Hidden Intentions (Part 3/?)
Title: Hidden Intentions (Part 3/?)
Author: hoperoy
Fandom: Smallville
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Clark/Lex,
Word count: 2,701
Warnings: Dubious seduction, vague spoilers for "Justice," and mpreg.
Summary: After a failed mission for the fledgling Justice League, Clark finds himself completely at Lex's mercy. When Clark begins to feel sick, Lex's real intentions are revealed.
Author's Note: Thanks (again) to danceswithgary for the beta.
---------------------
Clark had to admit that life with Lex wasn't overly cruel. Lex was gone almost all day, leaving Clark to watch TV, which was certainly no hardship given the size and quality of the television that he'd been provided with. He read, too, and sometimes did the mind puzzles and games that Lex conveniently left lying around.
In reality, it was mainly the monotony that aggravated Clark. Every day was the same, never varying, until he wanted to scream. Mind-numbing boredom would set in early, and it soon reached the point where it wasn't something easily resolved by finding a new book or television program.
There were nights when Lex didn't come back at all. Clark didn't know where he was, but not seeing him wasn't that surprising. He was actually puzzled as to why Lex spent any nights with him.
When Lex did spend the night, Clark slept on the couch. He always had to wear the hand restraints, which frustrated him immensely. He understood why, of course--Lex didn't trust Clark not to hurt him in some kind of escape attempt. Even so, it still stung, because no matter how angry he was at Lex-no matter how much he mistrusted him--Clark wasn't a killer. The implication that he was capable of that action-it hurt.
Clark had stopped asking for details on his location after the first week, though he hadn't given up so easily on information about his friends. Lex hadn't revealed much, but he had been able to gather that they were in the same building as Clark. As far as Clark could tell, all of them were being held separately, but were physically unharmed.
It was frustrating that it had taken three weeks to get that much out of Lex. Clark pushed and pushed for answers, but, ultimately, the routine was always the same--Lex would arrive, Clark would ask. It was another piece of the monotony, and it threatened to drive Clark insane.
At least, it did until everything changed.
Clark first felt the nausea when he was watching TV. His initial thought was that Lex must have injected him with something that was harmful-some variation of the serum that he still gave Clark in order to keep his powers in abeyance. It wasn't a stretch to suspect that he might have slipped something else into the serum.
Getting up off the couch, Clark made his way to the bathroom, intent on splashing some water on his face. He was sure it was probably just a passing side effect of the drug. It was nothing to worry about.
That hope was quickly dashed when his stomach gave a particularly violent lurch. Desperately, he changed his course from the sink to the toilet, falling on his knees in front of it just in time. Fear washed over him as he felt his stomach muscles clench and twist.
If this was what humans went through when they were sick, he had immense sympathy for them. He'd never felt anything like this before, and the sensation frightened him. It was so uncontrollable, scary in a way that he'd never really felt. He couldn't breathe, couldn't even *attempt* to draw a breath. By the time it was over, he was gasping for air and his eyes were watering violently.
The porcelain was cool against Clark's cheek where he rested against it, and he leaned his forehead against the rim as he looked down at the floor. His stomach was still rolling, but it had at least become tolerable.
A noise from the door startled him. Turning his head, he looked with blurry eyes in the direction of the noise, groaning when he saw Lex standing in the door--not that he'd expected anyone else.
"Clark?" Lex asked, sounding a little worried.
"What?" he muttered, dropping his head back against the toilet. He really, really just wanted to go to bed. Maybe if he went to sleep, he'd wake up and the whole nightmare would be over. He could only imagine how wonderful it would be to wake up and find that he wasn't a prisoner of a war that the American people didn't know was being fought, that he wasn't *Lex's* hostage, and that he hadn't ever been bent over a toilet vomiting.
The sound of Lex's footsteps signaled that he was coming closer, but Clark wasn't willing to make the effort to look up again. "Are you all right?"
"Do I look like I'm all right?" he snapped, though the words came out much more weakly than he'd intended.
"You don't get sick." Slowly, almost as if he were afraid to startle Clark, Lex knelt down next to him.
Clark didn't want to think about that. Any invulnerability he'd had was apparently in the past, a fond memory. "I don't even want to know how you found out about that." Deciding that the worst had passed, he finally leaned back away from the toilet. "All I want to understand right now is why I feel like this."
