About The Litney Universe
Subscribe to Litney Updates

The Litney Casting Couch

Read Lionel's Journal

SUMMER LOVERS -
• Book Cover
• Chapter One

• Epilogue, for MIT Challenge

DADDY LONGLEGS
• Chapter One
• Chapter Two
• Chapter Three
• Chapter Four
• Chapter Five
• Chapter Six
• Chapter Seven
• Chapter Eight
• Chapter Nine
• Chapter Ten
• Chapter Eleven

THE RING -
• Charade
•Monday Night Quarterback
•New Man in Town
•With Charity for None
• Masque and Mirrors
• The Bachelor Auction
• Giving Thanks

THE RING COVER ART
• "New Man in Town" Calvin Klein Ad #1
• "New Man" CK Ad #2

• Duplicity

WARNING: NC-17 Slash Fiction

Whitney brought candles to the bedroom and found Lionel sitting on the side of the bed, a white angel on the black silk sheets.

"Let me." Whitney placed one pillar on the dresser and another on the bedside table, then knelt in front of his lover. He helped Lionel remove his boots, then closed in for a kiss. "I've missed you."

"Prove it."

"Okay."

With a maximum of touching, kissing, and body contact, Whitney helped Lionel undress and had the favor returned. The process started slow and seductive, but by the time they were naked there was too much heat and desperation to take it slow.

They fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and caresses and hungry kisses as they fought for dominance. Whitney's superior strength won out and he pinned Lionel beneath him, stretching his lean, perfectly toned body the entire length of Lionel's equally athletic form. Flesh on flesh, plundering Lionel's mouth, thrusting his hips so that his cock ground deliciously, painfully against his lover's, Whitney controlled the pleasure and relished it, knowing the balance of power wouldn't last long in his favor.

Taking his weight his forearms, Whitney released Lionel's mouth from a searing kiss and began blazing a trail down his throat, across his chest, stopping to lathe one dark nipple, then the other. Lionel moaned and ran his fingers through Whitney's hair and kept them there as Whitney moved lower, across Lionel's stomach, lips and tongue pressing moist kisses until he came to the long, thick shaft that jutted up from a nest of dark curls.

Without any preamble, Whitney captured Lionel's cock, sucking hard on the tip; no finesse, just a hard suck that skirted the border between pleasure and pain. Lionel gasped and arched into the pleasure, bucking his hips, trying to fuck Whitney's mouth, but Whitney retreated.

Lionel moaned a ragged, "Fuck you," and Whitney chuckled, "In a minute," then captured Lionel's balls in his mouth. He sucked gently, driving Lionel not-so-quietly wild.

"Oh, God!" Lionel grabbed his own cock, but Whitney stayed his hand, released his sac, and crawled slowly back up the bed, never losing contact with his lover's sweat-slicked skin.

"I think you missed me, too, Lionel," he whispered before claiming another kiss.

Lionel wrenched his mouth away. "Let me show you how much," he growled, and Whitney took his cue, shifting his weight as Lionel reversed their positions, and then it was Lionel's turn. Cradled between Whitney's rock-hard thighs, Lionel mirrored the path that Whitney had taken, sliding slowly down his body, using his lips and tongue and beard to tease and torment, until he finally reached Whitney's aching cock.

Whitney tensed, knowing what was coming, but instead Lionel chose a subtler approach. His tongue traced the length of the pulsing vein from base to tip, then around the head once, twice, then again, until Whitney moaned, "Take it, Lionel! God, take it!" And he did, closing his mouth over the tip of the shaft, sliding deeper, then retreating. A little deeper each time until Whitney was thrusting and moaning unintelligible words that grew louder and more frantic as Lionel brought him to the brink. And left him there.

"Goddamn you!" he swore when Lionel's mouth disappeared. He opened his eyes and found Lionel in the flickering candlelight, sitting back on his haunches, his pale blue eyes dark and fierce, looking at Whitney like a lion about to devour its prey.

Whitney slid his feet up the silk sheets, tightening his thighs so that his knees and thighs ran lightly up Lionel's flank. "That was wicked."

