More Grace Than Boy	   More Grace Than Boy

 by Karen Colohan

 Written for Alax's Shakespeare Title Challenge at: 
http://www.livejournal.com/talkread.bml?journal=alax&itemid=24884 
With thanks to Barbara for beta duties. 
Feedback is welcomed and appreciated. 

 

  

 DISCLAIMER - Not mine, I couldn't afford the motor and household
insurance bills. I promise I'll scrub them down and give them back to DC
comics, the WB and anyone else who does own a slice of them when I'm done
with them. Story, such as it is, copyright Karen Colohan, January 2003. 

 MORE GRACE THAN BOY
 by Karen Colohan 

 Another late night phone call and, once again, news of Lex's latest
indictable exploits. Naturally, as always, Luthor money is enough to
ensure that the Metropolis PD will look the other way and that there will
be no unfortunate consequences. The tabloid press isn't so easy to buy
off, but where bribes fail well-placed threats can be just as effective. 

 Lionel is used to the routine by now. Not that the familiarity of the
situation makes him any less infuriated by Lex's behaviour. It's attention
seeking at its very worst. 

 A couple of hours later the totally unrepentant Lex is delivered back to
the penthouse. In the driver's less than flattering estimation the boy was
so high when the police officers brought him out of the holding cell that
they'd been keeping him in, that they probably had to scrape him off the
ceiling first. 

 Lionel's lips thin into a tight, angry line on hearing that. Frankly,
he's amazed that Lex's penchant for ever more exotic cocktails of drugs
and alcohol haven't been the death of him yet. But Lionel has already lost
one son, so he's not about to let Lex self-destruct. 

 When Lionel tracks Lex to the study he finds the boy pacing around the
room like a caged animal. It seems that the driver's pithy analysis of
Lex's condition was quite accurate. Unnoticed, Lionel watches as Lex
continues to move restlessly. It's as if there's simply too much energy to
be contained within the slender frame, so it finds release in the feverish
wandering. 

 Lionel cannot help but notice that Lex has inherited his mother's grace
in full measure. Even like this, while he is half out of his mind on God
alone knows what combination of drink and drugs, it doesn't desert him.
It's in every smooth line of his tensely poised body - from the sleek,
hairless scalp to the slim hips, indecently clad in too tight leather,
that sway in time to some tune that only Lex can hear. 

 Lex reaches the far wall and turns again, finally noticing his audience.
When he looks up, his eyes are like bottomless pools, inky black, the
blue-grey irises almost drowned by the wide, dark pupils. As the blank
gaze focuses on Lionel, sharpening in recognition, a smile takes
possession of Lex's lips. It's slow and lazy and just on the edge of
insolent. 

 Lionel's fingers itch with the desire to slap the smug expression off of
Lex's face. 

 Now that there is something to hold his attention, Lex has shed the air
of directionless tension that surrounded him before. He tilts his head a
little, contemplating his father for just a moment, and then he's in
motion again. The way Lex moves across the room, it's an almost feline
stalk. 

 Lionel knows it would be unwise to dismiss Lex's behaviour as merely
kittenish play-acting. The boy has claws and he's been trying to sharpen
them on his father for the past few years, the upstart cub testing his
strength against the alpha male. 

 "Come to deliver another lecture, Dad?" Lex drawls. 

 His voice sounds rough and scratchy and Lex's tongue sweeps over his lips
as if he's trying to moisten them. Grimacing, Lex diverts to the side
table, which holds a small selection of bottles. 

 "Why waste my breath? You never listen to me, Lex." The tone is sharp
with disapproval. 

 Lionel watches as Lex pours himself a large glass of a very expensive
scotch then tosses it back in one go as if it were water. It's still all
about display, though; the way Lex tips his head back, accentuating the
long line of his throat as he swallows. 

 With a sharp click the empty glass is set back on the table and Lex turns
toward his father, fixing him with a narrow-eyed stare. "Maybe I would...
if you ever said anything worth listening to." 

 Lionel laughs humourlessly. "Believe me, Lex, it would pay you to take
notice of everything I tell you. One day you'll realise that." 

 For a moment Lex appears to consider this, but then he shakes his head. 

 "Not today!" Lex flashes a sudden, bright grin, as if he's amused by his
own cleverness. 

 His attitude merely angers Lionel. 

 "You're a fool, Lex!" he growls. 

 Pale lashes droop, veiling the hugely dilated pupils, and Lex adopts a
carefully studied ennui. "If you'll excuse me, Dad, I think I'll go to bed
now. I seem to have lost my taste for anything else tonight." 

 There's not even a trace of gratitude for the effort that's been
expended, again, to keep Lex out of a police cell and off the front pages
of the trashier newspapers. He seems to treat these timely, and expensive,
interventions as his due now. Lionel suspects it's all part of the game
they're playing. 

 Lex is pushing harder, behaving ever more recklessly of late. He seems to
be testing them both; how far can he go and exactly how much is his father
prepared to pay to have his exploits quietly swept under the carpet? 

 One of these days, Lionel thinks viciously, he'll leave Lex to deal with
the consequences of his actions by himself, just to show him that there
are limits, even for a Luthor. Maybe if Lex spent a night or two in jail
he would finally learn. 

 Although, knowing Lex, he'd probably manage to turn even that to his
advantage - just bend over and offer up that graceful ass to whoever
wanted to use it. Lex has an unfortunate taste for rough trade and a
tendency to flaunt the least salubrious of his lovers in front of Lionel,
just to piss him off. 

 For now, Lex seems content to make a grand exit. He glides across the
floor, pale skin and tight black leather in perfect harmony. As he goes to
leave the room, Lex pointedly turns his head away from his father as he
passes him. 

 Lionel watches him go and shakes his head in disgust. All that natural
grace, wasted, Lex looks no better than a cheap slut. He could be so much
more than this spoiled child, playing at teenage rebellion. In spite of
all the excesses, Lionel can still see the promise of the man the boy
could become, with the proper guidance. 

 Lillian had cosseted Lex, especially after the incident in Smallville.
She had spent too much time indulging his whims and, in the process, made
Lex weak, dependant on approval and love. It was no way to raise a worthy
heir. 

 So, from now on there will be no more indulgence. Lex is a Luthor, and he
will learn to behave in a manner befitting the name. Lionel is going to
shape his son, erasing the remaining traces of his mother's influence and
remaking him in his own image. 

 Lex has a destiny, and Lionel intends to make sure that he fulfils it.   
 If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Karen Colohan

 Also, why not join  Level Three, the Smallville all-fic list?
 
 Back

 Level Three Records Room