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2001-12-24 - 10:51 p.m.
For unto us a child is born
Just watched "Year Without a Santa Claus."
Am I a sap or am I a sap? I still cry during "Blue Christmas." Every fucking time.
Went to Mass tonight, and I have to say, I *love* the Christmas readings. Love 'em to pieces. So much so that I'm going to subject you all to 'em.
I'm Catholic, by the way, so things might be different if you're not. But these are readings we use at Christmas.
This is usually the first reading at the vigil mass:
For Zion's sake I will not keep silent,
And for Jerusalem's sake I will not keep quiet,
Until her righteousness goes forth like brightness,
And her salvation like a torch that is burning.
The nations will see your righteousness,
And all kings your glory;
And you will be called by a new name
Which the mouth of the LORD will designate.
You will also be a crown of beauty in the hand of the LORD,
And a royal diadem in the hand of your God.
It will no longer be said to you, "Forsaken,"
Nor to your land will it any longer be said, "Desolate";
But you will be called, "My delight,"
And your land, "Espoused";
For the LORD delights in you,
And to Him your land will be married.
For as a young man marries a virgin,
So your builder will marry you;
And as the bridegroom rejoices over the bride,
So your God will rejoice over you.
Isaiah 62:1-5
Damn, Isaiah could write. I don't know what the original sounds like or reads like, but whoever did the original translation was a poet at heart.
This one is the first reading for the morning mass on Christmas morning, which I never go to, since I always go at night, but I like it anyway. More Isaiah:
The people who walk in darkness
Will see a great light;
Those who live in a dark land,
The light will shine on them.
You shall multiply the nation,
You shall increase their gladness;
They will be glad in Your presence
As with the gladness of harvest,
As men rejoice when they divide the spoil.
[...]
For a child will be born to us, a son will be given to us;
And the government will rest on His shoulders;
And His name will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Eternal Father, Prince of Peace.
There will be no end to the increase of His government or of peace,
On the throne of David and over his kingdom,
To establish it and to uphold it with justice and righteousness
From then on and forevermore.
The zeal of the LORD of hosts will accomplish this.
Isaiah 9:2-7
And the best Christmas gospel ever:
Now in those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus, that a census be taken of all the inhabited earth. This was the first census taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. And everyone was on his way to register for the census, each to his own city. Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the city of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and family of David, in order to register along with Mary, who was engaged to him, and was with child.
While they were there, the days were completed for her to give birth. And she gave birth to her firstborn son; and she wrapped Him in cloths, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.
In the same region there were some shepherds staying out in the fields and keeping watch over their flock by night. And an angel of the Lord suddenly stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them; and they were terribly frightened.
But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of great joy which will be for all the people; for today in the city of David there has been born for you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger."
And suddenly there appeared with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying, "Glory to God in the highest, And on earth peace among men with whom He is pleased."
When the angels had gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds began saying to one another, "Let us go straight to Bethlehem then, and see this thing that has happened which the Lord has made known to us."
So they came in a hurry and found their way to Mary and Joseph, and the baby as He lay in the manger. When they had seen this, they made known the statement which had been told them about this Child. And all who heard it wondered at the things which were told them by the shepherds. But Mary treasured all these things, pondering them in her heart. The shepherds went back, glorifying and praising God for all that they had heard and seen, just as had been told them.
Luke 2:1-20
I can hear Linus reciting this.
And of course, I'm a sucker for Christmas carols. Hark! The Herald Angels Sing is my favorite, though I like most of 'em.
I made sfinci, and I'm just settling in to answer some email [because I am an email addict], before I go to bed.
I'm sleeping at the parents' tonight, because can you imagine anything more depressing than waking up alone on Christmas morning? Plus, my apartment reeks of fish, thanks to my landlord's Christmas Eve celebration.
It's a Sicilian tradition to have seven fish dishes on Christmas Eve. I dunno why. My family never did it. We're not big seafood eaters. I can't eat anything that lives in water. Makes me vilely ill.
Anyhow, have a very Merry Christmas! May Santa bring you everything you want.
In the end, I'm just happy I've still got my father, who made it out from the 91st floor of the South Tower of the WTC.
My thoughts and prayers are with all those who weren't so lucky.
Buon Natale!
~victoria
[current mood: ]
[current music: ]
[random quote: ]
~*~
2001-12-24 - 12:33 p.m.
