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8/21/05 11:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyA few day’s ago I wrote a little ficlet for Ender, And it met with approval from you lovely ladies, and you expressed interest in more, so I thought, yes, I do want to write more. So here is more. Yes, I’m so articulate!
The first part of this unnamed fic is here
The rating is 5, for non-con, for torture and for hurting Clark, so be warned. It’s not that bad to me, but...you know.
*There he sits, clad in black like a crow…black and purple like a starling, like a vulture, waiting for someone to die, waiting for someone to tell him...He doesn’t see me. Or he sees me, but only the me defined by Clark. I hate Clark. Hate. Hate when that naked hairless thing looks at me now, eyes burning in that death’s-head. Death. So full of grief. It’s delicious. It’s laughable, so funny it’s a scream…wanting his fucking little boyfriend. Wanting to fuck his little boyfriend. Wishing he’d fucked him I bet. That’s all that interests him, all he thinks about, all he wants. Clark, Clark, Clark. Hello. I have what you want…
Look at him, flooding the air with sorrow until you can smell it, taste it, pouring off of him thick as cream, dragging his despair behind him like…like gluey streams of molasses, sickening freak… he grieves so hard, so silently it’s creepy…the vulture’s ruining business. God, I hate him. I hate him for keeping what should have been mine alone from me. It’s his fault the boy’s suffering…it’s his own fault he’s suffering. Grieving. We’re all grieving. The whole town’s lost its golden boy. It’s innocent hero…. ha. Not so innocent anymore. Bet that crow would be insane with anger if he knew—bet he wouldn’t want his little boyfriend so much if he knew. His perfect prince is spoiled. Not virginal anymore, you bitch. Maybe you’ll be next. I have time, and I’m enthusiastic enough. Um, don’t laugh. He’s looking.*
*****
There was a tiny sound at his side, the softest hesitant touch at his elbow and Lex looked up into Lana’s sad eyes, so full of sympathy it took him a moment to respond—he had to work to swallow around the lump in his throat.
“Lex, she spoke quietly, “I brought some coffee…you look all out.”
He gratefully reached for the steaming mug. “Yeah, I’m getting to the point where the caffeine doesn’t really help anymore.” He chuckled. “It’s just the fact it’s hot now that’s keeping me up.”
He tried to keep a brave face for the young girl, but he knew full well what he looked like. The mirror in the bathroom had been unpleasantly clear…his eyes were surrounded by purple shadows; his cheeks looked too sharp, pale, sunken….
“Lex, when was the last time you ate—or slept?” Lana squeezed his shoulder gently. “You need some rest. You aren’t going to do Clark any good if you end up in the hospital.”
The map in front of him was criss-crossed with lines, notes scattered across it in fierce red. He smoothed his hand over it. “I’ve put a grid over the map of Metropolis,” he said, continuing as though she’d never spoken. “I’ve got men going over every square inch of the city. Every square inch. If Clark’s anywhere in Metropolis, I’ll find him.”
“Well, most of the kids around here that run away head to the city…he has before…he’s there. I’m sure of it.”
She sounded so completely positive that Lex managed a smile. “I hope you’re right Lana. I don’t know how long the Kent’s can hold out. They’re at the edge of it now…I’m afraid it won’t take much to push them over.”
Lana watched the play of emotion over Lex’s face, hope, sorrow...guilt? He looked exhausted and worn out and it took all her will power not to laugh, not to smack him. *Who cares—who gives a damn about them…wait till they find out what been happening to their son.* “You’re a good person Lex. A good friend. You know…it’s a shame that the Kents will never invite you fully into their little circle. Look at how hard you’re working for them—even though you know they’ll never trust you.” She looked at him with all the pity she could muster in her eyes.
Lex jerked his head back a little, he looked wounded but agreed. “I know. I’m not under any illusions so far as the Kents go. Besides, this is for Clark, not out of any hope the Kents might ever come to think favorably of me. I know they’re using me, but I’m happy to be there…for Clark’s sake.” The knowledge of how little the Kents cared for him gleamed in his eyes. It looked as if the pain of that knowledge was physical. It could hardly get more delicious than this—but she was willing to try to make it so.
She smiled and patted his shoulder, rubbed it a little before she moved away. Lex turned back to the map, Lana forgotten almost instantly, until she returned and re-filled his cup.
