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Summer Story part 8
Second helping of Lionel, anyone? Mmmmm.
The previous parts are here, going into the restroom and--say. Isn't that a hole saw they're carrying?
Summer Story
“Lex.” His name slid out of his dad’s mouth like a snake. He stood in front of him, eyes on the floor as he tried to think a step ahead of his dad’s next move.
Lionel moved out from behind the monstrous mahogany desk and walked towards him, colors shifting over his skin as he moved past the stained glass windows. He really looks the devil, he thought as his dad moved towards him, so smooth and silent it seemed like his body moved along on a pool of oil instead of human legs.
He stopped in front of Lex and he told himself breathe, breathe and concentrate on his chin—don’t look at his eyes….
“Good. Show no fear.” Lionel sounded faintly pleased as he walked behind him and Lex felt the unpleasant sensation of his dad’s hot breath sweeping over the back of his head. His dad was too close, but if he moved, he’d lose-- not the war, a skirmish, but still—
Lionel began speaking as though he was in mid thought, and Lex scrambled mentally for clues as to his dad’s intent. “You cost me money and time I can never recover Lex. You show me no gratitude for my sacrifice. No respect.” His dad’s hand landed on his shoulder and he cringed. Damn!
“You know I love you son. You are, after all, the only family I have left in this cold world.’ Lex didn’t have to face him to know; he could hear the sneer. “We’re all the other has, all there is….” Lionel’s hand moved up his shoulder to rest on his neck and slowly squeeze, slowly bow his head down. His other hand rested on his waist.
Lex screamed inside.no, no you’re wrong, you’re wrong I’m not alone. He bit his lip and waited for an exit point.
“How can you ever make this expense up to me, Lex? How can you recover the time lost for me? I’m a busy man. A very busy man. Every minute is like money to me—do you understand?”
That you’re a cheap, evil money grubbing bastard? I think I do, he thought. His dad’s hand curved over his head and his mouth filled with saliva and his stomach clenched at the feel of the papery dry palm on the back of his skull. His knees trembled for a moment until he locked them straight. His dad pressed against his head and inexorably moved him downwards, bent at the waist and his breath came a little harsher as he fought with himself—should he risk resisting this or wait, fight back or save it for a battle he’d be more likely to win?
He was bent at the waist, his dad’s hand still rested there.
“Lex, Lex, you give in like a little girl. That’s what you’re like, a soft little girl—a disgusting little girl…” he could feel the heat of his dads body behind him and he swallowed convulsively and hoped his dad didn’t feel or hear the violent movement of his throat.
“….who kisses boys. Do you like it? Tell me, what is Clark Kent?” He shook Lex sharply.
Lex froze—his dad knew, his dad knew--“What is he, that he makes you do this –thing,” and his hand tightened painfully on his already over -extended neck and his dad pushed down until he was bent at a painful and humiliating angle. The pain was nearly eclipsed by a flood of relief.Safe.
“Disgusting, disgusting,” Lionel hissed, and Lex jumped. What was wrong with his dad, this wasn’t normal behavior for him—humiliation, yes, pain yes, but this was something very different and very frightening. His dad’s hand slid from his waist to squeeze his thigh, and Lex fought to keep a squeak of fear from escaping. He swallowed again, desperate not to vomit. “I saw you and that other boy, that Fordman boy—Whore.” His grip tightened on Lex’s throat and his thigh and Lex felt a stab of fear that built and built until he was shaking like a twig in a hurricane. His dad was going to do something--his mind skittered all around the surface of the thought—something awful, horrible and tears sprang to his eyes, and he thought of Clark.
It was like a dash of cold water. No. He didn’t have to let this happen, he wasn’t a frightened little boy with a bloody mouth anymore. Fuck him. He took a deep breath, exhaled, took another, Clark, Clark, Clark and stepped back into his dad, bumping against him. His dad’s grip loosened just a fraction and he stomped down on his foot as hard as he could. His dad howled in pain and surprise at the unexpected resistance, and his grip loosened enough for Lex to yank himself out of his dad’s grip. He dashed away from him and put the ugly battleship of a desk between them.
Lionel was bright red with fury, but he spoke levelly, betraying nothing of the rage he must be feeling, and Lex thought to himself I don’t ever want to be that controlled. No-- that out of touch with my own fucking self, and shivered in reaction.
