(no subject)
7/15/06 09:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyThe Previous Parts are here, a little drunk, and complaining bitterly about Mikey. He never calls, he never writes—and there’s that pesky restraining order….
Lucas called the housekeeper and told her that Lex and he would be leaving Smallville soon—possibly as soon as the next day or two. He asked her to make arrangements for caretakers to watch over the castle, and told her to prepare severance for the current staff. He told her he wanted whatever staff on the grounds out as soon as possible, and let her handle that matter. He had his own business to handle. He walked the halls and waited for some feeling of nostalgia to prick him—nothing. He went to his dad’s study and stared at the spot he knew was still there, the gleaming floorboards bleached and scrubbed and refinished but he knew that there was wood there that had been soaked in the old man’s blood. He felt nothing. He probed the memory, gently, delicately--nothing. It didn’t even raise the smallest smile.
He walked down the long hallway to the bedrooms, opening the door to his bedroom. He looked around at the Spartan space, the spare furnishing, everything so clean, spotless, shining, and soulless. He took a pillow from the bed and smelled—no scent, of course. Washed out, aired out, any scent of Lex long faded. Nothing.
He carefully closed the door and walked further to the last door, went in and sat on Lex’s bed. The room could have been a cell for all the meaning it had. He opened the curtains and looked out over the estate, rolling green, the helipad breaking up the lawn…all this he’d reclaimed, with some fuzzy thought in the back of his mind that he’d give it to Lex and that Lex would be grateful for it. He laughed—a sharp bitter bark. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered in the long run, nothing he did. He’d committed every sin that you could, done every horrible soul blasting act one could imagine and here he was, young, fucking beautiful, richer than fuck…he laughed—and about to do much more and much worse and he was pure. Untouched. He was God. He was.
And if so, then it was time he remade the world into his image. What the fuck—he had nothing but time. He could feel it—he had an eternity.
He called for a meal to be sent to the entertainment room and settled in to take care of a few loose ends. He called Amanda and told her to work the last plan. He called the office and told them to send a driver and an armored limo, and to expect him back within the day. He arranged to put the Smallville plant on the market, and to transfer the operation there to the labs on the outskirts of Gotham. He hung up and leaned back against the couch, took a deep breath. One last loose end.
A minute. He needed a minute and a drink. Just to organize his thoughts.
******
The afternoon sun sent long shadows climbing across the pale walls. Through the open window, he watched a hawk riding the air in the distance, and to a city boy like him the flight was fascinating, a thing of beauty. The humid air was just beginning to cool, and a little breeze played with the short curtains at the window. Harris sat at a table there, cleaning his gun. The ritual calmed him, required him to focus his thoughts, and he relaxed a bit. Familiarity, routine…he wiped it down and was about to put it back in its case when the door opened and Lucas walked in. A wave of relief swept him.
Finally.
Lucas stood in the doorway, staring at him with a tight blank expression. Harris lowered his eyes and put his hands on his thighs. Relief was almost painful. He could give up the waiting, at last.
Sound at his bedside made him glance up. Lucas was at the bed, with the same odd expression as hours before, and then, he began to undress, slowly, methodically, neatly folding his clothes and putting them at the end of the bed. Harris watched silently. He could feel the pulse of his blood in his mouth. Lucas gleamed like ivory in the golden light. He looked like a god, otherworldly. Harris glanced at the gun in it’s case and back at Lucas. He was still waiting, than….
Lucas sat in the only chair in the room eyes still piercing him and all Harris could do was watch him back.
With a faint sigh, Lucas slid forward on the chair, and spread his legs. “Come here.” He spread his arms, looked down at himself and they both watched as his dick filled, lifted…he looked at Harris again, and it drew him, like a fish on a hook, when Lucas crooked his fingers Harris shuffled forward and dropped to his knees between Lucas’ legs. He pressed dry lips to his hot skin, breathed. The hair tickled his lips and it made his eyes sting. He closed them tight and Lucas put his hands to his head, and he moved to rub against the warm hardness that bounced against his cheek. He breathed deep, relishing the scent. He slid his mouth over Lucas, listened with everything to the sounds--wet suction, breath whistling in his nose, Lucas’ small hitch of breath, airy gasp and moan. He heard the slide of skin over skin, the faint rustle of material under Lucas’ legs. He opened his senses to it all—the feel of his fingertips on Lucas, his every tiny imperfection, wrinkle, hair, he felt goose bumps rise and his tongue felt velvet smooth skin roll under it, tasted salt and sweet as it slid into and teased the edges of flesh, parted it and drank—ocean, mushrooms chocolate blood, blended and hot, and thick, poured into his mouth and into his throat and became a part of him.
