Dis Pater Jupiter 26
1/30/06 06:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyTHe Previous Parts are here, practicing interpretive dance--hey! there's no dildos in dance!!
Here we go-- a little bit of DPJ. I know it! Can't believe it mayself.
As short as the trip into town had been, Lex felt refreshed, recharged. He felt he could be patient until Clark came back home and they could make plans to move ahead with his life.
Martha and Lex were coming into the kitchen from the garden when Jonathan yelled for her to come into the living room quick. The TV was on and the street reporter was excitedly yelling into his mike, behind him flames shot into the sky, and arcs of water lashed at blackened burning hulks behind him. “The apartment complex is four alarms now, companies from other parts of the city are here. It looks as if it may have been a gas explosion but authorities say they are still investigating.
Martha’s face was white, and it suddenly clicked in his mind with the force of a punch. It was Clark’s apartment building… Clark’s neighbors on the street, and he heard the reporter announce that several people were presumed dead. His fault, all of it. It was *his* fault. He drew in a shuddering breath. And Clark was going to try to blame himself.
At the sound, Jonathan’s head snapped his way. “No,” he said after catching Lex’s expression. “It’s not you, understand? It’s a horrible coincidence, things happen Lex and they’re not always about you.”
Lex nodded and tried to look like he believed what Jonathan was saying.
*****
Clark landed outside the ring of trucks, and the captain turned to him.
“Superman. We’ve got the fire under control--do you mind,” he gestured to the building and Clark nodded grimly. He swept the structure with his x-ray vision and listened deeply. Nothing. No one left alive in that place, but in what would have been a rear apartment huddled four bodies.
They had had a dog, that family, and their name—he couldn’t recall at the moment, but he knew their names, said good morning, pat their dog….
He felt like he was going to explode. He wanted to kill him with his bare hands, hear him beg for life, beg for forgiveness.
******
Lucas was back in the special project lab, laying face down on an exam table; Darrell was fiddling around with something out of the range of his eyesight. “Now, this might sting a little. Well, a lot, really. I’m going to inject it here, and here,” he was saying and pressed between his shoulder blades and at the base of his spine. He held the syringe full of evil looking green liquid so Lucas could se it.
“Okay, okay, go ahead—shit!” He felt a prick between his shoulders and then, fire poured outward from a point between them and ate everything in between. He was grinding his teeth together, holding in a scream, and then another prick and fire rolled up his spine. “Fuckfuckfuck,” he groaned and his hands were fisted in the cheap cotton sheet of the table. He refused to move more than that, not when each movement felt like his muscles were trying to tear themselves into shreds, and fire was still trying to eat him from the inside out. Muscles jumped at random, and his skin twitched like it was about to crawl off his bones.
“You okay? Because, I have to test…”
Lucas didn’t trust his voice, he nodded his head, on sharp quick movement and then an ice-cold line ran down his back, it turned hot almost before it registered.
“What the fuck was that,” he growled hoarsely.
"Scalpel…it’s still bleeding. Good."
Lucas wanted to say something, but he was being drowned under a wave of euphoric well being that filled every cell, he felt fucking amazing, like he was riding the crest of the world’s most intense and long-lasting orgasm. There wasn’t anything that he couldn’t do, nothing, nothing, he was fucking invincible, he was a god, he could tear that Flying Freak into bits and piss on the bits… “Fuck! What the hell is this?”
Darrell laughed. “Yeah, we noticed it had that effect too. Bonus, right? Okay, lay here a little until the attendant comes for you. We’ll do the interface later.” He sat so that he and Lucas were eye to eye. “Now, when it’s activated, it will want to link into your nervous system. When it’s deactivated, it will un-attach. That’s what it’s designed to do.”
Lucas was a veteran of more than a few boardroom pitches. “Designed to do—that’s code for we don’t know what the fuck it’s really going to do. So, what are the odds it won’t release? That will make this poison you’re shooting me full of rather unnecessary, won’t it?” He was still floating on the feeling of omnipotence, slowly starting to come down.
“Yeah, but if the interface works like it’s supposed to, you don’t want your body healing over it, you don’t want to wear a steel spine outside your body forever, do you?”
“No, no,” Lucas giggled. “Just think of the tailoring charges alone.”
Darrell stared at him. “Um.”
******
When he arrived at the castle, Harris was waiting for him in the study, still and straight as a Swiss Guard.
