There were several things Clark Kent, a.k.a renowned portrait photographer K.L Kent, knew about the holiday season. One, and this had been a shock when he was eight; there was no Santa Claus. "Santa is your dad, Clark," Pete had told him. Clark wondered how his dad had gotten from house to house all over the world, when he wasn't even fast enough to catch up with his son when Clark didn't want him to. At least he pretended not to be as fast as Clark. He wanted to ask Pete, but he knew that wasn't the sort of thing he was allowed to discuss, even with his best friend. Besides, he hoped Pete was mistaken.

Clark loved Santa, and finding out he was really salt of the earth farmer Jonathan Kent would be a hard blow to take. Their family had enough secrets. Really, it made a lot of sense, though. Maybe that was why he could do all those weird things, and why he was so fast. Of course Santa had special powers, it stood to reason his son would, too.

So he pretended to understand, and just kept a closer eye on his dad during December. Pete was wrong, though. Turned out his mother handled most of the presents and preparations for Christmas. His dad mostly did stuff like hauling the tree in from on top of the truck, or climbing the roof to put up the red nosed life size cow "Rudolph" someone had given them for a joke. It was Clark's favorite decoration, by far. Clark always offered to help with the stuff he was especially well suited for, but his dad liked to do the job himself. "Otherwise it feels like cheating. Besides, Clark, you're supposed to just enjoy Christmas. I'm sure Santa will help with the big stuff."

The other thing Clark knew was that none of the "Santa doesn't exist" theory mattered, as long as Lex Luthor was around. Lex was the closest thing to a real Santa, that the children of LuthorCorp had.

Sure, it was Gabe Sullivan in the big red suit, with the pillows for padding. Chloe had loved painting his cheeks red, and drawing white eyebrows over the brown. The whole gig had been her idea, though Clark noted that Lex took to it with alacrity, and not a little humor.

"But, Kal," he had said, "We really do need a photographer, and you are the best person for the job I know. Don't the children whose unfortunate parents are stuck with me for a boss deserve a precious memento like a K.L Kent portrait with St. Nicholas?" He could lay it on thick, when he wanted to.

"No, Lex, because we all know you're a concerned, conscientious employer. Your father, on the other hand…" Any child who came in contact with Lionel Luthor deserved all the treats they could handle.

"Well, then. You'll do it? Be Santa's official photographer? Of course I'll pay you your going rate."

"No, you won't. I'll do it for free, on one condition." If he was going to be forced to wear that cheesy red suit, then Lex was going to have to do something similar in return.

"Name it."

"Let me ask you something first. You were planning on being there while all these festivities were gong on, right?"

"I'd be around, behind the scenes, yes. It's not about me, it's about the children."

"Well, if you want me there, then it has to be about you, too. Namely, Lex Luthor, Santa's helper Elf. I'm sure you can swing a costume by, when is it? December 20th?"

 

---

This wasn't K.L Kent's usual gig, but it was a lot more fun and fulfilling. He felt like he was really helping people. There were no super-models, or fashion spreads to be photographed. Nobody especially newsworthy to capture in stark black and white or brilliant color. Well, except for the up and coming young mogul beside him, the reason Clark had agreed to dress in such a ridiculous outfit.

Clark had to admit it. As ridiculous as he himself looked, with the too-short red velvet pants, white fake-fur trim, and jingly bells, Lex pulled off the elf thing very well. True, Clark had never seen a purple elf, and it was a little suspect that Lex had a custom made costume, but all in all, Clark thought it was pretty neat.

And despite Lex's protests that "I don't do this sort of thing, Clark," it was obvious that he was enjoying himself immensely. He always knew what to say to make little Johnny, or Susie, or Ahmir feel comfortable. Clark even heard him speak to the children in several foreign languages, something he hadn't known Lex could do. Not that he should be surprised at any talent Lex had. Lex was amazing.

