(no subject)
3/21/07 01:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyTitle:Mariposa
Fandom: SV
Pairing: Clark/Lex
Rating:2
Summary: An AU flight of fantasy. As opposed to Smallville, which is practically a reality show. Really. Ask the aliens that live on my block. (I’m not kidding…)
The Previous Parts are here, examining every possible definition of the word ‘train’…
It was late evening when Lex stopped off at the penthouse. Lucas sent word a package was waiting for him there and knowing Lucas, it could be anything. Considering how strange their last encounter was, Lex thought he should be prepared for anything.
The apartment was black--all lights were out when he came in, and the staff was gone. He didn’t like that much. He walked down the hall feeling more than a little on edge, turned each corner with the expectation of Lucas jumping out to scare the hell out of him. Lex was angry and getting more annoyed by the second.
“Lucas!” He stepped into the dining room, and glanced around. “Lucas, damn it, I don’t feel like playing your damn games.”
The dining room was nearly as dark as the rest of the apartment. A pair of buffet lamps near the far wall cast the only light. In the middle of the long table, propped up against an overblown floral arrangement rested a manila envelope, ‘Clark’ scrawled across the front. He picked it up, behind it was an envelope stamped with the LuthorCorp.
The note attached read, ‘Take the company. Maybe we’ll run into each other again, maybe not. LL.’
God damn it! How could he leave now? Clark needed—they both needed Lucas more than ever, now. That bit of weirdness wasn’t important, he could deal with it just fine—he needed Lucas’ clear cut sense of—of—fuck, why lie—they needed his total lack of conscience.
He ripped open the envelope marked Clark, and upended it--a letter fluttered out....
‘Lex, I didn’t run out on you. I’m giving you space. It’s better I do. Don’t worry about the dead guy, you’re the one Clark loves. Everything I could find out about him is in here. It’s my present to you.
Love.
“Bastard.” Lex muttered, and sorted through the papers scattered over the tabletop. He found copies of newspaper articles about Clark’s disappearance— terse police reports tucked between the DUIs and the auto thefts at first, and then an article, then an op-ed or two about troubled youth and run-aways. There were flyers begging for information, ‘Have you seen this boy?’
The photo on the flyer looked like a typical yearbook picture—Lex could hardly believe the boy he was staring at was the same one probably asleep on his couch right now. He looked like--like innocence personified. Healthy. Round pink cheeks. Clear green eyes with just a touch of mischief in them, crinkled at the corners because he was smiling wide…a dead kid. Tragic, that the boy they were looking for existed only in the past….
The kidnapping shocked him. It broke his heart to read, and explained so much. The hospital report, what there was of it, told the story…that and the side note that his parents refused medical care--of course. Wise. They couldn’t afford to take the chance that someone--like Dad—might find the information and turn it against their son. The abuse had been clear, that particular exam unavoidable. That little boy’s words, his and other boys, plus the testimony of the train station witnesses, got that fucking pervert life. He deserved worse, he deserved so much pain. It was disappointing to read the shit had died in prison. He could have made the man’s jail time much, much more interesting.
Poor Clark—so much pain, so much grief, but he still managed to build a life and even be happy, Lex supposed, at least until the car accident tore his world apart. Little more than a year since he’d lost that boy and left his home, but Clark had suffered enough for lifetimes. Lex felt an irrational hatred for Whitney Fordman. It was ridiculous—crazy--to blame him for Clark’s destruction but shit, he did. If Clark hadn’t been so dependent on him…he took a deep breath before reading on.
Clark had supposedly been adopted, which didn’t surprise him, but the lack of decent documentation worried him. He’d have to fix that. That girl, the obnoxious little computer whiz, she’d be able to plug all the holes in Clark’s story, create another level of safety for Clark *and* his parents. Dad wasn’t the only one interested in these people, and to outsiders, Clark would appear to be someone like himself, a mutant. In fact, the girl had recently detected some fishing for information about humans with a little something extra….
Reading about Clark’s appearance during the meteor strike he’d been a victim of was odd…it woke some faint memory of the time. It slithered away as he tried to recall…his dad’s gift of electrocution could be damn inconvenient.
