(no subject)
8/26/05 04:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyPart 1
Part 2
Part 3
Rating is 3 for this part
The plot thickens! Well, not so much but it is moving along a bit!
Still no title, but that’s okay—I’ll think of something. In the mean while, how about…The Half Nuts Princess? Ah? Ah?
Clark shook, he was cold all the time now, cold and weak and tired. So tired of trying to hold on. He’d stopped caring about what happened to him, what did it matter--the outcome was so obvious. He lay on his side in the dark and wondered when he was going to die, wished he could stop dreaming….
Some times he thought he was waking up in his bed at home, under his warm covers, shuddering at the nightmare he’d had. Sometimes he heard his parents, sometimes they called his name like they were searching for him--sometimes they laughed and told him how weak and pathetic he was. Lex talked to him sometimes, told him how disgusting he was, how perfect Lana was and how much he loved fucking her, how glad he was that Clark was going to die…there were times, though, that he told Clark how much he loved him, cried and told him how much he wanted to be with him. Clark sobbed when he woke from those dreams. They hurt so much worse then the dreams in which Lex told him that he hated him.
Lana was getting more and more angry with him. The things she did to him were having less effect—it was as if a level of pain had been reached that couldn’t be surpassed. The kryptonite…he felt the weight of it constantly…the pain—it was becoming all of his world, a part of him. He couldn’t remember what it was like not to feel it all the time.
Once she drove shards of it into his hands, his feet…she seemed to think that was terribly funny. That had been…awful. His throat bled from time to time if he shouted too loud, damaged from having the wand pushed down his throat.
“Imagine that it’s Lex,” she’d grinned.
But she was tiring of the game. He felt it, the way she looked at him, she stalked around his body like a tiger, sniffing, considering….
“You don’t taste good anymore. You’ve given up. The flavor…it’s flat.”
She sat next to him and stroked his back, ignoring the way his skin shivered and twitched at her touch. “You know, there are a lot of delicious people out there, waiting for me…your parents, Lex…Chloe… What do you think she’d do if I screwed her—I could, you know, let her take your place. All you’d have to do is watch. Do you think any of them would volunteer to take your place?”
Clark groaned, fear for his friends making him swim back to the surface, breaking him out of the dark warm place in his mind he was trying to create. “Don’t…” It hurt to talk, and that little bit made her smile. “It’s sweet that you’re trying to make me happy, but I think—I think I’m going to have to find a new playmate. Please don’t imagine I haven’t enjoyed you, I have. But I think we’re growing apart. Oh, it’s me, it’s not you,” she smirked and pinched him, chuckled when he jumped slightly, “ No, you’ve been great.”
She stood and pulled the door open, the screech of rusty hinges made his eyes close. “Oh, by the way, Lex has never stopped looking for you.” She watched the shudder roll through him. “I know—let’s let him find you! With or without your head? Umm…doesn’t that smell good! I wouldn’t think you had it in you any more, Clark.”
Clark closed his eyes, they burned under his eyelids, they felt grainy and raw and they stayed dry. He didn’t have any more tears to give. Mom…Dad...Pete…Chloe—they filled his mind; he saw them clearly, calling him, begging him for help. Lex. Find me, please, find me….
******
Lex lay in Clark’s bed and looked around the small room. It was a typical boys room, the only thing missing were posters--girls, cars, bands--the usual boy things…instead there were star charts and pictures from space, photos of his friends stuck to the wall randomly…he noticed there were no pictures of him—he was surprised how much it hurt.
The sound of the television downstairs was barely audible, they were listening to the news, of course. Other sounds kept him slightly on edge; creaking sounds he knew full well were the sounds an old house, but his exhausted mind kept trying to make into words. He heard Clark whispering his name, heard him asking for help. Frustrated, he pulled the pillow over his head to block the sounds and it hit him like a punch to the gut—the scent of Clark, stronger than the shirt he’d worn, stronger than the blanket he’d wrapped himself in. Clark. He lay still, and held the pillow like a lover. He pushed his cheek against the wash-worn cotton and inhaled again and again and tried to see Clark, the Clark that lived in his mind, happy, smiling so wide, eyes sparkling whenever he looked at him…that little grin he got sometimes when he thought about teasing him unmercifully but never did…why didn’t Clark ever tease him?