Clark and Lex in Cali redux
Okay, I'm feeling much more optimistic about writing this morning.
Could be because I wrote out the most adorable Logan-Scott convo on the subway this morning [yeah, unlike normal people, I have to *work* today], could be that while typing up the Lex and Clark in Cali stuff I wrote last week, I realized it's not as bad as I thought, though the action crap needs much work.
I'll share here the whole thing so far. Some of it you've seen already, and I'm not going to put in the action stuff, because well, 1. it sucks, and 2. I haven't typed it yet. *g*
But consider this in the way of a Christmas prezzie.
Disclaimer: I own not. You sue not. It's Christmas. The boys deserve a little leather-clad fun. *g*
Crossing Paths
~*~
"Through me you pass into the city of woe:
Through me you pass into eternal pain:
Through me among the people lost for aye.
Justice the founder of my fabric moved:
To rear me was the task of Power divine,
Supremest Wisdom, and primeval Love.
Before me things create were none, save things
Eternal, and eternal I endure.
All hope abandon, ye who enter here."
ll. 1-9, Canto III, L'Inferno, Dante
~*~
Clark sauntered down the ramp to Gate A12. They wouldn't let his parents come with him -- only ticketed passengers were allowed past security -- so he was on his own.
It was both exhilarating and scary.
He was heading to Los Angeles. He was spending the weekend with Lex.
He got a fluttery feeling in his stomach whenever he thought about it, and it had nothing to do with the interview. Sure, he was worried about that, too, but he knew he'd only gotten the interview because Lex had pulled a few strings. And while that should have bothered him, he supposed, it didn't. It was just Lex's way of showing he cared.
He didn't think too closely about how the fluttery feeling seemed to center on Lex's caring. They were friends, right? Friends helped each other out, and if he never felt like this about Chloe or Pete, well, it could just be that Lex was older and sophisticated and sexy as hell...
Shaking his head, he handed his ticket over to the gate agent, and turned his attention to the plane sitting on the runway outside. He'd never flown before, that he could remember, and he wasn't looking forward to folding his six foot three inch frame into the tiny coach seat his parents had been able to afford.
He showed her his driver's license and was startled when she said, "Oh, Mr. Kent, you've been upgraded to first class. Would you prefer a window or aisle seat?"
"Aisle," he said without hesitation.
She smiled and printed the boarding pass. "We'll start boarding in about twenty minutes."
When he got onto the plane, he was amazed at the wide, comfortable leather seats. He slept for most of the flight, all thought of Lex and their friendship forgotten.
(Do I need to add more here, d'ya think? I don't really have anything else to add.)
***
Clark sat in the visitor's chair, attempting to keep the boredom from showing on his face.
For a boy used to the wide open spaces of Kansas, the sheer density of people, buildings and cars in Los Angeles had awed and amazed him. Even Metropolis, which was almost as large as LA (and ranked number one on the "U.S. News" list of the best places to live), wasn't this crowded.
They'd sat in traffic for over an hour, chatting idly about his flight and their plans for the weekend. He could tell Lex was getting impatient at not being able to open up the Porsche. His hands gripped the wheel tightly and the muscle in his jaw jumped sporadically.
When they'd arrived, they'd been whisked up to an expensive-looking, though spare, office with a stunning view of the city.
Behind the desk sat a beautiful brunette woman whose smile couldn't hide the coldness in her eyes. Clark felt a shiver run down his spine.
"Lex," she said, rising and offering her hand. "It's good to see you."
"Lilah," Lex replied curtly. "This is Clark."
She looked nonplussed, as if being introduced to sixteen-year-old farm boys was beyond her experience. She shook his hand firmly and he smiled, trying to shake the chilling feeling she gave him.
And now, an hour later, she and Lex were finally wrapping up their discussion of LuthorCorp business. Clark had tuned it out. It was something about mergers and acquisitions.
As Lex rose to leave, he said, "What can you tell me about a club called Cruciato?"
Lilah was thrown -- even Clark could see it -- but she recovered quickly. "It's an S&M club," she said, her eyes sliding away from Lex's after the barest minimum contact. "Very passé. And probably not the best place for your protégé." Her eyes raked over Clark's body; he blushed under her regard.
Lex nodded. "You're probably right." His voice was flat. "Thanks."
As he was walking out the door, Clark on his heels, Lilah said, "Give my regards to your father. Remind him how much I enjoyed St. Kitt's."