Lionel grinned devilishly. "You get what you give." He reached for Whitney's cock and fingered it lightly. Whit's breath caught in his throat and he tried to fuck Lionel's hand, but the contact was too light, too ephemeral. Lionel's fingers slid lower, lightly cupping Whitney's balls, squeezing gently, then his fingers slid lower still, until he was lightly teasing the pucker of Whitney's ass with breathtaking results.

"Fuck me, Lionel," Whitney moaned, reaching for Lionel's swollen cock. "Please. Fuck me."

"I thought you'd never ask." He leaned across the bed to the night stand, then settled back between Whitney's splayed legs with a towel, a bottle of lubricant, and a foil wrapped condom. He bent his head to lick a drop of pre-come from Whitney's cock, earning a moan of pleasure for his trouble, then eased back onto his haunches, holding the condom between two fingers.

"Two months."

Whitney couldn't have been more confused and he thought he might die if Lionel didn't get on with it. Every muscle in his ass was tensing and releasing in anticipation, as though they could pull Lionel's cock into him. And his own cock... there was no describing what his cock needed, demanded, hungered for.

And in the middle of all this unspeakable lust, Lionel wanted to chat! So damned typical! And one of the things Whitney loved most about his unpredictable lover.

"Two months for what?" It was half moan, half laugh. Lionel leaned forward and quelled the laughter with a kiss, then settled onto his haunches again, and Whitney realized he was being serious. "Two months for what?" he asked again, serious this time, searching Lionel's face in the flickering darkness.

"You were tested four months ago when you signed your contract." It wasn't a question.

Regrettably, there as absolutely no need to ask 'tested for what?' "I'm negative, Lionel."

"I know. I would have heard if you weren't," Lionel replied. "I was tested about the same time. Also negative. I haven't been with anyone since."

Whitney sat up. "Neither have I, Lionel. I wouldn't lie to you about that." He leaned forward and pressed a kiss into the hollow of Lionel's shoulder. A hand cupped his chin and Lionel dipped his head to kiss Whitney softly but thoroughly, then he pulled back.

"I know you wouldn't." Lionel ripped the foil on the condom, discarded it, and held the coiled rubber between them. His eyes were blazing again. "I hate these things. I hate the reason for them, the need for them. I hate the inconvenience and the interruption. Most of all I hate that they keep me from feeling what it's really like to be inside of you." Lionel kissed him softly. "In two months..."

"God, yes." Whitney barely had enough air in his lungs to get the words out. If they tested negative in two months and remained monogamous, there would be no need for condoms. Lionel was making a commitment, asking for one in return. No decision had ever been easier. "Oh, yes."

Lionel grinned and knife-edge of need that had momentarily left Whitney's cock came screaming back. "Then in two months, we'll build a bonfire and burn every condom in my condo and yours. But for now..." He proffered the condom to Whitney. "Would you do the honors? We may need to recapture some of the...ambiance."

"Gladly." Whitney reached for the cock that had lost a fraction of its girth while they talked. He cradled it loosely in his fist and ran his lightly calloused thumb across the moist head. Never taking his eyes from Lionel's heated gaze, he released the cock, raised his thumb to his mouth, and licked. Lionel groaned softly, and Whitney returned to the fountain, coaxed another drop on nectar onto his thumb and repeated the process, licking his thumb, taking it into his mouth and sucking.

"Now," Lionel growled and captured Whitney's mouth in a kiss that grew deeper and more savage as Whitney took hold of Lionel's cock and sheathed with painstaking thoroughness.

"The only part of this ritual I'll miss," Lionel whispered roughly against Whitney's mouth as he shifted him back onto the bed.

"We'll find a better way to reenact it."

Lionel retrieved the bottle of lube. As he coated his condom-sheathed cock, he dipped his head to Whit's cock, taking the heat and hardness into his mouth. He sucked hard on the tip, then harder, until he was only a fraction away from too hard and Whitney threw his head back against the pillow in absolute, tortured ecstasy, thinking it couldn't get any better. But then a lube-slick finger slid into him, quickly followed by a second, and then a third was there and the fingers pressed deep and crooked and found the pleasure point.

