1
Part 1
[Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<a [...] http://www.piekric.slashaholics-island.com/acereporter.htm">') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.]
Continuing on with the Morgan/Clark prequal to <i>Lex Luthor, Ace Reporter</i> with Part 3. Rated NC-17
<a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/serafina20/194377.html#cutid1">Part 1</a>
<a href="Title: Untitled (sequel to <a href="http://www.piekric.slashaholics-island.com/acereporter.htm">Lex Luthor Ace Reporter</a>)
Author: Serafina (<user site="livejournal.com" user="serafina20">)
Series/WIP: WIP
Genre: Slash
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Morgan Edge/Kal
Summary: Morgan Edge has a new acquisition: a young rent-boy named Kal.
<a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/serafina20/194377.html#cutid1">Part 1</a>
<a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/serafina20/194896.html#cutid1">Part 2</a>
<lj-cut text="Part 3">
Morgan's apartment was easily the coolest place Clark had ever been in. It was a penthouse that took up the entire top floor of the skyscraper. There were eight rooms, three of them were full of books, two with computers (one looked like an office), and one devoted to art, and one that contained Morgan's vast collection of movies. The living room had a skylight that let the afternoon sun in. There were two balconies--one off the dining room and one off Clark's bedroom. The television was plasma and mounted on the wall. Quentin let him buy both a PlayStation2 and an X-Box after breakfast. They also bought every game at the store. The computers had cable modems and Quentin showed Clark where the good 'net porn was. And then paid for it.
Clark had hit the big time, no doubt about it. A rich man wanted to keep him as a pet and, truth be told, Clark didn't mind being kept. Especially by the owner of his new favorite club.
Clark had been in Metropolis a month. He'd ripped off hundreds of ATM's, robbed three banks, held up an armored car, mugged countless muggers. He'd been on shopping sprees to decorate what he'd thought was a decent apartment. Clark's days were devoted to sleep, movies, and the acquisition of money. Nights were devoted to clubbing and, lately, sex. At first, he'd held back, uncomfortable with being touched, frustrated by the fact he couldn't find anyone close to Lana Lang's perfection.
And then, he'd met Jake. Or maybe his name had been Joe. Whatever his name, he'd been the first one that made the itching in Clark's skin go away, and then to light Clark on fire. In the back alley behind the club where they'd met, they'd frantically rubbed against each other, kissing and biting, bringing each other off.
The next night, Clark had skipped the straight clubs and gone directly to a place called Club Zero. He'd given and gotten his first blow job that night, accidentally burning the place down when he'd come.
Nights had settled into a pattern after that. Go to a club, find a couple guys to screw around with, go home feeling sated, his skin and scar numb.
Then, one night, some pimp had tried to jump him. Clark had gotten into a huge brawl that nearly gotten him arrested. When he tried to return to the club a few nights later, he'd been banned.
But the idea that he could make money off sex was firmly planted in his mind. So, he'd tried Atlantis. And found that sex sold. And was a hell of a lot of fun.
Being picked up by Morgan was luck. Pure luck. Clark knew that he couldn’t have continued the way he was going. The Atlantis gig was due to blow up in a week or so, he figured. Soon, he'd go through all the clubs in the city and have to move on. And while there wasn't anything that was keeping him in Kansas, Clark liked the city, and didn't really want to leave.
Morgan was going to keep him here. Okay, yeah, he was keeping Clark on a leash. Or a gilded cage, whichever metaphor you wanted to use. And, yes, Clark had fled Smallville partly to escape the leash or cage or whatever. But Morgan didn't want Kal the way Jor-El wanted Kal. Morgan wanted Kal in his bed, or playing video games or whatever. To indulge his hedonistic side and, frankly, Clark felt he deserved to for a change.
He didn't want to conquer the world. He didn't want to hurt his .... Hurt the Kents anymore. And if he only got to suck one cock instead of a hundred to keep him comfortable, well, then he'd do it. Morgan probably had a nice cock. There was something really sexy about him for an old man.
By the time one o'clock rolled around, Clark was ready for Morgan. He showered carefully, using all the expensive products in the bathroom. He blow dried his hair so it curled softly, and gelled to keep it in place. There was lubricant and condoms under the kitchen sink. Carefully, Clark slicked his fingers and stretched himself out as best he could. He couldn’t feel pain, of course; even though the red meteor rock made his skin more sensitive and occasionally made the scar feel like it was on fire, pain was still something theoretical.
However. He'd been fucked once. And he hated it. A lot. But Morgan was paying him a lot of money for the pleasure of .... Anyway. Maybe taking extra time to stretch his passage would make it easier.
