Filthy Questions

By: Krypto-Nightingale
Beautiful_lies@trust-me.com
http://www.happy-guppy.net

Pub Date: 4/14/03
Pairing: Lex/Lionel
Rating: R
Category: Non-Consensual
Spoilers: None
Summary: Clark asks a question Lex can't answer. Author Notes: I wrote this when I was angry. Why I took it out on Lex I don't know. Forgive me? Disclaimer: I own nothing. Even the laptop I wrote this on isn't mine! Feedback: Please! I like to know that I'm using my power for writing for good instead of evil...;)

'I wrote this' A Krypto Fic 2003 All Rights Reserved.

He had come home from school, silent terror splashing his skin. He was expelled for lewd acts with a male faculty member. Apparently his prep school frowned upon this. His father would be furious. Thirteen and already involved in sexual indiscretions. He was fully prepared for the verbal beating his father was sure to give him.

He saw his father approaching him, anger painting his face a furious red. His father stood in front of him, the faint trace of brandy on his breath.

His father took his chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"So, you like other men touching you?"

The boy said nothing, he just waited silently for the tongue lashing.

His eyes suddenly widened in fear.

His small slender body was crushed helplessly against he wall, he pleas going unheard as the large man in front of him, trapping him, withholding his freedom, was trailing his hand down his small frame to places that this man was not, if there was a God, aloud to touch. The boy felt the man's hand cup him, squeezing him till it was almost painful. He felt the button of his trousers being pried open, the zipper being pulled down. He let out a frightened cry. In his head, saying a silent prayer he knew would not be answered. He felt the rough, aged skin of the man's hand on his soft, delicate skin. He felt the unwanted touch of the man's' hand stroking him, squeezing him, and filling him with disgust.

He finally managed to find words, words that had been lingering at the back of his throat.

"Daddy, please...stop..."

His plea was ignored; the only reply was a dismissing grunt of amusement as the man continued. The boy's face twisted from fright to disgust and anger.

"You're a sick fuck!" he said as he spat in the man's face.

The man stopped. He retrieved his hand from his son's pants and looked at him, his eyes filling with rage. He took a step back and looked at the boy. For a moment the boy thought that salvation had come at last, but the false euphoric thought vanished as he felt the feel of metal rings and skin across his face. He could hear the meat of his mouth ripping as he fell to the floor with a loud crash, his head painfully colliding with the bottom step of the grand staircase.

"You disgust me Lex. I hope now you will re-think your lewd, foul behavior."

In his moment of daze all the boy could hear was the sound of fading footsteps. He was alone in a crumpled heap on the floor. Realizing is final freedom he got up and ran hurriedly up the stairs to his room, the door closing in a loud slam.

The boy stood in the middle of the room. Still, blank and numb. All sense of being was briefly faltered. There was a word for what just took place, a word that just the thought made him feel ill inside. Ill and broken, his innocence seized with no hope of being reclaimed.

He felt his insides stir and his stomach churn. He felt as though the contents of his stomach were about to be spilt of the floor. He made a small, slow turn towards the direction of the bathroom. He slowly made his way inside, catching his reflection in the mirror.

The boy's reflection in the mirror painted a picture of loathing, disgust, hatred and anger. His eyes alone were open doors to the aching heart surrounded by the impenetrable stone wall barricading it, protecting it from pain worse that the tearing of ones flesh. The boy's small delicate hand brought itself to gently brush against his tender mouth. Touching, probing the broken skin that lay in the center of his upper lip. He watched in the reflection, dragging his fingers down, the trail of red that followed. He brought his tongue out from between his lips and drug it across the bottom one tasting his own freshly drawn blood that came from the wound above. And though the events that preluded the end wound were what could be only compared to as the treatment a prisoner receives from his inmates, the boy's eyes, full of pain, remained dry and tearless.

Tears were considered a weakness, a luxury that was denied. A single tear shed would have call for more drastic punishment than the painful backhand that his delicate mouth had received earlier. He would not show this pain to anyone. He would forever keep it locked away. He knew that it wasn't over, that there was more pain to come. And he knew that there would be no one there to save him that he would have to live through it, helpless and alone....

"Lex?.... Lex?"

The voice startled Lex, bringing him back to cruel reality. The memory was painful. Waves of nausea came crashing down him like a Tsunami. The feeling, need to make a bee line to the washroom was imminent.

"Lex? Are you going to answer my question?"

Lex shook his head and turned around to face Clark Kent. Clark was looking at him inquisitively, innocent curiosity lacing his features.

"I'm sorry Clark, my mind was else where. What was your question?", Lex asked, his voice sounding a bit strained, fighting back the need to be ill.

"I asked you how you got that scar on your lip."

End