When he was finished, he wiped his mouth, and Lucas stood. Sweat gleamed on his chest, his belly, and he looked even more like some mythic creature, otherworldly and wonderful. He made Harris get to his feet, sit in the chair.
The beat of his heart felt powerful, the sing of blood in his veins so strong. His dick throbbed painfully, trapped behind layers of material. He had no idea what would happen next. He glanced at the bed, He opened his mouth to breathe, was surprised by a tremor—fear shook him, desire shook him. Whatever was going to happen next would hurt, he was sure of that at least. His dick jerked.
Lucas’ eyes never left him, they bored into him, looking right into his soul. He felt Lucas knew everything about him….
“Alex,” he breathed the name out on a breath and Harris looked up at him, in surprise. Lucas stroked his cheek with hot fingertips and Harris closed his eyes. “Alex. I know your name. I know how old you are, your favorite color…your parents names…places you’ve lived…past lovers…” his voice trailed off and Harris shuddered. The implication that this was some sort of relationship made him feel like he was falling into the sky, when Lucas dropped to his knees and unbuckled, unzipped, opened his pants and freed his dick, he felt like he’d fallen into the sun.
Lucas began to slowly squeeze, and pump his hand over him; he threw his head back and groaned, carelessly, loud, free. Wave after wave flowed over him, he screamed when Lucas’ mouth engulfed him and slowly, slowly brought him close, and dropped him back, again and again, it went on and on, lasted forever, he was nearly wild with the need to come and Lucas gave it to him. Let him come. He was taut, shaking and moaning in his own private heaven, his breath loud in his ears, so loud he barely heard the click. He even managed to smile.
*****
Lucas wiped at the gore striping his cheek and chest. He hadn’t meant to do that.
He’d really meant to shoot him in the eye. He’d meant for him to see it coming, for him to see his face before he died. He’d meant for him to know that he meant nothing, less than nothing.
He realized that he was panting, breathing like a panicked animal. He staggered to his feet and stumbled around the corpse, and walked to the shower. He washed a long time, in water as hot as he could stand, and wiped down the stall after, and threw away the towels. He walked out to the room and dressed as carefully as he’d undressed, his eyes on the corpse the whole time. Taking a life was easy, simple. It was the same every time. Pull the trigger, bang. Dead.
He wiped the gun and tossed it on the floor nest to the corpse. He wasn’t worried about that, it barely bore thinking about. After all in the next few hours he was going to become invincible. He was on the verge of getting everything he ever wanted. Everything.
He walked out of the little room and locked the door behind him. Lex was waiting for him on the stairs when he came out.
Well, that was really…sick. Um. You’ve got something...he waved vaguely and made a wiping motion under his chin.
"Blood?” Lucas wiped at it, and Lex looked critically. No. Come. It’s gone. They walked on in silence and Lionel said, You can’t kill everyone son—well. Shrugged. You can try; I suppose. So, who’s first on our list? Clark?
“Superman. Get it straight.” Lucas was annoyed. The old man never got anything right. “I’m killing Superman, *Dad*.”
Didn’t I say that? his dad asked and then Lex was putting a long elegant finger to his lips and winking as he held open the door to another room. Lucas went into the maid’s room, slid a pillow gently out of her sleeping arms, held it over her face, and shot. He winced, that was louder than he expected. Lex winced also, and wiped fastidiously at an invisible spot on the pale gray shirt he wore.
Lucas smiled at him, letting his eyes linger over him. So fucking hot. Lex looked clean--crisp, sharp as a knife, like he should. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said aloud, pointing at his shirt. “None of this can touch you.”
Oh, then you know. He brushed long grizzled hair from his face, and then he was bald, naked, stoned or drunk or….
“Oh for--knock it off.” Lucas rolled his eyes, already headed to the next room and the next shot. “Of course, I know. I’m crazy, not stupid.”
His mother walked along his side. You don’t have to do this, darling.
