Dis Pater part 28
5/21/06 04:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyPrevious Parts are in the previous post!
There's porn in this bit. Shhhh!
Dis Pater Jupiter
Every moment after their meeting, Lucas was haunted by Lex. Everywhere, he saw him everywhere. He dreamt of him leaving over and over, and when he was awake, he saw him at the corner of his eye, walking away from him, always walking away with his head up and with that arrogant swagger Lucas tried so hard to copy. Whatever sane part left of him knew it was finally dead, that he’d never have Lex again and it was a good thing—the right thing-- but another part of him whispered just find the lever, the thing that will tip the balance to you and when you get him back this time …make it so he can never leave again. It rolled in his head, this other voice, thick and oily and warm. Darrell will help you keep Lex, just ask him, he’ll fix it so that it’ll work this time….
Other dreams haunted him, pricked him. Lucas dreamt he was in the helicopter again with Lex and Dad, and Lex kissed him and told him to be brave, told him how much he loved him. He remembered that love. It filled him and made him warm, made him want to be just Lucas, Lex’s brother.
Sometimes he’d dream one of a thousand variations of the time on the Bridge--standing there arm and arm with Lex, they’d watch as Clark sank and drowned in the green-gray water of the river. Lex always turned to him and smiled. ‘Well that’s done, then,’ and he’d kiss him so deep his heart would swell with joy, always right before he woke.
Sometimes, his mother came and berated him, tore into him about how he’d wasted Lex’s life and his own and she wished he’d died…sometimes his dad came to him, covered in so much blood, saying ‘You killed me for nothing, for nothing’. He’d wake from those dreams dry-eyed and furious and wanting desperately to hurt someone, something. Those dreams gave him purpose and the will to go on, the drive to keep going. To conquer.
Even as success mounted with his Project, others began to fail. He was taking more and more hits in his black business deals, Superman was killing him, strangling off his business slowly—the bastard was getting pleasure from it, he was sure. This was new—no smash and grab, no setting journalists on him; this was a deliberate systematic attempt to drive him insane.
If the Freak’s trying to drive me nuts, the jokes on him, he muttered, as he flipped through reports detailing the latest disaster presented to him, neat and tidy and it hardly seemed right that it was so orderly, so clean. It galled him how the perception of Lucas Luthor was shifting from the strong, ruthless and hard to beat ruler of LuthorCorp, to a weak link, ready to be broken. Talk was coming back to him, ridiculous assertions that he could barely hold on to what he had, that someone was bent on taking him down…now here he was, wasting money and manpower defending his position, when he should be concentrating on destroying the Freak and taking back what was his, damn it.
He threw the files on the table and shoved back his glass. He dropped his head between his hands and dug his fingers hard into his scalp, pressing and kneading, trying to ease the tight throbbing right under his scalp.
It was falling apart. Everything he’d worked for, everything he’d done to protect Lex was turning upside down. His legit businesses were suffering as well. Between Lex’s published--and rumored--suicide attempts, and Wayne Enterprise’s attacks on Luthor Corp, things were imploding. Wayne Industries had cut off delivery of orders for raw materials, citing trouble overseas, several other companies with ties to WE also were refusing to deliver. Now the government was beginning to back away from the kryptonite experiments and Lucas knew he’d be left holding the bag, the bastards. It made him furious that he *knew* who was at fault for *all* of this and there wasn’t a fucking thing he could do about it—yet. That fucking Bruce Wayne was picking his Smallville concern to bits and Lucas knew he was doing it out of jealousy—it had to be. He was destroying the plants legitimate business, that bitter old asshole, and someone was leaking information to the news that the plant was an ecological disaster, and for that he had Clark to thank, he was sure.
Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Superman. They were all conspiring to destroy him, out of jealousy, and hatred for what he’d achieved. Who else had done so much so young? Fuck Alexander the Great—Lucas Luthor was the real thing.
Lucas swung up from the couch and headed for the door. Time to check on his baby, get a shot. When his baby was ready to be born, he’d show them—he’d show them all. It was the only thought that made him happy any more.