Lex blanked his mind for a moment, wrestled for control—he blinked rapidly and when his eyes were dry and he didn’t feel as though he were trying to breathe around a lump in his throat, he let his thoughts turn back to Clark. He rolled to his side, the pillow clutched to him; he thought about Clark, and drifted from sadness to mild arousal—that felt wrong, laying in his bed, holding his pillow and getting hard—but the smell of Clark filled his nose, and scent…did things to him, the smell of cotton and faint scent of sweat, soap and a hint of something spicy, some cologne maybe…his dick shifted and pushed against the cotton sleep pants he wore--Clark’s.
He sighed and reached out to the night stand next to the bed, opened the drawer there. There was bound to be—tissues, and lotion, yes, he figured there would be. A smile flitted over his face before he closed his eyes and thought… He imagined Clark’s hand, rubbing slow circles over his stomach, winding it’s way down, touching him, maybe he’d be a little nervous, hesitant…he’d show him how to touch him, hold his hand over Clark’s and guide him, big hand wrapping him nearly from base to head, warm, warm…Lex sucked in a small gasp of surprise and came quietly, quickly, his orgasm flowed out of him and he barely moved, but for a moment he felt safe, safe enough to drift off to sleep.
******
Three days had passed since Jonathan picked him up and shoved him back into sanity, and in that time, he hadn’t left the farm. He was more than willing to get up before the crack of dawn with Jonathan, and help as much as he could. He mucked out the stalls, helped in the milking sheds and did what he could to be productive, to wear himself out. He kept in touch with Gabe, kept track of what was going on at the plant and what needed his help, he spoke with his security chief every few hours, sure that he was driving the man insane and not giving a damn, he needed to keep on top of the investigation and at the same time, suffered blinding guilt for not being involved with every single aspect of the search for Clark. He kept it at bay by working, working…
He decided that Martha would appreciate it if he weeded the small flower garden along the side of the barn, and was searching for tools when he heard noise from the storm cellar. He crept up on the source, hoe at the ready—if it was whoever had taken Clark, he intended to kill them---after he’d found out what they’d done with Clark…
It was Jonathan, standing over a metal sculpture…piece of farm equipment…metal—what the hell was it? “Jonathan?”
Jonathan started violently and whirled around, his shadow edged eyes were wild and large, his mouth was open, a myriad expressions flowed over his face and then—like a door being slammed to, he looked cold and hard--dangerous. “I wish you hadn’t seen this, Lex,” he said, and his lips pressed together in to a thin harsh line.
Lex’s first thought was ‘God, I think he’s going to kill me.’ He backed away and Jonathan moved forward, glowering—and in the next instant he seemed to deflate, his shoulders sagged, his mouth softened, and turned down. “Jesus.” He sighed. He drew his fingers through his hair. “Lex—sit down.”
Lex practically dropped to the ground, hoe in his hand forgotten as he stared at the thing on the ground.
“I’m going to tell you this because there’s no point in lying now, and—and I can’t …there’s nothing I can do now. Whoever took Clark probably knows about it anyway. I think—if I’d told you this before…well, it may or may not have made a difference. Martha and I, we’re afraid it may be the reason they took Clark. we’re afraid….”
He looked so lost and scared Lex began to be more afraid. This thing, was it what Clark wouldn’t tell him? This was about his secrets, what made him pull away, made him deny Lex what he needed most desperately-- trust, trust from Clark, trust in Clark.
******
Lex sat on the dust-covered floor, stunned into silence.
Jonathan had spun him a tale that defied belief. He spun him a tale straight out of an old black and white Twilight Zone…that’s where they definitely where, the Twilight Zone. Somehow, he’d walked into the storm cellar and into an alternate universe. If he tried to move, would Jonathan wish him into the cornfield?
“I know everything I’m telling you sounds bizarre…all right, insane—but it’s true.”
Jonathan knelt in front of Lex, laid his hands over Lex’s ice cold ones, clutched on his knees. “Lex…you hit him with your car. If he were human, he’d be dead. Everything he’s done he’s been able to do because of what he is.”