There was something else about Smallville he remembered—before Lionel refurbished the plant there, he’d had a castle shipped from Scotland and reassembled in the town. He shook his head. That was Dad’s style; over blown and full of contempt for everyone not Luthor…he’d have the place opened. It was about time he took a look at Smallville and his connection to it--and the mutants. It wouldn’t be long until Clark was ready to go home, and if the castle was livable, he wouldn’t have to leave Smallville after taking Clark home, at least not right away.
He called as soon as he left the apartment, to apologize to Clark for being late, told him to order dinner for the both of them if the dinner the Cook had prepared was gone. Which it was. Both plates. Plus desert…Lex smiled as Clark gave him excuses, apologized, claimed he’d left Lex some pie, but it was apple, and apple was *very* nutritious as everyone knew…Lex laughed out loud. “I understand completely.” Clark‘s appetite had become almost frightening lately, he’d even gained a pound or two, and that was the surest sign he was finally overthrowing the effects of the meteorite. He suspected there were some other changes too; maybe something dark was beginning to release its hold on Clark. He hoped….
******
Clark paced around and around the open space of the apartment, trying to tell himself he wasn’t worried because Lex was a few hours late—he was busy, a busy man in charge of a company that he’d put on the back burner too many times. Lex was probably trying to make up for all the work he let pile up trying to help him…
Stars were already beginning to flicker in the sky, he leaned on the balcony wall and watched them get brighter, watched the moon swell on the horizon. He drifted in and out of rooms, pestered the staff until they were relieved to leave for the day, read a little, watched some TV--he’d reheated the food a couple of times before giving in and eating his. He felt a twinge of guilt when he ate Lex’s too, but he was really hungry, and it felt so good to satisfy it. He licked his fork of the last bit of Lex’s dinner, and wished he could satisfy another need as easily…if only certain people weren’t being so damn stubborn.
He was just about to call Lex, when a key turned in the lock and he turned, happy. At last.
Lucas stood there, grinning at him. “Butterfly, heeeey, how the hell are you?”
Clark picked up the scent of alcohol on Lucas…and something else. Something he shouldn’t smell like, not on Lucas… “Lex.”
“Oh yeah, don’t worry, he’ll be home soon, he’s just running an errand.”
Clark was standing next to Lucas and Lucas blinked. “Fuck, you’re fast…”
Clark grabbed his jaw and pushed him back, he sniffed around Lucas’ mouth, his neck…he pushed his tongue inside Lucas mouth, tasting, growing angrier and angrier….
Lucas hissed when Clark drew his head back. “Hey, the doorknobs in my ass, do you mind?” He shifted uselessly, and Clark growled, tightened his grip. Lucas grimaced. “You’re hurting me.”
The protest was weak, more a groan than a growl, and Clark didn’t care anyway. He said, “I can smell you. When you’re near him, it changes. I know what it means. Lex doesn’t know about you, but I do…because I’m different now. Neither one of you get it—just how different I am now. Did you know, my skin can’t be penetrated? They can’t give me a shot; they can’t cut me open anymore. Nothing hurts me…”
Lucas gasped out, “Meteorite--”
Clark looked thoughtful. “True…that can still hurt me. But I can move *awfully* fast Lucas, awfully fast. And I think I learned some things from you. Understand?”
Lucas grinned, even as Clark increased the pressure of the thumb resting on his Adam’s apple. “I was leaving. Am leaving. You and I know what will happen if I stay.” Clark let the pressure ease, and Lucas coughed, and added hoarsely, “Even if Lex doesn’t.”
Clark leaned away but kept him trapped against the door. “If you come back, I’ll have to kill you. You know it as well as I do.”
“Kill me?” He laughed. “You couldn’t kill the twins--”
“It’s not for me. If you try to take Lex from me, or hurt him in any way, I’ll kill you.” Clark’s voice shook a little, he felt hot from head to toe, and he could feel the fire building up behind his eyes. Lucas tried to move—froze when Clark lifted his lip. Clark knew he could kill Lucas; the smell of Lex on him was making it easier to imagine…he could hurt him. His nostrils flared and he picked up Lex and fear and...he backed away from Lucas, said with disgust, “You’re hard.”