Lex's hands materialized under Clark's arms, pulling him upward firmly. Clark was surprised at the gentleness of the touch as Lex maneuvered him to the sink before getting him to wash his mouth out with a cup of water. After that, Lex guided him out of the bathroom, back into the bedroom, and toward the bed. He wanted to tell Lex to get the hell away from him, just because he felt that he should, but there was no energy left in his body with which to protest. He'd never been so exhausted in his life.
The mattress felt comfortable under his aching back, and Clark sighed in relief. His stomach was still rolling somewhat, but it was nice to be back in bed.
"Do you get sick like this?" he asked Lex as the covers were pulled up over him. It was a stupid question, because, really, what did it matter if *Lex* got sick like this? Lex wasn't the one who was flat on his back in bed right now.
Lex paused for a moment and when he answered, he sounded almost regretful. "No, I've never been sick like this, Clark."
Clark closed his eyes. "Is this the flu?"
There was another pause, and Clark wondered at Lex's manner. It wasn't like Lex to appear unsure, even if he was. "I don't know, Clark," he said finally.
The uncertainty was unlike Lex. In fact, the entire response was not in Lex's style. Clark would have expected isolation, taunting, and cruelty--he certainly hadn't anticipated being tucked into bed. There had to be a reason for Lex's odd actions. There was *always* a reason.
"Lex?" he muttered as he heard Lex move away to the closet on the other side of the room.
"Yes?" Lex replied. Clark opened his eyes long enough to note that Lex was changing into his pajamas.
"Where are my friends?" It was a long shot, but he hoped lying in bed looking wretched would be enough to convince Lex to tell him what he wanted to know. Looking upset and pathetic had worked when he was in high school--it was possible Lex still had that weakness. Up until now, Clark had been too proud to try to find out but, somehow, lying flat on his back in bed gave him a new perspective. He might as well take advantage of the situation.
Lex sighed heavily, sounding annoyed. "I've already told you that they're isolated, but that they haven't been harmed."
"I want to see them."
"No." Lex's tone was sharp and cold, leaving no room for argument. "You seem to have forgotten something, Clark. You're a prisoner. You don't have the right to make demands."
"People are going to look for me." Opening his eyes, he narrowed them angrily. The effect was somewhat dimmed when he realized how much effort even that took. Why was he so tired?
Lex's lip curled into a smirk as he sat down on the bed. "They're not."
"I have to been listed as missing by now, Lex. I've been gone for three weeks."
"You're not listed as missing, Clark," Lex told him with obvious satisfaction. "The government knows exactly where you are. Your mother has been notified that, while she cannot see you, you're safe."
Clark immediately shoved himself up in bed, ignoring how sluggish he felt as he let the covers drop off of him. "What?! You can't tell me that it's legal for you to do this!"
Lex raised an eyebrow as he reached out to urge Clark back down in the bed. "The government doesn't always follow its own laws, Clark," he explained wryly. "They've approved what I'm doing with meteor-infected people, so, yes, keeping you here *is* technically legal." Sighing, he pulled the covers back up to Clark's chin. "You're officially classified as a menace to society. You have abnormal powers and are, therefore, an unknown quantity."
Clark shoved the blankets away again. The nausea had faded and, even though he was still exhausted, he was unwilling to let the conversation drop. It was the most information he'd gotten in a long time. "Do they authorize you to rape your subjects?"
Lex rolled his eyes. "Don't be so melodramatic, Clark. We both know I didn't rape you. Hell, you were *begging* for it."
"Not because I approved of it!" he spat out. "How I felt--the drugs made it impossible to think, and you knew that."
Lex shrugged. "It wasn't due to any drug-there was nothing in that sedative to make you want anything sexual--and you still gave consent."
"I guess what I think doesn't matter anyway, does it?" Clark declared furiously as he turned away from Lex. Attempting to ignore the lump that he felt rising in his throat, he clutched at a pillow and added, "No one is ever going to know the truth."
Reality was a horrible, horrible thing. He was truly beginning to comprehend the situation that he was in, and that it was not a good one. Lex had government backing, which meant that Clark had to get himself out all on his own. In the meantime, Lex was playing judge, jury, and executioner. He had complete control over Clark's life.