It was probably a little sick of Clark, that despite their childish surroundings, all he wanted to do was evict "Santa" from the fake sleigh and reindeer panorama LuthorCorp had set up for visits with the jolly fellow, and have a little lap time with Lex, instead. Maybe lick him up and down like the most delicious red tipped candy cane imaginable. Clark was pretty sure that would make Lex jolly as well, though he wasn't as likely to say "Ho Ho Ho" as he might be to exclaim "Oh! Oh! Oh!" Actually, he probably wouldn't do that, either. Clark was the vocal one in their relationship. Lex had a way of making him yell, and babble, and generally act like a goofball in bed. Not that Lex ever said anything about it, in fact, he seemed to like Clark's responsiveness just as much as Clark loved those moments when he made Lex lose control, for all they were harder to bring into being. It was probably years of semi-sordid, but really hot encounters in almost public places that made Lex more of a gasper than a moaner. Clark didn't care. A few bitten-off words in Lex's crisp, yet rough tone, and Clark was gone.

God, he wished he could go now. If Lex couldn't go with him, maybe he could excuse himself long enough to take care of things temporarily. Clark knew there were cameras in the employee bathrooms, but he could tell Lex not to let anyone else see that particular segment. Maybe he could even put on a show for Lex.

Luckily, it looked like the first line of expectant children was reaching a lull. There would be a break for cookies and ice cream, and a rest for Santa and his helpers. Then a new batch of kids would come in, and leave with small gifts, and their larger requests promised by Santa (with a "give them everything" spoken earlier by the elf in purple felt.). Only the unwieldy or impossible were kept off the list. No promised siblings, or ponies for kids in apartments (though riding lessons and stable time were possible), but otherwise, every child was destined for a happy Christmas morning.

 

---

There was something up with Clark, Lex just knew it. No, he hadn't voiced a word of protest at all of the children carrying on, and running around. Not even the ones who had run up to hug him, hands sticky with chocolate, or laps a little damp. The kids liked him almost as much as they loved Santa. It was fucking adorable.

As was Clark, or rather Kal. Ruddy from the exertion and excitement, and obviously genuinely happy, he was a sight for Lex's sore eyes. Being wth him made the indignity of the purple elf costume easy to bear. He just wished the day would end soon, so he could tell Clark how much he had enjoyed it, and how moved he was by Clark's way with children.

He'd tell Clark that, then he'd get Clark the hell away from those damn kids, and somewhere private. From the looks Clark had been giving him, he thought that was what Clark wanted as well. To feel that perfect body, covered in the softest velvet would be exquisite. LuthorCorp went all out for its costuming. No scratchy synthetics.

"Hey, kids, it's time for Santa and his helpers to take a break. Cherie will serve you all cookies and ice cream, and then we'll be back in business." Lex said, closing the line as the last child in it at the moment finished with Gabe.

"Awwww," went the cry.

"I'm sorry, but Santa's official photographer needs more film for his magical camera. And he has to travel all the way to the North Pole to get it."

"That's right," Clark agreed. "And Lex the Purple Elf has to drive me there in his Italian sled." Lex's assistant led the kids to the dining area, then Clark dragged Lex away.

"Where are we going?" Lex asked.

"That's up to you. Somewhere private and somewhere fast, because I'll die if I don't have you." Clark had already found them a darkened hallway, and was kissing Lex up against the wall.

"I never knew you had an Elf kink, Clark. And here I just thought you watched the Lord of the Rings movies with me to keep an old geek company."

"You're my old geek, Lex. Don't forget that." The age difference between them had always been more of a joke than anything.

Lex walked them into his office, and then his private bathroom. Before he could do anything, he found himself sitting on the cool marble counter, pants around his ankles. Santa's helper was on his knees, about to make a simple elf extremely happy. Lex didn't quite remember how he'd gotten to that point, but he chalked it off to another of Clark's mysteries. Something to explore later, when Clark wasn't about to blow him.

When Lex felt Clark's mouth around his cock - Clark had called it a candy cane, of all things - he knew this was not what either Tolkien, or Clement Moore had had in mind.

Clark was a very good boy, indeed.