“You’re here. Good. I need to make a phone call, come stand by the desk.”
Harris lifted an eyebrow, but complied.
Lucas dialed Lex’s cell phone number, not sure if he had it still. He leaned back and closed his eyes and suddenly he felt a wave of that euphoria again, not as intense but enough to make him melt in the chair. Harris watched him silently, watched the liquid movement Lucas made as the drug slammed through him. The phone rang, and rang and he was about to disconnect when a thin voice said, Yes?”
“Lex, it’s me. Something happened that…”
“What do you want, Lucas?”
He turned his chair so he was facing Harris, very close to him. He could almost feel heat radiating from him and Harris shifted minutely, uneasily. “What do I want?” He laughed, a dry croak empty of humor. “What do I want? I want things to be the same, but I’m not fool enough to think that’s going to happen. You’re really not coming back and there’s nothing I can do.”
“You can hope Clark won’t kill you for what you did.”
“God—that—that was a mistake. “His voice dipped and broke, he flipped open the laptop on his desk. “I…didn’t mean for that to happen.” He choked, his voice thick with emotion. Inside he hummed a little, opened his mail and checked new messages. “You have to believe me, it was supposed to be a scare, that’s all---just a little smoke, not that inferno I…” Not too much emotion, he didn’t want to go over the top. He let the pause drag on, read what was on his screen while he waited.
“All right,” Lex said, and Lucas smiled. Touched Harris behind the knee and watched the reaction. “Maybe you didn’t mean to do it, but the fact remains, people died and you don’t give a damn, don’t insult me with that ludicrous act.”
“But you care about it, that’s why it matters to me. Believe me, Lex, I’m sorry.” Fuck yeah, he was sorry, it was all over the news, Clark Kent , the Daily Planet reporter’s building going up in flames—though come to think of it, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing…Clark didn’t look singled out. He ran his hand slowly up the back of Harris leg. Every cloud…”Say that again?”
“I warn you not to try and hurt the Kents, the repercussions would be devastating, believe me.”
“Again you’re warning me. Lex, I swear, on our mother’s grave I swear that I won’t hurt the Kents. I wouldn’t. Now. They have nothing to fear from me.” His voice rang so true, so sincere, that he almost believed himself, and he could *feel* Lex believing him. Again. Because he loved him and wanted so desperately to believe him. It brought tears to his eyes and he pulled his hand away from Harris, who made a tiny mouse like noise when he moved that went straight to Lucas’ dick. Oh yes.
He wiped his eyes and asked Lex, “Will you meet with me?”
“No, that would make me an insane person! Why even ask Lucas, just let it go.”
“Please? Please? Any place you choose, whatever makes you feel safe—even though you never have to be afraid of me, I can’t hurt you. Just, please…just once.” Lucas groaned inside, felt disgusting and weak and begged him anyway. Everything else in the room was forgotten as he concentrated on willing Lex to say yes, please say yes. If he got him to agree to that, than he had a shot…he had that inch….
“Let me think about it, okay?”
Triumph shot through Lucas like the drug. Yes! “Yes, of course. Call me, let me know. I love you, you know that right?”
“Yes.” Lex disconnected and Lucas grinned. He was going to see him tonight, and he’d see him here. He was sure of it. And when he got him in here…
. Guilt was a wonderful tool, Lex’s guilt, his own guilt, all useful.
Harris still stood at his side, and Lucas looked at the press of his dick against the fabric of his trousers and that made him smile too. He glanced up and the man was staring straight ahead and swallowing…”Nervous?”
“No. No, I don’t…”
Lucas stared, stared at his crotch and watched his dick swell, jerk against the loose soft fabric. Nice he thought. Very nice. A bead of sweat worked its way down Harris’ temple, detoured around his ear “Strip.”
Harris startled. “Strip? Now?”
“You heard me,” Lucas turned his attention back to the laptop, answered mail, sent memos to his aides and read over the new information that Darrell sent. In the background he could hear the soft non-sound that fabric made when it hit the floor, metallic jingle of a buckle being worked loose…he waited a beat and said, “Kneel.” And continued to work. His back felt uncomfortable, tacky blood made his shirt stick to him—it was a good sign at least, it meant healing was slowed down—the project would work. A little while passed again before he finally turned to face Harris, naked and of course kneeling on the floor.
Complete obedience. Lucas liked that in a person.