“Lex. Come here now. I’m your father and you need to obey me--- I’m your only means of support in this world. Your inheritance doesn’t come to you for some time yet. What will you do? You have nowhere to go. You can’t possibly imagine that your—friend, what ever it is you call him—can help you. Do you think his parent’s care about you…I’m sure they’d be happier not thinking about you and the perversions you bring their son to commit.”
Lex lifted a paperweight from the desk, staring at it as he spoke to his dad. “You really have no idea how personal relationships work, do you, old man?”
He juggled the weight from hand to hand. “Let’s put it this way. I don’t need you--- I‘ve got a few places to go, I have a few people who care about me—more than that, value my existence beyond what it gains them. I propose we knock this shit off and you piss the fuck off.” Lex tried a wide smile and prayed his lips wouldn’t shake and that his hands remained steady as he tossed the heavy crystal weight back and forth. Fuck let me pull this off, one time, one time.
“Let me promise you one thing and I want you to believe this with every fiber of your being--if you ever try to touch me like *that*again, it’ll be a contest as to what happens first--I brain you,” and he slammed the weight down on the desk hard enough to depress the wood and chip the globe, “or the cops crawling over your little fiefdom.”
Lionel at grinned at that, of course mentioning the police seemed a hollow threat to him.
“Of course,” Lex continued, “Keeping it all hushed up in the papers might be a bit more difficult considering the charge—Hmmm. Molestation. It’s such a difficult charge to fight.” It cost him nearly everything to keep a casual even mocking tone. It tore at his soul and filled his mouth with bitterness.
But. It had the desired effect, Lionel’s grin dropped from his face, and he began to look at last, concerned.
“You’d ruin yourself with such an accusation, everywhere you go, people will be staring, thinking--” he started and Lex laughed out loud, a harsh bark of amusement.
“You asshole! People have been staring at me for years now—do you think I care? They stare at me because they know I’m a freak, I look like a freak, and everywhere I go I drag around the burden that Lionel Luthor is my dad! That’s enough to brand me for most people in this narrow-minded town. They all know I’m gay and that’s another iron in the flames, you –you clueless, evil old man.”
Lex shook his head in mock bemusement. ”*This*is the brain that charts the path of Luthor Corp—a man who thinks he can get away with –with this.” He snapped his hand out, and his dad flinched.
Point—skirmish won.
“I make things happen Lex. I change things to please me. I rearrange events until the outcome is beneficial to me.”
Lex smiled. “I think in your own subtle way, you’re threatening me with, what death? I believe you. I always have. But here's the thing—I may have lost the only thing in my life that was important to me. So basically, I have nothing left to loose. I’m going to walk out those doors, and never come back. I’m going to be someone who’s not you. If you try to bring me back, I’ll leave again, and again. If you anger me, I’ll go to the cops—I’m seventeen, not ten. They’ll hear me now.” He licked at the scar on his lip.
Lionel stepped forward, growling, furious beyond reason at Lex’s display of defiance. “You little shit, I’m going to beat you down!” He raised his arm and his hand was caught in a large fist, a fist that ground his bunched fingers painfully together.
“Don’t try it you, you—creep. Lex! You’re coming with me—no arguments!” Lex's eyes shone in surprised pleasure, and his heart skipped a beat-- one minute alone, the next--Clark. Clark was here with him.
Clark scowled down on Lionel and scowled at Lex, waiting for him to disagree or tell him off.
“God, Clark, you’ll get no argument from me, not today! Please get me the hell out of here!” He spoke with such maniac cheerfulness that Clark faltered. Okay—there’s been some changes while I was lying around on the loft floor. Good He grinned at Lex and pushed Lionel slightly away, the man stumbled to the floor and hit with a thud. He lay there without moving, his face a mask of rage. His lips peeled back in a snarl at Clark when he took Lex’s hand in his.
The two left the room together at a fast walk, neither speaking, both boys intent on just getting out of the oppressive mausoleum of the Luthor “ancestral home”.
George watched the truck pull away from the castle at speed, white gravel of the drive flying out from under the screeching tires and spraying the grass. He leaned his head on the glass, cursing to himself and wondering how, if any way, he could make this situation work for him. Damn that fucking brat, damn his fucking boyfriend, damn that bastard mother—
“*George*! Get in here now!”
George squared his shoulders and licked his lips. Okay. There was a way, some how, to get out of a truly spectacular beating—he’d find it, and work it to death. Brat.
tbc.