“So…you’re telling me your …son…is an extra-terrestrial? That he came from some distant solar –system?” Lex closed his eyes and laughed weakly, but didn’t move his hands from under Jonathan’s. “This is his secret? God—he’s not a mutant, he’s…he’s not human?” Lex’s mind raced, why would they deny him—everyone--this wonderful, amazing knowledge, what wonderful things could be learned from Clark—what could he tell them about distant worlds, what kind of technological advances would his –his ship give up? What made Clark tick…suddenly he understood why, shame and guilt filled him as his stomach flipped. Shit. He shivered from head to toe, opened his eyes and looked into Jonathan’s worry filled face.
“You’re wondering if you can trust me, you’re wondering if right now I’m thinking of how to use this information to my advantage, aren’t you? You might be wondering what you can do with my body…maybe you should be wondering that.” His throat felt like it was being squeezed slowly shut, and he fought to breathe calmly.
Jonathan looked sad, and old, and sounded so tired when he spoke again. “No. I’m wondering how much you love him.”
“I love him enough to give up anything I need to, including my life. I don't want to see the--the spaceship until Clark is back with us. After he's safe again, I’ll do everything I can to make sure nothing like this will ever happen to him again, not as long as I live. You have my word on it.”
*******
Jonathan searched the face in front of him, so frightened but determined. He nodded. He’d watched this young man throw himself into the search for Clark as though his life depended on it—he’d seen his eyes burning with the need to have him back. He’d watched him around the farm, and he was finally beginning to get an accurate measure of this man. There was something…dangerous and wild in him, but also there was an old-fashioned sense of what was honorable inside him. Jonathan sighed. He had the feeling he may not always like what Lex did, but when he gave his word, he’d keep it. He could be trusted. Besides, he knew how to deal with young hotheads. He ought to…he grinned briefly, startling Lex. Yeah, he was pretty damn sure how to deal with a hot head.
He stood and held his hand out to Lex. “Come on, son. Let’s get cleaned up, and get some lunch.” Lex grabbed his hand and pulled himself up.
“So…who gets to tell Martha you know?”
Lex tripped over the hoe at his feet. He righted himself and looked down his nose at Jonathan. “I’m going to assume you enjoyed seeing me flail?”
Jonathan snickered. Sure he liked Lex, but still…it was too much fun to ruffle his feathers. Lex glanced at him quickly and smiled.
Jonathan knew—it was the briefest break in a world of sorrow. Lex didn’t mind providing it.
Tbc
****
Part 2
Part 3
Rating is 3 for this part
The plot thickens! Well, not so much but it is moving along a bit!
Still no title, but that’s okay—I’ll think of something. In the mean while, how about…The Half Nuts Princess? Ah? Ah?
Clark shook, he was cold all the time now, cold and weak and tired. So tired of trying to hold on. He’d stopped caring about what happened to him, what did it matter--the outcome was so obvious. He lay on his side in the dark and wondered when he was going to die, wished he could stop dreaming….
Some times he thought he was waking up in his bed at home, under his warm covers, shuddering at the nightmare he’d had. Sometimes he heard his parents, sometimes they called his name like they were searching for him--sometimes they laughed and told him how weak and pathetic he was. Lex talked to him sometimes, told him how disgusting he was, how perfect Lana was and how much he loved fucking her, how glad he was that Clark was going to die…there were times, though, that he told Clark how much he loved him, cried and told him how much he wanted to be with him. Clark sobbed when he woke from those dreams. They hurt so much worse then the dreams in which Lex told him that he hated him.
Lana was getting more and more angry with him. The things she did to him were having less effect—it was as if a level of pain had been reached that couldn’t be surpassed. The kryptonite…he felt the weight of it constantly…the pain—it was becoming all of his world, a part of him. He couldn’t remember what it was like not to feel it all the time.
Once she drove shards of it into his hands, his feet…she seemed to think that was terribly funny. That had been…awful. His throat bled from time to time if he shouted too loud, damaged from having the wand pushed down his throat.
“Imagine that it’s Lex,” she’d grinned.
But she was tiring of the game. He felt it, the way she looked at him, she stalked around his body like a tiger, sniffing, considering….
“You don’t taste good anymore. You’ve given up. The flavor…it’s flat.”
She sat next to him and stroked his back, ignoring the way his skin shivered and twitched at her touch. “You know, there are a lot of delicious people out there, waiting for me…your parents, Lex…Chloe… What do you think she’d do if I screwed her—I could, you know, let her take your place. All you’d have to do is watch. Do you think any of them would volunteer to take your place?”