Harris was semi-erect, a blush staining his cheeks, his neck—Lucas watched him, as fascinated as a wolf watching a hare--Harris’ dick jerked upwards.
Easing out of the chair, Lucas circled Harris in a tight orbit, never quite touching him. “You’re hard like that because I’m looking at you. You can speak,” he added knowing that Harris knew—this was a variation on the game.
“Yes.” One word, low, harsh, trembling on the edge of self-control. His dick jerked hard.
Lucas laughed softly, touched his shoulder and ran a finger lightly from one wing of bone to the other. Harris tried not to lean into the touch, Lucas noted and smiled. He liked that.
“Please.” The man’s voice was rougher, strained, and low enough that Lucas had to try to hear him. “Please.” He said again. A drop of fluid spun from the tip of his dick and fell to his thigh and Lucas liked that too.
“Please,” he groaned. Lucas moved his hand from his shoulder to his throat, and squeezed. Hard. “You talk too much.” And another drop welled up and fell to his thigh…every touch of Lucas’ fingers, his nails, brought sound from the bowed figure on the floor. “Too much noise." His back arched and his dick strained upward, bobbing with every breath he pulled in. “It ‘s distracting” and Lucas went to his desk, opened the briefcase. “But we’re in luck—-I brought toys…”
He came back to Harris and showed him what was in his hand, his blue eyes sparkling with an overly bright inner light—a ballgag. Harris closed his eyes and bit his lip viciously, groaned in his throat. Shook his head a fraction. No.
Lucas grinned wider. “Oh yes.”
TBC, hopefully...
Here we go-- a little bit of DPJ. I know it! Can't believe it mayself.
As short as the trip into town had been, Lex felt refreshed, recharged. He felt he could be patient until Clark came back home and they could make plans to move ahead with his life.
Martha and Lex were coming into the kitchen from the garden when Jonathan yelled for her to come into the living room quick. The TV was on and the street reporter was excitedly yelling into his mike, behind him flames shot into the sky, and arcs of water lashed at blackened burning hulks behind him. “The apartment complex is four alarms now, companies from other parts of the city are here. It looks as if it may have been a gas explosion but authorities say they are still investigating.
Martha’s face was white, and it suddenly clicked in his mind with the force of a punch. It was Clark’s apartment building… Clark’s neighbors on the street, and he heard the reporter announce that several people were presumed dead. His fault, all of it. It was *his* fault. He drew in a shuddering breath. And Clark was going to try to blame himself.
At the sound, Jonathan’s head snapped his way. “No,” he said after catching Lex’s expression. “It’s not you, understand? It’s a horrible coincidence, things happen Lex and they’re not always about you.”
Lex nodded and tried to look like he believed what Jonathan was saying.
*****
Clark landed outside the ring of trucks, and the captain turned to him.
“Superman. We’ve got the fire under control--do you mind,” he gestured to the building and Clark nodded grimly. He swept the structure with his x-ray vision and listened deeply. Nothing. No one left alive in that place, but in what would have been a rear apartment huddled four bodies.
They had had a dog, that family, and their name—he couldn’t recall at the moment, but he knew their names, said good morning, pat their dog….
He felt like he was going to explode. He wanted to kill him with his bare hands, hear him beg for life, beg for forgiveness.
******
Lucas was back in the special project lab, laying face down on an exam table; Darrell was fiddling around with something out of the range of his eyesight. “Now, this might sting a little. Well, a lot, really. I’m going to inject it here, and here,” he was saying and pressed between his shoulder blades and at the base of his spine. He held the syringe full of evil looking green liquid so Lucas could se it.
“Okay, okay, go ahead—shit!” He felt a prick between his shoulders and then, fire poured outward from a point between them and ate everything in between. He was grinding his teeth together, holding in a scream, and then another prick and fire rolled up his spine. “Fuckfuckfuck,” he groaned and his hands were fisted in the cheap cotton sheet of the table. He refused to move more than that, not when each movement felt like his muscles were trying to tear themselves into shreds, and fire was still trying to eat him from the inside out. Muscles jumped at random, and his skin twitched like it was about to crawl off his bones.
“You okay? Because, I have to test…”
Lucas didn’t trust his voice, he nodded his head, on sharp quick movement and then an ice-cold line ran down his back, it turned hot almost before it registered.
“What the fuck was that,” he growled hoarsely.
"Scalpel…it’s still bleeding. Good."
