Fic: Layers (SV)
Fic: Layers
Fandom: SV (don't know why, I never really watched SV as this fic will clearly demonstrate).
Rating: R
Warnings: Incest, abuse, OOC characters
Layers
"You're mine."
Said triumphantly, arrogantly and without doubt. Words to escape from and all the dirty little minutiae they incurred. And he had. It had taken Lex years but he'd done it, tearing down the suffocating links that bound him to a father who merely saw him as a possession to be prized above all others.
Lex tries not to think about all the things he's had to endure. He knows that that way madness lies. So when Clark closes the bedroom door firmly but gently he refuses to remember how his father would do the same, but how that one look from his stone like features would empty the room: the help scurrying from the room as fast as they could. Rats deserting a sinking ship. That's what that little performance always reminded Lex off. And it neatly summed up how it made him feel too: deserted, drowning and doomed.
He's always wondered if they'd suspected the scenes that followed their abrupt dismissal. At least, what it meant for him, stripped naked and pinned beneath the weight of his father's body, his mouth plundered and his body used. From a too early an age he'd had to learn the trick was to stop thinking about the present: to close off his mind and think about something, anything else, even if only what those outside the room (and that was good because geographical concerns meant he avoided horrible words he never wanted to think about) were doing. He doubted they'd be listening at the door. They wouldn't have the balls. But they'd hear something and they'd know because there were times he couldn't hold back the screams -
He hated the screaming. It meant cold hard pain bringing him back to the here and the now and that was always a lethal mix when you threw in one Lionel Luthor.
Of course they knew. They were merely powerless to help. They definitely knew the day he came home and found his possessions missing. His cupboards, his dresser, his entire room stripped bare. Even the picture of him and his mother from the wall had been taken. He'd stood alone in his barren room and not been able to breathe, had felt the world zoom in towards him in one terrifying spin.
He had been in danger of collapsing when Dominic had conveniently appeared at his side and taken his arm, to lead the shell-shocked boy away.
But Lex had resisted, had instead pointed at the wall, at the paleness that had been uncovered. "I hadn't realised," he'd muttered. Dominic had nodded, not understanding. Of course he hadn't. Why should he?
What Lex meant was that he hadn't appreciated how much filth and dirt could amass so quickly. It had only been a few years since his mother's death and even less since he'd moved into this room. Surface-wise, everything looked ok. It hadn't looked dirty or unclean and now with the removal of that picture he realised how wrong he was. There was dirt. There was filth lurking. All of it just waiting to be uncovered. And in the meantime, without that contrast he'd just gotten used to it. It made him wonder what people saw when they looked at him. How many layers of dirt he concealed that might be visible to others because they bothered to look.
He gave his father's current favourite underling a mischievous grin. "I don't suppose I can convince you to not do this?"
"I'm not doing anything, Lex. Just following orders."
"You're a fine memorial to the Nazis. Your parents must be so proud," said without rancour. It was no use appealing to the man's better nature, so instead he'd followed the older man to the master bedroom, his father's bedroom, numbly. Dominic had stood uncomfortably at the door. Lex wanting to increase his unease so launched himself on the bed, writhing sensuously and mussing the sheets deliberately.
He'd known it was childish of course and he felt more than a little silly, but he wanted Dominic to feel some measure of uncertainty. Why the hell shouldn't he? Lex was more than aware that this was wrong, but that his father's massive wealth, well, it excused it in the eyes of many. That still didn't make it right, but it did mean Lex was the only one who cared. He let his eyes fall shut as his hands come into play, slipping them under his shirt and rubbing his chest lightly and teasingly.
"Mmmmm," he moaned and opened his eyes.
Dominic was staring at him with total disgust and Lex...Lex simply stopped, unexpectedly ashamed. "Is there anything I can do before I leave?" Lex blinked at the question. He glanced around the room and found his possessions had been neatly put away. The picture of him and his mother hung over the dresser, a little crooked. It needed straightening. Dominic saw him looking.
"You can help me," Lex whispered.
Dominic moved instantly, almost tripping over his feet in his haste to get this done and so he could get the hell out of there. He fiddled clumsily with the frame, until apparently satisfied, he took a step back to appreciate his handiwork.
"There. All perfect," he smiled, rubbing his hands on his pants cursorily.
"Please."
But Dominic flashed him a hopeless look. "Your father's here. He's in the study tying up some loose ends but he wanted me to tell you to-" he paused uncomfortably, waving a hand in the air as his cheeks coloured with shame "-to get yourself ready."
"Are you aware of how rich my mothers family were? As the sole beneficiary she inherited everything. Not many know that; you can consider yourself one of the lucky few. I guess people assume the Luthor name had all the money and that mother simply married well. But her legacy makes me far wealthier than you can imagine. It even makes my fathers riches look paltry."
"Money is a great alibi." He could see Dominic pondering his words. It was true; wealth excused all sorts of behaviour and encouraged others to look away.