“Thanks,” he murmured, and returned all his attention to the map, and the laptop he’d opened. She watched him for a minute, luxuriating in his misery.
“Oh, don’t thank me Lex, it’s nothing.” *It’s so hard—not to laugh. God this is more fun than I thought it’d be. Clark is going to love the strap-on tonight.* She held her hand close to her face. *Oh yes, that’s Lex’s cologne. He’ll be able to smell it. We’ll see what fun I can make with this….*
******
The door screeched open, the sound bringing him out of his drowsy state to instant attention. She had a tray this time. Clark could smell soup, and fruit punch. He wondered what time it was. He wondered what day it was.
She set the tray down and walked around him, unloosing the chains enough for him to move a little more freely, move his arms enough to grab the cup of soup and gulp it down. She waited to replace them, letting the soup settle in his gut, this time snapping them around his ankles and wrists. The burn was sharp at first, the skin at this new place the chains touched felt as if it were trying to crawl off his bones. When the pain settled to a dull grinding throb, he drank the punch quickly before she took it back, and moved away from her, scooting until his back was flat against the wall.
“Later, I’ll let you use the bathroom. You can take a shower tonight. I take care of you Clark. I care about you. Remember, no one else does.”
She walked around him, and crouched in front of him, looking into his face. She blurred in and out, and he narrowed his eyes, trying to focus on her face. “They stopped looking for you Clark. *He* stopped looking for you. In fact, he’s looking for something else now, something else entirely.” She ran her hands between her legs, and reached out for Clark. He jerked back and she yanked him forward, rubbed her hand over his face. “I don’t think he’s worrying about you much now.”
Clark smelt Lex’s cologne. It was unmistakable. It was Lex’s alone, a special blend made only for him, and Clark knew it like he knew the scent of himself. Tears filled his eyes. He’d hoped. He’d fantasized. He’d kept himself from screaming out his sanity with the thought that Lex cared, that he was coming…but he wasn’t.
“He waited a bit before you…disappeared, but he came after me, he wanted me all this time, like you claimed to. You thought he wanted you? Thought you’d wait until you were sure about what *you* wanted? Heh—he never wanted you. It was delusion. All of it’s delusion Clark, little prince of lies. You imagined it all.” Clark felt his head swim; he leaned forward and tucked his head between his knees. Lana was still crouched in front of him. She pulled his head up by a handful of hair. “Wake up you bitch—fuck!”
She leaped up but not quickly enough, Clark vomited up the punch and soup, splattering her, his knees, the floor, he gagged on after his stomach had nothing left to rid itself of.
She struck him—punched him in the face with the hand that wore the stone. The sound of his flesh tearing filled the cell, or so it seemed to Clark. He dropped to his back. She grabbed sections of the chains and dragged him out of the mess, and screamed, “You pig, you bastard, you fucking freak!! My clothes, my clothes…”
She grabbed handfuls of his hair again and yanked his head up to her. “Do you have *any* fucking idea how hard it is to find pants this shade of pink—any fucking idea?”
She shook him hard, so hard his jaw flew open and he groaned in pain. She slapped him, slapped him again and again, until finally, weak, nauseous and hurting as he was-- Clark snapped. He wanted her dead. He wanted to hurt her, kill her. He let his mouth fill with blood and spat it out, over her shirt, into her face. She jerked back…stunned into silence. She let his head fall out of her grip. She stood.
“All right Clark. All right.” She left the room.
Clark was pretty certain that she intended to kill him. He couldn’t work up the will to give a damn.
******
When she returned, it was worse than any other time. This time, she used the chains on his wrists and ankles to pull him wide, expose him and it was worse than being hunched over, arms locked over his chest.
This time was more than horrible…this time she was gentle.
This time, she worked him open by slow degrees, tender as a first time lover, warm gel worked into him, kisses light as feathers rained down on his belly, his dick, over his hole, her tongue ran over and over the ring of muscle until he couldn’t help himself, tears ran from his eyes as he got hard. She ran slick fingers slowly in and out of him and spoke.