The previous parts are here, going into the restroom and--say. Isn't that a hole saw they're carrying?
Summer Story
“Lex.” His name slid out of his dad’s mouth like a snake. He stood in front of him, eyes on the floor as he tried to think a step ahead of his dad’s next move.
Lionel moved out from behind the monstrous mahogany desk and walked towards him, colors shifting over his skin as he moved past the stained glass windows. He really looks the devil, he thought as his dad moved towards him, so smooth and silent it seemed like his body moved along on a pool of oil instead of human legs.
He stopped in front of Lex and he told himself breathe, breathe and concentrate on his chin—don’t look at his eyes….
“Good. Show no fear.” Lionel sounded faintly pleased as he walked behind him and Lex felt the unpleasant sensation of his dad’s hot breath sweeping over the back of his head. His dad was too close, but if he moved, he’d lose-- not the war, a skirmish, but still—
Lionel began speaking as though he was in mid thought, and Lex scrambled mentally for clues as to his dad’s intent. “You cost me money and time I can never recover Lex. You show me no gratitude for my sacrifice. No respect.” His dad’s hand landed on his shoulder and he cringed. Damn!
“You know I love you son. You are, after all, the only family I have left in this cold world.’ Lex didn’t have to face him to know; he could hear the sneer. “We’re all the other has, all there is….” Lionel’s hand moved up his shoulder to rest on his neck and slowly squeeze, slowly bow his head down. His other hand rested on his waist.
Lex screamed inside.no, no you’re wrong, you’re wrong I’m not alone. He bit his lip and waited for an exit point.
“How can you ever make this expense up to me, Lex? How can you recover the time lost for me? I’m a busy man. A very busy man. Every minute is like money to me—do you understand?”
That you’re a cheap, evil money grubbing bastard? I think I do, he thought. His dad’s hand curved over his head and his mouth filled with saliva and his stomach clenched at the feel of the papery dry palm on the back of his skull. His knees trembled for a moment until he locked them straight. His dad pressed against his head and inexorably moved him downwards, bent at the waist and his breath came a little harsher as he fought with himself—should he risk resisting this or wait, fight back or save it for a battle he’d be more likely to win?
He was bent at the waist, his dad’s hand still rested there.
“Lex, Lex, you give in like a little girl. That’s what you’re like, a soft little girl—a disgusting little girl…” he could feel the heat of his dads body behind him and he swallowed convulsively and hoped his dad didn’t feel or hear the violent movement of his throat.
“….who kisses boys. Do you like it? Tell me, what is Clark Kent?” He shook Lex sharply.
Lex froze—his dad knew, his dad knew--“What is he, that he makes you do this –thing,” and his hand tightened painfully on his already over -extended neck and his dad pushed down until he was bent at a painful and humiliating angle. The pain was nearly eclipsed by a flood of relief.Safe.
“Disgusting, disgusting,” Lionel hissed, and Lex jumped. What was wrong with his dad, this wasn’t normal behavior for him—humiliation, yes, pain yes, but this was something very different and very frightening. His dad’s hand slid from his waist to squeeze his thigh, and Lex fought to keep a squeak of fear from escaping. He swallowed again, desperate not to vomit. “I saw you and that other boy, that Fordman boy—Whore.” His grip tightened on Lex’s throat and his thigh and Lex felt a stab of fear that built and built until he was shaking like a twig in a hurricane. His dad was going to do something--his mind skittered all around the surface of the thought—something awful, horrible and tears sprang to his eyes, and he thought of Clark.
It was like a dash of cold water. No. He didn’t have to let this happen, he wasn’t a frightened little boy with a bloody mouth anymore. Fuck him. He took a deep breath, exhaled, took another, Clark, Clark, Clark and stepped back into his dad, bumping against him. His dad’s grip loosened just a fraction and he stomped down on his foot as hard as he could. His dad howled in pain and surprise at the unexpected resistance, and his grip loosened enough for Lex to yank himself out of his dad’s grip. He dashed away from him and put the ugly battleship of a desk between them.
Lionel was bright red with fury, but he spoke levelly, betraying nothing of the rage he must be feeling, and Lex thought to himself I don’t ever want to be that controlled. No-- that out of touch with my own fucking self, and shivered in reaction.
