Fic: Her Favorite New Plaything | SR/SII | Clark/Ursa | Hard R | 1/1
Title: With Fortune's Hand II: Four Relationships They Wished They Could Forget: Her Favorite New Plaything
Fandom: Superman Returns/SII, etc
Pairing: Clark/Ursa (as Kal-El/Ursa)
Rating: Hard R
Word Count: 1,403
Prompt: For the Superman Movieverse Pairings Challenge: Fortress of Solitude, The Phantom Zone, Broken, Vulnerable, Collar/Leash
Summary: The wait for the Fortress programming to take effect was excruciating, especially considering just whose attentions were lavished on Clark in the interim.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything. I own nothing. Darnit!
Author's Notes/Warnings: Second in the second part of the series. Potentially triggery for allusions to sexual slavery, rape, and other physical abuse. Very AU for the events of Superman II, as they unfold differently in the Aftermath-verse (no power loss, no reveal, Lois and Luthor aren't present in the FOS, different fate for Zod & co.).
Her Favorite New Plaything
Clark couldn't help second-guessing his plan to lure Zod, Ursa, and Non to the Fortress to try to trick them back into the Phantom Zone. With the three of them sauntering through the crystalline structure, looking for the world like they already owned the place, he felt somewhat like a child in the presence of an elder, which he knew damn well that that was exactly the way they wanted it. They exuded confidence and lethal grace, so obviously convinced of their own godhood that anyone would've been hard-pressed to not want to bow down before them.
If it wasn't for the violent way they tried to impress their superiority, though, Clark might have actually considered it, too.
Which was so many levels of wrong that he wanted to shake himself. He knew better. Knew just how violence could be used to manipulate, had seen the aftermath of its application far too many times to count, had saved more women and children-and a few men, yes-from situations like this.
But tonight, he was the one with cracked ribs, fresh bruises blossoming across his body where he'd been beaten soundly, blood drying on his split lip and over his left eye where the lid was swollen nearly shut already. It hadn't exactly been a walk in the park to get the three of them out of Metropolis and away from heavily-populated areas, and it had cost a lot of collateral damage and lives along the way that he knew he should've been able to save and wouldn't likely ever forget. He felt bone-weary, exhausted and ready to just fall to his knees, praying his plan would work out.
Watching the three Kryptonians wander through the main chamber, though, he fought to keep himself steady and upright. Couldn't let them see how hurt he was. Couldn't let them know just how much they'd broken him.
“You stare into space like an imbecile,” Ursa said haughtily as he worked to shake off the pull of their influence and keep himself together. Circling him and very obviously inspecting him like a side of beef, she held her hands on her hips and hummed appreciatively at his assets. “However, that may be overlooked, considering your... physical attributes. You may yet prove a welcome distraction from the rigors of ruling this weak-willed planet.”
Turning to Zod, she arched an eyebrow. “What say you, General? Shall I keep him as a pet?” Eyes turned back to Clark, she leaned closer to whisper in his ear, “Shall I put you on a leash, my sweet? Place a collar of the finest Kryptonian steel around your beautiful neck and keep you at my side? Ready and willing to service me and fulfill my every desire?”
Clark swallowed hard; the thought of being kept as her slave was detestable at best, vile and terrifying at worst. In this respect, Jor-El's warning hadn't quite been sufficient, and Clark was woefully unprepared for the way she grinned like a shark at him, lips shining crimson in the ethereal light of the Fortress.
“Answer me, Kal-El!” she spat, her grin morphing into a grimace as she straightened and landed a slap against his cheek, hard enough that he actually felt the sting and burn of it, the instant bloom of fiery pain in the broken bones of his face. “You shall agree with me, now and forever more.”
“Let him kneel before you, my dear,” Zod spoke up as he approached them, stepping down from a higher platform. “Show him his place, while I transform this palace into our new home, from which we shall rule.”
Another smug grin brightening her features, Ursa gripped Clark under the chin, her fingers tightening around his throat and nails digging in painfully. He tried to choke out a defiant oath in return, but no air came to him, and a sense of panic filled his chest instead as he tried not to struggle against her grip.
“Kneel before me, Kal-El, and you shall be allowed to live. My favorite new plaything,” she breathed against his face, her lips finding his in a sick parody of a kiss, slick and hot and agonizing against the deep tear in his flesh.
He wanted to resist, his lungs screaming in protest and hands curling into desperate fists as he forced himself still beneath the onslaught, but Zod was already at the control console, moving crystals in the sequence he'd anticipated. Another minute, and the portal would open, attuned to carry the three criminals back into the void of their prison. All he had to do was play along, do whatever Ursa wanted while Zod was occupied and Non wandered around somewhere out of sight, silently menacing.
