"Vessel" (NC-17)
As per my usual, this has not been proofed at all. Sorry. I'm lazy.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Blah, blah, blah.
for Laura - happy belated birthday
~~//~~
He is a man standing on the edge of chaos.
Lord of war, the infallible creator of the end.
A smug smirk twists his lips as the wind swirls his jacket around him, and he leans into it, reveling in the sweet bite of smoke that’s tantalizing his senses.
He’d watched the madness as it spread from house to house, street to street, city to city. He’d sat back, enjoying the quick-fire spread of pandemonium, relishing the darkness, the flames; the scented fury of rebellion.
The satisfying thrill of victory runs down his spine as the weak humans continue to wreak havoc all around him, doing his bidding without provocation, proving to be the sheep he always thought them to be.
He watches as the deterioration of allies ensues to the point of there being neither friend nor foe, just utter delectable anarchy for him to feed off of, and he revels in it, perfectly at home in the throes of war.
He laughs to himself, chuckling wryly at the ease in which he took what he wanted. All the gullible humans working so easily into his hands, working diligently to turn the world into the sanctuary of a monster without any thought of repercussions.
It was all just so…perfect.
He hears a noise behind him and quickly schools his features into cool indifference, slowly turning to face the unwanted interruption. He frowns slightly as a young girl moves towards him purposefully, obviously recognizing him for the vessel he inhabits.
The relief evident on her face angers him irrationally, animosity quickly boiling up inside him, his thirst for destruction more powerful than ever. The thought of any human finding relief in his presence left a bitter taste in his mouth, a heavy burden of purity on his dark soul.
This will not do.
He takes a step towards her, sees her lips moving, hears her speaking, smiles devilishly as he takes her head in his hands and leans forward. She doesn’t pull away, doesn’t fight or struggle – just leans into him – raising her face to his expectantly, a soft sigh igniting the match of fury beneath his skin.
He places his lips on hers, making himself give her what she wants, so he in turn gets what he wants.
To boost her hopes to such heights he’ll be able to crush her completely.
And it’s then he can hear it.
Somewhere in the distance, a scream pierces the night, echoes in his head, the quick fire cadence penetrating the apathy of a veritable God, momentarily waking the beast within. His heart pounds in his chest, the blood rushing through his veins and infusing his brain with uncontrollable panic. An emotion so foreign to him he knows it’s not his own.
He closes his eyes tighter, kisses her harder, trying to escape the heroic pulse awakening within him as the screaming echoes around them. She whimpers faintly, her mouth opening on a gasp as he pushes his tongue into her mouth, ignoring the slight urge to retch against the ambiguousness of true feeling.
He feels the soft skin beneath his hands, the pliant lips beneath his own, swallows the maniacal laugh that threatens to consume him as the panic intensifies.
He pulls back, his vision spotty as his senses try to take hold of his body. He sees her, eyes wide, mouth gaping, a woman-child disguised as an insipid conqueror of man.
“Lex…” she breathes, her hands fumbling for purchase on his coat, her eyes soft with misplaced trust.
He recoils inwardly, her graceless hands on his chest igniting an intense fury within him. The ease in which she ignores the utter turmoil he caused makes him want to inflict pain on her and he wants her to suffer for her own ignorance.
He glares at her, bitter coldness consuming him as her yearning gaze becomes questioning, demanding. “Lex,” he responds quietly, his hands grasping her spindly arms and tightening with each threatening word. “Is. Dead.”
Her eyes widen in confusion, the quick shift to horror sending shockwaves of pleasure up his spine. Her mouth opens, shuts, terror closing her throat as his body responds to her distress and he inadvertently pulls her closer to his body.
“Let me go,” she whimpers brokenly, pulling against his grip half-heartedly, tears already forming in her doe-like gaze.
He pushes her away from him, releasing her with a jerk. “Kneel before Zod,” he commands icily.
Lana gasps, her mouth gaping open further as she stares up at him. “What?” she asks anxiously, her voice weak, her eyes ineffectively blinking back tears.
She’s standing before him, hands shaking – the terror in her eyes belaying her defensive stance. He snorts in amusement, exasperated as well as annoyed that one so insignificant would ever be considered at all threatening.
He smiles at her coldly, baring his straight, white teeth, rage blurring his vision as he grabs her by her arms, “Kneel before Zod,” he repeats menacingly, squeezing painfully and forcing her to her knees before him.
She screams in pain, her knees automatically buckling as his grip tightens. She bows her head, tears scattering along the ground beneath her as she pleads for flight, her pseudo-defensive behavior quickly making way for unadulterated terror.