"Oh, God, Lionel! Fuck me! Please! Please!"

The mouth left his cock, the fingers retreated. Whit felt his legs being lifted onto Lionel's shoulders, and the cock pierced him.

"More."

Lionel pushed deeper.

"MORE!"

Lionel eased back, then in deeper, but it wasn't enough for Whitney. He tried to thrust, taking Lionel deeper into him, but their position wouldn't allow it. He shifted his legs until he was cradling Lionel's waist and Lionel was balanced on his elbows, claiming the mouth that was begging him to thrust deeper. He obliged and Whitney cried out again and again, with each long, deep thrust that brushed his prostate and raised the threshold of pleasure to something that bordered on magnificent pain.

His cock was screaming, but when he reached for it, a feral growl escaped Lionel's throat. "Oh, no. Mine." Whitney barely heard the words. Lionel thrust hard into him, buried balls-deep, his back arched, supporting himself on one hand as his fist closed around Whitney's cock and began jacking him, hard and fast, until Whitney was thrashing against the pounding of his building orgasm and thrusting against the thick cock buried inside him. Then the pleasure peak hit, rocketing through him and jet after jet of cum coated Lionel's pumping fist. And just when he thought the peak had passed, that there was no more bright, white, insane pleasure to be had, Lionel released his cock and began thrusting again, a long, hard, deep thrust that made him scream Lionel's name once, then again on a second thrust, quickening as the pulse of Lionel's orgasm began gripping him. His body jerked and he pumped faster. His back arched again and he thrust deep, pulsing into the condom, moaning Whit's name.

He collapsed onto Whitney, claiming his mouth in a searing kiss that went on and on until all of Lionel's fervor had been consumed and released.

When Lionel rolled away, Whitney felt numb, spent, bereft. Every nerve, every cell of his body had been touched by the blinding light of the place Lionel had sent him to, and there was no way to wrap his mind around the enormity of it. "My God," was all he could whispered when he could find his voice.

"Yes?"

So typical! Was it any wonder he was crazy in love? Whitney managed a ragged laugh and searched for Lionel's hand. "That's not as much of a joke as you think."

"I don't think it's a joke at all," Lionel replied, but the gleam in his eye said differently as he rolled onto his side to face Whitney. He found the towel and painstakingly began wiping the cum from Whitney's chest and abdomen. Whitney's breath caught in his throat when Lionel leaned in to rake his tongue across a small patch of his chest. He lost the ability to breath altogether when Lionel kissed him, mating their tongues so that Whitney could taste himself in Lionel's mouth.

"You are so beautiful when you come," Lionel whispered when he broke the kiss. "I've never known anyone who gives over to pleasure the way you do."

"It's not the pleasure, Lionel," Whitney replied. "I give myself to you."

The confession was more intimate than saying "I need you" or "I've missed you" or even "I love you," and the emotion of the last month, this weekend, this night...was too much. Whitney felt the sting of hot tears behind his eyes, and fought them back.

He forced a smile he didn't feel. "We are a mess," he declared, rolling away to the edge of the bed. "I'm taking a shower."

"That's not like you," Lionel said with obvious surprise.

"Hey, it's not my fault I made a big mess," he quipped, fighting the emotion because he could still feel Lionel inside him and he never wanted that feeling to go away. "I'll be right back."

But before he could come to his feet, Lionel was on his knees behind him, one arm slipping over his shoulder, the other under his arm, locking him in place. "Don't go," Lionel whispered in his ear, and Whitney very nearly lost it.

"Lionel, please--" His voice cracked, and his whole body tensed trying to hold in the emotion that was welling up inside of him.

"Please what?"

"Let me go. I just need... "

"What?"

"A minute."

"Why?"

Whitney realized there were tears on his face. So did Lionel. He turned Whitney into his arms and kissed the tears, then captured his lips and Whitney tasted the salt. "Was that payback for teasing you about being shattered?" he asked on a moan when Lionel's lips left his to kiss his throat and the hollow of his collarbone.

"I think that was 26 days of abstinence," he replied between kisses.

It was more than that to Whitney, but he wasn't going to say it. The tears he'd conquered were already humiliation enough. "You could have had anyone, Lionel."

