Precious Pain
by Nymph Du Pave

It had really become much too hard to hide his emotions towards her.  She was so... so gorgeous and intelligent.  Cunning in ways that no one but him truly appreciated.  Most saw her as...  as polite little Mrs. Kent.  Tiny.  Fragile.  Sweet.

He saw her as fiery.  Burning.  Crushing and wicked to no end in be-  No...  No, he couldn't think of it.  The hair...  The soft skin.  Even her eyes. She had such... Similar features.

The way he'd visited the Kent home in the middle of the day came back to him.  It always did in the nights.  The nights when he lie awake in bed, alone, cold, horney and so wet.  But his hands weren't hers.  Little.  Strong and demanding with..  With a mother's knowledge.

+++
Today's a school day, Mrs. Kent?

-soft smile-  Yes, Lex.  It is.

Hmmm...  I could have sworn that it was a half day or... I guess I should leave.

-smile falters-  Why not stay awhile?  I'm making pie.

I'm not exactly welcomed by your-

Jonathon in Glensdale for the day.

-pause- Really.

Yes.

And Clar-

He's at school.  Remember?

Yes, but-

Then he's going to sleep over at Pete's.  Could you help me with this pie- Alex.
+++

He'd jumped her then.  She knew he loved the sound of her voice saying his name like that, a nickname no one had called him since Joanna, his mother, and he didn't want to think about the resemblance between Martha and her, didn't want to think about how close their hair, their builds...  Their hands-

Didn't want to think about the motherly approval he constantly found himself desiring from this woman of pure heat and fire; sometimes he needed it more than the sexual gratification he would recieve moments earlier.

He needed to hear his name as much as she needed him to take her rough.  More than twenty years in the missionary position with the man she loved...  She loved him, needed him, craved him daily, but she was a Metropolis girl.  A city girl.  And she needed to be fucked every once and a while.  Fucked and fucked hard.  Rough.  Almost as if she didn't want it but it was in her eyes and in her soft whispers of assurance.

Jonthan couldn't- wouldn't?- give her what she needed.  She needed to scream.  Every now and then she needed someone to put out the forest engulfing flame that had once been a simple little bonfire.

She loved Jonathon.  But he was boring in bed.  And Lex...  Well, he knew all the tricks.  And then some.

They didn't love it each other and they weren't pretending to.  They just needed something they could get no where else.  A mother's "love" and a bad boy's need to be released, calmed; the burning ember's need for kindling, and in the same breath the water to douse that eternal flame, the ice-cube to the sunburn.

They were both trying to be good.  Just keeping each other in check.  He was so much like the city boys she used to fuck, that she sometimes dreams of, that she sometimes longs for physically.

She was so much like the warm arms he once knoew.  The tender love, the soothing voice and the breast to lay upon.

He liked her smell because it took him away from the fear of an incestuous mentality.  She smelled like hay, like wet heat, like must and femininity and a good fuck.

His mother had never smelled like that.  He mother was a innocent wrapped in purity.  But then again- wasn't that the image that Martha put out?

Lex had decided a while back not to think about that.

She liked it when he shoved things into her.  His fingers.  His whole hand sometimes.  The tip of the mop and various kitchen utensils.

The whipped cream.  He'd pressed the nozzle for a long time.  Retrieved some of the sweet filling from inside her.  Harshly, thought.  No sweetness here.  All teeth and nails and screams...

They both needed it.  Badly.

He'd throw her down on the floor, sometimes tie her up.  He liked it when they had to be quiet, but he prefered to hear her screams, her cries and her demands.

Sometimes he'd take her hard from behind, slamming her into the wooden floor below, or the couch, or the porch, or the roof- that had been a bitch on his knees.  But it had been worth it.  He liked taking her from behind.

She never cared which hole he put it in.  It surprised him that she was so open and flexible.  He guessed there were a few phallic-shaped objects around the house that had been put in places... places that would give the Kent boys duel heart-attacks.

That was another thing he needed to block out.

He didn't want to think what Clark, his best friend, his only friend ever, would think if he knew.  What the strong, American poster-boy would do if...  If he knew that Lex fucked his mother a couple times a month.  Every hole on her.  Wondered what Clark would do if he knew that Martha like to be tied up, forced...  Had rape fantasies and needed things that normal moms only feared admit...

Martha was strong.  And she gave Lex what he needed when she was through receiving.

He always felt like a bad boy, always.  He felt like he'd done something wrong fucked his mother, needed something that good human beings didn't need.  He needed her arms, her soft voice, her delicate hands and reassurances.  He was sure she resented him for being such a pussy after each bout of sex, but...  He didn't care.  They had a deal.  Unspoken, but a deal none-the-less.

A hush-hush deal signed in the need for animal-primality and a mother's hand.  A deal signed in vigorous sexual abandonment and a hurt little boy's cries.

Sometimes he thinks that there's hope for him... For them both.  Maybe someday the 20-ish and the 40-ish will grow up.  Will learn to live among their desires without acting upon him.

Then he dreams.  Soft hands.  Eyes the color of dew-spinkled grass.  A wonderfully sugary smile.

And the smell of hay.
 
 
 
 
 
 

FIN