“This could have been Lex, this could have been him kissing you, tasting you,” She licked a stripe around his navel, fucked it briefly with her tongue and he hissed, his hips lifting, the chains shifted and he moaned. “This could have been Lex telling you how much he wanted you, how hot you were inside, how tight…”
Clark jerked his head from side to side. “ No, no…”
She whispered harshly, “Oh yes, these could have been Lex’s lips around you, tasting, feeling you throb in his mouth.” She tapped the head of his dick, licked away pre-come that welled up, and Clark cried out, and begged silently for Lex to forgive him—this seemed the ultimate betrayal—that he could feel desire, in the midst of this pain, that he could still want.
She drew him into her mouth, sucked him deep inside and he cried out as she sucked his dick and fucked him with her fingers and sent thrill after thrill that curdled his soul shivering through him. Not even the constant dull throb of pain as the chains shifted against him could stop the excitement that rose inside of him, that at the same time turned his stomach and made him feel sick, dirty.
When she entered him he tried to blank his mind, tried not to think about Lex but it was impossible. Every thrust she told him that Lex would never do this to him, that Lex would spit on him now, that he was filthy and disgusting-- look at how much he loved it—he wanted to be treated like this.
His dick strained against his belly, dragging wet trails over his skin as she pushed into him, harsher, harder, she grinned at him, gasped and came, moaning and grinding against the vibrator coupled to the strap on, oblivious to the pain she caused him…before he could breathe again, she pulled out and shoved the kryptonite wand home.
Clark screamed. Sweat burst out on his skin and the pain ripped through him like barbed wire being pulled through his body from his ass to his throat--his heart pounded against his ribs— his veins crawled under his skin like burning snakes. He screamed and screamed and screamed. She watched him.
“You’re not human. Not any more…you're like Greg and Sean and Tina…and me.”
She leaned close to him and opened her mouth, moaned loudly. “Delicious, delicious, your pain…it fills me…your despair, tastes so good. Give it to me Clark, let me eat you up.”
She touched his fever hot skin with splayed fingers and leaned back. Her throat worked and she licked her lips. “You have no idea,” she groaned. “God, it tastes better than anything I’ve ever had…I need you.” She dropped her head after a moment and shivered.
“Um, that was delicious. Oh, look, you came. Isn’t that sweet,” she grinned. She stood and left him, drained and weeping on the wet concrete.
TBC
The first part of this unnamed fic is here
The rating is 5, for non-con, for torture and for hurting Clark, so be warned. It’s not that bad to me, but...you know.
*There he sits, clad in black like a crow…black and purple like a starling, like a vulture, waiting for someone to die, waiting for someone to tell him...He doesn’t see me. Or he sees me, but only the me defined by Clark. I hate Clark. Hate. Hate when that naked hairless thing looks at me now, eyes burning in that death’s-head. Death. So full of grief. It’s delicious. It’s laughable, so funny it’s a scream…wanting his fucking little boyfriend. Wanting to fuck his little boyfriend. Wishing he’d fucked him I bet. That’s all that interests him, all he thinks about, all he wants. Clark, Clark, Clark. Hello. I have what you want…
Look at him, flooding the air with sorrow until you can smell it, taste it, pouring off of him thick as cream, dragging his despair behind him like…like gluey streams of molasses, sickening freak… he grieves so hard, so silently it’s creepy…the vulture’s ruining business. God, I hate him. I hate him for keeping what should have been mine alone from me. It’s his fault the boy’s suffering…it’s his own fault he’s suffering. Grieving. We’re all grieving. The whole town’s lost its golden boy. It’s innocent hero…. ha. Not so innocent anymore. Bet that crow would be insane with anger if he knew—bet he wouldn’t want his little boyfriend so much if he knew. His perfect prince is spoiled. Not virginal anymore, you bitch. Maybe you’ll be next. I have time, and I’m enthusiastic enough. Um, don’t laugh. He’s looking.*
*****
There was a tiny sound at his side, the softest hesitant touch at his elbow and Lex looked up into Lana’s sad eyes, so full of sympathy it took him a moment to respond—he had to work to swallow around the lump in his throat.
“Lex, she spoke quietly, “I brought some coffee…you look all out.”
He gratefully reached for the steaming mug. “Yeah, I’m getting to the point where the caffeine doesn’t really help anymore.” He chuckled. “It’s just the fact it’s hot now that’s keeping me up.”