He stopped, and tears began to run. “I do, I really do have to do this, Mom. It’s your fault you know. If we’d stayed with Grandmother, I never would have had to do any of it. Lex and I…it would have been--better.”
She nodded. You may be right. Maybe…maybe you should…maybe it would be for the best, my darling boy. She looked down at his hand and crooked an eyebrow; so much like Lex it made a smile quiver briefly on his lips. He looked down at the gun in his hand and sighed. She just didn’t understand. Being dead hadn’t made things any clearer to her.
He walked into the room that was the housekeeper’s. She sat up in bed, and opened her mouth; a look of horror bloomed and then the back of her head sprayed the wall behind her.
He got the driver in the hallway that separated the garage from the house proper, and there was no one else. All of them were gone. He looked down at his legs, spattered and striped with blood and considered changing—he didn’t want to alarm the people at the lab until it was amusing to do so. He heard a small dry cough and looked. Lionel was sitting on the corpse of the driver. We’re burning our bridges rather ferociously behind us, aren’t we? He looked around and smirked. I don’t think we can buy our way out of this one; police tend to frown on mass murder.
“What?” Lucas stared at the dead man on the Mexican tiled floor. Wrong style, should have gone with Italian tiles, he thought, and dropped the gun on the floor.
Lex was waiting for him at the front door, a familiar smirk on his face; his long black coat was hanging over his shoulders like a cape.
It’s cold outside, and you still need to bundle up—for a bit at least. He rubbed long elegant fingers together and Lucas sighed again. So beautiful, so beautiful. He pictured what those fingers could do—what Lex was saying brought him back. So, how are you going to kill Clark precisely? He asked with a bright grin and an inquisitive tone.
He pushed open the door as he shrugged into his over coat, and reached out for Lex, who shimmered out of his grip like—always. His breath puffed out in thin white clouds, and he said, “Clark? You mean Superman.”
That’s what I said. He looked over Lucas’ shoulders and said distractedly, I have to go now.
What? Lucas looked around and wondered why the fuck he was standing on the lawn with an over coat on…it wasn’t cold. And what—why was he out here at the fucking crack of dawn? Where had the night gone?
He pulled out his cell and called Darrell. “Ready? I’m coming.”
Lucas called the housekeeper and told her that Lex and he would be leaving Smallville soon—possibly as soon as the next day or two. He asked her to make arrangements for caretakers to watch over the castle, and told her to prepare severance for the current staff. He told her he wanted whatever staff on the grounds out as soon as possible, and let her handle that matter. He had his own business to handle. He walked the halls and waited for some feeling of nostalgia to prick him—nothing. He went to his dad’s study and stared at the spot he knew was still there, the gleaming floorboards bleached and scrubbed and refinished but he knew that there was wood there that had been soaked in the old man’s blood. He felt nothing. He probed the memory, gently, delicately--nothing. It didn’t even raise the smallest smile.
He walked down the long hallway to the bedrooms, opening the door to his bedroom. He looked around at the Spartan space, the spare furnishing, everything so clean, spotless, shining, and soulless. He took a pillow from the bed and smelled—no scent, of course. Washed out, aired out, any scent of Lex long faded. Nothing.
He carefully closed the door and walked further to the last door, went in and sat on Lex’s bed. The room could have been a cell for all the meaning it had. He opened the curtains and looked out over the estate, rolling green, the helipad breaking up the lawn…all this he’d reclaimed, with some fuzzy thought in the back of his mind that he’d give it to Lex and that Lex would be grateful for it. He laughed—a sharp bitter bark. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered in the long run, nothing he did. He’d committed every sin that you could, done every horrible soul blasting act one could imagine and here he was, young, fucking beautiful, richer than fuck…he laughed—and about to do much more and much worse and he was pure. Untouched. He was God. He was.
And if so, then it was time he remade the world into his image. What the fuck—he had nothing but time. He could feel it—he had an eternity.
He called for a meal to be sent to the entertainment room and settled in to take care of a few loose ends. He called Amanda and told her to work the last plan. He called the office and told them to send a driver and an armored limo, and to expect him back within the day. He arranged to put the Smallville plant on the market, and to transfer the operation there to the labs on the outskirts of Gotham. He hung up and leaned back against the couch, took a deep breath. One last loose end.
A minute. He needed a minute and a drink. Just to organize his thoughts.