Lucas exhaled sharply, and laughed. “I’m not the only one.”
Clark flushed deeply, and took another step back.
Lucas smoothed his hair back and smirked. “You better be careful with my brother, Butterfly, or I’ll come after you.” He stepped back, and opened the door. “Going.”
Clark stared at the floor, confused…a part of him liked him, even knowing that he was…untrustworthy, mildly put. “I guess I should thank you. In a way, you gave me my life back. I appreciate it. And—you know.”
“S’okay. I just wanted to buy Lex a nice present. Besides, you probably saved his life too.”
He shut the door, and Clark stared, shaking with reaction. What happened here? Who the hell was that psychotic person? The minute he smelled Lex on Lucas, he’d been overwhelmed with a desire—a need--to hurt him…Lex had to know about this. If it was a part of who he was, Lex needed to know. But later. Much later.
Like if Lucas ever came back into town…
The phone rang, and it was Lex, and his voice was wonderful and warm and soothing and it made him happy when Lex laughed about dinner—or the lack thereof. Nothing was more perfect than Lex’s laugh….
*******
Lex finally allowed Clark back in the penthouse, and Clark was being grumpy and impatient again. Lex tossed a few balls at him, and Clark complained that the exercise had become irrelevant, that Lex was indulging himself with it…pointless.
Lex threw hard, smacking Clark between the eyes with a blue rubber ball. “Ow,” he snapped, and even rocked his head back.
“Good, good,” Lex murmured, and preceded to toss balls unerringly in that spot between his eyes, one, two, three, ball after ball until Clark stopped playing and let them bounce wildly in all directions off his forehead. It was obvious that he was becoming annoyed, and Lex tossed again— his nostrils flared, a sure sign that Clark was losing his rather short temper.
Lex stared at him, expressionless, throwing and throwing until Clark yelled “enough!” His eyes flared bright red, and the air shimmered between Lex and Clark, the ball collapsed, sizzled, and a mini fall of ash fluttered to the carpet.
Lex dropped his arm, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “Clark. That was prefect. Perfect. What an amazing example of control. Wonderful! You got mad, but you controlled it—and better than that, you used it. I’m *so* proud of you.”
As always, Clark’s flare of temper was gone, quickly as a summer shower. He blushed, pleased to be praised. “I figured it out. I thought that if I concentrated completely on what I was looking at, I’d be able to contain the heat vision. And it worked.”
Lex looked at him opened mouthed. “Thought? Thought? You weren’t a hundred percent sure?”
“Well, pretty much—besides, you heal fast.”
“The fuck--Clark!” A flurry of balls flew at him, and he dodged each one of them easily. Lex shivered as a quick blast of air rushed past him. Clark was showing off…he was suddenly in front of him, arms full of little rubber balls, smiling….he leaned over and kissed Lex, kissed him until Lex reached up and wrapped his arms around Clark’s neck and kissed him back, slowly, thoroughly, and poured everything he felt about Clark into it—tried to make his tongue and lips and hands and eyes tell Clark ‘I love you.’ He wanted Clark to feel it in his bones, he wanted to breathe love into his lungs and mouth…God, he wanted to fuck Clark, he wanted Clark to fuck him, come all over him and in him….Clark groaned, and Lex heard the plop and smack of balls falling out of Clark’s arms and hitting the carpet, the floor…warm, warm hands holding his head, hands capable of cracking his skull like an egg and knowing that Clark wouldn’t—couldn’t—made him hard, so hard….
“Clark—Clark—I can’t wait, fuck--I can’t, I’m sorry, I wanted to take you home first…”
“Oh my god, now—right now.”
Lex raced down the hall, Clark right behind him. He hit the bedroom door hard enough to shiver it in its frame. Wait—wait—are you sure?”
“I can break the door down,” Clark said, “Or you can open it. Which way do you want it?”
“Every way possible...?”