"That's right," Lex agreed, "because you're not leaving."
Clark immediately froze, the reality of those words sinking in. Up until this point, he'd always pushed away thoughts of when this would end. For some reason, a part of him had believed that it would end with Lex letting him go--it hadn't seemed feasible that Lex would keep him in the same room for the rest of his life.
"You can't do that," he choked out, turning back over to look at Lex.
Lex merely observed his distress impassively. "Why not? I have government backing--no one is going to come get you. I know how to keep you weak. You're not going anywhere."
It was frustrating to be halted by Lex's firm grip when he tried to sit up. He *wanted* to sit up, almost as much as he wanted Lex to go away. "I'm not living in the same room for the rest of my life," he told Lex vehemently, trying to shake off his grip. "I don't even know why I'm here now, living in your bedroom. I'm sure you don't spend any nights with Oliver," he added sourly. "What exactly is it that you want from me?"
Lex didn't hesitate in his reply, giving Clark the impression that this was something he'd thought about. "I'd like to know more about you, first of all," Lex told him, maintaining his grip on Clark's arm. "It's unusual for people who have special abilities to have more than one and, based on security features that have picked you up over the last few years, I've counted at least four so far." Pausing, he fixed Clark with an accessing look. "We were best friends once, Clark. Do you truly find me that horrifying?"
That was... a terrible question. Clark had no straight answer--not one that he could bear to say. He *wanted* to hate Lex, but the very idea of saying that was enough to make his stomach roll again. As much as he wanted to, he *didn't* find Lex horrifying.
An indirect approach was the only thing he had left. "Don't even try nostalgia, Lex. As far as I'm concerned, the man who was my best friend doesn't exist anymore. The man who was my best friend wouldn't have taken advantage of me. I didn't--don't--want what we did."
"I think your body does," Lex insisted with a small smile. Carefully, he lowered his hand and gently brushed Clark's hair aside, ignoring the way Clark jerked away from him. "Not that it matters, because if I ask for something, you have to give it to me. You rely on my good graces now, Clark," he pointed out, smirking. "It would benefit you to remember that."
Clark again turned over and away from Lex, trying to hide how nervous that statement made him. "I'm not kissing your ass to get things from you." He wasn't willing to let Lex run his life like that, and even if he couldn't truly stop him, he wasn't going to just roll over and give him what he wanted. That wasn't who he was-or at least who he *wanted* to be.
Lex chuckled. "I'd be more than willing to kiss yours, though--and that's not figurative."
"Go to hell," Clark muttered, his tone dark. The silk sheets and blankets felt nice around him, but he didn't want to sleep in the bed after a statement like that, no matter how exhausted he felt. "I'm moving to the couch," he informed Lex as he began to get off the bed.
A hand caught his arm. "You're not," Lex disagreed. "You need to get a good night's sleep."
"If I'm not sleeping well, it's not because of the couch."
"Clark, you're sleeping here," Lex told him firmly, seeming to lose all patience. Keeping one hand on Clark, he reached over and opened the nightstand drawer, retrieving a syringe. "This will help you sleep," he promised as he forced Clark's arm palm up on the bed.
"How many varieties of that do you have?" Clark asked, tensing as he saw the green color of the serum. He knew the serum took his powers, but there had apparently been a bad batch that had made him sick, as well as one with a sedative in it.
"Not all that many," Lex replied with a small smile. "Enough to accomplish what I need."
Clark sighed; there was no point in resisting the injection. He was just so tired and, if it really helped him stay asleep, he wasn't going to complain about it.
"Relax," Lex told him as he swabbed an injection point on Clark's arm.
"Why are you doing this?" Clark muttered as he watched Lex take the cap off the needle. "And not just to me--to everyone with special abilities."
Lex glanced at him briefly while he moved the needle down to Clark's arm. "Because not everyone used their power for good like you tried. Think of the military applications that studying these people could have. Imagine all the medical applications. There's so much that could be accomplished with an opportunity like this." Carefully, he ran a finger over Clark's inner arm before sliding the needle in.
Clark sighed heavily as he watched Lex depress the plunger into him. "And what about me?" he muttered, settling back into his pillows. "You haven't experimented on me, so what is it that you want?"
Pulling the blankets up over Clark, Lex gave him a small smile. "I like keeping you guessing," he murmured as Clark's vision began to go black.
