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Greetings, fellow earthlings!
How are we this fine mother-fucking morning? I'm off to the bowels of retail hell, but I wanted to drop this and tell ya'll how much I enjoyed reading your posts, congrats you-know-who, I'm jealous, some of us is lookin' sexy as hell, *wink* you, you.
Well, let me get this thing down, and I'll see you on the other side, with the next bit. Chap three is close to wrappin up, and guess what? I have *no* friggin' idea what happens next!
Saaay,how about: Whit and Lex run away together and join the circus...aah?
October
Whit stood behind Red in line, and tried to keep from staring at the miserable bow of his shoulders, and tried to still the urge to cup his bare head in his hands. He looked so frail and defenseless without hair, so small....
He knew Red was suffering all the time, and he was damn brave, taking the stares and whispers in silence. Most times he held his head high, but today…Whit guessed it was too much.
Everyone treated Lex like he was some kind of freak…like it was his fault what happened. They pinned his father’s atrocious behavior on him.
Whit blushed deeply, shame coursing through him. Even though, Re—Lex got angry when Whit tried to shoulder the blame, he couldn’t help it—if he hadn’t been afraid to let Fordman know he’d lost the house key, Lex and…they would have never gone out to the woods that day.
He felt eyes on him and turned to see Clark staring at, well not at him, at Lex.
Damn him. Staring at him like he was starving and Lex was the last steak on the plate. And it wasn’t like Lex didn’t know, and it wasn’t like it didn’t eat at Lex like acid in his soul. He wanted Clark, Whit knew, but he was afraid and hurt. Clark was a walking lie, a coward, a –a –
Whit dropped his eyes back to his tray, and almost missed what happened next.
Two guys from the team cut into the line, and reached for trays. Older guys, guys that Whit talked to from time to time, mostly when he was high.
“S’up, White-ney,” one of the guys called out, and pushed by Lex. “Hey, Red, move out the way.”
Whit saw Lex stiffen and turn to the guy.
“ Fuck you.” He said clearly and loudly.
“What-- hey you little rat-fuck, who do you think you are. I’ll kick your ass, Red--”
His buddy took one look a Lex’s face and tried to get his friend to shut up. “ His name is Lex,” he tried to whisper, but the other guy was having none of it. Who the fuck was this freshman freak to cuss him?
He pushed against Lex and snarled, “You bald-headed little--” He yelled and staggered back, blood pouring from a gash across his forehead, and before Whit could stop him Lex had raised the tray like an axe and chopped down again, thankfully for both of them, the guy rolled on the floor and the tray hit his shoulder. Whit yelled for Lex to stop, and his head whipped towards Whit and he didn’t even recognize him.
He was snarling, his teeth were bared, and his eyes snapped with maniac energy. The guy’s friend took a swing at Lex, and Whit jumped in to block the shot, and Lex threw a punch, and hit the guy in the stomach—there was screaming and shouting and the sound of chairs hitting the floor and suddenly other guys from the team were there, and then Clark was wading into the middle, grabbing Lex, and jerking him up off the floor, pulling him out of the knot of fighters, and jerking his chin at Whit—“Get him out of here. Lex, Lex calm down! Please! Calm down!”
Lex was screaming in rage and fighting Clark like a rabid animal. He was desperate to get back into the fight. Whit shook his head and yelled at Clark, “*You* get him out--find Pete!” Clark nodded and ran out with Lex, arms still clasped about him, ran holding him like he weighed nothing. He watched Clark dash out the door, and thought ‘Damn. Lex is really gonna be pissed about *that*.’
Suddenly warm breath blew out over his ear. “I’m going to kick your butt, Whit, have to, ok?”
Whit sighed and nodded and Wade punched him hard in the gut, taking him down immediately, taking him out of the fight pretty effectively. Wade dropped to his knees and gripped Whit by his collar, “I’m gonna kill you, you little puke!” he yelled for the crowd, but his eyes said something different. Whit squeezed his own eyes tight and hoped the punch wasn’t going to hurt too badly.
*************************
Lex lay on his bed and thought. And thought. Clark jumped in after him, got into the middle of that stupid debacle—tried to help him.
It didn’t add up. What the hell was the deal with him? He was too afraid to help Whitney me in the fire, but leaped in to save him from an ass-whipping? It didn’t add up.
But he’d looked almost pathetically grateful when he’d thanked him. Kind of. If saying “fine thanks now put me the fuck down” could be seen as a thank you.
So shit. Suspended from school. Him and Whit, and nobody else. It seemed the Luthor name was making it’s magic known, now.
In truth, he knew his name was the only thing keeping him from being expelled. That and the old man’s perverse pleasure in seeing him tortured. There was no way that Lionel would send him away now, he was sure he found these episodes delicious.
