Summary and disclaimer in prologue
[A/N] Hey guys! I'm really sorry it took me so long to update but I got confused and thought I'd posted already! Anyway, here's the next ch. I should probably re-iterate that I don't own any or all billionaires that might pop up here. If I did I'd be in Fiji right now and wouldn't have time to fit in writing fic around my busy manicure and massage schedule!
ME - thanks hon, hope you like the next two chs!
WolviesLover - Thanks for the review, it was great! And Chloe and Lionel are definitely going to see each other towards the end, so hope you like! BTW you have excellent taste for a Ro/Lo shipper *grin * - sorry, couldn't resist. To be fair, I like that combo too. xx
Chapter 3
The whirring of the rotor blades created a rather hypnotic effect in the comfortable cabin of the helicopter, despite its excellent sound muffling. Lex sat sprawled on the cream leather wingback seat, long legs arranged carelessly. His eyes gazed unseeing at the passing landscape, the flat featurelessness of Kansas cornfields drifting by at a seemingly leisurely pace below him.
His mind was occupied with a post-mortem of his breakfast conversation with Lionel. While this was always his practice where his father was concerned, today his thoughts had taken on a restless and brooding turn, and he found himself thinking about the larger context of their relationship.
Another dimension to their dynamic had been added by what Lionel only referred to as 'The Lucas Incident'. It had revealed certain clues to things that Lex had wanted from his father his whole life. The choice Lionel had made between him and his brother in those last, desperate, moments had shown that in his own, inimitably twisted way he valued his eldest son. Lex had to struggle against the inner child that forced its way to the front of his consciousness, and yelled unbidden, "he cares!"
There were precious few moments in his life that could point to that conclusion, and as sternly as he pushed that thought aside, unwilling to allow himself false and possibly confusing hope, he couldn't help but feel a glimmer of innocent joy at the possibility. Lex silently shook himself and turned his thoughts to just how fucked up it was, that it took the fact of his father not shooting him in the head to make him feel cared for.
Sitting up, a look of disgust marking his features, Lex reached into a recessed cupboard beside his seat and grabbed the small medical kit stashed there. Pulling out a bottle of aspirin he swallowed a few, washing them down with the generous measure of scotch he'd poured himself after take- off. A slight grimace crossed his face as the bitter liquid burned a path to his stomach, settling in a warm pool once it arrived there. He hoped that the hair of the dog would fix his hangover in time for his arrival at his young friend Warren's party.
The thought of the party prompted some far more pleasant feelings, including a slight tightness of anticipation in his belly. At the tender age of nineteen, Warren Worthington III was gaining quite a reputation as a host of some of the most exclusive and privately debauched gatherings that Metropolis had ever seen. Or at least since the scandals of a certain Luthor heir had made the old ladies reading 'The Inquisitor' choke on their corn flakes. Blessed with a combination of model good looks, indulgent parents and a private fortune totalling several million dollars, Warren was rapidly becoming the poster boy for elegant fornication and loving every minute of it.
Lex smiled as he thought back to his first meeting with the boy five years previously. Lex had arrived to one of his father's opening ceremonies stoned out of his mind and wearing eyeliner that he had no recollection of applying. As he was hovering beside the bar, chain smoking and downing drink after drink in a desperate attempt to make the event less mind- numbingly dull, Warren had marched up to him and grabbed his hand. Shaking it with a smile that would put Clark Kent's to shame, he announced:
"Have you heard? Brown's the new black and I'm the new you!" And so it had proved, as Lex sobered up and found a new purpose in competing with his father, Warren had slipped into the role of head playboy with barely a ripple. Over the years, they had stayed in touch, Warren's lively descriptions of his parties and disgracefully libertine behaviour lightening Lex's otherwise serious existence. He had always turned down the younger boy's invitations, but this week he needed something to distract him. So when Warren had mentioned a celebratory autumn bash at his sumptuous apartment in Metropolis, Lex had agreed wholeheartedly.
The reason for his sudden unsettled state of mind was all too obvious, and Lex's mood turned again as an all too familiar blonde head popped into his thoughts. Their brief but powerful encounter the previous week had affected him more than he had at first realised, as with each passing lonely evening he had found the lure of the liquor cabinet getting stronger and stronger. And after a couple of drinks it was fifty fifty whether he was going to see her again in a haze of pleasure, as he remembered her eyes widening as he pushed inside her, her skin like fine satin under his fingers, her voice ragged as she called out his name, and what she looked like asleep beside him. The alternative was cold misery, aching torture that he inflicted upon himself as he cursed again and again whatever it was in himself that caused others to want him only as far as he was useful to them, and a self destructive downward spiral that would lead to him waking up in the same clothes as the night before with a headache that would seriously slow down a less driven man. The cycle was becoming detrimental to his health and ability to work, and, knowing that as in previous times the best way to forget about a woman was to fuck another one, he'd decided a short sharp shock to the system in Metropolis was the answer he needed.
The insistent ring of the in-flight satellite phone interrupted his reverie, and he snatched it up with a sharp "Luthor".