He takes a few moments, letting her pleading words bathe him with pleasure, her horrified shudders and whimpers music to his ears. He bends down, taking hold of her arms again and hauling her up against him, forcing her to meet his gaze.
She looks up at him, her face streaked with tears, her eyes wide and swimming with fearful confusion. Snarling in disgust, he tosses her to the side dismissively, reveling in the sound of her body connecting with wall beside them.
He glances at her prone body, uncaring as to whether or not she’s dead or alive. She’s of no use to him anyway, already crying and begging for freedom, typical behavior for a human.
He turns away from her, moving once more to the edge of the building and taking his place on the ledge. He’s no longer content with the bedlam around him, the anguished screaming conflicting with his animalistic need for war.
He wants it to stop, wants to suppress the urge to seek it out and put an end to the suffering, but he finds he’s not able to, the panic is too much – even for him.
A definitive sign that the vessel was vulnerable.
Tainted.
Scowling angrily, he leaves his post, making his way to street level as he follows the voice that seems to grow more desperate with each passing moment. His heart pounds painfully, his pace quickly accelerating as he draws nearer, unable to ignore a visceral urge to protect something as indefinite as the feeling threatening to explode from his chest.
He can only presume that the person behind the screaming must be something special to the body he inhabits, someone so cherished even his very own black soul is unable to ignore the emotional bond. Something as alien to him as he is to those surrounding him.
He makes his way through the streets knowing he’s heading towards the cause of his panic, the scream amongst the screams perfectly clear in his minds eye.
He spots a group of ruffians in the distance, seemingly heckling their prey as they swarm around rowdily. He hears the screaming, smirking slightly as he makes out the foul words being spewed in the midst of such danger, amused that whoever this may be, it wasn’t a cowardly bore such as the one he’d disposed of earlier.
Curiosity compels him into motion, his speed having him on the group before they realize there’s a threat. He takes them out individually, knocking them around until they scatter, quickly ditching any thought of trying to fight him for their victim.
He watches them run, puffing his chest out proudly as they go, self-satisfaction thrumming through him no matter how small the triumph. He turns towards the spitfire before him, taking in every detail he can get and cataloguing it to memory.
She’s still sprawled on the ground, her light colored hair messy, dirt streaking her otherwise flawless skin. She’s breathing rapidly, her breaths coming out in short pants, her torn clothes revealing a glimpse of what lies beneath.
Finally, a real woman… he nods in approval, the vessel’s taste in woman improving with the specimen before him.
Her eyes spark furiously as she levels her gaze on him, her brows furrowing in a deep scowl as she covers herself from his leering gaze.
“It’s about fucking time, Lex.” She growls at him, successfully getting his attention and he raises his eyes from her still heaving breasts to her flushed face. He looks at her impartially, unsure of how he should proceed now that the initial panic has passed.
She doesn’t wait for him to respond, just holds her hand out to him, rolling her eyes at him as he peers at it disinterestedly.
She huffs in annoyance, her voice incredulous as she snarls, “For the love of Christ Lex, are you going to help me up or just stand there?”
He cocks his head at her, smirking in amusement as he obligingly grasps her hand in his. “Lex is dead.” He replies mildly, mentally bracing himself for her to recoil from his touch, for her to look at him in horror.
But instead her hand tightens on his and she lets him pull her up, gripping his arm to steady herself as gets her bearings. She snorts at him, “And people rejoiced around the world.”
He frowns in confusion, his unfamiliarity with being wrong about people’s reactions causing some uncertainty in his next step. It had been a long time since anyone dared cross him, ages since someone responded to him differently than anyone else.
He expects anger. Sadness. Fear. But certainly not – this – not mockery.
He grabs her arms, intent on making her do his bidding, but she shakes him off in annoyance, slanting a disdained look his was as she tries to adjust her torn clothing.
“Kneel before Zod,” he commands not as firmly as he would’ve liked.
She stops brushing the dirt from her pants, her hands left unmoving on her leg as she peers up at him in astonishment. She smiles at him slyly, “Baby, I’d do a lot for you, but there’s no way I’m going to suck your cock amidst looting and chaos. I’m just not that kind of girl.”
He blinks in amazement, not sure exactly what was happening, but completely understanding the implication of her words. Sure he’d been locked up for a long time, but suck and cock were not words any man would forget, especially when used in the same sentence, and beneath it all that’s exactly what he is – all man.
She steps towards him, bringing her body flush with his as she leans into him and he feels her breath on his ear as she speaks. “But I’m more than relieved you finally showed up to save me.” She pauses, running her lips along his jaw, her eyes focused on his mouth as she continues. “I was beginning to think my last kiss was going to be from the likes of Clark.”
