Don't be a dick, be a dude. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sabinetzin) wrote2006-07-26 02:23 am
sabinetzin) wrote2006-07-26 02:23 am
Sometimes you accidentally write two chapters instead of one.
Title: Ox
Series: K'ex
Summary: Lionel makes his plans.
Fandom: Smallville
Word Count: 871
Rating/Warnings: R, violence, implicit sex, very bad things
Pairing: Lionel/Chloe, mentions of Clark/Chloe
A/N: Just call me Captain Noncon. Oh wait, that's Deathstroke. I guess I have to be Admiral Dubcon. I like it. Sounds like a submariner. Don't mind me, I'm a bit mad. In case you're not in the know, Themyscira is the island from which Wonder Woman hails. I've some linguistic thoughts, but those are for another day.
The security guard didn’t even make a sound as Lionel snapped his neck.
“I normally don’t condone this sort of behavior, you understand,” he told Chloe, throwing the guard into a corner, “but I can’t exactly walk in and make a withdrawal.”
“Save it,” Chloe snapped, trying not to look at the guard’s broken body.
“I apologize that you have to witness this, but you are the one who tried to run away.” The vault door tore away like paper under his hands. “Would you be so kind?” he asked, handing her a sack of gold bars. The weight pulled her arms to the floor, bending her double. Sighing, he picked both of them up and sped them out of the bank.
“They’re going to find us,” Chloe told him as he sat her down in front of his apartment door, not quite sure who she was trying to convince.
“I expect that will happen right around the time that the Queen of Themyscira starts returning my phone calls.” The door swung open, and Chloe started at the sight of the huge man on the sofa. Lionel threw the bars down next to the coffee table.
After a cursory examination, he stood, laying a packet of documents and a small briefcase on the table. “I was never here.”
Lionel opened his hands in a wide gesture, shrugging. “Neither were we.” With a nod, the man left.
“If you’re so strong, by not just overpower him and keep the gold too?” she asked as he locked the door.
“Contacts, Miss Sullivan.” He walked to the decanter on the sideboard against the wall, pouring out two glasses of the thin brown liquid. It was so like him, Chloe thought: furniture from K-Mart, solid crystal flatware. “Rob a man, and he is useful to you once. Also, you risk drawing the ire of the more powerful men who protect him.” He sipped his scotch, walking back across the room to Chloe.
“Be his friend, and you can use him for life,” Chloe said bitterly, taking the proffered glass. She threw back the contents, wincing at the burn.
“I have always admired your quick thinking, Miss Sullivan. Besides, a gold bar is nothing but an attractive paperweight for the,” he laughed slightly, “common criminal.” He sat down on the couch, perusing the documents before him. He separated them into two tacks, passing one to Chloe.
“A high school diploma?”
“Passports, drivers’ licenses, birth certificates- and I’ve taken the liberty of moving your birthday back a few years,” he told her, examining his own stack. “Everything we’ll need.”
“There’s no ‘we’ here,” Chloe said, her voice freezing cold.
“Correction. There’s no ‘me’ here.” He fitted the new license into Clark’s wallet. “I can be to Coast City in under a minute, and I doubt if there’s a jail cell even in the worst part of Gotham that can hold me. But you,” here he waved a finger at her, “you are a problem.”
“You could- oh, I don’t know- let me go?” It was supposed to be sarcastic, but there was an edge of pleading in her voice that Chloe regretted.
“You’re a witness, as well as an accessory to a rather serious crime, are you not? If you think I’m going to let you just waltz out of here, you are sadly mistaken.” He took the papers back from her, adding them to his own and locking them into the sideboard. He brought the bottle back with him, refilling their glasses. Chloe downed the second glass just as quickly as the first.
“Careful,” Lionel warned, but filled it again.
“If you’re drugging me, I might as well get it over with,” she said, sipping this time nonetheless, “and if alcohol wasn’t made for a situation like this, I don’t know what was.”
“Do us both a favor, Miss Sullivan, and stop pretending you’re not enjoying at least part of all this.” He brushed a strand of hair out of her face, his hand lingering on her cheek for just a little too long.
She didn’t flinch. “Don’t expect Stockholm Syndrome to have set in on the first day.” Her words were curiously lacking in anger.
“I certainly didn’t hear you complaining at the Torch.”
Chloe grimaced as if she’d been struck. “I wouldn’t have.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Lionel replied. His voice dropped into a feral whisper. “You had been craving exactly what I gave you, Miss Sullivan. And, as I recall, you never said no.”
It wouldn’t be so hard, Chloe thought, if she didn’t have to hear Clark’s voice saying all of this. Strong fingers wiped away the tears on her cheek, strong arms wrapping tightly around her. Not Clark’s, she forced herself to think. Not his lips brushing hers. It would be so much easier to make herself think that, but she would feel so much worse in the long run.
She knew it would be many sleepless nights before she understood why the name she sighed against those lips wasn’t Clark’s.
---
“Where am I?”