TBC--
Fandom: SV
Pairing: Clark/Lex
Rating:2
Summary: An AU flight of fantasy. As opposed to Smallville, which is practically a reality show. Really. Ask the aliens that live on my block. (I’m not kidding…)
The Previous Parts are here, examining every possible definition of the word ‘train’…
It was late evening when Lex stopped off at the penthouse. Lucas sent word a package was waiting for him there and knowing Lucas, it could be anything. Considering how strange their last encounter was, Lex thought he should be prepared for anything.
The apartment was black--all lights were out when he came in, and the staff was gone. He didn’t like that much. He walked down the hall feeling more than a little on edge, turned each corner with the expectation of Lucas jumping out to scare the hell out of him. Lex was angry and getting more annoyed by the second.
“Lucas!” He stepped into the dining room, and glanced around. “Lucas, damn it, I don’t feel like playing your damn games.”
The dining room was nearly as dark as the rest of the apartment. A pair of buffet lamps near the far wall cast the only light. In the middle of the long table, propped up against an overblown floral arrangement rested a manila envelope, ‘Clark’ scrawled across the front. He picked it up, behind it was an envelope stamped with the LuthorCorp.
The note attached read, ‘Take the company. Maybe we’ll run into each other again, maybe not. LL.’
God damn it! How could he leave now? Clark needed—they both needed Lucas more than ever, now. That bit of weirdness wasn’t important, he could deal with it just fine—he needed Lucas’ clear cut sense of—of—fuck, why lie—they needed his total lack of conscience.
He ripped open the envelope marked Clark, and upended it--a letter fluttered out....
‘Lex, I didn’t run out on you. I’m giving you space. It’s better I do. Don’t worry about the dead guy, you’re the one Clark loves. Everything I could find out about him is in here. It’s my present to you.
Love.
“Bastard.” Lex muttered, and sorted through the papers scattered over the tabletop. He found copies of newspaper articles about Clark’s disappearance— terse police reports tucked between the DUIs and the auto thefts at first, and then an article, then an op-ed or two about troubled youth and run-aways. There were flyers begging for information, ‘Have you seen this boy?’
The photo on the flyer looked like a typical yearbook picture—Lex could hardly believe the boy he was staring at was the same one probably asleep on his couch right now. He looked like--like innocence personified. Healthy. Round pink cheeks. Clear green eyes with just a touch of mischief in them, crinkled at the corners because he was smiling wide…a dead kid. Tragic, that the boy they were looking for existed only in the past….
The kidnapping shocked him. It broke his heart to read, and explained so much. The hospital report, what there was of it, told the story…that and the side note that his parents refused medical care--of course. Wise. They couldn’t afford to take the chance that someone--like Dad—might find the information and turn it against their son. The abuse had been clear, that particular exam unavoidable. That little boy’s words, his and other boys, plus the testimony of the train station witnesses, got that fucking pervert life. He deserved worse, he deserved so much pain. It was disappointing to read the shit had died in prison. He could have made the man’s jail time much, much more interesting.
Poor Clark—so much pain, so much grief, but he still managed to build a life and even be happy, Lex supposed, at least until the car accident tore his world apart. Little more than a year since he’d lost that boy and left his home, but Clark had suffered enough for lifetimes. Lex felt an irrational hatred for Whitney Fordman. It was ridiculous—crazy--to blame him for Clark’s destruction but shit, he did. If Clark hadn’t been so dependent on him…he took a deep breath before reading on.
Clark had supposedly been adopted, which didn’t surprise him, but the lack of decent documentation worried him. He’d have to fix that. That girl, the obnoxious little computer whiz, she’d be able to plug all the holes in Clark’s story, create another level of safety for Clark *and* his parents. Dad wasn’t the only one interested in these people, and to outsiders, Clark would appear to be someone like himself, a mutant. In fact, the girl had recently detected some fishing for information about humans with a little something extra….
Reading about Clark’s appearance during the meteor strike he’d been a victim of was odd…it woke some faint memory of the time. It slithered away as he tried to recall…his dad’s gift of electrocution could be damn inconvenient.