******
He was sitting in his car, in the far corner of the employee parking lot. Sitting in the dark with only the lights from the dash illuminating the night. His head rolled against the headrest, sweat ran down his face, his chest…he felt like he was about to explode, His heart hammered in his chest, his blood rushed through his veins. His nose dripped, his dick was hard, his mouth felt dry and swollen, all the way down, the inside of his throat felt dry swollen and too sensitive. He touched his lips and his dick jerked and shot wet into his already damp pants. He squeezed himself and groaned. It felt good—the injections—they made him feel like he was full of light. The cuts on his arm still bled a little. Darrell had told him it was good, just right, that they were ready….
Lucas hissed and rubbed at his arm, the blood was thickening slightly, all the little cuts marching up his arm like a red ladder, Darrell had cut him, carefully, at measured intervals and took notes, as Lucas came time after time. Each cut made him orgasm, and Darrell took notes and told him it was to be expected, just the result of the extract. But he kept doing it, again and again, watching him with shiny eyes and a small smile, until Lucas passed out.
Now here he was in his car, still feeling the hot dry beat in his mouth and dick and throat and ass. He wanted Lex, wanted Harris, Darrell, wanted someone in him, wanted to fuck someone. He shivered and groaned and tried to concentrate on the wheel, tried to turn the key. Drive. Get home. Safe.
There was a tap at his window and he dragged his eyes away from the red and yellow lights of the dash, stared out the window and tried to make sense of what he was seeing.
Harris stood at his window. “Sir. Dr. Haine called. He said to take you home.”
Lucas laughed. “God, you’re just the man I want to see. Get in here.”
Harris shook his head and stepped back. “Come out, please. Get in the car, sir.” He pointed at the ugly black limo parked behind him, and Lucas protested.
“No it’s slow and ugly and I hate it.”
Harris leaned closer. “I’ll let you fuck me in the back seat.”
Lucas groaned and laughed at once. “You don’t *let* me do anything. You don’t get to have a choice.” He unlocked his door and staggered towards Harris. “Okay, let’s get in the car. Let’s have fun. Tell the driver to drive around Smallville, I want a tour.”
******
He straddled Harris, his dick in his ass, his tongue was in his mouth and it hurt, hurt so fucking bad. He’d come twice already, dry comes that made him feel like passing out and he still wanted more…he hurt like he’d been scrubbed with steel wool from head to toe, every nerve was a raw line of fire and it was making him ride Harris like he was getting paid for it. He laughed, groaned and cried out. “Ah—fuck—hurts…harder, damn it!”
Harris cursed low, rough and yanked Lucas down hard enough to snap his head back, grinding his fingers into his skin and grinding his dick into his ass. He grabbed Lucas’ arms for balance and Lucas’ face smashed into his shoulder, his nose exploded in pain, and his overloaded senses read it as pleasure. A white hot ball exploded from inside him, tearing out through his skin—he could feel Harris coming, burning and pulsing inside him and Lucas finally tore apart, ripped down the middle and blew into pieces. He collapsed against Harris, arms around his neck and his face shoved tight into his throat and sobs rocking his body.
He felt Harris soften and pull out, and the awkward, hesitant movements of hands on his back. It made him cry harder—it was a nightmare, like every nightmare he’d ever had in his life--the more he tried to gather his splintered control, the more he cried.
*****
“Shhh, shh…” Harris rubbed the shaking back, stroked the head that pressed painfully into his shoulder. He felt hot tears running down his chest, and Lucas’ mouth was wet and open against his neck. He was completely undone, unraveled and Harris held him, awkwardly at first and then firmer, tighter, kissing what he could reach.
The car drove on through the dark, drove in great loops around Smallville. Harris held the shuddering body crouched in his lap and wondered sadly when Lucas was going to kill him.
******
TBC
There's porn in this bit. Shhhh!
Dis Pater Jupiter
Every moment after their meeting, Lucas was haunted by Lex. Everywhere, he saw him everywhere. He dreamt of him leaving over and over, and when he was awake, he saw him at the corner of his eye, walking away from him, always walking away with his head up and with that arrogant swagger Lucas tried so hard to copy. Whatever sane part left of him knew it was finally dead, that he’d never have Lex again and it was a good thing—the right thing-- but another part of him whispered just find the lever, the thing that will tip the balance to you and when you get him back this time …make it so he can never leave again. It rolled in his head, this other voice, thick and oily and warm. Darrell will help you keep Lex, just ask him, he’ll fix it so that it’ll work this time….
Other dreams haunted him, pricked him. Lucas dreamt he was in the helicopter again with Lex and Dad, and Lex kissed him and told him to be brave, told him how much he loved him. He remembered that love. It filled him and made him warm, made him want to be just Lucas, Lex’s brother.