"You can do anything when you're rich. Always wanted to make my first million by the time I reached 30. Except," the eyes glittered greedily, "a million just doesn't cut it anymore. I'd need at least ten."
"It's yours. Help me and it's yours Dominic."
"Oh I'd love that. But you won't get your hands on that trust fund until you hit 25. I've done my research. Ask me again in 14 years, Lex, now be a good boy and do as your father wishes."
Bastard. The fucking bastard was only teasing him. Lex blinked. There was no help here but he couldn't stop himself from throwing Dominic a pleading look. Who, at last, had the shame to look away. "There's nothing I can do. I'm just...I'm nothing. Just your father's drone."
Then fine, thought Lex. Of course he is. The only option he had was to just fuck off and leave him alone. He wanted him gone before he embarrassed himself by snivelling.
"Look Lex, if there-"
"No. Just get out. You bore me." He used his best arrogant voice of course and schooled his features into a haughty expression. The one his father taught him.
His father, who had taught him everything.
***
That's one of the memories he will not linger on. At least, one of those he does not want to but like some permanent nightmarish fixture, it rises unbidden constantly, just like all the others.
Which is why he finds himself flinching and backing slowly away when Clark approaches before he remembers himself.
Never show your fear.
Never back down.
Never let them see the hate where they want the love.
He plasters a smile on his face. "Clark," he welcomes falsely with open arms. "I've missed you." It has been several days after all since Clark had last visited him. While friendship and admiration has turned over the last ten years into something very much like hate and fear for him, the opposite is true for Clark. Clark's love for him is obsessive and all consuming. It scares him the way his fathers did.
Clark moves slowly, savouring the moment before he envelopes the smaller man, his lover of some ten years now, into his arms. He pulls him close, possessively and a little aggressive. Cupping the delicate skull he tilts Lex's face to kiss him harshly.
Apparently, Lex wasn't quite fast enough in hiding his true feelings. His body stiffens but he refuses to panic, instead melting as much as he can into the kiss. It's only when the kiss continues for an unfeasibly long time that he tries to draw back, to break away and take a much needed breath. Of course Clark doesn't let him, instead pulling him closer and deepening the kiss until Lex's panic is real and he is struggling to escape. Finally, Clark relents and pushes the breathless man away.
Lex's knees buckle and he falls to the floor, panting and too tired to mask his fear. He hates himself for his wet eyes. He wills himself not to cry. He will not show any emotion. "Clark?"
"You're mine."
And inside Lex is screaming.
Fandom: SV (don't know why, I never really watched SV as this fic will clearly demonstrate).
Rating: R
Warnings: Incest, abuse, OOC characters
Layers
"You're mine."
Said triumphantly, arrogantly and without doubt. Words to escape from and all the dirty little minutiae they incurred. And he had. It had taken Lex years but he'd done it, tearing down the suffocating links that bound him to a father who merely saw him as a possession to be prized above all others.
Lex tries not to think about all the things he's had to endure. He knows that that way madness lies. So when Clark closes the bedroom door firmly but gently he refuses to remember how his father would do the same, but how that one look from his stone like features would empty the room: the help scurrying from the room as fast as they could. Rats deserting a sinking ship. That's what that little performance always reminded Lex off. And it neatly summed up how it made him feel too: deserted, drowning and doomed.
He's always wondered if they'd suspected the scenes that followed their abrupt dismissal. At least, what it meant for him, stripped naked and pinned beneath the weight of his father's body, his mouth plundered and his body used. From a too early an age he'd had to learn the trick was to stop thinking about the present: to close off his mind and think about something, anything else, even if only what those outside the room (and that was good because geographical concerns meant he avoided horrible words he never wanted to think about) were doing. He doubted they'd be listening at the door. They wouldn't have the balls. But they'd hear something and they'd know because there were times he couldn't hold back the screams -
He hated the screaming. It meant cold hard pain bringing him back to the here and the now and that was always a lethal mix when you threw in one Lionel Luthor.
Of course they knew. They were merely powerless to help. They definitely knew the day he came home and found his possessions missing. His cupboards, his dresser, his entire room stripped bare. Even the picture of him and his mother from the wall had been taken. He'd stood alone in his barren room and not been able to breathe, had felt the world zoom in towards him in one terrifying spin.
He had been in danger of collapsing when Dominic had conveniently appeared at his side and taken his arm, to lead the shell-shocked boy away.
But Lex had resisted, had instead pointed at the wall, at the paleness that had been uncovered. "I hadn't realised," he'd muttered. Dominic had nodded, not understanding. Of course he hadn't. Why should he?
What Lex meant was that he hadn't appreciated how much filth and dirt could amass so quickly. It had only been a few years since his mother's death and even less since he'd moved into this room. Surface-wise, everything looked ok. It hadn't looked dirty or unclean and now with the removal of that picture he realised how wrong he was. There was dirt. There was filth lurking. All of it just waiting to be uncovered. And in the meantime, without that contrast he'd just gotten used to it. It made him wonder what people saw when they looked at him. How many layers of dirt he concealed that might be visible to others because they bothered to look.