******
The afternoon sun sent long shadows climbing across the pale walls. Through the open window, he watched a hawk riding the air in the distance, and to a city boy like him the flight was fascinating, a thing of beauty. The humid air was just beginning to cool, and a little breeze played with the short curtains at the window. Harris sat at a table there, cleaning his gun. The ritual calmed him, required him to focus his thoughts, and he relaxed a bit. Familiarity, routine…he wiped it down and was about to put it back in its case when the door opened and Lucas walked in. A wave of relief swept him.
Finally.
Lucas stood in the doorway, staring at him with a tight blank expression. Harris lowered his eyes and put his hands on his thighs. Relief was almost painful. He could give up the waiting, at last.
Sound at his bedside made him glance up. Lucas was at the bed, with the same odd expression as hours before, and then, he began to undress, slowly, methodically, neatly folding his clothes and putting them at the end of the bed. Harris watched silently. He could feel the pulse of his blood in his mouth. Lucas gleamed like ivory in the golden light. He looked like a god, otherworldly. Harris glanced at the gun in it’s case and back at Lucas. He was still waiting, than….
Lucas sat in the only chair in the room eyes still piercing him and all Harris could do was watch him back.
With a faint sigh, Lucas slid forward on the chair, and spread his legs. “Come here.” He spread his arms, looked down at himself and they both watched as his dick filled, lifted…he looked at Harris again, and it drew him, like a fish on a hook, when Lucas crooked his fingers Harris shuffled forward and dropped to his knees between Lucas’ legs. He pressed dry lips to his hot skin, breathed. The hair tickled his lips and it made his eyes sting. He closed them tight and Lucas put his hands to his head, and he moved to rub against the warm hardness that bounced against his cheek. He breathed deep, relishing the scent. He slid his mouth over Lucas, listened with everything to the sounds--wet suction, breath whistling in his nose, Lucas’ small hitch of breath, airy gasp and moan. He heard the slide of skin over skin, the faint rustle of material under Lucas’ legs. He opened his senses to it all—the feel of his fingertips on Lucas, his every tiny imperfection, wrinkle, hair, he felt goose bumps rise and his tongue felt velvet smooth skin roll under it, tasted salt and sweet as it slid into and teased the edges of flesh, parted it and drank—ocean, mushrooms chocolate blood, blended and hot, and thick, poured into his mouth and into his throat and became a part of him.
When he was finished, he wiped his mouth, and Lucas stood. Sweat gleamed on his chest, his belly, and he looked even more like some mythic creature, otherworldly and wonderful. He made Harris get to his feet, sit in the chair.
The beat of his heart felt powerful, the sing of blood in his veins so strong. His dick throbbed painfully, trapped behind layers of material. He had no idea what would happen next. He glanced at the bed, He opened his mouth to breathe, was surprised by a tremor—fear shook him, desire shook him. Whatever was going to happen next would hurt, he was sure of that at least. His dick jerked.
Lucas’ eyes never left him, they bored into him, looking right into his soul. He felt Lucas knew everything about him….
“Alex,” he breathed the name out on a breath and Harris looked up at him, in surprise. Lucas stroked his cheek with hot fingertips and Harris closed his eyes. “Alex. I know your name. I know how old you are, your favorite color…your parents names…places you’ve lived…past lovers…” his voice trailed off and Harris shuddered. The implication that this was some sort of relationship made him feel like he was falling into the sky, when Lucas dropped to his knees and unbuckled, unzipped, opened his pants and freed his dick, he felt like he’d fallen into the sun.
Lucas began to slowly squeeze, and pump his hand over him; he threw his head back and groaned, carelessly, loud, free. Wave after wave flowed over him, he screamed when Lucas’ mouth engulfed him and slowly, slowly brought him close, and dropped him back, again and again, it went on and on, lasted forever, he was nearly wild with the need to come and Lucas gave it to him. Let him come. He was taut, shaking and moaning in his own private heaven, his breath loud in his ears, so loud he barely heard the click. He even managed to smile.
*****
Lucas wiped at the gore striping his cheek and chest. He hadn’t meant to do that.
He’d really meant to shoot him in the eye. He’d meant for him to see it coming, for him to see his face before he died. He’d meant for him to know that he meant nothing, less than nothing.