Sometimes he’d dream one of a thousand variations of the time on the Bridge--standing there arm and arm with Lex, they’d watch as Clark sank and drowned in the green-gray water of the river. Lex always turned to him and smiled. ‘Well that’s done, then,’ and he’d kiss him so deep his heart would swell with joy, always right before he woke.
Sometimes, his mother came and berated him, tore into him about how he’d wasted Lex’s life and his own and she wished he’d died…sometimes his dad came to him, covered in so much blood, saying ‘You killed me for nothing, for nothing’. He’d wake from those dreams dry-eyed and furious and wanting desperately to hurt someone, something. Those dreams gave him purpose and the will to go on, the drive to keep going. To conquer.
Even as success mounted with his Project, others began to fail. He was taking more and more hits in his black business deals, Superman was killing him, strangling off his business slowly—the bastard was getting pleasure from it, he was sure. This was new—no smash and grab, no setting journalists on him; this was a deliberate systematic attempt to drive him insane.
If the Freak’s trying to drive me nuts, the jokes on him, he muttered, as he flipped through reports detailing the latest disaster presented to him, neat and tidy and it hardly seemed right that it was so orderly, so clean. It galled him how the perception of Lucas Luthor was shifting from the strong, ruthless and hard to beat ruler of LuthorCorp, to a weak link, ready to be broken. Talk was coming back to him, ridiculous assertions that he could barely hold on to what he had, that someone was bent on taking him down…now here he was, wasting money and manpower defending his position, when he should be concentrating on destroying the Freak and taking back what was his, damn it.
He threw the files on the table and shoved back his glass. He dropped his head between his hands and dug his fingers hard into his scalp, pressing and kneading, trying to ease the tight throbbing right under his scalp.
It was falling apart. Everything he’d worked for, everything he’d done to protect Lex was turning upside down. His legit businesses were suffering as well. Between Lex’s published--and rumored--suicide attempts, and Wayne Enterprise’s attacks on Luthor Corp, things were imploding. Wayne Industries had cut off delivery of orders for raw materials, citing trouble overseas, several other companies with ties to WE also were refusing to deliver. Now the government was beginning to back away from the kryptonite experiments and Lucas knew he’d be left holding the bag, the bastards. It made him furious that he *knew* who was at fault for *all* of this and there wasn’t a fucking thing he could do about it—yet. That fucking Bruce Wayne was picking his Smallville concern to bits and Lucas knew he was doing it out of jealousy—it had to be. He was destroying the plants legitimate business, that bitter old asshole, and someone was leaking information to the news that the plant was an ecological disaster, and for that he had Clark to thank, he was sure.
Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Superman. They were all conspiring to destroy him, out of jealousy, and hatred for what he’d achieved. Who else had done so much so young? Fuck Alexander the Great—Lucas Luthor was the real thing.
Lucas swung up from the couch and headed for the door. Time to check on his baby, get a shot. When his baby was ready to be born, he’d show them—he’d show them all. It was the only thought that made him happy any more.
******
He was sitting in his car, in the far corner of the employee parking lot. Sitting in the dark with only the lights from the dash illuminating the night. His head rolled against the headrest, sweat ran down his face, his chest…he felt like he was about to explode, His heart hammered in his chest, his blood rushed through his veins. His nose dripped, his dick was hard, his mouth felt dry and swollen, all the way down, the inside of his throat felt dry swollen and too sensitive. He touched his lips and his dick jerked and shot wet into his already damp pants. He squeezed himself and groaned. It felt good—the injections—they made him feel like he was full of light. The cuts on his arm still bled a little. Darrell had told him it was good, just right, that they were ready….
Lucas hissed and rubbed at his arm, the blood was thickening slightly, all the little cuts marching up his arm like a red ladder, Darrell had cut him, carefully, at measured intervals and took notes, as Lucas came time after time. Each cut made him orgasm, and Darrell took notes and told him it was to be expected, just the result of the extract. But he kept doing it, again and again, watching him with shiny eyes and a small smile, until Lucas passed out.
Now here he was in his car, still feeling the hot dry beat in his mouth and dick and throat and ass. He wanted Lex, wanted Harris, Darrell, wanted someone in him, wanted to fuck someone. He shivered and groaned and tried to concentrate on the wheel, tried to turn the key. Drive. Get home. Safe.