He gave his father's current favourite underling a mischievous grin. "I don't suppose I can convince you to not do this?"
"I'm not doing anything, Lex. Just following orders."
"You're a fine memorial to the Nazis. Your parents must be so proud," said without rancour. It was no use appealing to the man's better nature, so instead he'd followed the older man to the master bedroom, his father's bedroom, numbly. Dominic had stood uncomfortably at the door. Lex wanting to increase his unease so launched himself on the bed, writhing sensuously and mussing the sheets deliberately.
He'd known it was childish of course and he felt more than a little silly, but he wanted Dominic to feel some measure of uncertainty. Why the hell shouldn't he? Lex was more than aware that this was wrong, but that his father's massive wealth, well, it excused it in the eyes of many. That still didn't make it right, but it did mean Lex was the only one who cared. He let his eyes fall shut as his hands come into play, slipping them under his shirt and rubbing his chest lightly and teasingly.
"Mmmmm," he moaned and opened his eyes.
Dominic was staring at him with total disgust and Lex...Lex simply stopped, unexpectedly ashamed. "Is there anything I can do before I leave?" Lex blinked at the question. He glanced around the room and found his possessions had been neatly put away. The picture of him and his mother hung over the dresser, a little crooked. It needed straightening. Dominic saw him looking.
"You can help me," Lex whispered.
Dominic moved instantly, almost tripping over his feet in his haste to get this done and so he could get the hell out of there. He fiddled clumsily with the frame, until apparently satisfied, he took a step back to appreciate his handiwork.
"There. All perfect," he smiled, rubbing his hands on his pants cursorily.
"Please."
But Dominic flashed him a hopeless look. "Your father's here. He's in the study tying up some loose ends but he wanted me to tell you to-" he paused uncomfortably, waving a hand in the air as his cheeks coloured with shame "-to get yourself ready."
"Are you aware of how rich my mothers family were? As the sole beneficiary she inherited everything. Not many know that; you can consider yourself one of the lucky few. I guess people assume the Luthor name had all the money and that mother simply married well. But her legacy makes me far wealthier than you can imagine. It even makes my fathers riches look paltry."
"Money is a great alibi." He could see Dominic pondering his words. It was true; wealth excused all sorts of behaviour and encouraged others to look away.
"You can do anything when you're rich. Always wanted to make my first million by the time I reached 30. Except," the eyes glittered greedily, "a million just doesn't cut it anymore. I'd need at least ten."
"It's yours. Help me and it's yours Dominic."
"Oh I'd love that. But you won't get your hands on that trust fund until you hit 25. I've done my research. Ask me again in 14 years, Lex, now be a good boy and do as your father wishes."
Bastard. The fucking bastard was only teasing him. Lex blinked. There was no help here but he couldn't stop himself from throwing Dominic a pleading look. Who, at last, had the shame to look away. "There's nothing I can do. I'm just...I'm nothing. Just your father's drone."
Then fine, thought Lex. Of course he is. The only option he had was to just fuck off and leave him alone. He wanted him gone before he embarrassed himself by snivelling.
"Look Lex, if there-"
"No. Just get out. You bore me." He used his best arrogant voice of course and schooled his features into a haughty expression. The one his father taught him.
His father, who had taught him everything.
***
That's one of the memories he will not linger on. At least, one of those he does not want to but like some permanent nightmarish fixture, it rises unbidden constantly, just like all the others.
Which is why he finds himself flinching and backing slowly away when Clark approaches before he remembers himself.
Never show your fear.
Never back down.
Never let them see the hate where they want the love.
He plasters a smile on his face. "Clark," he welcomes falsely with open arms. "I've missed you." It has been several days after all since Clark had last visited him. While friendship and admiration has turned over the last ten years into something very much like hate and fear for him, the opposite is true for Clark. Clark's love for him is obsessive and all consuming. It scares him the way his fathers did.
Clark moves slowly, savouring the moment before he envelopes the smaller man, his lover of some ten years now, into his arms. He pulls him close, possessively and a little aggressive. Cupping the delicate skull he tilts Lex's face to kiss him harshly.
Apparently, Lex wasn't quite fast enough in hiding his true feelings. His body stiffens but he refuses to panic, instead melting as much as he can into the kiss. It's only when the kiss continues for an unfeasibly long time that he tries to draw back, to break away and take a much needed breath. Of course Clark doesn't let him, instead pulling him closer and deepening the kiss until Lex's panic is real and he is struggling to escape. Finally, Clark relents and pushes the breathless man away.
Lex's knees buckle and he falls to the floor, panting and too tired to mask his fear. He hates himself for his wet eyes. He wills himself not to cry. He will not show any emotion. "Clark?"
"You're mine."
And inside Lex is screaming.