"Of course," Lex replied. When they were in the elevator, he muttered, "Can you believe that bitch wants to be my stepmother?"
Clark shivered again, noticeably this time. Lex laughed and clapped him on the back. "Exactly, my friend. Exactly. Like cuddling with a snake."
When they were in the elevator, Lex shot him an enigmatic look. "I think we need to do some shopping."
"What? Oh, no, Lex. I brought a suit for the interview. I can wear it to dinner, if that's what you're worried about." Clark thought about the navy suit his mother had picked out at Sears earlier in the week, so proud that he was going on this interview. He sighed. He knew even his best suit would look cheap next to anything Lex wore.
Lex laughed. "Clark, when you're with me, you could walk into the Ivy naked and they'd serve you." Clark felt himself blushing again. "But I'd prefer that you didn't." And Lex's eyes trailed suggestively over him, but instead of the chill he'd gotten from Lilah's gaze, he felt heat course through his body, centering in his groin. Then, looking him in the eye, Lex continued, "I'd rather not have to fight for your attention."
"Uh, good." <*Lame, Clark. Very lame.*>
Lex just smiled inscrutably.
Clark was never sure how to respond to the -- flirtatious -- remarks Lex made. He found himself attracted to Lex; he could admit that Lex often played a starring role in the fantasies he had while jerking off. In fact, Lex had replaced Britney Spears fairly early on in their friendship, and lately, he'd been more prominent than even Lana, which surprised Clark. Because he wasn't gay, was he? But something in the way Lex moved, spoke, and most of all, just *looked* at him -- it made the blood rush in his veins and gave him a strange tingly feeling. <*Don't think about this now,*> he told himself, following along behind Lex as they walked to the car. He was afraid of screwing things up. Since he was staying at Lex's condo, he didn't want things to be awkward, and asking Lex about these... feelings couldn't lead anywhere comfortable. At least, not in Clark's experience, which, granted, wasn't extensive.
They spent a good three hours shopping in stores Clark had never even heard of, where the salespeople rushed at them and begged to assist them.
Well, Lex shopped. Clark trailed behind him like a puppy. He had a little spending money his dad had pressed into his hand before they drove to the airport, saying, "Son, it's not much, but get yourself something nice while you're in LA."
Clark understood the unspoken message. Even though they had scraped together the money to send him on this interview, there was no way, without serious financial aid, he was going to be able to actually attend the program this summer. His father was telling him to enjoy the visit and pick up a reminder of the trip, because it was unlikely he'd ever make it back there again.
He didn't resent that fact, though it made him a little sad. He also didn't think his father would approve of the leather pants Lex tried to talk him into buying, even if he *could* have afforded them. He didn't pay much attention to what Lex bought; he knew he looked like a yokel, but he was too engrossed in trying on clothes that cost more than his father's truck, reveling in the feel of cashmere, silk and leather against his skin.
He just blushed and laughed when the salesmen gushed over him. It was amazing what money could buy, he thought. Not just things, but people, too.
They were in the Helmut Lang boutique when Lex turned to him and said, "What size are you?"
"Thirty-two long," he answered unthinkingly. He'd just gone through this with his mother at Sears.
Lex didn't say anything. Clark didn't even think he made a gesture, but the salesman materialized instantly.
"Thirty-two long," Lex said, inclining his head in Clark's direction.
And suddenly, Clark was swept into a dressing room, and three pairs of leather pants were thrust at him.
"Lex, these pants are leather."
"I know, Clark."
"They probably cost more than my dad's truck."
Lex snorted delicately. "Probably."
"I can't--"
"Clark." There was a warning in Lex's tone, hidden by the teasing, but still very much there, demanding to be obeyed.
Clark sighed. Some things just weren't worth fighting over.
Though he did wonder how he was going to explain leather pants to his mother.
He slid the first pair on; they felt really good against his skin. He stared at himself in the mirror, striking various poses.
"Come out, Clark. I don't bite," Lex called.
He walked out and felt his boxers bunch uncomfortably. <*Note to self,*> he thought, <*underwear and leather pants don't mix.*>
"Not those," Lex said. He shrugged and went back into the dressing room.
After trying various pairs of pants on -- and Clark couldn't tell the different between them since they were all black and leather -- Lex looked at him and said, "That's it. Those are the ones."
