Title: Addict
Author: Ryu I rcrombie@constructedmadness.com)
Website: http://www.constructedmadness.com
Rating: R
Warnings: Dark, Angst, Not Your Nice Fuzzy Lex, Character Death
Summary: For the ClexFest: Challenge: Lex removes Lana from the equation.
Notes: This is darker than my usual work, and isn’t my general narrative style. I’m playing with a much darker interpretation of Lex than the one you might have read from me before.  And special thanks to the wonderful C Roxanne, who was kind enough to pinch beta for me!  *blows kisses*  All remaining boo boos are mine.
Soundtrack: Oh Yeah! The Best of Aerosmith

ADDICT
By Ryu I

Lex had only been drunk once.

In truth, he’d been tipsy a good deal more times than that, but only once in his life had he managed to get well and truly drunk. It had been shortly after the death of his mother, in the beginning of his wild rebellion against his father and everything Lionel Luthor stood for. He’d leapt feet-first into the stigma of teenage angst, and so, when a group of acquaintances decided to get plastered, he had thrown in with the others wholeheartedly. All he had gotten out of the experience, however, was a hangover and a bad mood. Intellectually, Lex understood the appeal. It was an escape, a perverse way to lose control and act stupid without having to face what you’d done.

Perverse was Lex’s style, admittedly. Out of control and stupid, however, were not.

He’d seen his share of people who were high, including one who had culminated her acid trip with a half gainer off Wayne Enterprises Penthouse. He watched, but never partook; there was so much information to be gleaned from rich, powerful brats who had lost all control of themselves. He’d found that this is where his own twisted pleasure came in-being the only sober person in a room full of loose lips and escalating madness.

He was in high school before he started to mix the magic potions himself, so that he could see the results of his work. His most successful creation was still in vogue among the most elite, despite the fact that no one but Lex could mix it right and he had left the business. Manipulation, control, the ability to control others, that was Lex’s drug, because no one controlled Lex but Lex.

Then came this. And this was an addiction.

Lex wasn’t completely in control anymore, and hadn’t been since he had found his very first obsession’s mouth on his, forcing out mud and muck from his lungs. This pretty, shy, deliciously hot teenage boy had caught his attention and held it. He wanted Clark Kent.

And he was going to get him.

When he had first discovered the roadblock to getting Clark in his bed, Lex had taken one of his usual roundabout roads of attack. Lana Lang was nothing to get excited over; her personality was all but nonexistent, she was pretty only in the fashion of the day, and she was thoroughly involved with that idiot-on-a-stick quarterback. Lex had encouraged Clark’s pursuit while at the same time he made sure that the quarterback would be trapped in Smallville with the vapid Miss Lane for as long as possible. Hopefully forever. Lex hated to think that the girl’s black hole of personality could someday be released on the world at large.

The only problem with his master plan was that it wasn’t quite working.

Though he wasn’t used to one of his ideas failing, Lex just took it as a challenge. He wanted this boy who believed him when he so obviously shouldn’t; he wanted to capture that innocence, own it, strip it bare. Tear it to pieces and rebuild one pretty, powerful innocent into something...more. Something irrefutably his.

The princess, however, had finally opened her eyes and seen what she could have but was missing, and then the blonde (damn perky little thing that she was, though at least bright), had caught Clark’s attention as well. Not that Chloe was enough to draw Clark away from Lex; Lex knew he was too different, too interesting and isolated in his role as town pariah and eccentric madman in the high castle for Clark to lose interest. There was, after all, a reason that both girls and Pete Ross were jealous of Lex. Clark was becoming his, slowly and surely, and he was losing his need for the others.

Good, and progressing nicely, but it still wasn’t enough. That damned flat-faced child was still flitting on the edge of Clark’s attention, and if the boy ever realized that she wanted him, Lex knew Clark would take the offer. Even if he did want Lex more, which, Lex had made certain, he would, the question of parental approval would push him toward Lana.

So. Lana needed to be removed.

That, it turned out, was easily handled. Lex decided to abandon complicated genius for the sake of beauty in simplicity. Generally, he got off more on the intricate complexities of the chase. This penchant more often than not made things more difficult than was absolutely necessary, but also a great deal more interesting. Clark Kent, on the other hand, seemed simple on the surface and was richly intricate underneath. It was as something of an ode to him that Lex chose to take a more...straightforward path to his competition’s destruction.

Kill her. Cleanly. Neatly. Lex wanted an obvious murder with no questions asked. The fact that a serial killer was loose in the tristate area had been no more than lucky coincidence. Tracking that man down with no more help than hidden FBI files had been enough of a challenge for a high. Assigning a victim to a homicidal nutcase, however, was a complete pain in the ass. Lex preferred order to madness.

Of course, all that mattered in the end was that it worked beautifully, as all Lex’s plans worked beautifully. Not always as he planned, and certainly not as his father would prefer or accept, but he made them work. He made this work, as well.

Lex’s suspicions were confirmed.

Clark Kent was beautiful when he mourned. Tears soaked into Lex’s expensive designer shirts. That long, hard, mysterious body curled around Lex’s smaller one and against him.

And, god, the hot mix of semen and tears against Lex’s over sensitive skin was scalding.

Drugs had nothing, could have nothing, on the pure heat of bathing in tears hot like blood, on the pure fulfillment of taking, owning, claiming, fucking this pretty boy while he cried.

No one else had felt this.

No one else had heard Clark scream for mercy.

Scream for more.

No one else would.

This addiction was only Lex’s.

As the blonde tart would learn, if she tried to take what.

Was.

His.

Addiction.

~End~