There was a tap at his window and he dragged his eyes away from the red and yellow lights of the dash, stared out the window and tried to make sense of what he was seeing.
Harris stood at his window. “Sir. Dr. Haine called. He said to take you home.”
Lucas laughed. “God, you’re just the man I want to see. Get in here.”
Harris shook his head and stepped back. “Come out, please. Get in the car, sir.” He pointed at the ugly black limo parked behind him, and Lucas protested.
“No it’s slow and ugly and I hate it.”
Harris leaned closer. “I’ll let you fuck me in the back seat.”
Lucas groaned and laughed at once. “You don’t *let* me do anything. You don’t get to have a choice.” He unlocked his door and staggered towards Harris. “Okay, let’s get in the car. Let’s have fun. Tell the driver to drive around Smallville, I want a tour.”
******
He straddled Harris, his dick in his ass, his tongue was in his mouth and it hurt, hurt so fucking bad. He’d come twice already, dry comes that made him feel like passing out and he still wanted more…he hurt like he’d been scrubbed with steel wool from head to toe, every nerve was a raw line of fire and it was making him ride Harris like he was getting paid for it. He laughed, groaned and cried out. “Ah—fuck—hurts…harder, damn it!”
Harris cursed low, rough and yanked Lucas down hard enough to snap his head back, grinding his fingers into his skin and grinding his dick into his ass. He grabbed Lucas’ arms for balance and Lucas’ face smashed into his shoulder, his nose exploded in pain, and his overloaded senses read it as pleasure. A white hot ball exploded from inside him, tearing out through his skin—he could feel Harris coming, burning and pulsing inside him and Lucas finally tore apart, ripped down the middle and blew into pieces. He collapsed against Harris, arms around his neck and his face shoved tight into his throat and sobs rocking his body.
He felt Harris soften and pull out, and the awkward, hesitant movements of hands on his back. It made him cry harder—it was a nightmare, like every nightmare he’d ever had in his life--the more he tried to gather his splintered control, the more he cried.
*****
“Shhh, shh…” Harris rubbed the shaking back, stroked the head that pressed painfully into his shoulder. He felt hot tears running down his chest, and Lucas’ mouth was wet and open against his neck. He was completely undone, unraveled and Harris held him, awkwardly at first and then firmer, tighter, kissing what he could reach.
The car drove on through the dark, drove in great loops around Smallville. Harris held the shuddering body crouched in his lap and wondered sadly when Lucas was going to kill him.
******
TBC
Tags:
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
5/21/06 08:49 am (UTC)You're toast, bud.
*sigh*
I can't wait for the finale, what *are* you going to do, darling heart?
:D
(no subject)
5/21/06 04:03 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/21/06 05:11 pm (UTC)I'm sure it's gonna hurt.
Ow.
But hey, not blowing up the world=good!
;D
(no subject)
5/21/06 12:47 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/21/06 04:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/21/06 02:25 pm (UTC)First I like the story.
Second, my emotional response to the fact that I like this story, and what the inside of Miss Roxy's head must be like.
http://members.cox.net/droolingfangirl/shocked.gif
(no subject)
5/21/06 04:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/21/06 02:27 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/21/06 04:13 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/21/06 03:57 pm (UTC)Love it.
:)
(no subject)
5/21/06 04:14 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/21/06 05:32 pm (UTC)I just hope that Lex makes it out of this in one piece - Lucas would burn down the world. And if I remember correctly no one is safe in this world, even Lex (poor really really damaged Lex).
(no subject)
5/21/06 09:08 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/21/06 05:47 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/21/06 09:08 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/21/06 05:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/21/06 09:10 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/21/06 11:15 pm (UTC)I hope that, before the end, there might be just a few moments of clarity, to have that be what he takes into obivion.
Wonderful part, as always, sweetie.
*hugs*
(no subject)
5/22/06 03:23 am (UTC)(no subject)
5/23/06 10:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/23/06 11:10 pm (UTC)(no subject)
8/12/06 08:16 am (UTC)(no subject)
8/12/06 07:28 pm (UTC)Yes, there's another part, and I just updated the Tags so, it's there now. The next bit is gasping for air--I just can't seem to write it. *pout*
(no subject)
4/5/07 10:30 pm (UTC)(no subject)
4/6/07 02:53 am (UTC)