Clark groaned, fear for his friends making him swim back to the surface, breaking him out of the dark warm place in his mind he was trying to create. “Don’t…” It hurt to talk, and that little bit made her smile. “It’s sweet that you’re trying to make me happy, but I think—I think I’m going to have to find a new playmate. Please don’t imagine I haven’t enjoyed you, I have. But I think we’re growing apart. Oh, it’s me, it’s not you,” she smirked and pinched him, chuckled when he jumped slightly, “ No, you’ve been great.”
She stood and pulled the door open, the screech of rusty hinges made his eyes close. “Oh, by the way, Lex has never stopped looking for you.” She watched the shudder roll through him. “I know—let’s let him find you! With or without your head? Umm…doesn’t that smell good! I wouldn’t think you had it in you any more, Clark.”
Clark closed his eyes, they burned under his eyelids, they felt grainy and raw and they stayed dry. He didn’t have any more tears to give. Mom…Dad...Pete…Chloe—they filled his mind; he saw them clearly, calling him, begging him for help. Lex. Find me, please, find me….
******
Lex lay in Clark’s bed and looked around the small room. It was a typical boys room, the only thing missing were posters--girls, cars, bands--the usual boy things…instead there were star charts and pictures from space, photos of his friends stuck to the wall randomly…he noticed there were no pictures of him—he was surprised how much it hurt.
The sound of the television downstairs was barely audible, they were listening to the news, of course. Other sounds kept him slightly on edge; creaking sounds he knew full well were the sounds an old house, but his exhausted mind kept trying to make into words. He heard Clark whispering his name, heard him asking for help. Frustrated, he pulled the pillow over his head to block the sounds and it hit him like a punch to the gut—the scent of Clark, stronger than the shirt he’d worn, stronger than the blanket he’d wrapped himself in. Clark. He lay still, and held the pillow like a lover. He pushed his cheek against the wash-worn cotton and inhaled again and again and tried to see Clark, the Clark that lived in his mind, happy, smiling so wide, eyes sparkling whenever he looked at him…that little grin he got sometimes when he thought about teasing him unmercifully but never did…why didn’t Clark ever tease him?
Lex blanked his mind for a moment, wrestled for control—he blinked rapidly and when his eyes were dry and he didn’t feel as though he were trying to breathe around a lump in his throat, he let his thoughts turn back to Clark. He rolled to his side, the pillow clutched to him; he thought about Clark, and drifted from sadness to mild arousal—that felt wrong, laying in his bed, holding his pillow and getting hard—but the smell of Clark filled his nose, and scent…did things to him, the smell of cotton and faint scent of sweat, soap and a hint of something spicy, some cologne maybe…his dick shifted and pushed against the cotton sleep pants he wore--Clark’s.
He sighed and reached out to the night stand next to the bed, opened the drawer there. There was bound to be—tissues, and lotion, yes, he figured there would be. A smile flitted over his face before he closed his eyes and thought… He imagined Clark’s hand, rubbing slow circles over his stomach, winding it’s way down, touching him, maybe he’d be a little nervous, hesitant…he’d show him how to touch him, hold his hand over Clark’s and guide him, big hand wrapping him nearly from base to head, warm, warm…Lex sucked in a small gasp of surprise and came quietly, quickly, his orgasm flowed out of him and he barely moved, but for a moment he felt safe, safe enough to drift off to sleep.
******
Three days had passed since Jonathan picked him up and shoved him back into sanity, and in that time, he hadn’t left the farm. He was more than willing to get up before the crack of dawn with Jonathan, and help as much as he could. He mucked out the stalls, helped in the milking sheds and did what he could to be productive, to wear himself out. He kept in touch with Gabe, kept track of what was going on at the plant and what needed his help, he spoke with his security chief every few hours, sure that he was driving the man insane and not giving a damn, he needed to keep on top of the investigation and at the same time, suffered blinding guilt for not being involved with every single aspect of the search for Clark. He kept it at bay by working, working…
He decided that Martha would appreciate it if he weeded the small flower garden along the side of the barn, and was searching for tools when he heard noise from the storm cellar. He crept up on the source, hoe at the ready—if it was whoever had taken Clark, he intended to kill them---after he’d found out what they’d done with Clark…
It was Jonathan, standing over a metal sculpture…piece of farm equipment…metal—what the hell was it? “Jonathan?”
