Cage - SV fic - R - Teaguecest
Title: Cage
Fandom: "Smallville"
Disclaimer: Not my characters. Just for fun.
Warnings: spoilers for season 4; incest; pedophilia
Pairings: Genevieve/Jason; Jason/Lana
Rating: R
Wordcount: 610
Point of view: third
In his life, he had very few things that were his and his alone.
As a child and adolescent, friends were bought and paid for by his parents, like toys. And that’s all they were: toys. He formed no true attachments and easily discarded them when he grew bored.
Each girlfriend he brought home had to meet his mother’s standards-none ever did.
The boys he never brought home provided little relief, and were dropped quickly.
His room did not reflect his interests, but what his mother believed he should like. She handpicked his clothes and meals; he ate out as often as he could.
And his father was more of his mother’s pawn than he’d ever been. If the man’d ever had a brain of his own, Genevieve had destroyed it long ago.
-
Jason hated his mother. Hated her more than he could articulate. Hated her for controlling him, for dictating every move he ever made.
He’d had everything anyone could contemplate wanting. The best clothes, best food, trips around the world. Money and power, a bright and glorious future.
But he did not have freedom and he did not have joy. He did not have a life of his choosing.
-
On his fifteenth birthday, his mother came to him.
Her smile was gentle, and her touch-the kiss she pressed to his forehead felt so wrong…
“My darling,” she whispered and kissed his left cheek. “My sweet boy,” she murmured and kissed his right cheek. “Jason,” she said, pulling back to meet his eyes for one endless moment, before kissing his lips.
No, nothing Jason ever had was his own. Not friends, not partners, not the opportunities offered a son of wealth.
But Jason didn’t hate his mother until he became hers in every possible way.
-
He always hated the word darling after that, because he knew it really meant whore.
-
When he was eighteen, he fled to college. Moved out of his home, if home it could truly be called. He partied, played football, fucked anyone he wanted, and aced each class.
Then he got injured and benched and college stopped being such fun.
-
Jason knew he was gorgeous. Knew he was smart, talented-his mother had made sure he knew. And also taught him to take advantage of each.
He hated his face. Almost as much as he hated the people who gave it to him.
Finally he turned twenty and his first inheritance came to him, money from his father’s mother that his parents couldn’t touch.
When his mother gave her blessing to the trip, Jason actually contemplated not going. She called him darling and traced her fingers down his cheek, and he wanted to smash her head into the wall. She smiled at him and said, “You might meet a nice girl, Jason. Go. Have fun.”
She pulled him down and kissed his lips and he wanted to die.
-
Nothing ever truly belonged only to him. Not even Lana, who he’d thought was the best thing to ever happen to him. Not the coaching position at Smallville High-bought with talent from his genes and money from his grandmother.
He thought he’d escaped from his parents, but he’d only floundered in their invisible net.
-
Jason is his mother’s son. He can deny it till the end of the world, but each denial will taste false on his tongue.
He has her weaknesses and strengths, and the tether that binds them will never fray.
He thought he’d escaped.
When Lana tells him Genevieve is in Smallville, he can feel the hangman’s noose.
-
Nothing ever belonged to him.
Fandom: "Smallville"
Disclaimer: Not my characters. Just for fun.
Warnings: spoilers for season 4; incest; pedophilia
Pairings: Genevieve/Jason; Jason/Lana
Rating: R
Wordcount: 610
Point of view: third
In his life, he had very few things that were his and his alone.
As a child and adolescent, friends were bought and paid for by his parents, like toys. And that’s all they were: toys. He formed no true attachments and easily discarded them when he grew bored.
Each girlfriend he brought home had to meet his mother’s standards-none ever did.
The boys he never brought home provided little relief, and were dropped quickly.
His room did not reflect his interests, but what his mother believed he should like. She handpicked his clothes and meals; he ate out as often as he could.
And his father was more of his mother’s pawn than he’d ever been. If the man’d ever had a brain of his own, Genevieve had destroyed it long ago.
-
Jason hated his mother. Hated her more than he could articulate. Hated her for controlling him, for dictating every move he ever made.
He’d had everything anyone could contemplate wanting. The best clothes, best food, trips around the world. Money and power, a bright and glorious future.
But he did not have freedom and he did not have joy. He did not have a life of his choosing.
-
On his fifteenth birthday, his mother came to him.
Her smile was gentle, and her touch-the kiss she pressed to his forehead felt so wrong…
“My darling,” she whispered and kissed his left cheek. “My sweet boy,” she murmured and kissed his right cheek. “Jason,” she said, pulling back to meet his eyes for one endless moment, before kissing his lips.
No, nothing Jason ever had was his own. Not friends, not partners, not the opportunities offered a son of wealth.
But Jason didn’t hate his mother until he became hers in every possible way.
-
He always hated the word darling after that, because he knew it really meant whore.
-
When he was eighteen, he fled to college. Moved out of his home, if home it could truly be called. He partied, played football, fucked anyone he wanted, and aced each class.
Then he got injured and benched and college stopped being such fun.
-
Jason knew he was gorgeous. Knew he was smart, talented-his mother had made sure he knew. And also taught him to take advantage of each.
He hated his face. Almost as much as he hated the people who gave it to him.
Finally he turned twenty and his first inheritance came to him, money from his father’s mother that his parents couldn’t touch.
When his mother gave her blessing to the trip, Jason actually contemplated not going. She called him darling and traced her fingers down his cheek, and he wanted to smash her head into the wall. She smiled at him and said, “You might meet a nice girl, Jason. Go. Have fun.”
She pulled him down and kissed his lips and he wanted to die.
-
Nothing ever truly belonged only to him. Not even Lana, who he’d thought was the best thing to ever happen to him. Not the coaching position at Smallville High-bought with talent from his genes and money from his grandmother.
He thought he’d escaped from his parents, but he’d only floundered in their invisible net.
-
Jason is his mother’s son. He can deny it till the end of the world, but each denial will taste false on his tongue.
He has her weaknesses and strengths, and the tether that binds them will never fray.
He thought he’d escaped.
When Lana tells him Genevieve is in Smallville, he can feel the hangman’s noose.
-
Nothing ever belonged to him.