Lionel brushed his beard along Whitney's shoulder. "I got what I wanted."

"Don't you always?" Whitney made the question rhetorical by silencing any answer Lionel might have made with a long, deep, promising kiss. "Come on." He pulled away and came to his feet. "Shower with me. We'll bathe each other and pretend to dry each other off as an excuse to touch some more, and then we'll get back in bed and I'll collect what I was promised."

Lionel looked at him skeptically as he stepped onto the floor. "Tonight?"

"Tonight."

"Wouldn't tomorrow--"

Whitney grinned. He was trying to weasel out! "Tomorrow I'll give you anything you want if you can make me scream again, but tonight..." He reached out and let his hands lightly skim Lionel's waist, his hips, then moved more intimately to cup his firmly muscled ass. The movement molded their bodies together. "Tonight I'm going to kiss you intimately, Lionel. Very intimately."

Lionel pursed his lips. "If you make me scream, Whitney, I'll never forgive you."

Whitney grinned. "If I make you scream, Lionel, you'll never let me go."

Getting Lionel to relax was almost comical. Massage oil, candlelight, and a slow, sensuous, skilled back rub were not nearly as effective as the bottle of champagne they finished while Whitney played masseuse. Straddling Lionel's hips with his rapidly recovering cock resting casually in the crack of Lionel's ass, Whitney played a virtuoso medley of soothing caresses and deep massage on Lionel's shoulders and forearms, then onto his shoulder blades and up again, inching a little lower with each cycle, until he reached Lionel's waist, then his slender hips.

Whitney reached for the towel and wiped a little of the excess oil from the palms of his hand. But not his fingers. For what was coming next, he didn't want to taste anything but Lionel.

"We've discovered your true calling, Whitney," Lionel moaned. "When your football career is finished, I'll put you on my payroll as my full-time masseuse."

Whitney chuckled. "I can think of other less flattering names for that. Gigolo. Pool-boy. Live-in Trade."

"Don't be silly. We can keep the responsibilities of your job separate from your place in my bed."

"Are you completely sure about that?" Whitney asked archly."Because I'd kill any masseuse that did this to you." He slipped his hand beneath Lionel until his fingers found the cock that had made a full and miraculous recovery from its earlier excursion into driving Whitney insane. Whit was determined to return the favor. Almost involuntarily, Lionel raised his hips to provide access to his cock, and he groaned softly when Whitney began stroking him.

"Ummm. I see your point."

"Good. I like my job responsibilities just the way they are," Whitney muttered as he bent to press a moist, open-mouth kiss to one of Lionel's buttocks. The muscles beneath his mouth tensed, but Whitney cooed a soft, "Relax. It's okay," as he chased feather-light kisses with the moist warmth of his breath across Lionel's ass as all the while his hand stroked the hard cock beneath them. He shifted his position, sliding one knee between Lionel's slightly-parted thighs. Lionel hesitated, then gave him what he asked for and Whitney was kneeling between Lionel's legs, right where he needed to be.

He tensed again when Whitney's mouth found the cleft between his cheeks. Whit's hand released his cock and Lionel would have lowered his hips had Whitney not whispered a quiet, "No, no, love. Give me your ass..." He spread Lionel's cheeks and painted a line down the crevasse.

Lionel jolted, more from expectation than anything else, as the tongue lightly skimmed the sensitive pucker of flesh. Whitney smiled at the way the muscles clenched. He moved on, touching and teasing, sometimes with his tongue, sometimes with kisses, until he felt Lionel begin to squirm. Only then did he return to the pucker and begin torturing his lover in earnest with airy brushes of his tongue around the rim, then harder licks, always across the surface, never invading. Not yet, anyway. Just teasing. Promising, but delivering only sweet torment. Again, and again. And again.

Whitney could tell that Lionel's ass loved it. The muscles clenched and released, but not in tension. It was anticipation, a plea for more. Whitney knew exactly what it felt like, the need, the desperation. He knew that the licks were making Lionel's cock scream for attention, making every nerve inside him beg for something. Lionel had no idea what it was, but his body was craving it. Whitney was making him crave it.