Lex sighed, rolled to his side and punched his pillow viciously. He really wanted to just pull the comforter over his head and go to sleep, not wake up until it was graduation.
He struggled not to worry about Whit—his dad did not take well to being embarrassed by Whit’s behavior. Fuck. When was the guy going to fight back? He could probably take the old bastard now, but Lex saw the fear in his eyes whenever the son-of –a-bitch was near him. Lex sighed as his disjointed thoughts chased through his head.
His face still stung from the slap he’d received- nothing compared to what Whit would get. Lex tongued the scar on his lip, and remembered it as the going away gift he’d gotten, the night before he’d been shipped out of Smallville. He heard his dad’s voice in his ear again, felt his breath on his cheek, “My son doesn’t kiss boys,” he’d hissed and smacked him in the mouth. He remembered hitting the driveway hard, and tears running down his face and his dad leaving him therein the dark. Bastard. Lex remembered too thinking it was his fault for not watching his back, for letting go of control. His fault, but a good lesson, one he’d never forgotten.
Until he’d come back to Clark. Smallville. Lex groaned as his thoughts came back to the right now—why did things have to be so complicated all the time? Fuck it he thought as he yanked the covers over his head.
'I am going to sleep.'
****************************
It was nearly dark and Clark was walking back from the library. He’d had a lot to think about that day. It was kind of scary to see Lex freak like that. He’d managed to get the story from Whit-- and wasn’t that as much fun as tap- dancing bare foot on broken glass— and he thought he kind of understood.
Lex didn’t want to be called Red, didn’t want the reminder of what he’d lost that horrible day. All that pain and worse, people blamed his dad’s insane actions on him—as if he were the jerk instead of the victim. People could really suck sometime—
His thoughts were interrupted by the screech of tires next to him and he glanced over to see a truck, and suddenly he was on his back on the ground, and a group of guys from the team were on him, yelling and laughing and pulling him towards the truck—Scarecrow, scarecrow!
Damn! He had to go along and act scared. If his parents only knew how many times he had to humiliate himself just to keep the secret…
He hit the bed of the truck and looked up into Whit’s eyes—oh.
Right. Whit played ball…his eyes were chips of blue ice and Clark shivered and closed his eyes. No mercy to be found there.
Will Whit help Clark? Will Clark let himself be hung? Will the team take advatange of the fact he'll be hanging there, nearly naked at just about the right height for...what? Oh-- sorry! TBC. That is all.
How are we this fine mother-fucking morning? I'm off to the bowels of retail hell, but I wanted to drop this and tell ya'll how much I enjoyed reading your posts, congrats you-know-who, I'm jealous, some of us is lookin' sexy as hell, *wink* you, you.
Well, let me get this thing down, and I'll see you on the other side, with the next bit. Chap three is close to wrappin up, and guess what? I have *no* friggin' idea what happens next!
Saaay,how about: Whit and Lex run away together and join the circus...aah?
October
Whit stood behind Red in line, and tried to keep from staring at the miserable bow of his shoulders, and tried to still the urge to cup his bare head in his hands. He looked so frail and defenseless without hair, so small....
He knew Red was suffering all the time, and he was damn brave, taking the stares and whispers in silence. Most times he held his head high, but today…Whit guessed it was too much.
Everyone treated Lex like he was some kind of freak…like it was his fault what happened. They pinned his father’s atrocious behavior on him.
Whit blushed deeply, shame coursing through him. Even though, Re—Lex got angry when Whit tried to shoulder the blame, he couldn’t help it—if he hadn’t been afraid to let Fordman know he’d lost the house key, Lex and…they would have never gone out to the woods that day.
He felt eyes on him and turned to see Clark staring at, well not at him, at Lex.
Damn him. Staring at him like he was starving and Lex was the last steak on the plate. And it wasn’t like Lex didn’t know, and it wasn’t like it didn’t eat at Lex like acid in his soul. He wanted Clark, Whit knew, but he was afraid and hurt. Clark was a walking lie, a coward, a –a –
Whit dropped his eyes back to his tray, and almost missed what happened next.
Two guys from the team cut into the line, and reached for trays. Older guys, guys that Whit talked to from time to time, mostly when he was high.
“S’up, White-ney,” one of the guys called out, and pushed by Lex. “Hey, Red, move out the way.”
Whit saw Lex stiffen and turn to the guy.
“ Fuck you.” He said clearly and loudly.
“What-- hey you little rat-fuck, who do you think you are. I’ll kick your ass, Red--”
His buddy took one look a Lex’s face and tried to get his friend to shut up. “ His name is Lex,” he tried to whisper, but the other guy was having none of it. Who the fuck was this freshman freak to cuss him?
