Lex's wedding didn't go exactly as he planned, and now he owes a deep debt to his father. Warning, this is a Clark/Lex slash fic that contains non-con Luthorcest, Lionel on Lex.
"When I was born, they looked at me and said, what a good boy, what a smart boy, what a strong boy…I wake up scared, I wake up strange. I wake up wondering if anything in my life is ever going to change. I wake up scared, I wake up strange and everything around me stays the same," Steven Page & Ed Robertson.
"What would you be willing to do to ensure that Lana Lang ends up at the alter today?" my father asks, brushing a speck of dust off of my shoulder. But I don't want her there; I wish I could tell him. I don't love Lana, and I sure as Hell don't think she loves me. We only even slept together to get back at Clark, both of us for our own reasons, but our getting married is the worst thing either of us can do.
"Anything," I tell him instead. My body and mind betray me as usual. Shit. Why did I say that? I just gave him absolute power. I'm scared, terrified of what he's going to do now, and that's not even the worst part of all of this. The worst part is that I told my father I'd do anything to get Lana to show up (and God only knows how he did that) but then I didn't even show up to the ceremony myself.
Clark showed up at the last minute, begged for my forgiveness, and rushed the two of us off to Vegas so he and I could get married. Now we're in the honeymoon suite at the Bellagio. Our hotel room has a giant bed, a heart-shaped tub, a bottle of champagne on ice, giant windows looking out into the strip, and even a fireplace, although I can't imagine anyone ever needing one in Las Vegas.
It's about 6:00 in the morning and I'm laying awake, with Clark sleeping next to me, a shock of hair in his eyes and the lights from the other hotels shine down on his body, illuminating him like an angel. He's so beautiful, so amazing, and so perfect. I love him more than anything in the whole world. Maybe we will be okay after all. Maybe we can make our relationship work this time around. Maybe me and Clark will have a chance at happiness. There's a knock on the door, and Clark wakes up.
"Hey?" he moans, yawning and sitting up. "What was that?" Another knock. A quick glance at the clock tells me that it's 6:37. "I haven't gotten up this early since I was in high school."
"Room service. We ordered breakfast. I'll get it. You stay there, Mr. Luthor," I tell him with a small giggle. Clark laughs too, as I stand, pulling on one of the complementary bathrobes and go to answer the door. "Funny, I thought you farm boys are up with the sun on a regular basis."
"Not when I can get all of the work done in just over four hours," he reminds me with another smile. Then Clark follows to the door, walking behind me. "So, what are we going to be having?"
"I dunno. I had about seven glasses of champagne last night. I pretty much just circled stuff on the menu at random," I admit, letting him hug me before answering the door. "I'll sign for tha—," I start to tell the man at the door only he isn't the bellhop. He doesn't even work for the hotel. Clark turns and stares at me in complete shock, taking a step back. "Dad, what are you doing here?"
"You stupid, pathetic fuck," Lionel shouts, smacking me across the jaw, and I fly across the room, almost as hard and as fast as I would have if Clark was the one who hit me. Then he slams the door closed, and steps inside, standing over me angrily. "You think you can just embarrass me like that, Lex? What the Hell is the matter with you?" Then my father places his feet on either side of my waist, and bends down to stroke my face.
Crap, not this again. I squeeze my eyes shut tight. Where the Hell is Clark? Why isn't he stopping this? Please make this stop. Please. Somebody. Anybody, please, just make it stop.
"Get away from him," Clark's voice sounds far away, but when I open my eye just a crack, I can see his bare feet at my side next to one of Dad's shoes. "I won't tell you again. Get up, and leave, now." Looks like Clark really is going to be the best thing that happened to me, isn't he?
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Lionel threatens, and something in his voice tells me that he isn't screwing around here—okay bad word choice—anyway I don't like that. I don't want him to even think about hurting Clark, and I know that tone. Lionel reaches into his breast pocket, pulling out a small lead-lined box, and opening it.
There's a sickly green glow, and I watch helplessly as Clark falls to the ground, whimpering, sweating, and clutching his own gut, gasping for air.
"Why are you doing this?" I beg, as my father turns his attention back to me, his fingers sliding down my spine, hands pulling my robe to the side. Clark. Have to help Clark. I have to save him. "Dad, you can't leave him like that. He could—die." I wince, as he doesn't listen, and try to concentrate on anything except for the hard thing pressing up against me.
"Well, the two of you should have thought of that before you ran out on your wedding yesterday. Luckily, I managed to tie up all of the…loose ends." Lionel's fingers slid down to my stomach, touching me as he pumps, touching my—no don't do that. Don't think. My body betrays me, as always, unable to stop myself; I climax, shortly before Lionel does. Then he wipes his hand against my back and stands up zipping his pants, walking towards the door, and picking up the Kryptonite on his way. "You can have two days, plus the weekend. Then I want you back at work Monday morning," he informs me before walking out the door.
Clark! My first thoughts are of protecting him. I rush to his side, cradling him in my arms. Luckily he seems to get better almost as soon as the rock is out of the room. Then we switch positions and he's the one holding me, rocking me, whispering over and over that everything is gonna be okay.
"I'm sorry," he tells me again and again and again. "I won't let him hurt you like that again. I won't let him hurt you ever," he promises. Almost instantly I feel myself shivering, goose pimples breaking out all over my body as I'm finally allowed to freak out. Tears stream down my face, even though the monster is gone.
"It's not your fault. That's been—it's always been that way. At least now I know what the next couple of years is going to consist of. It's actually less scary knowing for sure than worrying all the time…" I let my voice trail off, because I'm pretty sure neither one of us wants this conversation to continue.
Clark runs a worm bath, holds me, helps me clean up, holds me, dries me off, holds me, rubs my back and shoulders, holds me, tells me that he loves me, holds me, gets the door when the real room service comes, holds me, and as the two of us are sitting there, he opens his mouth and starts to speak.
"What if you don't have to do what he wants? What if I could help you, make it so you never had to do that again, protect you forever?" he asks, still just holding me ever so gently. I want to shoot him down, tell him that it's impossible, but I want to believe it. Despite all of the times I've been hurt, all the times I've gotten my hopes up for nothing, I want to believe everything Clark says.
"Do you really think that could be possible?" I ask, sitting up to look him straight in the eyes. When Clark nods, it's all I can do not to start crying hysterically. "How? Tell me. Please."
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