He opens his mouth to respond, only to have his words cut off by her lips pressing against his, her tongue already stroking along his bottom lip invitingly.
He gasps in surprise, pleased and taken aback both as she pushes closer to him, her lips, teeth and tongue working aggressively to take what she wants, silently begging for the reaction she desires.
She winds her arms around his neck, using his surprise to her advantage, pulling herself up and tilting her head as she plunders his mouth, all the while actively rubbing her breasts and groin against him.
He feels his body tightening, his most primitive need obscuring his ongoing agenda, another feeling completely foreign to him, something else working its way up from the subconscious of the vessel.
His arms come up around her, instinctively pulling her closer to him, his hands sliding under her shirt to stroke the soft skin of her back, gripping her tightly and pulling her even closer.
He feels as if his hands are on fire, set ablaze by the infinite heat of her skin and fueled by her obvious passion for him – the vessel.
She purrs contentedly, oblivious to the ongoing turmoil around them as he slides his tongue along hers and plunges into her mouth. She squirms against him and he feels her nipples pressing against his chest, causing a pulse of desire to ricochet through him, the dull throb in his balls further obstructing his perspective.
She pulls back suddenly, her arms loosening slightly without relinquishing her grip on him completely. She eyes him warily, indecision marring her features as she studies him, her tongue flicking out to taste him on her lips.
“You’re different,” she mutters the words softly, as if only to herself, perhaps not even loud enough for the human ear to pick up on. “Yet still the same.”
“What do you mean?” the words slip out unheeded, hoarse and breathless, seeming strange to his own ears. “How can one be different yet still remain the same?”
Her eyes widen in triumph, her mouth curving into a knowing smile. “Clark told me something had changed you and I was certainly skeptical to believe his melodramatic prattling, but just the fact you heard that is proof enough,” she says calmly. “Then add into it the fact you’re holding me up with no signs of effort, and we officially have different.”
It’s only then he realizes he’s holding her off the ground, his arms holding her securely, keeping them eye-to-eye as they speak. He raises a brow at her, mesmerized by her unflinching calm. “Then what remains the same?”
Her smile fades some, her lips turned up delicately at the corners, her eyes soft with a speaking look he can’t quite place. “You look and feel the same, you even taste the same,” she states decisively. “And you found me in the midst of pure chaos, without even knowing who I am. To me, that’s sufficient evidence that you’re still Lex where it counts, and in the end he’ll come back to me.”
He should kill her. Normally he wouldn’t think twice about, but then again, normally he never would’ve felt inclined to seek out a random scream and most certainly would’ve never felt an urge to actually save her.
He tightens his arms around her, squeezing to the point he can feel her rib cage start to cave from the crushing pressure. He holds her stare, waiting for her to give in, not really thinking she ever will.
He can tell he’s causing her pain, sees the tension in her face, feels her fingers digging into his neck. But her gaze never wavers and she remains quiet and yielding to his hold, the same nameless softness in her eyes.
She leans into him, placing a soft kiss on his upper lip, an obvious acceptance of whatever fate he has for her, and he finds himself easing up until he’s once again hugging her against his chest.
He sighs loudly, having no choice but to believe what she says is true. His inability to eliminate a human – this human – a testament to the power the vessel still held over his actions.
“Told you so,” she says teasingly. “Eventually, you’ll be done wreaking havoc with the world and Lex will be back to having complete control over his body. I guess I’ll just have to wait it out.”
He gives her his best interpretation of a dry look, saying as noncommittally as possible, “Perhaps.”
She rolls her eyes at him, snorting in blatant mockery at his supposed nonchalance, “Well put me down and go about your business so the wait won’t be any longer than absolutely necessary.”
Slowly he lowers her to the ground, relishing the feel of her body rubbing against his, forcing himself to keep his eyes open and his groan of desire in check.
Finally he releases her and she steps back from him, readjusting her clothing and looking around at their surroundings.
Things had quieted significantly, most of the looters and agitators having had their fill of destruction and either given up or simply moved on. Everything is eerily quiet and the calm seems strangely out of place to him after the violent commotion of earlier.
After what had just transpired between him and the love of the vessel.
He looks down at her and she’s smiling at him fondly, “Better move it,” she says humorously, her need for the vessel obviously of greater importance than the ruins around them.
Nodding shortly, he turns from her, speeding away until he’s out of sight. There he stops, turning to take one final look back.
She’s still standing where he left her, proud and beautiful, and he has to stomp down his urge to go back to her, to take her and keep her for his very own.
With a primitive growl he puts his back to her again, this time moving away from her without allowing himself another backwards glance.
For he has a mission to accomplish.
A silent promise to fulfill.
And a future to relinquish.
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Originally Posted by JosiCuervo
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