Author: hoperoy
Fandom: Smallville
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Clark/Lex,
Word count: 2,701
Warnings: Dubious seduction, vague spoilers for "Justice," and mpreg.
Summary: After a failed mission for the fledgling Justice League, Clark finds himself completely at Lex's mercy. When Clark begins to feel sick, Lex's real intentions are revealed.
Author's Note: Thanks (again) to danceswithgary for the beta.
---------------------
Clark had to admit that life with Lex wasn't overly cruel. Lex was gone almost all day, leaving Clark to watch TV, which was certainly no hardship given the size and quality of the television that he'd been provided with. He read, too, and sometimes did the mind puzzles and games that Lex conveniently left lying around.
In reality, it was mainly the monotony that aggravated Clark. Every day was the same, never varying, until he wanted to scream. Mind-numbing boredom would set in early, and it soon reached the point where it wasn't something easily resolved by finding a new book or television program.
There were nights when Lex didn't come back at all. Clark didn't know where he was, but not seeing him wasn't that surprising. He was actually puzzled as to why Lex spent any nights with him.
When Lex did spend the night, Clark slept on the couch. He always had to wear the hand restraints, which frustrated him immensely. He understood why, of course--Lex didn't trust Clark not to hurt him in some kind of escape attempt. Even so, it still stung, because no matter how angry he was at Lex-no matter how much he mistrusted him--Clark wasn't a killer. The implication that he was capable of that action-it hurt.
Clark had stopped asking for details on his location after the first week, though he hadn't given up so easily on information about his friends. Lex hadn't revealed much, but he had been able to gather that they were in the same building as Clark. As far as Clark could tell, all of them were being held separately, but were physically unharmed.
It was frustrating that it had taken three weeks to get that much out of Lex. Clark pushed and pushed for answers, but, ultimately, the routine was always the same--Lex would arrive, Clark would ask. It was another piece of the monotony, and it threatened to drive Clark insane.
At least, it did until everything changed.
Clark first felt the nausea when he was watching TV. His initial thought was that Lex must have injected him with something that was harmful-some variation of the serum that he still gave Clark in order to keep his powers in abeyance. It wasn't a stretch to suspect that he might have slipped something else into the serum.
Getting up off the couch, Clark made his way to the bathroom, intent on splashing some water on his face. He was sure it was probably just a passing side effect of the drug. It was nothing to worry about.
That hope was quickly dashed when his stomach gave a particularly violent lurch. Desperately, he changed his course from the sink to the toilet, falling on his knees in front of it just in time. Fear washed over him as he felt his stomach muscles clench and twist.
If this was what humans went through when they were sick, he had immense sympathy for them. He'd never felt anything like this before, and the sensation frightened him. It was so uncontrollable, scary in a way that he'd never really felt. He couldn't breathe, couldn't even *attempt* to draw a breath. By the time it was over, he was gasping for air and his eyes were watering violently.
The porcelain was cool against Clark's cheek where he rested against it, and he leaned his forehead against the rim as he looked down at the floor. His stomach was still rolling, but it had at least become tolerable.
A noise from the door startled him. Turning his head, he looked with blurry eyes in the direction of the noise, groaning when he saw Lex standing in the door--not that he'd expected anyone else.
"Clark?" Lex asked, sounding a little worried.
"What?" he muttered, dropping his head back against the toilet. He really, really just wanted to go to bed. Maybe if he went to sleep, he'd wake up and the whole nightmare would be over. He could only imagine how wonderful it would be to wake up and find that he wasn't a prisoner of a war that the American people didn't know was being fought, that he wasn't *Lex's* hostage, and that he hadn't ever been bent over a toilet vomiting.
The sound of Lex's footsteps signaled that he was coming closer, but Clark wasn't willing to make the effort to look up again. "Are you all right?"
"Do I look like I'm all right?" he snapped, though the words came out much more weakly than he'd intended.
"You don't get sick." Slowly, almost as if he were afraid to startle Clark, Lex knelt down next to him.
Clark didn't want to think about that. Any invulnerability he'd had was apparently in the past, a fond memory. "I don't even want to know how you found out about that." Deciding that the worst had passed, he finally leaned back away from the toilet. "All I want to understand right now is why I feel like this."