Lionel's involuntary moans and the shuddering breaths were clues to the effect this was having on him, but the part of Lionel that was determined to control the exact amount of pleasure allotted to this encounter was fighting the traitorous needs of his own body. He thought he could control this, but Whitney was determined to prove him wrong.

Without giving any indication of what he was about to do, Whitney continued the torture, waiting for the perfect moment. The muscles clenched and then relaxed, clenched, relaxed. Clenched, relaxed, and without any warning, Whitney thrust his tongue into Lionel. The muscles closed around him and Lionel bucked. An unintelligible curse was lost in the pillow that cradled Lionel's face.

Whitney's tongue retreated, then thrust again. Lionel's curse was louder this time. Another lick across the surface. Around the rim. A deep thrust. Then another. A hint of sweat ran down the crevice, adding to the wetness Whitney was applying. The dilation of the taunt hole signaled a need that Lionel couldn't name, fueling Whitney's desire to see Lionel yield, not to him, but to his pleasure.

With his tongue still thrusting into Lionel in a rhythm that was beginning to make him arch and buck into the tongue fuck, Whitney slid one hand between Lionel's splayed legs to capture his aching cock, teasing the head, stroking once, hard, then pressing the heel of his hand gently into Lionel's balls.

"Oh, god!"

"More?" Whitney stopped just long enough to ask.

"Yes!" Then, "No!"

Whitney released the cock and replaced his tongue with his fingers, just at the surface of the pucker, tracing it around and around with his forefinger. "Which is it, Lionel? More or less?"

Before Lionel could answer, he gently slid one oil-slick finger into him. "God. Whitney." The words came on a low, harsh moan.

"I'll take that as a yes," Whitney whispered as he lowered his mouth to Lionel's balls and began bathing them with the same care he'd just displayed elsewhere. Lionel's groan was agonized, not by pain, but because he was fighting so hard not to feel too much. Whitney understood the feeling only too well at that moment, because his own cock was a rigid shaft of hunger, and Lionel's every gasp and moan, every movement that cried out for more brought Whitney closer to his own brink.

He moved his finger, stretching Lionel, teasing him.

"Whitney...

"More?"

"Yes."

Whitney crooked his finger, hard, into Lionel's prostate and nearly came when Lionel screamed, "OH GOD! FUCK!"

Lionel pulled away, trembling, rolling away, barely feeling the pain of Whitney's finger being wrenched out of him. Panting, he came to his knees facing Whitney, three feet of sweat-soaked rumpled black silk sheet between them. The candle on the bedside table was gutting, sputtering wildly, casting splashes of light over Lionel's face.

Still kneeling, Whitney straightened, not knowing what to do. He had gotten what he wanted. He'd ripped Lionel's control away. The fierce, wild look in his lover's eyes terrified him. He'd made a mistake, gone too far. He'd done it again! Asked for too much. Pushed too hard. But he couldn't call it back. Lionel was never going to forgive him.

Lionel glared at Whitney, fighting for his breath and his control, but that need for control was warring with the needs of his body and the jolt of pleasure unlike anything he'd felt since... No, there was no comparison. He hadn't felt that kind of pleasure, ever, and the raw hunger that was screaming through his veins told him there was more. Much, much more. And he wanted it.

What Lionel Luthor wanted, he got.

He turned to the nightstand, grabbed the bottle of lube and tossed on the bed beside Whitney's leg.

"Finish it," he growled and would have laughed at the astonishment on Whitney's face if his cock and his ass hadn't been taunting him for the decades of pleasure he'd been denying himself.

"Lionel..." Whitney was breathless and there was no question that his cock was more than up to the answering the invitation. But he had to know, "Are you sure?"

Lionel snatched a condom from the table, ripping away the foil as hecovered the distance to Whitney. He grabbed Whitney's face in his hands and spit out each word individually. "I am not going to beg you to fuck me, Whitney." He kissed Whitney fiercely, trapping their engorged cocks between them as they tumbled onto the sheets again.

