Er, anyway, premise (completely cracked): Kal takes a job from Morgan Edge the night before the big break-in, a scandal tape with the Kansas junior senator and his wife. Kal just does it on a dare (as well as a lot of money), his sick sense of humor, because he plays at being Clark in the room. This is immediately after.
"Well, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Morgan says as he enters room 863.
Kal's leaning against the headboard, shirt half-open but the scar not visible, just skin and unashamed everywhere else. He has a martini glass in his hand. And he says with a low chuckle, "It was horrible. They deflowered me. The things they made me do..." He takes an olive with his teeth, rolls it on his tongue, sucks.
The kid looks nowhere near fucked-out. Morgan's never seen anyone get into their body so much, like they live in it and for it.
Kal raises his glass, toasts himself in the mirror.
"You think a lot of yourself, don't you?" Morgan says, slightly irritated. The ego. Jesus. He sits on the edge of the bed.
Kal rolls to the side, leans on one elbow, facing him. "There's no thinking involved. I know. Big difference."
"So that sob story you gave them, smalltown kid in the big city pining after the high school sweetheart..."
Kal grins, sips his martini, licks the rim of the glass. "Complete bullshit."
Man, this kid could pull a con with the best of them. He just seemed so convincing with Johnson and the wife. And they just fell hard for it, the whole little boy lost act. Not like Morgan was complaining, just makes the tape that much worse if Johnson didn't fork up, get in pocket, set up the kickbacks. No fucking way he'd want that leaked. Kid's a shrewd cold-hearted bastard, give him that.
Kal reaches over to the nightstand, just the tips of his fingers extend from the stem of his glass, and lazily picks up the senator's business card with the private cell number hastily scrawled on the back. "You want this?" he says. "Not like I'm going to use it. I don't do repeats."
Morgan sighs, takes it. "He seemed to like you well enough." Shame really, Morgan could get more mileage out of the potential scandal for an affair than a one-nighter. The doting constituency might forgive a lapse, make the tape worth that much less.
Kal shifts, lies back, even looks thoughtful. "They're good people," he says. "He's good people. If I cared, I'd probably feel bad about that." He shrugs, looks up at the ceiling. "Knew a guy like that once."
"The dead friend."
Morgan waits for Kal's eyes to flash again, because this guy's been a landmine in conversation before. But Kal must still be riding the afterglow or something the fuck like it because he sighs. "Yeah, just with the two of them, tonight, it's like..." and his voice fades. He sips his martini again, settles further against the strewn pillows.
Oh, so there was a girl, there's always a girl. Morgan's seen the hardest cons go from fuck your shit up to Hallmark over some girl from yesteryear. The friend factors into this somehow too. Love triangle maybe? And this lovely setup was just a way for the kid to act it out, fuck both of them, have them adore him back. But Morgan's not going to look too deep. Who cares why Kal took the job? Let the kid get his therapy sessions in on his own time. Messed up bastard.
Kal polishes off his martini. "I have been faithful to thee, Cynara, in my fashion."
"What the hell is that?" Morgan says. He's seen enough of the cryptic shit from Lionel. And why this kid should make him think of Lionel, of all people, Morgan hasn't got a clue.
"Poetry," Kal says. "Like I said, I read." And he laughs, some inside sick joke that he's not going to let Morgan in on.
"Kal," Morgan says in reluctant wonder, "There's something seriously wrong with you."
Kal rolls back to the side, stretches, lazily leans up on an elbow, gleam in his eye. "Don't I know it." And the laugh, this time, is soft, provocative. Inviting. Morgan suddenly becomes aware that he's sitting on the edge of a bed and this kid...it's like looking in on a tiger's cage at the zoo, with all the posted signs of "do not feed" and "do not touch" nothing but a dare.
And that's just what this kid is doing now, daring him. Kal just looks at him, the corners of his mouth going up. And his eyes, they're green. Morgan's heard somewhere that tiger's eyes are supposed to be green. That's the thing about tigers, they're just so freaking exotic.
Kal just stretches some more, muscles shifting and relaxing, still leaning on his elbow, swirls his empty glass this way and that in his other hand. Doesn't say a word, just looks.
So his hand reaches out, touches Kal's leg and the skin is so warm that Morgan feels a slight tingle of, well, interest. Nice tiger, good tiger, so much power there just rippling under his palm. Morgan's dick is definitely interested. And that means Morgan's interested because he's the ruler of his body and just about everything else in Metropolis.
"What do you think you're doing there, kid?" he says, as his palm starts to run down that calf, gentle, soothing, while looking at Kal's eyes.
"Kid, is it?" Kal chuckles, low and knowing, and his eyes flicker down to Morgan's hand and back up again. He smiles. "Looks to me like I'm not doing anything, you are."
"Yeah, kid. What're you, all of twenty-three?"
"Something like that. Close enough. You going to card me?" And he puts his glass on the nightstand, leans back off of that elbow, puts his hands behind his head. He moves his leg under Morgan's hand, inviting more.
"You're a real smart-ass, you know that?" But Morgan says this softly, no irritation whatsoever, but an odd sort of fondness. Kal is a pain in the ass, disrupted his business, a real problem. But he's proven tonight that he's a problem he can work with. And it's been a while since Morgan's done any kind of flirting, because that's what this is, no doubt about that. True, he's got his pick of tail, all women, since his tastes don't run this way, but there's no give and take with that, just take.
"Among other things, yeah," Kal says, shifting down so that Morgan's hand glides past the knee and above.