Lex's hands materialized under Clark's arms, pulling him upward firmly. Clark was surprised at the gentleness of the touch as Lex maneuvered him to the sink before getting him to wash his mouth out with a cup of water. After that, Lex guided him out of the bathroom, back into the bedroom, and toward the bed. He wanted to tell Lex to get the hell away from him, just because he felt that he should, but there was no energy left in his body with which to protest. He'd never been so exhausted in his life.
The mattress felt comfortable under his aching back, and Clark sighed in relief. His stomach was still rolling somewhat, but it was nice to be back in bed.
"Do you get sick like this?" he asked Lex as the covers were pulled up over him. It was a stupid question, because, really, what did it matter if *Lex* got sick like this? Lex wasn't the one who was flat on his back in bed right now.
Lex paused for a moment and when he answered, he sounded almost regretful. "No, I've never been sick like this, Clark."
Clark closed his eyes. "Is this the flu?"
There was another pause, and Clark wondered at Lex's manner. It wasn't like Lex to appear unsure, even if he was. "I don't know, Clark," he said finally.
The uncertainty was unlike Lex. In fact, the entire response was not in Lex's style. Clark would have expected isolation, taunting, and cruelty--he certainly hadn't anticipated being tucked into bed. There had to be a reason for Lex's odd actions. There was *always* a reason.
"Lex?" he muttered as he heard Lex move away to the closet on the other side of the room.
"Yes?" Lex replied. Clark opened his eyes long enough to note that Lex was changing into his pajamas.
"Where are my friends?" It was a long shot, but he hoped lying in bed looking wretched would be enough to convince Lex to tell him what he wanted to know. Looking upset and pathetic had worked when he was in high school--it was possible Lex still had that weakness. Up until now, Clark had been too proud to try to find out but, somehow, lying flat on his back in bed gave him a new perspective. He might as well take advantage of the situation.
Lex sighed heavily, sounding annoyed. "I've already told you that they're isolated, but that they haven't been harmed."
"I want to see them."
"No." Lex's tone was sharp and cold, leaving no room for argument. "You seem to have forgotten something, Clark. You're a prisoner. You don't have the right to make demands."
"People are going to look for me." Opening his eyes, he narrowed them angrily. The effect was somewhat dimmed when he realized how much effort even that took. Why was he so tired?
Lex's lip curled into a smirk as he sat down on the bed. "They're not."
"I have to been listed as missing by now, Lex. I've been gone for three weeks."
"You're not listed as missing, Clark," Lex told him with obvious satisfaction. "The government knows exactly where you are. Your mother has been notified that, while she cannot see you, you're safe."
Clark immediately shoved himself up in bed, ignoring how sluggish he felt as he let the covers drop off of him. "What?! You can't tell me that it's legal for you to do this!"
Lex raised an eyebrow as he reached out to urge Clark back down in the bed. "The government doesn't always follow its own laws, Clark," he explained wryly. "They've approved what I'm doing with meteor-infected people, so, yes, keeping you here *is* technically legal." Sighing, he pulled the covers back up to Clark's chin. "You're officially classified as a menace to society. You have abnormal powers and are, therefore, an unknown quantity."
Clark shoved the blankets away again. The nausea had faded and, even though he was still exhausted, he was unwilling to let the conversation drop. It was the most information he'd gotten in a long time. "Do they authorize you to rape your subjects?"
Lex rolled his eyes. "Don't be so melodramatic, Clark. We both know I didn't rape you. Hell, you were *begging* for it."
"Not because I approved of it!" he spat out. "How I felt--the drugs made it impossible to think, and you knew that."
Lex shrugged. "It wasn't due to any drug-there was nothing in that sedative to make you want anything sexual--and you still gave consent."
"I guess what I think doesn't matter anyway, does it?" Clark declared furiously as he turned away from Lex. Attempting to ignore the lump that he felt rising in his throat, he clutched at a pillow and added, "No one is ever going to know the truth."
Reality was a horrible, horrible thing. He was truly beginning to comprehend the situation that he was in, and that it was not a good one. Lex had government backing, which meant that Clark had to get himself out all on his own. In the meantime, Lex was playing judge, jury, and executioner. He had complete control over Clark's life.
"That's right," Lex agreed, "because you're not leaving."