[A/N] Hey guys! I'm really sorry it took me so long to update but I got confused and thought I'd posted already! Anyway, here's the next ch. I should probably re-iterate that I don't own any or all billionaires that might pop up here. If I did I'd be in Fiji right now and wouldn't have time to fit in writing fic around my busy manicure and massage schedule!
ME - thanks hon, hope you like the next two chs!
WolviesLover - Thanks for the review, it was great! And Chloe and Lionel are definitely going to see each other towards the end, so hope you like! BTW you have excellent taste for a Ro/Lo shipper *grin * - sorry, couldn't resist. To be fair, I like that combo too. xx
Chapter 3
The whirring of the rotor blades created a rather hypnotic effect in the comfortable cabin of the helicopter, despite its excellent sound muffling. Lex sat sprawled on the cream leather wingback seat, long legs arranged carelessly. His eyes gazed unseeing at the passing landscape, the flat featurelessness of Kansas cornfields drifting by at a seemingly leisurely pace below him.
His mind was occupied with a post-mortem of his breakfast conversation with Lionel. While this was always his practice where his father was concerned, today his thoughts had taken on a restless and brooding turn, and he found himself thinking about the larger context of their relationship.
Another dimension to their dynamic had been added by what Lionel only referred to as 'The Lucas Incident'. It had revealed certain clues to things that Lex had wanted from his father his whole life. The choice Lionel had made between him and his brother in those last, desperate, moments had shown that in his own, inimitably twisted way he valued his eldest son. Lex had to struggle against the inner child that forced its way to the front of his consciousness, and yelled unbidden, "he cares!"
There were precious few moments in his life that could point to that conclusion, and as sternly as he pushed that thought aside, unwilling to allow himself false and possibly confusing hope, he couldn't help but feel a glimmer of innocent joy at the possibility. Lex silently shook himself and turned his thoughts to just how fucked up it was, that it took the fact of his father not shooting him in the head to make him feel cared for.
Sitting up, a look of disgust marking his features, Lex reached into a recessed cupboard beside his seat and grabbed the small medical kit stashed there. Pulling out a bottle of aspirin he swallowed a few, washing them down with the generous measure of scotch he'd poured himself after take- off. A slight grimace crossed his face as the bitter liquid burned a path to his stomach, settling in a warm pool once it arrived there. He hoped that the hair of the dog would fix his hangover in time for his arrival at his young friend Warren's party.
The thought of the party prompted some far more pleasant feelings, including a slight tightness of anticipation in his belly. At the tender age of nineteen, Warren Worthington III was gaining quite a reputation as a host of some of the most exclusive and privately debauched gatherings that Metropolis had ever seen. Or at least since the scandals of a certain Luthor heir had made the old ladies reading 'The Inquisitor' choke on their corn flakes. Blessed with a combination of model good looks, indulgent parents and a private fortune totalling several million dollars, Warren was rapidly becoming the poster boy for elegant fornication and loving every minute of it.
Lex smiled as he thought back to his first meeting with the boy five years previously. Lex had arrived to one of his father's opening ceremonies stoned out of his mind and wearing eyeliner that he had no recollection of applying. As he was hovering beside the bar, chain smoking and downing drink after drink in a desperate attempt to make the event less mind- numbingly dull, Warren had marched up to him and grabbed his hand. Shaking it with a smile that would put Clark Kent's to shame, he announced:
"Have you heard? Brown's the new black and I'm the new you!" And so it had proved, as Lex sobered up and found a new purpose in competing with his father, Warren had slipped into the role of head playboy with barely a ripple. Over the years, they had stayed in touch, Warren's lively descriptions of his parties and disgracefully libertine behaviour lightening Lex's otherwise serious existence. He had always turned down the younger boy's invitations, but this week he needed something to distract him. So when Warren had mentioned a celebratory autumn bash at his sumptuous apartment in Metropolis, Lex had agreed wholeheartedly.
The reason for his sudden unsettled state of mind was all too obvious, and Lex's mood turned again as an all too familiar blonde head popped into his thoughts. Their brief but powerful encounter the previous week had affected him more than he had at first realised, as with each passing lonely evening he had found the lure of the liquor cabinet getting stronger and stronger. And after a couple of drinks it was fifty fifty whether he was going to see her again in a haze of pleasure, as he remembered her eyes widening as he pushed inside her, her skin like fine satin under his fingers, her voice ragged as she called out his name, and what she looked like asleep beside him. The alternative was cold misery, aching torture that he inflicted upon himself as he cursed again and again whatever it was in himself that caused others to want him only as far as he was useful to them, and a self destructive downward spiral that would lead to him waking up in the same clothes as the night before with a headache that would seriously slow down a less driven man. The cycle was becoming detrimental to his health and ability to work, and, knowing that as in previous times the best way to forget about a woman was to fuck another one, he'd decided a short sharp shock to the system in Metropolis was the answer he needed.
The insistent ring of the in-flight satellite phone interrupted his reverie, and he snatched it up with a sharp "Luthor".