He didn't care about more enjoyable.
One o'clock found him stretched and naked on the couch, cock half hard. He was listening attentively for Morgan's arrival, wanting to be hard and ready when he appeared.
The doorknob rattled at ten after one. Clark stroked his cock roughly, bringing it to full hardness.
The door opened and Morgan appeared. He was dressed in a black and blue, his slacks pressed with a sharp crease down the middle, his shirt three shades darker than his eyes, a black coat hanging around him like wings. His eyes seemed to gleam behind his glasses when he saw Clark, and a small, amused smile graced his lips. "Hello Kal."
"Hey." He stretched luxuriously, and then returned to his work. "How was your day?"
"It was fine." He shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the rack. "How do you like the apartment?"
"Come over here and I'll show you how much I like it."
The smile grew. Clark didn't like it. He seemed ... smug, somehow. And he wasn't looking at Clark with lust. At least, not like any kind of lust Clark had ever seen.
"I'll have to pass for now. There's some work I need to get done."
Clark sat up. "But .... but ..."
"Oh, and I have a task I need you to do for me tonight," Morgan said as he walked across the room. He went to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator. It wasn't like the plastic, cheap water bottles Clark usually drank; the bottle was made of blue glass and looked expensive. When he returned, he sat on the couch. If Clark moved just a little, he could press against Morgan's body and bring himself some relief.
"You do?" he said instead. He bit his lip and ran his hand over the tip of his cock.
Morgan nodded and leaned against the back of the couch. His body formed a sort of bridge over Clark, and he seemed to hold himself carefully, so as not to touch Clark.
But Morgan was so close. So close, and he wasn't. Touching. Clark.
"I need you to break into Lane Towers and steal some documents. The files I need are in Lois Lane's office, which is on the thirtieth floor. They're in a locked file cabinet in her desk."
"Child's play," Clark said, breathing heavily. The heavy heat that always came over him when he jacked off had embraced him, and he wasn't doing this for show anymore. He'd always enjoyed playing with himself, feeling the heavy length of his cock in his hand, feeling it fill with blood, feel his hands stroke from tip to root. He always twisted his wrist just a little at the bottom, and pleasure zinged through him.
Morgan lifted the bottle to his lip and took a long drink. When he pulled away, he ran his tongue of the opening with an almost contemplative expression on his face.
Clark groaned.
"I figured I'd start you on something easy. Easy, but important." He lowered the bottle to his knee and idly stroke his finger over the top. "You've heard about what's happening with LuthorCorp?"
"No." Clark watched Morgan's finger, heart pounding harder. Fire was building in his groin, and his skin tingled. He wanted to be touched. Badly. By Morgan. His nipples were draw into tight peaks and ached. No one ever touched his nipples. No one ever touched *him* and he was being paid to touch and be touched. Wasn't he?
"I see. Well, there's intrigue brewing, as there often is, between LuthorCorp and Lane Enterprises. Lionel Luthor has asked me to relieve Miss Lane of some documents for half a million dollars. As it's an easy job, I think ten percent is a good enough fee."
Clark groaned at the thought of the money, cock twitching. He felt a drop of precome ooze out of the hole, and he caught it in his finger. "What time do you want me to go?"
"I think midnight should suffice. Slip in, steal the file, and slip out. Try not to be seen by the security cameras. Cover your face, perhaps."
Why wasn’t Morgan touching him? God, Clark was in agony. "Yeah." He'd agree to anything at this point. He'd dye his hair, wear make-up. He'll, he'd wear a dress if only Morgan would pay attention to what he was doing.
Clark shifted; his cock brushed Morgan's shirt, and the sensation shot through him, making his toes curl. "I'll do what you want, no problem. But first ..." He licked his lips and smiled sultrily. "Don't you want me?" He twisted his hips in what he hoped was an enticing motion.
Dispassionately, Morgan looked down at Clark's cock. He didn't move except to take another drink of water.
What was wrong?
Frustrated, Clark lifted his free hand to his nipples and tugged. He groaned and the sound was only partially staged. Morgan may not be touching him, but his gaze was heavy on Clark's skin. Beads of sweat formed on Clark's forehead as he stroked harder, faster. He cupped and fondled his balls, then allowed one finger to penetrate his hole.
He didn't like other people in there. That one time had sucked. But this .... Sliding a semi-slick digit in and out in quick, short movements while he stroke his turgid cock. His stomach clenched, and he keened softly as he stroked faster and faster until his hand was a blur and ...
Morgan licked the opening of the water bottle again, then swallowed it down. His lips wrapped around the hard blue glass and his throat worked in slow, languid movements as he tipped his head back to drink.