Lucas wanted to say something, but he was being drowned under a wave of euphoric well being that filled every cell, he felt fucking amazing, like he was riding the crest of the world’s most intense and long-lasting orgasm. There wasn’t anything that he couldn’t do, nothing, nothing, he was fucking invincible, he was a god, he could tear that Flying Freak into bits and piss on the bits… “Fuck! What the hell is this?”
Darrell laughed. “Yeah, we noticed it had that effect too. Bonus, right? Okay, lay here a little until the attendant comes for you. We’ll do the interface later.” He sat so that he and Lucas were eye to eye. “Now, when it’s activated, it will want to link into your nervous system. When it’s deactivated, it will un-attach. That’s what it’s designed to do.”
Lucas was a veteran of more than a few boardroom pitches. “Designed to do—that’s code for we don’t know what the fuck it’s really going to do. So, what are the odds it won’t release? That will make this poison you’re shooting me full of rather unnecessary, won’t it?” He was still floating on the feeling of omnipotence, slowly starting to come down.
“Yeah, but if the interface works like it’s supposed to, you don’t want your body healing over it, you don’t want to wear a steel spine outside your body forever, do you?”
“No, no,” Lucas giggled. “Just think of the tailoring charges alone.”
Darrell stared at him. “Um.”
******
When he arrived at the castle, Harris was waiting for him in the study, still and straight as a Swiss Guard.
“You’re here. Good. I need to make a phone call, come stand by the desk.”
Harris lifted an eyebrow, but complied.
Lucas dialed Lex’s cell phone number, not sure if he had it still. He leaned back and closed his eyes and suddenly he felt a wave of that euphoria again, not as intense but enough to make him melt in the chair. Harris watched him silently, watched the liquid movement Lucas made as the drug slammed through him. The phone rang, and rang and he was about to disconnect when a thin voice said, Yes?”
“Lex, it’s me. Something happened that…”
“What do you want, Lucas?”
He turned his chair so he was facing Harris, very close to him. He could almost feel heat radiating from him and Harris shifted minutely, uneasily. “What do I want?” He laughed, a dry croak empty of humor. “What do I want? I want things to be the same, but I’m not fool enough to think that’s going to happen. You’re really not coming back and there’s nothing I can do.”
“You can hope Clark won’t kill you for what you did.”
“God—that—that was a mistake. “His voice dipped and broke, he flipped open the laptop on his desk. “I…didn’t mean for that to happen.” He choked, his voice thick with emotion. Inside he hummed a little, opened his mail and checked new messages. “You have to believe me, it was supposed to be a scare, that’s all---just a little smoke, not that inferno I…” Not too much emotion, he didn’t want to go over the top. He let the pause drag on, read what was on his screen while he waited.
“All right,” Lex said, and Lucas smiled. Touched Harris behind the knee and watched the reaction. “Maybe you didn’t mean to do it, but the fact remains, people died and you don’t give a damn, don’t insult me with that ludicrous act.”
“But you care about it, that’s why it matters to me. Believe me, Lex, I’m sorry.” Fuck yeah, he was sorry, it was all over the news, Clark Kent , the Daily Planet reporter’s building going up in flames—though come to think of it, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing…Clark didn’t look singled out. He ran his hand slowly up the back of Harris leg. Every cloud…”Say that again?”
“I warn you not to try and hurt the Kents, the repercussions would be devastating, believe me.”
“Again you’re warning me. Lex, I swear, on our mother’s grave I swear that I won’t hurt the Kents. I wouldn’t. Now. They have nothing to fear from me.” His voice rang so true, so sincere, that he almost believed himself, and he could *feel* Lex believing him. Again. Because he loved him and wanted so desperately to believe him. It brought tears to his eyes and he pulled his hand away from Harris, who made a tiny mouse like noise when he moved that went straight to Lucas’ dick. Oh yes.
He wiped his eyes and asked Lex, “Will you meet with me?”
“No, that would make me an insane person! Why even ask Lucas, just let it go.”
“Please? Please? Any place you choose, whatever makes you feel safe—even though you never have to be afraid of me, I can’t hurt you. Just, please…just once.” Lucas groaned inside, felt disgusting and weak and begged him anyway. Everything else in the room was forgotten as he concentrated on willing Lex to say yes, please say yes. If he got him to agree to that, than he had a shot…he had that inch….
“Let me think about it, okay?”
Triumph shot through Lucas like the drug. Yes! “Yes, of course. Call me, let me know. I love you, you know that right?”