He tried to keep a brave face for the young girl, but he knew full well what he looked like. The mirror in the bathroom had been unpleasantly clear…his eyes were surrounded by purple shadows; his cheeks looked too sharp, pale, sunken….
“Lex, when was the last time you ate—or slept?” Lana squeezed his shoulder gently. “You need some rest. You aren’t going to do Clark any good if you end up in the hospital.”
The map in front of him was criss-crossed with lines, notes scattered across it in fierce red. He smoothed his hand over it. “I’ve put a grid over the map of Metropolis,” he said, continuing as though she’d never spoken. “I’ve got men going over every square inch of the city. Every square inch. If Clark’s anywhere in Metropolis, I’ll find him.”
“Well, most of the kids around here that run away head to the city…he has before…he’s there. I’m sure of it.”
She sounded so completely positive that Lex managed a smile. “I hope you’re right Lana. I don’t know how long the Kent’s can hold out. They’re at the edge of it now…I’m afraid it won’t take much to push them over.”
Lana watched the play of emotion over Lex’s face, hope, sorrow...guilt? He looked exhausted and worn out and it took all her will power not to laugh, not to smack him. *Who cares—who gives a damn about them…wait till they find out what been happening to their son.* “You’re a good person Lex. A good friend. You know…it’s a shame that the Kents will never invite you fully into their little circle. Look at how hard you’re working for them—even though you know they’ll never trust you.” She looked at him with all the pity she could muster in her eyes.
Lex jerked his head back a little, he looked wounded but agreed. “I know. I’m not under any illusions so far as the Kents go. Besides, this is for Clark, not out of any hope the Kents might ever come to think favorably of me. I know they’re using me, but I’m happy to be there…for Clark’s sake.” The knowledge of how little the Kents cared for him gleamed in his eyes. It looked as if the pain of that knowledge was physical. It could hardly get more delicious than this—but she was willing to try to make it so.
She smiled and patted his shoulder, rubbed it a little before she moved away. Lex turned back to the map, Lana forgotten almost instantly, until she returned and re-filled his cup.
“Thanks,” he murmured, and returned all his attention to the map, and the laptop he’d opened. She watched him for a minute, luxuriating in his misery.
“Oh, don’t thank me Lex, it’s nothing.” *It’s so hard—not to laugh. God this is more fun than I thought it’d be. Clark is going to love the strap-on tonight.* She held her hand close to her face. *Oh yes, that’s Lex’s cologne. He’ll be able to smell it. We’ll see what fun I can make with this….*
******
The door screeched open, the sound bringing him out of his drowsy state to instant attention. She had a tray this time. Clark could smell soup, and fruit punch. He wondered what time it was. He wondered what day it was.
She set the tray down and walked around him, unloosing the chains enough for him to move a little more freely, move his arms enough to grab the cup of soup and gulp it down. She waited to replace them, letting the soup settle in his gut, this time snapping them around his ankles and wrists. The burn was sharp at first, the skin at this new place the chains touched felt as if it were trying to crawl off his bones. When the pain settled to a dull grinding throb, he drank the punch quickly before she took it back, and moved away from her, scooting until his back was flat against the wall.
“Later, I’ll let you use the bathroom. You can take a shower tonight. I take care of you Clark. I care about you. Remember, no one else does.”
She walked around him, and crouched in front of him, looking into his face. She blurred in and out, and he narrowed his eyes, trying to focus on her face. “They stopped looking for you Clark. *He* stopped looking for you. In fact, he’s looking for something else now, something else entirely.” She ran her hands between her legs, and reached out for Clark. He jerked back and she yanked him forward, rubbed her hand over his face. “I don’t think he’s worrying about you much now.”
Clark smelt Lex’s cologne. It was unmistakable. It was Lex’s alone, a special blend made only for him, and Clark knew it like he knew the scent of himself. Tears filled his eyes. He’d hoped. He’d fantasized. He’d kept himself from screaming out his sanity with the thought that Lex cared, that he was coming…but he wasn’t.