“Lex. Come here now. I’m your father and you need to obey me--- I’m your only means of support in this world. Your inheritance doesn’t come to you for some time yet. What will you do? You have nowhere to go. You can’t possibly imagine that your—friend, what ever it is you call him—can help you. Do you think his parent’s care about you…I’m sure they’d be happier not thinking about you and the perversions you bring their son to commit.”
Lex lifted a paperweight from the desk, staring at it as he spoke to his dad. “You really have no idea how personal relationships work, do you, old man?”
He juggled the weight from hand to hand. “Let’s put it this way. I don’t need you--- I‘ve got a few places to go, I have a few people who care about me—more than that, value my existence beyond what it gains them. I propose we knock this shit off and you piss the fuck off.” Lex tried a wide smile and prayed his lips wouldn’t shake and that his hands remained steady as he tossed the heavy crystal weight back and forth. Fuck let me pull this off, one time, one time.
“Let me promise you one thing and I want you to believe this with every fiber of your being--if you ever try to touch me like *that*again, it’ll be a contest as to what happens first--I brain you,” and he slammed the weight down on the desk hard enough to depress the wood and chip the globe, “or the cops crawling over your little fiefdom.”
Lionel at grinned at that, of course mentioning the police seemed a hollow threat to him.
“Of course,” Lex continued, “Keeping it all hushed up in the papers might be a bit more difficult considering the charge—Hmmm. Molestation. It’s such a difficult charge to fight.” It cost him nearly everything to keep a casual even mocking tone. It tore at his soul and filled his mouth with bitterness.
But. It had the desired effect, Lionel’s grin dropped from his face, and he began to look at last, concerned.
“You’d ruin yourself with such an accusation, everywhere you go, people will be staring, thinking--” he started and Lex laughed out loud, a harsh bark of amusement.
“You asshole! People have been staring at me for years now—do you think I care? They stare at me because they know I’m a freak, I look like a freak, and everywhere I go I drag around the burden that Lionel Luthor is my dad! That’s enough to brand me for most people in this narrow-minded town. They all know I’m gay and that’s another iron in the flames, you –you clueless, evil old man.”
Lex shook his head in mock bemusement. ”*This*is the brain that charts the path of Luthor Corp—a man who thinks he can get away with –with this.” He snapped his hand out, and his dad flinched.
Point—skirmish won.
“I make things happen Lex. I change things to please me. I rearrange events until the outcome is beneficial to me.”
Lex smiled. “I think in your own subtle way, you’re threatening me with, what death? I believe you. I always have. But here's the thing—I may have lost the only thing in my life that was important to me. So basically, I have nothing left to loose. I’m going to walk out those doors, and never come back. I’m going to be someone who’s not you. If you try to bring me back, I’ll leave again, and again. If you anger me, I’ll go to the cops—I’m seventeen, not ten. They’ll hear me now.” He licked at the scar on his lip.
Lionel stepped forward, growling, furious beyond reason at Lex’s display of defiance. “You little shit, I’m going to beat you down!” He raised his arm and his hand was caught in a large fist, a fist that ground his bunched fingers painfully together.
“Don’t try it you, you—creep. Lex! You’re coming with me—no arguments!” Lex's eyes shone in surprised pleasure, and his heart skipped a beat-- one minute alone, the next--Clark. Clark was here with him.
Clark scowled down on Lionel and scowled at Lex, waiting for him to disagree or tell him off.
“God, Clark, you’ll get no argument from me, not today! Please get me the hell out of here!” He spoke with such maniac cheerfulness that Clark faltered. Okay—there’s been some changes while I was lying around on the loft floor. Good He grinned at Lex and pushed Lionel slightly away, the man stumbled to the floor and hit with a thud. He lay there without moving, his face a mask of rage. His lips peeled back in a snarl at Clark when he took Lex’s hand in his.
The two left the room together at a fast walk, neither speaking, both boys intent on just getting out of the oppressive mausoleum of the Luthor “ancestral home”.
George watched the truck pull away from the castle at speed, white gravel of the drive flying out from under the screeching tires and spraying the grass. He leaned his head on the glass, cursing to himself and wondering how, if any way, he could make this situation work for him. Damn that fucking brat, damn his fucking boyfriend, damn that bastard mother—
“*George*! Get in here now!”
George squared his shoulders and licked his lips. Okay. There was a way, some how, to get out of a truly spectacular beating—he’d find it, and work it to death. Brat.
tbc.
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