Clark's entire body seized and his came. Semen welled over his fist, which was clenched tightly over the head of his cock. It dripped down his hand in viscous strands. Clark was so close to Morgan, that some got on his slacks. Tiredly, Clark wondered if he should offer to lick it off, but decided against it. Instead, he stroked it over his sweaty chest to his mouth and licked his hand curiously, eyes on Morgan.
He produced a light blue handkerchief from his pocket; Clark caught the initials *LL* embroidered in the corner. Then he turned it so the initials were hidden and scrubbed at the semen. "I've got some work to do, and then I might get some more sleep. Feel free to come or go as you like. This isn't a prison. I'll want to speak to you before you leave for Lane Enterprises. I have a key card for the side door entrance and a cell phone, in case you need to contact me." The, raising his bottle to his lips again, he left the room.
A hot bubble of anger rose in Clark's chest so quickly that he had to direct his gaze to the fireplace so he didn't set the penthouse on fire. Although it would serve Morgan right.
What the hell was wrong with that man? Clark was literally his for the taking. Clark would let him do *anything* for the right money. And he was paying the right money. Why wasn't he taking Clark?
"Twisted bastard," Clark said, realizing what Morgan was trying to do. He was trying to drive him crazy. To play him. To humiliate him.
Well, Morgan didn't know who he was dealing with. He was Clark ... Kal ...
He was himself. And he wasn't going to be played for a fool.
TBC
<a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/serafina20/194377.html#cutid1">Part 1</a>
<a href="Title: Untitled (sequel to <a href="http://www.piekric.slashaholics-island.com/acereporter.htm">Lex Luthor Ace Reporter</a>)
Author: Serafina (<user site="livejournal.com" user="serafina20">)
Series/WIP: WIP
Genre: Slash
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Morgan Edge/Kal
Summary: Morgan Edge has a new acquisition: a young rent-boy named Kal.
<a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/serafina20/194377.html#cutid1">Part 1</a>
<a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/serafina20/194896.html#cutid1">Part 2</a>
<lj-cut text="Part 3">
Morgan's apartment was easily the coolest place Clark had ever been in. It was a penthouse that took up the entire top floor of the skyscraper. There were eight rooms, three of them were full of books, two with computers (one looked like an office), and one devoted to art, and one that contained Morgan's vast collection of movies. The living room had a skylight that let the afternoon sun in. There were two balconies--one off the dining room and one off Clark's bedroom. The television was plasma and mounted on the wall. Quentin let him buy both a PlayStation2 and an X-Box after breakfast. They also bought every game at the store. The computers had cable modems and Quentin showed Clark where the good 'net porn was. And then paid for it.
Clark had hit the big time, no doubt about it. A rich man wanted to keep him as a pet and, truth be told, Clark didn't mind being kept. Especially by the owner of his new favorite club.
Clark had been in Metropolis a month. He'd ripped off hundreds of ATM's, robbed three banks, held up an armored car, mugged countless muggers. He'd been on shopping sprees to decorate what he'd thought was a decent apartment. Clark's days were devoted to sleep, movies, and the acquisition of money. Nights were devoted to clubbing and, lately, sex. At first, he'd held back, uncomfortable with being touched, frustrated by the fact he couldn't find anyone close to Lana Lang's perfection.
And then, he'd met Jake. Or maybe his name had been Joe. Whatever his name, he'd been the first one that made the itching in Clark's skin go away, and then to light Clark on fire. In the back alley behind the club where they'd met, they'd frantically rubbed against each other, kissing and biting, bringing each other off.
The next night, Clark had skipped the straight clubs and gone directly to a place called Club Zero. He'd given and gotten his first blow job that night, accidentally burning the place down when he'd come.
Nights had settled into a pattern after that. Go to a club, find a couple guys to screw around with, go home feeling sated, his skin and scar numb.
Then, one night, some pimp had tried to jump him. Clark had gotten into a huge brawl that nearly gotten him arrested. When he tried to return to the club a few nights later, he'd been banned.
But the idea that he could make money off sex was firmly planted in his mind. So, he'd tried Atlantis. And found that sex sold. And was a hell of a lot of fun.
Being picked up by Morgan was luck. Pure luck. Clark knew that he couldn’t have continued the way he was going. The Atlantis gig was due to blow up in a week or so, he figured. Soon, he'd go through all the clubs in the city and have to move on. And while there wasn't anything that was keeping him in Kansas, Clark liked the city, and didn't really want to leave.