“You are with me, Kal-El. You are safe here.”
He opened his eyes, and it seemed like all the world was made of light.
Series: K'ex
Summary: Lionel makes his plans.
Fandom: Smallville
Word Count: 871
Rating/Warnings: R, violence, implicit sex, very bad things
Pairing: Lionel/Chloe, mentions of Clark/Chloe
A/N: Just call me Captain Noncon. Oh wait, that's Deathstroke. I guess I have to be Admiral Dubcon. I like it. Sounds like a submariner. Don't mind me, I'm a bit mad. In case you're not in the know, Themyscira is the island from which Wonder Woman hails. I've some linguistic thoughts, but those are for another day.
The security guard didn’t even make a sound as Lionel snapped his neck.
“I normally don’t condone this sort of behavior, you understand,” he told Chloe, throwing the guard into a corner, “but I can’t exactly walk in and make a withdrawal.”
“Save it,” Chloe snapped, trying not to look at the guard’s broken body.
“I apologize that you have to witness this, but you are the one who tried to run away.” The vault door tore away like paper under his hands. “Would you be so kind?” he asked, handing her a sack of gold bars. The weight pulled her arms to the floor, bending her double. Sighing, he picked both of them up and sped them out of the bank.
“They’re going to find us,” Chloe told him as he sat her down in front of his apartment door, not quite sure who she was trying to convince.
“I expect that will happen right around the time that the Queen of Themyscira starts returning my phone calls.” The door swung open, and Chloe started at the sight of the huge man on the sofa. Lionel threw the bars down next to the coffee table.
After a cursory examination, he stood, laying a packet of documents and a small briefcase on the table. “I was never here.”
Lionel opened his hands in a wide gesture, shrugging. “Neither were we.” With a nod, the man left.
“If you’re so strong, by not just overpower him and keep the gold too?” she asked as he locked the door.
“Contacts, Miss Sullivan.” He walked to the decanter on the sideboard against the wall, pouring out two glasses of the thin brown liquid. It was so like him, Chloe thought: furniture from K-Mart, solid crystal flatware. “Rob a man, and he is useful to you once. Also, you risk drawing the ire of the more powerful men who protect him.” He sipped his scotch, walking back across the room to Chloe.
“Be his friend, and you can use him for life,” Chloe said bitterly, taking the proffered glass. She threw back the contents, wincing at the burn.
“I have always admired your quick thinking, Miss Sullivan. Besides, a gold bar is nothing but an attractive paperweight for the,” he laughed slightly, “common criminal.” He sat down on the couch, perusing the documents before him. He separated them into two tacks, passing one to Chloe.
“A high school diploma?”
“Passports, drivers’ licenses, birth certificates- and I’ve taken the liberty of moving your birthday back a few years,” he told her, examining his own stack. “Everything we’ll need.”
“There’s no ‘we’ here,” Chloe said, her voice freezing cold.
“Correction. There’s no ‘me’ here.” He fitted the new license into Clark’s wallet. “I can be to Coast City in under a minute, and I doubt if there’s a jail cell even in the worst part of Gotham that can hold me. But you,” here he waved a finger at her, “you are a problem.”
“You could- oh, I don’t know- let me go?” It was supposed to be sarcastic, but there was an edge of pleading in her voice that Chloe regretted.
“You’re a witness, as well as an accessory to a rather serious crime, are you not? If you think I’m going to let you just waltz out of here, you are sadly mistaken.” He took the papers back from her, adding them to his own and locking them into the sideboard. He brought the bottle back with him, refilling their glasses. Chloe downed the second glass just as quickly as the first.
“Careful,” Lionel warned, but filled it again.
“If you’re drugging me, I might as well get it over with,” she said, sipping this time nonetheless, “and if alcohol wasn’t made for a situation like this, I don’t know what was.”
“Do us both a favor, Miss Sullivan, and stop pretending you’re not enjoying at least part of all this.” He brushed a strand of hair out of her face, his hand lingering on her cheek for just a little too long.
She didn’t flinch. “Don’t expect Stockholm Syndrome to have set in on the first day.” Her words were curiously lacking in anger.
“I certainly didn’t hear you complaining at the Torch.”
Chloe grimaced as if she’d been struck. “I wouldn’t have.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Lionel replied. His voice dropped into a feral whisper. “You had been craving exactly what I gave you, Miss Sullivan. And, as I recall, you never said no.”
It wouldn’t be so hard, Chloe thought, if she didn’t have to hear Clark’s voice saying all of this. Strong fingers wiped away the tears on her cheek, strong arms wrapping tightly around her. Not Clark’s, she forced herself to think. Not his lips brushing hers. It would be so much easier to make herself think that, but she would feel so much worse in the long run.
She knew it would be many sleepless nights before she understood why the name she sighed against those lips wasn’t Clark’s.
---
“Where am I?”
“You are with me, Kal-El. You are safe here.”
He opened his eyes, and it seemed like all the world was made of light.