Clark immediately froze, the reality of those words sinking in. Up until this point, he'd always pushed away thoughts of when this would end. For some reason, a part of him had believed that it would end with Lex letting him go--it hadn't seemed feasible that Lex would keep him in the same room for the rest of his life.
"You can't do that," he choked out, turning back over to look at Lex.
Lex merely observed his distress impassively. "Why not? I have government backing--no one is going to come get you. I know how to keep you weak. You're not going anywhere."
It was frustrating to be halted by Lex's firm grip when he tried to sit up. He *wanted* to sit up, almost as much as he wanted Lex to go away. "I'm not living in the same room for the rest of my life," he told Lex vehemently, trying to shake off his grip. "I don't even know why I'm here now, living in your bedroom. I'm sure you don't spend any nights with Oliver," he added sourly. "What exactly is it that you want from me?"
Lex didn't hesitate in his reply, giving Clark the impression that this was something he'd thought about. "I'd like to know more about you, first of all," Lex told him, maintaining his grip on Clark's arm. "It's unusual for people who have special abilities to have more than one and, based on security features that have picked you up over the last few years, I've counted at least four so far." Pausing, he fixed Clark with an accessing look. "We were best friends once, Clark. Do you truly find me that horrifying?"
That was... a terrible question. Clark had no straight answer--not one that he could bear to say. He *wanted* to hate Lex, but the very idea of saying that was enough to make his stomach roll again. As much as he wanted to, he *didn't* find Lex horrifying.
An indirect approach was the only thing he had left. "Don't even try nostalgia, Lex. As far as I'm concerned, the man who was my best friend doesn't exist anymore. The man who was my best friend wouldn't have taken advantage of me. I didn't--don't--want what we did."
"I think your body does," Lex insisted with a small smile. Carefully, he lowered his hand and gently brushed Clark's hair aside, ignoring the way Clark jerked away from him. "Not that it matters, because if I ask for something, you have to give it to me. You rely on my good graces now, Clark," he pointed out, smirking. "It would benefit you to remember that."
Clark again turned over and away from Lex, trying to hide how nervous that statement made him. "I'm not kissing your ass to get things from you." He wasn't willing to let Lex run his life like that, and even if he couldn't truly stop him, he wasn't going to just roll over and give him what he wanted. That wasn't who he was-or at least who he *wanted* to be.
Lex chuckled. "I'd be more than willing to kiss yours, though--and that's not figurative."
"Go to hell," Clark muttered, his tone dark. The silk sheets and blankets felt nice around him, but he didn't want to sleep in the bed after a statement like that, no matter how exhausted he felt. "I'm moving to the couch," he informed Lex as he began to get off the bed.
A hand caught his arm. "You're not," Lex disagreed. "You need to get a good night's sleep."
"If I'm not sleeping well, it's not because of the couch."
"Clark, you're sleeping here," Lex told him firmly, seeming to lose all patience. Keeping one hand on Clark, he reached over and opened the nightstand drawer, retrieving a syringe. "This will help you sleep," he promised as he forced Clark's arm palm up on the bed.
"How many varieties of that do you have?" Clark asked, tensing as he saw the green color of the serum. He knew the serum took his powers, but there had apparently been a bad batch that had made him sick, as well as one with a sedative in it.
"Not all that many," Lex replied with a small smile. "Enough to accomplish what I need."
Clark sighed; there was no point in resisting the injection. He was just so tired and, if it really helped him stay asleep, he wasn't going to complain about it.
"Relax," Lex told him as he swabbed an injection point on Clark's arm.
"Why are you doing this?" Clark muttered as he watched Lex take the cap off the needle. "And not just to me--to everyone with special abilities."
Lex glanced at him briefly while he moved the needle down to Clark's arm. "Because not everyone used their power for good like you tried. Think of the military applications that studying these people could have. Imagine all the medical applications. There's so much that could be accomplished with an opportunity like this." Carefully, he ran a finger over Clark's inner arm before sliding the needle in.
Clark sighed heavily as he watched Lex depress the plunger into him. "And what about me?" he muttered, settling back into his pillows. "You haven't experimented on me, so what is it that you want?"
Pulling the blankets up over Clark, Lex gave him a small smile. "I like keeping you guessing," he murmured as Clark's vision began to go black.