Morgan was going to keep him here. Okay, yeah, he was keeping Clark on a leash. Or a gilded cage, whichever metaphor you wanted to use. And, yes, Clark had fled Smallville partly to escape the leash or cage or whatever. But Morgan didn't want Kal the way Jor-El wanted Kal. Morgan wanted Kal in his bed, or playing video games or whatever. To indulge his hedonistic side and, frankly, Clark felt he deserved to for a change.
He didn't want to conquer the world. He didn't want to hurt his .... Hurt the Kents anymore. And if he only got to suck one cock instead of a hundred to keep him comfortable, well, then he'd do it. Morgan probably had a nice cock. There was something really sexy about him for an old man.
By the time one o'clock rolled around, Clark was ready for Morgan. He showered carefully, using all the expensive products in the bathroom. He blow dried his hair so it curled softly, and gelled to keep it in place. There was lubricant and condoms under the kitchen sink. Carefully, Clark slicked his fingers and stretched himself out as best he could. He couldn’t feel pain, of course; even though the red meteor rock made his skin more sensitive and occasionally made the scar feel like it was on fire, pain was still something theoretical.
However. He'd been fucked once. And he hated it. A lot. But Morgan was paying him a lot of money for the pleasure of .... Anyway. Maybe taking extra time to stretch his passage would make it easier.
He didn't care about more enjoyable.
One o'clock found him stretched and naked on the couch, cock half hard. He was listening attentively for Morgan's arrival, wanting to be hard and ready when he appeared.
The doorknob rattled at ten after one. Clark stroked his cock roughly, bringing it to full hardness.
The door opened and Morgan appeared. He was dressed in a black and blue, his slacks pressed with a sharp crease down the middle, his shirt three shades darker than his eyes, a black coat hanging around him like wings. His eyes seemed to gleam behind his glasses when he saw Clark, and a small, amused smile graced his lips. "Hello Kal."
"Hey." He stretched luxuriously, and then returned to his work. "How was your day?"
"It was fine." He shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the rack. "How do you like the apartment?"
"Come over here and I'll show you how much I like it."
The smile grew. Clark didn't like it. He seemed ... smug, somehow. And he wasn't looking at Clark with lust. At least, not like any kind of lust Clark had ever seen.
"I'll have to pass for now. There's some work I need to get done."
Clark sat up. "But .... but ..."
"Oh, and I have a task I need you to do for me tonight," Morgan said as he walked across the room. He went to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator. It wasn't like the plastic, cheap water bottles Clark usually drank; the bottle was made of blue glass and looked expensive. When he returned, he sat on the couch. If Clark moved just a little, he could press against Morgan's body and bring himself some relief.
"You do?" he said instead. He bit his lip and ran his hand over the tip of his cock.
Morgan nodded and leaned against the back of the couch. His body formed a sort of bridge over Clark, and he seemed to hold himself carefully, so as not to touch Clark.
But Morgan was so close. So close, and he wasn't. Touching. Clark.
"I need you to break into Lane Towers and steal some documents. The files I need are in Lois Lane's office, which is on the thirtieth floor. They're in a locked file cabinet in her desk."
"Child's play," Clark said, breathing heavily. The heavy heat that always came over him when he jacked off had embraced him, and he wasn't doing this for show anymore. He'd always enjoyed playing with himself, feeling the heavy length of his cock in his hand, feeling it fill with blood, feel his hands stroke from tip to root. He always twisted his wrist just a little at the bottom, and pleasure zinged through him.
Morgan lifted the bottle to his lip and took a long drink. When he pulled away, he ran his tongue of the opening with an almost contemplative expression on his face.
Clark groaned.
"I figured I'd start you on something easy. Easy, but important." He lowered the bottle to his knee and idly stroke his finger over the top. "You've heard about what's happening with LuthorCorp?"
"No." Clark watched Morgan's finger, heart pounding harder. Fire was building in his groin, and his skin tingled. He wanted to be touched. Badly. By Morgan. His nipples were draw into tight peaks and ached. No one ever touched his nipples. No one ever touched *him* and he was being paid to touch and be touched. Wasn't he?
"I see. Well, there's intrigue brewing, as there often is, between LuthorCorp and Lane Enterprises. Lionel Luthor has asked me to relieve Miss Lane of some documents for half a million dollars. As it's an easy job, I think ten percent is a good enough fee."
Clark groaned at the thought of the money, cock twitching. He felt a drop of precome ooze out of the hole, and he caught it in his finger. "What time do you want me to go?"
"I think midnight should suffice. Slip in, steal the file, and slip out. Try not to be seen by the security cameras. Cover your face, perhaps."