Finesse went out the window. Fire took over, sizzling hotter than the gutting candle. Groping and grinding, their bodies moved slickly one on the other, as though the flesh-on-flesh wasn't enough. Now that the the door had been opened, the invitation extended, Whitney needed to be inside of Lionel, deep inside. Thrusting. Branding. Possessing his lover in a way Lionel had never been taken before. Whitney wasn't just going to fuck his way into Lionel's body. He was going to stake his claim on Lionel's heart and soul, too.

At Lionel's urging, Whitney ended up on top and blazed a trail of searing kisses down Lionel's chest and abdomen, then lower still until he was lying between Lionel's legs, driving him insane with his mouth and tongue. He sensed more than felt Lionel trying to reassert control over the escalating pleasure, but Whitney refused to allow it. He groped for the lube, slathered his fingers, and ripped Lionel's control away from him completely as he stretched and stroked until Lionel was writhing and as ready as Whitney could possibly make him.

Everything was a blur of sensation as Whitney sheathed his cock in the condom. As he lubed it, he bent his head to Lionel's cock and sucked away the drops that glistened on the head. Lionel bucked and cursed, trying to fuck Whitney's mouth, but he pulled away quickly, raised Lionel's legs to his shoulders and positioned himself.

"I can't make this not hurt, Lionel."

"Do it. God, Whitney, just do it!"

And he did. Easing into Lionel, penetrating him, dipping his head to swallow Lionel's first gasp of pain. He pressed deeper, forcing himself to go slowly when what he wanted was to plunge deep into the heat, thrust hard into the incredible tightness that clenched around his cock. But he had to wait until Lionel needed that as badly as Whitney did. He had to go slowly until the pleasure of Whitney's cock inside him mated with the pain of this first entry and consumed it.

Whitney knew exactly when that happened. Lionel's body told him first when his hips began thrusting onto the shaft that pierced him. And then Lionel said it himself, a guttural command for more that Whitney couldn't refuse. He pressed against the resistance, withdrew, pressed deep again, brushing Lionel's prostate and reveling in the way Lionel shouted his name as the jolt of pleasure rocketed through him. He shifted his position, locking Lionel's legs around him, and then quickened the pace, rocking his hips in deep arcs that had Lionel writhing and thrusting to meet him.

They kissed and cursed and whispered things in passion that would never be repeated in daylight. Whitney neared his breaking point, but fought against it, making it last, never wanting it to end. When Lionel reached for his cock, Whitney wanted to do as Lionel had done so many times and take that control away; to say "That's mine." To say, "You are mine." But instinct told him to let his lover have that control. Lionel jacked in counterpoint to Whitney's thrusts and when he came on a frantic shout of Whitney's name, the jolt of his own pulsing orgasm sent Whitney to that mindless place where there was nothing but heat, insane pleasure, and the instinctive knowledge that he was connected to something. To Lionel. To his lover and partner. To something that made him whole.

A playful slap on the ass woke Whitney from the best night of his life. "Awake, Sunshine!"

Whitney grinned and rolled toward the booming voice, even as he groused, "It can't be morning yet."

"Ah, but it is. 'Look, love, what envious streaks
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east.
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountaintops.'"

Whitney rose onto his elbows and peeled open his eyes. Lionel towered over him at the edge of the bed, gorgeous and groomed and very sexy in trousers, a white shirt, and over that, the unbelted burgundy robe Whitney had given him. And happy. He looked happy. "Romeo & Juliet?" Whitney queried. "I get love poetry this early in the morning?"

Lionel brought one knee onto the bed and bent to give Whitney a swift kiss. "Apropos, I think. Secret lovers, undying passion, and all that."

Whitney's insides did a flip-flop. If he was going to wake up in a mood this good, Lionel should get fucked more often. Whitney would be happy to provide the service. He quirked an eyebrow at his cheerful lover. "Yes, but didn't Romeo and Juliet die?"

"Well, no analogy is perfect, Whitney," Lionel replied drolly. "Now, shower and get dressed. I just ordered breakfast from your room and you'll need to greet room service."

Whitney wanted nothing more than to say 'To hell with room service' and pull Lionel into bed with him, but there were morning amenities to be addressed, not the least of which was brushing his teeth so that he could give his lover a proper morning kiss.