There was something else about Smallville he remembered—before Lionel refurbished the plant there, he’d had a castle shipped from Scotland and reassembled in the town. He shook his head. That was Dad’s style; over blown and full of contempt for everyone not Luthor…he’d have the place opened. It was about time he took a look at Smallville and his connection to it--and the mutants. It wouldn’t be long until Clark was ready to go home, and if the castle was livable, he wouldn’t have to leave Smallville after taking Clark home, at least not right away.
He called as soon as he left the apartment, to apologize to Clark for being late, told him to order dinner for the both of them if the dinner the Cook had prepared was gone. Which it was. Both plates. Plus desert…Lex smiled as Clark gave him excuses, apologized, claimed he’d left Lex some pie, but it was apple, and apple was *very* nutritious as everyone knew…Lex laughed out loud. “I understand completely.” Clark‘s appetite had become almost frightening lately, he’d even gained a pound or two, and that was the surest sign he was finally overthrowing the effects of the meteorite. He suspected there were some other changes too; maybe something dark was beginning to release its hold on Clark. He hoped….
******
Clark paced around and around the open space of the apartment, trying to tell himself he wasn’t worried because Lex was a few hours late—he was busy, a busy man in charge of a company that he’d put on the back burner too many times. Lex was probably trying to make up for all the work he let pile up trying to help him…
Stars were already beginning to flicker in the sky, he leaned on the balcony wall and watched them get brighter, watched the moon swell on the horizon. He drifted in and out of rooms, pestered the staff until they were relieved to leave for the day, read a little, watched some TV--he’d reheated the food a couple of times before giving in and eating his. He felt a twinge of guilt when he ate Lex’s too, but he was really hungry, and it felt so good to satisfy it. He licked his fork of the last bit of Lex’s dinner, and wished he could satisfy another need as easily…if only certain people weren’t being so damn stubborn.
He was just about to call Lex, when a key turned in the lock and he turned, happy. At last.
Lucas stood there, grinning at him. “Butterfly, heeeey, how the hell are you?”
Clark picked up the scent of alcohol on Lucas…and something else. Something he shouldn’t smell like, not on Lucas… “Lex.”
“Oh yeah, don’t worry, he’ll be home soon, he’s just running an errand.”
Clark was standing next to Lucas and Lucas blinked. “Fuck, you’re fast…”
Clark grabbed his jaw and pushed him back, he sniffed around Lucas’ mouth, his neck…he pushed his tongue inside Lucas mouth, tasting, growing angrier and angrier….
Lucas hissed when Clark drew his head back. “Hey, the doorknobs in my ass, do you mind?” He shifted uselessly, and Clark growled, tightened his grip. Lucas grimaced. “You’re hurting me.”
The protest was weak, more a groan than a growl, and Clark didn’t care anyway. He said, “I can smell you. When you’re near him, it changes. I know what it means. Lex doesn’t know about you, but I do…because I’m different now. Neither one of you get it—just how different I am now. Did you know, my skin can’t be penetrated? They can’t give me a shot; they can’t cut me open anymore. Nothing hurts me…”
Lucas gasped out, “Meteorite--”
Clark looked thoughtful. “True…that can still hurt me. But I can move *awfully* fast Lucas, awfully fast. And I think I learned some things from you. Understand?”
Lucas grinned, even as Clark increased the pressure of the thumb resting on his Adam’s apple. “I was leaving. Am leaving. You and I know what will happen if I stay.” Clark let the pressure ease, and Lucas coughed, and added hoarsely, “Even if Lex doesn’t.”
Clark leaned away but kept him trapped against the door. “If you come back, I’ll have to kill you. You know it as well as I do.”
“Kill me?” He laughed. “You couldn’t kill the twins--”
“It’s not for me. If you try to take Lex from me, or hurt him in any way, I’ll kill you.” Clark’s voice shook a little, he felt hot from head to toe, and he could feel the fire building up behind his eyes. Lucas tried to move—froze when Clark lifted his lip. Clark knew he could kill Lucas; the smell of Lex on him was making it easier to imagine…he could hurt him. His nostrils flared and he picked up Lex and fear and...he backed away from Lucas, said with disgust, “You’re hard.”