He changed back into his own clothes and tried not to gape at the price when they got to the register. "Have them sent to my apartment," Lex said and the salesman nodded.
After shopping, they ate a large dinner at Mariposa. Lex assured him the prices were "reasonable," though Clark was sure that his idea of reasonable and Lex's were about as far from each other as Smallville was from LA.
They were nestled at a cozy, corner booth that allowed them to see everything -- and everyone -- without being seen themselves.
As they headed back to the car after crème brulée and cappuccino, Clark said, "What should we rent? I want to see _Pitch Black_ again. I love that movie."
Lex looked at him, puzzled. "Don't you want to go out tonight, Clark? The interview isn't until three tomorrow. We've got plenty of time to sleep in."
Clark smiled, game for anything. "Sure. What'd you have in mind?"
"I bought you a surprise," Lex said. "You can wear it to Cruciato."
Clark stopped walking. "Isn't that -- didn't Lilah say that was, uh, an, uh, S&M club?"
Lex nodded. "People dress in leather. There are -- performers, if you're interested. You don't have to do anything, Clark. Just stick with me. Think of it as broadening your education. Isn't that what this trip is all about?"
He nodded and let the subject drop for the moment.
When they got back to the Luthor penthouse, Lex showed him the bedroom in which he'd be staying. Laid out on the bed were the black leather pants they'd bought earlier, and a red t-shirt.
"Lex, I--"
"You want to fit in, don't you, Clark? It's best if you don't stand out in a place like Cruciato, unless you're looking for attention?"
Clark bit his lip. "No, but -- I -- I can't wear that, Lex."
"Please, Clark? For me? You never accept anything I have to give. If it really bothers you so much, we can return them tomorrow." Clark opened his mouth, but Lex raised a hand. "I'm not taking 'no' for an answer, Clark. Please."
Clark reached out a hand to feel the buttery soft Napa leather, and knew he'd lost. He *wanted* to wear the pants. He wanted to see if Lex would give him that *look* again, the one that made his whole body heat up.
"I suppose," he said, but his reluctance was gone and he knew Lex knew it.
"Get dressed. I'll be right back."
Clark was dubious, but he pulled on the leather pants, regretfully leaving his underwear on the floor. There was no way he could wear his boxers beneath the tight pants.
He slid the red t-shirt over his head, and it didn't feel like any t-shirt he'd ever worn before. He looked at the label and gave a long, low whistle. One hundred percent silk. He didn't know they made t-shirts in silk. The fabric whispered against his skin and he thought he could easily get used to it.
He stared in the mirror at the foreign creature he'd become. He ran a hand through his hair and muttered, "You can do this, Clark."
Lex was waiting for him, snifter of brandy in hand, dressed all in black. Clark felt his throat go dry.
"You look good," Lex said matter-of-factly, handing him a glass of brandy. "There's just one more thing."
"What?" Clark croaked as Lex approached him, holding what looked like a leather strap.
"This." And he fastened the collar around Clark's throat, locking it with a little key he dropped into his pcoket.
"What the--"
"I said I had a surprise for you."
Clark tried to get his thoughts in order, decided to take a sip of brandy so he didn't have to speak right away. He coughed a little as the liquor burned his throat.
"Take it easy, Clark. That's thirty-five year old cognac."
"I, you -- I'm wearing a *collar*, Lex!"
"Calm down." Lex smiled at him, which was only vaguely reassuring, since it sent a quiver through his body. "It's for your own protection. This way people will know you're with me and no one will bother you."
Maybe it was the cognac. Maybe it was the way Lex's eyes seemed to caress him, sending heat through his veins. Whatever it was, Clark nodded, giving in once more.
They rode in the limo to the club, and drank cognac as Lex told him libelous stories about some of the famous people they'd seen at dinner.
Clark felt himself relax, and then they pulled up in front of the club. "I don't have ID," he blurted, embarrassed.
"You're with me. That's enough."
Clark knew it, had seen it in action, but he felt a small thrill, knowing that all that Luthor power and confidence was with him, holding him in its embrace. It was a heady feeling, different from the physical manifestations of power he was used to.
Joachim, the chauffeur, opened the door and ushered them onto the street.
It was nothing like what Clark expected.
