Notes: Thanks to LaCasta and Margroks for the feedback!
Ruby Truth - Valentine Michel Smith
Clark traversed the room in a handful of strides.
In the hallway, a man stepped in front of the farm boy, blocking him bodily. He was taller than Clark, broader too. "Got a minute?" It wasn't really a question. "The redhead…"
Clark greeted the bulky man's gaze with bemusement.
"My girl."
Clark stifled a chuckle. "You sure about that?" Where'd Lex meet this guy anyway? Or did the redhead have really fucked tastes in companions? Pity date maybe?
Shaking his head, Clark sidestepped, heading back in the direction of the living room.
"Hey, I'm not done - " The bulky man grabbed Clark's jacket, balling the fabric in one hand.
"Um, yeah you are." Clark plucked the hand from his shoulder, twisting it away. The crack was audible. "I think that's a break," he offered tonelessly.
The bulky man yelped and fell to his knees.
Inside the bedroom, Lex's train of thought hit a sharp curve and derailed. Whipping his head, he stood hurriedly and bolted into the hallway. He watched Clark ambling away and the bulky man kneeling, tears in his eyes.
Lex followed Clark into the living room. The bulky man brushed past him, face flushed, teeth bared, heading right for Clark who seemed to anticipate the would-be ambush and turned quickly on his heels. Clark moved only a fraction of an inch, just enough to send the bulky man careening into the sliding glass doors of the balcony.
The doors buckled, cracking as the bulky man went down.
Clark opened the doors, practically jerking them from the frame. He grabbed the bulky man, hauling him to his feet by the front of his sweater.
Clark continued to heft the bulky man above the patio floor. "You don't know me," Clark began as though he were having a polite conversation over scones and tea. He walked, moving closer to the patio's edge, holding close to two hundred and sixty pounds of flaccid maleness as he spoke.
Beyond Clark, in the penthouse, nothing changed. No masks of fear, no rush to view. The dancers danced, the drinkers drank, the fuckers fucked, an unconcerned, disinterested self-involved amalgam clad in pretty, pretty party things.
The redhead seemed vaguely curious as did the tiny blonde and the man who could have been Whitney had Whitney not been in the Marines.
Clark regarded the man's dangling feet, feet so small for a man so big. "You don't know somebody, you step up, you take a chance. My guess is you're used to a certain outcome," he said, eerily channeling Lex. The man winced as Clark lifted him high overhead and over the patio's edge. "You might want to rethink a few things."
With that, Clark dropped him -
stepping from the patio -
before the scream -