Lucas exhaled sharply, and laughed. “I’m not the only one.”
Clark flushed deeply, and took another step back.
Lucas smoothed his hair back and smirked. “You better be careful with my brother, Butterfly, or I’ll come after you.” He stepped back, and opened the door. “Going.”
Clark stared at the floor, confused…a part of him liked him, even knowing that he was…untrustworthy, mildly put. “I guess I should thank you. In a way, you gave me my life back. I appreciate it. And—you know.”
“S’okay. I just wanted to buy Lex a nice present. Besides, you probably saved his life too.”
He shut the door, and Clark stared, shaking with reaction. What happened here? Who the hell was that psychotic person? The minute he smelled Lex on Lucas, he’d been overwhelmed with a desire—a need--to hurt him…Lex had to know about this. If it was a part of who he was, Lex needed to know. But later. Much later.
Like if Lucas ever came back into town…
The phone rang, and it was Lex, and his voice was wonderful and warm and soothing and it made him happy when Lex laughed about dinner—or the lack thereof. Nothing was more perfect than Lex’s laugh….
*******
Lex finally allowed Clark back in the penthouse, and Clark was being grumpy and impatient again. Lex tossed a few balls at him, and Clark complained that the exercise had become irrelevant, that Lex was indulging himself with it…pointless.
Lex threw hard, smacking Clark between the eyes with a blue rubber ball. “Ow,” he snapped, and even rocked his head back.
“Good, good,” Lex murmured, and preceded to toss balls unerringly in that spot between his eyes, one, two, three, ball after ball until Clark stopped playing and let them bounce wildly in all directions off his forehead. It was obvious that he was becoming annoyed, and Lex tossed again— his nostrils flared, a sure sign that Clark was losing his rather short temper.
Lex stared at him, expressionless, throwing and throwing until Clark yelled “enough!” His eyes flared bright red, and the air shimmered between Lex and Clark, the ball collapsed, sizzled, and a mini fall of ash fluttered to the carpet.
Lex dropped his arm, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “Clark. That was prefect. Perfect. What an amazing example of control. Wonderful! You got mad, but you controlled it—and better than that, you used it. I’m *so* proud of you.”
As always, Clark’s flare of temper was gone, quickly as a summer shower. He blushed, pleased to be praised. “I figured it out. I thought that if I concentrated completely on what I was looking at, I’d be able to contain the heat vision. And it worked.”
Lex looked at him opened mouthed. “Thought? Thought? You weren’t a hundred percent sure?”
“Well, pretty much—besides, you heal fast.”
“The fuck--Clark!” A flurry of balls flew at him, and he dodged each one of them easily. Lex shivered as a quick blast of air rushed past him. Clark was showing off…he was suddenly in front of him, arms full of little rubber balls, smiling….he leaned over and kissed Lex, kissed him until Lex reached up and wrapped his arms around Clark’s neck and kissed him back, slowly, thoroughly, and poured everything he felt about Clark into it—tried to make his tongue and lips and hands and eyes tell Clark ‘I love you.’ He wanted Clark to feel it in his bones, he wanted to breathe love into his lungs and mouth…God, he wanted to fuck Clark, he wanted Clark to fuck him, come all over him and in him….Clark groaned, and Lex heard the plop and smack of balls falling out of Clark’s arms and hitting the carpet, the floor…warm, warm hands holding his head, hands capable of cracking his skull like an egg and knowing that Clark wouldn’t—couldn’t—made him hard, so hard….
“Clark—Clark—I can’t wait, fuck--I can’t, I’m sorry, I wanted to take you home first…”
“Oh my god, now—right now.”
Lex raced down the hall, Clark right behind him. He hit the bedroom door hard enough to shiver it in its frame. Wait—wait—are you sure?”
“I can break the door down,” Clark said, “Or you can open it. Which way do you want it?”
“Every way possible...?”
TBC--
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(no subject)
3/21/07 11:17 pm (UTC)and thank you a million times!