“Yes.” Lex disconnected and Lucas grinned. He was going to see him tonight, and he’d see him here. He was sure of it. And when he got him in here…
. Guilt was a wonderful tool, Lex’s guilt, his own guilt, all useful.
Harris still stood at his side, and Lucas looked at the press of his dick against the fabric of his trousers and that made him smile too. He glanced up and the man was staring straight ahead and swallowing…”Nervous?”
“No. No, I don’t…”
Lucas stared, stared at his crotch and watched his dick swell, jerk against the loose soft fabric. Nice he thought. Very nice. A bead of sweat worked its way down Harris’ temple, detoured around his ear “Strip.”
Harris startled. “Strip? Now?”
“You heard me,” Lucas turned his attention back to the laptop, answered mail, sent memos to his aides and read over the new information that Darrell sent. In the background he could hear the soft non-sound that fabric made when it hit the floor, metallic jingle of a buckle being worked loose…he waited a beat and said, “Kneel.” And continued to work. His back felt uncomfortable, tacky blood made his shirt stick to him—it was a good sign at least, it meant healing was slowed down—the project would work. A little while passed again before he finally turned to face Harris, naked and of course kneeling on the floor.
Complete obedience. Lucas liked that in a person.
Harris was semi-erect, a blush staining his cheeks, his neck—Lucas watched him, as fascinated as a wolf watching a hare--Harris’ dick jerked upwards.
Easing out of the chair, Lucas circled Harris in a tight orbit, never quite touching him. “You’re hard like that because I’m looking at you. You can speak,” he added knowing that Harris knew—this was a variation on the game.
“Yes.” One word, low, harsh, trembling on the edge of self-control. His dick jerked hard.
Lucas laughed softly, touched his shoulder and ran a finger lightly from one wing of bone to the other. Harris tried not to lean into the touch, Lucas noted and smiled. He liked that.
“Please.” The man’s voice was rougher, strained, and low enough that Lucas had to try to hear him. “Please.” He said again. A drop of fluid spun from the tip of his dick and fell to his thigh and Lucas liked that too.
“Please,” he groaned. Lucas moved his hand from his shoulder to his throat, and squeezed. Hard. “You talk too much.” And another drop welled up and fell to his thigh…every touch of Lucas’ fingers, his nails, brought sound from the bowed figure on the floor. “Too much noise." His back arched and his dick strained upward, bobbing with every breath he pulled in. “It ‘s distracting” and Lucas went to his desk, opened the briefcase. “But we’re in luck—-I brought toys…”
He came back to Harris and showed him what was in his hand, his blue eyes sparkling with an overly bright inner light—a ballgag. Harris closed his eyes and bit his lip viciously, groaned in his throat. Shook his head a fraction. No.
Lucas grinned wider. “Oh yes.”
TBC, hopefully...
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
1/30/06 11:36 pm (UTC)(no subject)
1/31/06 01:48 am (UTC)(no subject)
1/30/06 11:42 pm (UTC)Damn, damn skeery.
*bounce*
But i lurve it!
(no subject)
1/31/06 01:48 am (UTC)(no subject)
1/31/06 02:05 am (UTC)Carry on.
:)
(no subject)
1/31/06 12:50 am (UTC)(no subject)
1/31/06 01:49 am (UTC)(no subject)
1/31/06 04:51 am (UTC)you don’t give a damn, don’t insult me with that ludicrous act
Go, Lex!
He felt a prick between his shoulders
This reminds me of a story my OB/GYN told me while I was in the hospital delivering my ds.
It was his first delivery, and he was about to administer a pudendal block.
So he says to her, "You're going to feel a little prick . . . ."
(no subject)
1/31/06 03:57 pm (UTC)(no subject)
1/31/06 12:13 pm (UTC)(no subject)
1/31/06 03:57 pm (UTC)(no subject)
1/31/06 10:24 pm (UTC)*i cant believe, you went back to this, I "nearly" forgot about Lucas!!!"
(no subject)
1/31/06 11:59 pm (UTC)(no subject)
2/1/06 11:55 am (UTC)as long as you are here, and going to finish, I am here to read!
My hero :D
2/1/06 03:20 am (UTC)Re: My hero :D
2/1/06 04:15 am (UTC)thanks so much, I'm so glad that I can make you happy!
(no subject)
2/3/06 05:57 am (UTC)