Instead of a snooty bouncer at the head of a long line of well-dressed people snaking through velvet ropes, they were in an alley. The street was slick with motor oil and other things Clark didn't want to examine too closely. The streetlight flickered yellow, casting odd shadows across Lex's scalp, making him look almost like a death's head, gleaming white in the darkness.
Clark shook himself. Maybe he'd had a little more cognac than he should have. But he couldn't rid himself of the strange sense of foreboding that lingered as they walked toward the door. A black convertible slid through the street, and Clark felt his skin prickle, even as the car-lover in him noted and categorized it as a late-'60s Plymouth Belvedere GTX with four passengers.
Lex was pushing open a heavy metal door with the word "Cruciato" painted on it in dark red lettering that looked like old blood.
"Come on, Clark," Lex reassured him, voice pitched low, sending another wave of shivers through his body. "It's all right. It's all part of the show. Ambiance is everything in a place like this."
Clark tried to smile, but it felt forced until he met Lex's eyes.
"You're right," he said. "I'm being stupid." He felt very young.
"Are you ready?" Lex asked, his voice curiously urgent, as if he could read Clark's thoughts.
"Always."
A smirk, and then they slipped through the red velvet curtains separating the vestibule from the club.
It was dark and smoky, the music so loud and bass-heavy that Clark could feel it more than hear it. The beat permeated his bones and replaced his heartbeat; he could feel the blood in his veins pulsing in time.
People were packed on the dance floor, a writhing, grinding mass of bodies and leather, sweat, alcohol and sex.
All eyes were on them as he followed Lex to the bar. The crowd parted before them and he could see them whisper-shouting to each other.
A woman wearing a corset and boots too their order and they leaned against the bar. Clark watched as Lex scanned the room. He felt a slight sting of disappointment that he wasn't holding Lex's interest, but quickly suppressed it. He didn't want to share Lex, but he supposed he would if he had to.
"Looking for someone?"
Lex shrugged. "I thought I might run into an old friend. I guess not, though."
They fell silent. Lex was swaying slightly in time with the music, apparently unable to remain still. Clark sipped slowly at his beer, taking it all in.
"I thought there would be -- stuff," he said finally.
Lex raised an eyebrow. "Could you be more specific?"
"You know -- stuff. People getting whipped or tied up in chains or something." And he had a flashback to being tied to the post in the cornfield. What it would have felt like to have Lex touch him, hands and lips and tongue ... to be at his mercy-- He exhaled loudly. He had to get control of himself. The last thing he wanted to do was make Lex uncomfortable by admitting he had a crush on him or something stupid and adolescent like that.
"There's the VIP room," Lex replied, nodding his chin in the direction of a red velvet door in the back of the club.
"Can we--" If he was going to be here, he wanted the full experience. He figured he owed himself that, because if his father ever found out, he'd be grounded until he was dead, and Lex might be recovering from a couple of shotgun blasts.
"Of course." That blithe self-assurance never failed to make him feel gauche. Lex once again led him through the throng.
Just as they reached the door, a woman in a rubber dress, her breasts dangerously close to escaping the miniscule bustier, slid a hand along Clark's hip, reaching around to grab his crotch.
He jumped in shock as she turned to another woman and said, "Isn't it pretty?"
She squeezed and he felt his cock, which had been responding to the sights and sounds and Lex's intoxicating nearness, grew hard under her caress. The soft leather created an exquisite friction that made him gulp. He fought to regain focus and let out a soft whimper.
He couldn't say how, but Lex must have heard it. He whirled and grabbed the woman's hand.
"He's mine," Lex said, eyes glittering like ice. "I don't share."
Her eyes widened as she recognized him, or maybe it was the viselike grip of his hand on hers, and she gasped.
And then things seemed to speed up, as the red velvet door exploded outward and a body came flying out, knocking Lex, Clark and the women to the floor.
***
Big fighty follows. I need Jeff Pruitt to choreograph my fights. It'd make writing 'em so much easier. *G*
And I have no experience with S&M clubs, so if someone wants to send me a little description, please do. I just figured there'd be separate rooms and stuff.
I'm more an old-man-corner-bar kinda gal.
As always, send along your comments, even the flamey ones. It's gotten cold, you know, and I could use the warmth.
Buon Natale!
~victoria
[current mood: ]
[current music: ]
[random quote: ]
~*~
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The painting is "Boreas" by John William Waterhouse. Again, not a muse, but I like her. She suits the color scheme.
The quote is from Sir Philip Sidney.
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