Why wasn’t Morgan touching him? God, Clark was in agony. "Yeah." He'd agree to anything at this point. He'd dye his hair, wear make-up. He'll, he'd wear a dress if only Morgan would pay attention to what he was doing.
Clark shifted; his cock brushed Morgan's shirt, and the sensation shot through him, making his toes curl. "I'll do what you want, no problem. But first ..." He licked his lips and smiled sultrily. "Don't you want me?" He twisted his hips in what he hoped was an enticing motion.
Dispassionately, Morgan looked down at Clark's cock. He didn't move except to take another drink of water.
What was wrong?
Frustrated, Clark lifted his free hand to his nipples and tugged. He groaned and the sound was only partially staged. Morgan may not be touching him, but his gaze was heavy on Clark's skin. Beads of sweat formed on Clark's forehead as he stroked harder, faster. He cupped and fondled his balls, then allowed one finger to penetrate his hole.
He didn't like other people in there. That one time had sucked. But this .... Sliding a semi-slick digit in and out in quick, short movements while he stroke his turgid cock. His stomach clenched, and he keened softly as he stroked faster and faster until his hand was a blur and ...
Morgan licked the opening of the water bottle again, then swallowed it down. His lips wrapped around the hard blue glass and his throat worked in slow, languid movements as he tipped his head back to drink.
Clark's entire body seized and his came. Semen welled over his fist, which was clenched tightly over the head of his cock. It dripped down his hand in viscous strands. Clark was so close to Morgan, that some got on his slacks. Tiredly, Clark wondered if he should offer to lick it off, but decided against it. Instead, he stroked it over his sweaty chest to his mouth and licked his hand curiously, eyes on Morgan.
He produced a light blue handkerchief from his pocket; Clark caught the initials *LL* embroidered in the corner. Then he turned it so the initials were hidden and scrubbed at the semen. "I've got some work to do, and then I might get some more sleep. Feel free to come or go as you like. This isn't a prison. I'll want to speak to you before you leave for Lane Enterprises. I have a key card for the side door entrance and a cell phone, in case you need to contact me." The, raising his bottle to his lips again, he left the room.
A hot bubble of anger rose in Clark's chest so quickly that he had to direct his gaze to the fireplace so he didn't set the penthouse on fire. Although it would serve Morgan right.
What the hell was wrong with that man? Clark was literally his for the taking. Clark would let him do *anything* for the right money. And he was paying the right money. Why wasn't he taking Clark?
"Twisted bastard," Clark said, realizing what Morgan was trying to do. He was trying to drive him crazy. To play him. To humiliate him.
Well, Morgan didn't know who he was dealing with. He was Clark ... Kal ...
He was himself. And he wasn't going to be played for a fool.
TBC
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-07-09 10:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-07-10 10:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-07-10 01:12 am (UTC)But, as I said before, since it is a prequel to the wonderful "Lex Luthor, Ace Reporter" I look forward to reading more about this and try to remind myself that all is well that ends well with Lex having his Clark by his side.
And your writing is always worth reading, because you take such care with it and you just have an amazing talent for spinning a story. Thanks.
no subject
Date: 2004-07-10 10:48 am (UTC)If you're having mixed feeling about it, then don't read it. Since it's a prequel, your understanding/enjoyment of either fic isn't dependent on reading it. Lex Luthor, Ace Reporter can stand on it's own without this; I just happen to love the idea of Morgan and Clark/Kal having an affair and how it influences their relationship in the future. But if you're uncomfortable with it, you don't have to put yourself through it.
Thanks for the comment, though.
no subject
Date: 2004-07-10 04:07 am (UTC)This is how I managed the relationship pre-Lex, and I imagine Morgan will be more receptive to Kal.
no subject
Date: 2004-07-10 10:50 am (UTC)Thanks!
I like the way you are writing Kal, he's certainly one warped individual whose satisfaction is all that matters to him and yet I still love reading about him.
Well, there's that, but there's also a great deal of counfusion in him. He really has no idea *what* he's supposed to do. Morgan offered him a shitload of money to keep him, and Clark figures that means sex, even if he doesn't particuarlly look forward to being penetrated. But you'er right: it comes back to wanting to satisfy his own desires with the nice place.
He's sort of a teenage Peter Pan in a way; it's all about him and *his* enjoyment in the end.
*wanders off to ponder a teenage Peter Pan/Hook fic*
Morgan/Clark
Date: 2004-07-10 06:56 am (UTC)Re: Morgan/Clark
Date: 2004-07-10 10:51 am (UTC)Thank you! And of course I don't mind being friended; I've added you back. :)