Jonathan started violently and whirled around, his shadow edged eyes were wild and large, his mouth was open, a myriad expressions flowed over his face and then—like a door being slammed to, he looked cold and hard--dangerous. “I wish you hadn’t seen this, Lex,” he said, and his lips pressed together in to a thin harsh line.
Lex’s first thought was ‘God, I think he’s going to kill me.’ He backed away and Jonathan moved forward, glowering—and in the next instant he seemed to deflate, his shoulders sagged, his mouth softened, and turned down. “Jesus.” He sighed. He drew his fingers through his hair. “Lex—sit down.”
Lex practically dropped to the ground, hoe in his hand forgotten as he stared at the thing on the ground.
“I’m going to tell you this because there’s no point in lying now, and—and I can’t …there’s nothing I can do now. Whoever took Clark probably knows about it anyway. I think—if I’d told you this before…well, it may or may not have made a difference. Martha and I, we’re afraid it may be the reason they took Clark. we’re afraid….”
He looked so lost and scared Lex began to be more afraid. This thing, was it what Clark wouldn’t tell him? This was about his secrets, what made him pull away, made him deny Lex what he needed most desperately-- trust, trust from Clark, trust in Clark.
******
Lex sat on the dust-covered floor, stunned into silence.
Jonathan had spun him a tale that defied belief. He spun him a tale straight out of an old black and white Twilight Zone…that’s where they definitely where, the Twilight Zone. Somehow, he’d walked into the storm cellar and into an alternate universe. If he tried to move, would Jonathan wish him into the cornfield?
“I know everything I’m telling you sounds bizarre…all right, insane—but it’s true.”
Jonathan knelt in front of Lex, laid his hands over Lex’s ice cold ones, clutched on his knees. “Lex…you hit him with your car. If he were human, he’d be dead. Everything he’s done he’s been able to do because of what he is.”
“So…you’re telling me your …son…is an extra-terrestrial? That he came from some distant solar –system?” Lex closed his eyes and laughed weakly, but didn’t move his hands from under Jonathan’s. “This is his secret? God—he’s not a mutant, he’s…he’s not human?” Lex’s mind raced, why would they deny him—everyone--this wonderful, amazing knowledge, what wonderful things could be learned from Clark—what could he tell them about distant worlds, what kind of technological advances would his –his ship give up? What made Clark tick…suddenly he understood why, shame and guilt filled him as his stomach flipped. Shit. He shivered from head to toe, opened his eyes and looked into Jonathan’s worry filled face.
“You’re wondering if you can trust me, you’re wondering if right now I’m thinking of how to use this information to my advantage, aren’t you? You might be wondering what you can do with my body…maybe you should be wondering that.” His throat felt like it was being squeezed slowly shut, and he fought to breathe calmly.
Jonathan looked sad, and old, and sounded so tired when he spoke again. “No. I’m wondering how much you love him.”
“I love him enough to give up anything I need to, including my life. I don't want to see the--the spaceship until Clark is back with us. After he's safe again, I’ll do everything I can to make sure nothing like this will ever happen to him again, not as long as I live. You have my word on it.”
*******
Jonathan searched the face in front of him, so frightened but determined. He nodded. He’d watched this young man throw himself into the search for Clark as though his life depended on it—he’d seen his eyes burning with the need to have him back. He’d watched him around the farm, and he was finally beginning to get an accurate measure of this man. There was something…dangerous and wild in him, but also there was an old-fashioned sense of what was honorable inside him. Jonathan sighed. He had the feeling he may not always like what Lex did, but when he gave his word, he’d keep it. He could be trusted. Besides, he knew how to deal with young hotheads. He ought to…he grinned briefly, startling Lex. Yeah, he was pretty damn sure how to deal with a hot head.
He stood and held his hand out to Lex. “Come on, son. Let’s get cleaned up, and get some lunch.” Lex grabbed his hand and pulled himself up.
“So…who gets to tell Martha you know?”
Lex tripped over the hoe at his feet. He righted himself and looked down his nose at Jonathan. “I’m going to assume you enjoyed seeing me flail?”
Jonathan snickered. Sure he liked Lex, but still…it was too much fun to ruffle his feathers. Lex glanced at him quickly and smiled.
Jonathan knew—it was the briefest break in a world of sorrow. Lex didn’t mind providing it.
Tbc
****
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(no subject)
8/27/05 07:43 am (UTC)