He realized that he was panting, breathing like a panicked animal. He staggered to his feet and stumbled around the corpse, and walked to the shower. He washed a long time, in water as hot as he could stand, and wiped down the stall after, and threw away the towels. He walked out to the room and dressed as carefully as he’d undressed, his eyes on the corpse the whole time. Taking a life was easy, simple. It was the same every time. Pull the trigger, bang. Dead.
He wiped the gun and tossed it on the floor nest to the corpse. He wasn’t worried about that, it barely bore thinking about. After all in the next few hours he was going to become invincible. He was on the verge of getting everything he ever wanted. Everything.
He walked out of the little room and locked the door behind him. Lex was waiting for him on the stairs when he came out.
Well, that was really…sick. Um. You’ve got something...he waved vaguely and made a wiping motion under his chin.
"Blood?” Lucas wiped at it, and Lex looked critically. No. Come. It’s gone. They walked on in silence and Lionel said, You can’t kill everyone son—well. Shrugged. You can try; I suppose. So, who’s first on our list? Clark?
“Superman. Get it straight.” Lucas was annoyed. The old man never got anything right. “I’m killing Superman, *Dad*.”
Didn’t I say that? his dad asked and then Lex was putting a long elegant finger to his lips and winking as he held open the door to another room. Lucas went into the maid’s room, slid a pillow gently out of her sleeping arms, held it over her face, and shot. He winced, that was louder than he expected. Lex winced also, and wiped fastidiously at an invisible spot on the pale gray shirt he wore.
Lucas smiled at him, letting his eyes linger over him. So fucking hot. Lex looked clean--crisp, sharp as a knife, like he should. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said aloud, pointing at his shirt. “None of this can touch you.”
Oh, then you know. He brushed long grizzled hair from his face, and then he was bald, naked, stoned or drunk or….
“Oh for--knock it off.” Lucas rolled his eyes, already headed to the next room and the next shot. “Of course, I know. I’m crazy, not stupid.”
His mother walked along his side. You don’t have to do this, darling.
He stopped, and tears began to run. “I do, I really do have to do this, Mom. It’s your fault you know. If we’d stayed with Grandmother, I never would have had to do any of it. Lex and I…it would have been--better.”
She nodded. You may be right. Maybe…maybe you should…maybe it would be for the best, my darling boy. She looked down at his hand and crooked an eyebrow; so much like Lex it made a smile quiver briefly on his lips. He looked down at the gun in his hand and sighed. She just didn’t understand. Being dead hadn’t made things any clearer to her.
He walked into the room that was the housekeeper’s. She sat up in bed, and opened her mouth; a look of horror bloomed and then the back of her head sprayed the wall behind her.
He got the driver in the hallway that separated the garage from the house proper, and there was no one else. All of them were gone. He looked down at his legs, spattered and striped with blood and considered changing—he didn’t want to alarm the people at the lab until it was amusing to do so. He heard a small dry cough and looked. Lionel was sitting on the corpse of the driver. We’re burning our bridges rather ferociously behind us, aren’t we? He looked around and smirked. I don’t think we can buy our way out of this one; police tend to frown on mass murder.
“What?” Lucas stared at the dead man on the Mexican tiled floor. Wrong style, should have gone with Italian tiles, he thought, and dropped the gun on the floor.
Lex was waiting for him at the front door, a familiar smirk on his face; his long black coat was hanging over his shoulders like a cape.
It’s cold outside, and you still need to bundle up—for a bit at least. He rubbed long elegant fingers together and Lucas sighed again. So beautiful, so beautiful. He pictured what those fingers could do—what Lex was saying brought him back. So, how are you going to kill Clark precisely? He asked with a bright grin and an inquisitive tone.
He pushed open the door as he shrugged into his over coat, and reached out for Lex, who shimmered out of his grip like—always. His breath puffed out in thin white clouds, and he said, “Clark? You mean Superman.”
That’s what I said. He looked over Lucas’ shoulders and said distractedly, I have to go now.
What? Lucas looked around and wondered why the fuck he was standing on the lawn with an over coat on…it wasn’t cold. And what—why was he out here at the fucking crack of dawn? Where had the night gone?
He pulled out his cell and called Darrell. “Ready? I’m coming.”
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7/17/06 12:37 am (UTC)It is coming to an end finally. I have to say, I'll miss Lucas a lot.