“He waited a bit before you…disappeared, but he came after me, he wanted me all this time, like you claimed to. You thought he wanted you? Thought you’d wait until you were sure about what *you* wanted? Heh—he never wanted you. It was delusion. All of it’s delusion Clark, little prince of lies. You imagined it all.” Clark felt his head swim; he leaned forward and tucked his head between his knees. Lana was still crouched in front of him. She pulled his head up by a handful of hair. “Wake up you bitch—fuck!”
She leaped up but not quickly enough, Clark vomited up the punch and soup, splattering her, his knees, the floor, he gagged on after his stomach had nothing left to rid itself of.
She struck him—punched him in the face with the hand that wore the stone. The sound of his flesh tearing filled the cell, or so it seemed to Clark. He dropped to his back. She grabbed sections of the chains and dragged him out of the mess, and screamed, “You pig, you bastard, you fucking freak!! My clothes, my clothes…”
She grabbed handfuls of his hair again and yanked his head up to her. “Do you have *any* fucking idea how hard it is to find pants this shade of pink—any fucking idea?”
She shook him hard, so hard his jaw flew open and he groaned in pain. She slapped him, slapped him again and again, until finally, weak, nauseous and hurting as he was-- Clark snapped. He wanted her dead. He wanted to hurt her, kill her. He let his mouth fill with blood and spat it out, over her shirt, into her face. She jerked back…stunned into silence. She let his head fall out of her grip. She stood.
“All right Clark. All right.” She left the room.
Clark was pretty certain that she intended to kill him. He couldn’t work up the will to give a damn.
******
When she returned, it was worse than any other time. This time, she used the chains on his wrists and ankles to pull him wide, expose him and it was worse than being hunched over, arms locked over his chest.
This time was more than horrible…this time she was gentle.
This time, she worked him open by slow degrees, tender as a first time lover, warm gel worked into him, kisses light as feathers rained down on his belly, his dick, over his hole, her tongue ran over and over the ring of muscle until he couldn’t help himself, tears ran from his eyes as he got hard. She ran slick fingers slowly in and out of him and spoke.
“This could have been Lex, this could have been him kissing you, tasting you,” She licked a stripe around his navel, fucked it briefly with her tongue and he hissed, his hips lifting, the chains shifted and he moaned. “This could have been Lex telling you how much he wanted you, how hot you were inside, how tight…”
Clark jerked his head from side to side. “ No, no…”
She whispered harshly, “Oh yes, these could have been Lex’s lips around you, tasting, feeling you throb in his mouth.” She tapped the head of his dick, licked away pre-come that welled up, and Clark cried out, and begged silently for Lex to forgive him—this seemed the ultimate betrayal—that he could feel desire, in the midst of this pain, that he could still want.
She drew him into her mouth, sucked him deep inside and he cried out as she sucked his dick and fucked him with her fingers and sent thrill after thrill that curdled his soul shivering through him. Not even the constant dull throb of pain as the chains shifted against him could stop the excitement that rose inside of him, that at the same time turned his stomach and made him feel sick, dirty.
When she entered him he tried to blank his mind, tried not to think about Lex but it was impossible. Every thrust she told him that Lex would never do this to him, that Lex would spit on him now, that he was filthy and disgusting-- look at how much he loved it—he wanted to be treated like this.
His dick strained against his belly, dragging wet trails over his skin as she pushed into him, harsher, harder, she grinned at him, gasped and came, moaning and grinding against the vibrator coupled to the strap on, oblivious to the pain she caused him…before he could breathe again, she pulled out and shoved the kryptonite wand home.
Clark screamed. Sweat burst out on his skin and the pain ripped through him like barbed wire being pulled through his body from his ass to his throat--his heart pounded against his ribs— his veins crawled under his skin like burning snakes. He screamed and screamed and screamed. She watched him.
“You’re not human. Not any more…you're like Greg and Sean and Tina…and me.”
She leaned close to him and opened her mouth, moaned loudly. “Delicious, delicious, your pain…it fills me…your despair, tastes so good. Give it to me Clark, let me eat you up.”
She touched his fever hot skin with splayed fingers and leaned back. Her throat worked and she licked her lips. “You have no idea,” she groaned. “God, it tastes better than anything I’ve ever had…I need you.” She dropped her head after a moment and shivered.
“Um, that was delicious. Oh, look, you came. Isn’t that sweet,” she grinned. She stood and left him, drained and weeping on the wet concrete.
TBC
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