He pushed against Lex and snarled, “You bald-headed little--” He yelled and staggered back, blood pouring from a gash across his forehead, and before Whit could stop him Lex had raised the tray like an axe and chopped down again, thankfully for both of them, the guy rolled on the floor and the tray hit his shoulder. Whit yelled for Lex to stop, and his head whipped towards Whit and he didn’t even recognize him.
He was snarling, his teeth were bared, and his eyes snapped with maniac energy. The guy’s friend took a swing at Lex, and Whit jumped in to block the shot, and Lex threw a punch, and hit the guy in the stomach—there was screaming and shouting and the sound of chairs hitting the floor and suddenly other guys from the team were there, and then Clark was wading into the middle, grabbing Lex, and jerking him up off the floor, pulling him out of the knot of fighters, and jerking his chin at Whit—“Get him out of here. Lex, Lex calm down! Please! Calm down!”
Lex was screaming in rage and fighting Clark like a rabid animal. He was desperate to get back into the fight. Whit shook his head and yelled at Clark, “*You* get him out--find Pete!” Clark nodded and ran out with Lex, arms still clasped about him, ran holding him like he weighed nothing. He watched Clark dash out the door, and thought ‘Damn. Lex is really gonna be pissed about *that*.’
Suddenly warm breath blew out over his ear. “I’m going to kick your butt, Whit, have to, ok?”
Whit sighed and nodded and Wade punched him hard in the gut, taking him down immediately, taking him out of the fight pretty effectively. Wade dropped to his knees and gripped Whit by his collar, “I’m gonna kill you, you little puke!” he yelled for the crowd, but his eyes said something different. Whit squeezed his own eyes tight and hoped the punch wasn’t going to hurt too badly.
*************************
Lex lay on his bed and thought. And thought. Clark jumped in after him, got into the middle of that stupid debacle—tried to help him.
It didn’t add up. What the hell was the deal with him? He was too afraid to help Whitney me in the fire, but leaped in to save him from an ass-whipping? It didn’t add up.
But he’d looked almost pathetically grateful when he’d thanked him. Kind of. If saying “fine thanks now put me the fuck down” could be seen as a thank you.
So shit. Suspended from school. Him and Whit, and nobody else. It seemed the Luthor name was making it’s magic known, now.
In truth, he knew his name was the only thing keeping him from being expelled. That and the old man’s perverse pleasure in seeing him tortured. There was no way that Lionel would send him away now, he was sure he found these episodes delicious.
Lex sighed, rolled to his side and punched his pillow viciously. He really wanted to just pull the comforter over his head and go to sleep, not wake up until it was graduation.
He struggled not to worry about Whit—his dad did not take well to being embarrassed by Whit’s behavior. Fuck. When was the guy going to fight back? He could probably take the old bastard now, but Lex saw the fear in his eyes whenever the son-of –a-bitch was near him. Lex sighed as his disjointed thoughts chased through his head.
His face still stung from the slap he’d received- nothing compared to what Whit would get. Lex tongued the scar on his lip, and remembered it as the going away gift he’d gotten, the night before he’d been shipped out of Smallville. He heard his dad’s voice in his ear again, felt his breath on his cheek, “My son doesn’t kiss boys,” he’d hissed and smacked him in the mouth. He remembered hitting the driveway hard, and tears running down his face and his dad leaving him therein the dark. Bastard. Lex remembered too thinking it was his fault for not watching his back, for letting go of control. His fault, but a good lesson, one he’d never forgotten.
Until he’d come back to Clark. Smallville. Lex groaned as his thoughts came back to the right now—why did things have to be so complicated all the time? Fuck it he thought as he yanked the covers over his head.
'I am going to sleep.'
****************************
It was nearly dark and Clark was walking back from the library. He’d had a lot to think about that day. It was kind of scary to see Lex freak like that. He’d managed to get the story from Whit-- and wasn’t that as much fun as tap- dancing bare foot on broken glass— and he thought he kind of understood.
Lex didn’t want to be called Red, didn’t want the reminder of what he’d lost that horrible day. All that pain and worse, people blamed his dad’s insane actions on him—as if he were the jerk instead of the victim. People could really suck sometime—
His thoughts were interrupted by the screech of tires next to him and he glanced over to see a truck, and suddenly he was on his back on the ground, and a group of guys from the team were on him, yelling and laughing and pulling him towards the truck—Scarecrow, scarecrow!
Damn! He had to go along and act scared. If his parents only knew how many times he had to humiliate himself just to keep the secret…
He hit the bed of the truck and looked up into Whit’s eyes—oh.
Right. Whit played ball…his eyes were chips of blue ice and Clark shivered and closed his eyes. No mercy to be found there.
Will Whit help Clark? Will Clark let himself be hung? Will the team take advatange of the fact he'll be hanging there, nearly naked at just about the right height for...what? Oh-- sorry! TBC. That is all.
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Why, once again, let me remind you, I am the Mother Theresa of Porn.*nods*