"You're so masterful," Whitney teased as he rolled out of bed. "May I ask what you ordered me for breakfast?"

"Your usual training table fare," he replied, and when Whitney started to protest, added, "Plus a treat. Your favorite, I believe."

"Belgian waffles? You're wonderful."

"I know."

Whitney laughed. "And incorrigible."

"I know that, too." Lionel pointed to the bathroom. "Shower. We have a busy day."

Whitney disappeared into his own suite, raising his voice to be heard. "You may have a busy day. I have a plane to catch back to Metropolis!"

Lionel followed him as far as his bathroom door as he replied, "No, you don't. The travel secretary--what's her name--received a message from you this morning. You're staying over in the city to spend an extra day with the love of your life."

Whitney had just crossed the threshold of his bathroom, but he popped his head back out. "Lionel Luthor?"

"Lois Lane," Lionel replied dryly.

"Oh. What are Lois and I doing today?"

"Enjoy peace, quiet, and the pleasures of the flesh in a little cabin I've taken up in Big Sur."

Whitney's toothbrush stopped half way to his mouth. "Lionel Luthor, roughing it in the great outdoors."

"Well, if you consider 14 rooms, two domestics and a chef to be roughing it, yes. I think I can handle it. Now quit dawdling."

"Are you going to watch?"

Lionel folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the door frame. "Yes."

Completely naked, Whitney went through his morning ablutions keenly aware of Lionel framed in the doorway like a living painting, watching every move he made like a hungry hawk. The drape of his robe hid any effect the show might be having on him, but Whitney was suddenly grateful for every pushup, every sit up, and every ounce of weights his trainers had force him to lift all these years. Whitney wasn't vain -- well, not much, anyway -- but he knew how much effort had gone into putting him in peak condition -- and that many people found the visible results quite attractive. Lionel especially.

He dialed the shower to the proper settings and turned to Lionel. "Sure you don't want to join me?"

Lionel shook his head and let his gaze fall deliberately to Whitney's cock, which had stiffened considerably under Lionel's scrutiny. "No, thank you. But I'll be happy to take care of that when you're finished."

Whitney grinned. "You're so good to me."

"I plan to be."

Whitney's stomach did another backflip and he stepped into the shower with his brain scrambling for any clue about what to make of this completely normal -- no, better than normal -- Lionel. He was always charming. Funny and sexy were completely in character, too. But this was a... playful Lionel that was entirely new. Whitney wanted this Lionel to hang around and visit more often, but he also wondered if they were ever going to talk about what had happened last night.

When he stepped out of the shower, he was surprised to find Lionel staring soberly into the mirror as though searching for something. Whitney was pretty sure he knew what it was. He brushed a towel over his face and torso as he moved to the long, marble vanity.

"No one will be able to tell, Lionel, if that's what you're wondering," he said softly. "You don't look any different."

Lionel's gaze in the mirror shifted to Whitney. "Not even to you?"

Whitney turned and sat against the vanity so that he could look at Lionel and not his reflection. "To me, you look more."

Lionel looked at him. "More what?"

"More everything. More handsome. More powerful. More accessible. More mine. Whether you are or not."

"Whitney, I don't plan to belabor what happened last night, but let's clear the air." He took the towel and began painstakingly drying Whitney's body as he went on, "I knew where we were headed when you made your compromising counter offer last night. You made me want it -- not with that lovely little jab at my prostate, though. You made me want you. Months ago. I don't like it and will seldom admit it, but last night... That couldn't have happened with anyone but you."

Something warm and soft curled inside Whitney as he seared those words onto his heart. "Would it be all right if here in the clear, florescent light of day I said I love you?"

"If you must," Lionel replied wearily, but a smile was teasing his lips.

"I love you."

"I know. It's a gift I won't take lightly." He laid the towel aside and took the mostly-dry Whitney into his arms. "And if you think you'll never hear those words from me, Whitney...," he whispered with his lips only an inch away from his lover's, "you haven't been listening."

Chapter Posted 10/14/02
The Usual Disclaimers Apply