Allowing her to shove him to his knees, he dropped almost into a heap as she released his throat and raked her hands through his hair, gripping tightly, and a gasping breath of shock filled his burning lungs of its own accord. She could likely do whatever she cared to with him at this point, and if his plan didn't work, she would. Against his internal protests, he imagined her forcing his face to her center to service her, imagined her leashing him as she'd planned and keeping him tethered and weakened enough to prevent his escape, imagined the tortures she'd inflict upon him if he dared to defy her.
But then an insistent hum filled his ears, just as Ursa swore at him and yanked him forward by his hair to hold him just an inch from her sex, promising that this would only be the beginning of his duties as her pet, slave, consort.
“You will be mine to breed, Kal-El, our offspring stripped of your pathetic lineage and raised in the House of Zod, strong soldiers loyal to the General alone,” she went on as the hum grew louder, the pressure heavy against his eardrums. He didn't know how she wasn't aware of it, tried not to think about the things she promised as the scent of her filled his nostrils, his good eye squeezed shut against the sight of her above him.
But the anticipation and terror were short-lived, as she jerked him back violently, ripping hair from his scalp, and shouted to Zod, “What is that infernal noise?”
“I do not know!” Zod shouted back, rapidly moving crystals to try to make it stop.
The humming became a painful, angry buzz, as the entire Fortress seemed to become highly pressurized, the air thick around them, swirling and stifling until a crackle of energy ripped open a vortex high above them.
Screams filled the space, barely audible as the vortex began to roar like a train, the three criminals dragged bodily upward to the portal. Clark pried himself from Ursa's grip as he rose from the floor with her, shoved himself away to get free, and relief flooded him as he fell to the floor, watching Ursa and the others struggling against the pull of gravity that swept them toward the Phantom Zone. Her face was shot with rage and fury as promises of retribution flew from her mouth in a mirror of Zod's venomous threats.
Higher and higher they went, fighting the inevitable, their cries dying beneath the cacophony of the portal, and then-
The vortex shut with a crackle and a slam, leaving nothing but a gentle breeze in its wake. Clark's ears rang with the sudden silence, and he blinked up at the space where the swirling portal had swallowed his enemies, sealing them to their fate.
He shuddered with the agony that he couldn't ignore anymore, his body screaming with his injuries. It left him lightheaded, wanting to just collapse in place and sleep for a month now that the danger was past.
But again, he couldn't. He had to get home. Had to get to... to Lois. Let her know he was all right, that it was all over. That Zod hadn't won. That Ursa hadn't taken him as her pet and consort as she'd promised to.
Those singular thoughts drawing him back to his feet, his vision swimming with a curtain of stinging tears and blood, he rose from the floor and out of the Fortress through the open apex high above. He just had to get back to Metropolis. Just that far. Summoning what little energy he had left, he turned south and shot forward, desperate to find the comfort and safety of Lois's arms, if she would still have him, after... after this.
~*~*~
Fandom: Superman Returns/SII, etc
Pairing: Clark/Ursa (as Kal-El/Ursa)
Rating: Hard R
Word Count: 1,403
Prompt: For the Superman Movieverse Pairings Challenge: Fortress of Solitude, The Phantom Zone, Broken, Vulnerable, Collar/Leash
Summary: The wait for the Fortress programming to take effect was excruciating, especially considering just whose attentions were lavished on Clark in the interim.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything. I own nothing. Darnit!
Author's Notes/Warnings: Second in the second part of the series. Potentially triggery for allusions to sexual slavery, rape, and other physical abuse. Very AU for the events of Superman II, as they unfold differently in the Aftermath-verse (no power loss, no reveal, Lois and Luthor aren't present in the FOS, different fate for Zod & co.).
Her Favorite New Plaything
Clark couldn't help second-guessing his plan to lure Zod, Ursa, and Non to the Fortress to try to trick them back into the Phantom Zone. With the three of them sauntering through the crystalline structure, looking for the world like they already owned the place, he felt somewhat like a child in the presence of an elder, which he knew damn well that that was exactly the way they wanted it. They exuded confidence and lethal grace, so obviously convinced of their own godhood that anyone would've been hard-pressed to not want to bow down before them.
If it wasn't for the violent way they tried to impress their superiority, though, Clark might have actually considered it, too.
Which was so many levels of wrong that he wanted to shake himself. He knew better. Knew just how violence could be used to manipulate, had seen the aftermath of its application far too many times to count, had saved more women and children-and a few men, yes-from situations like this.
But tonight, he was the one with cracked ribs, fresh bruises blossoming across his body where he'd been beaten soundly, blood drying on his split lip and over his left eye where the lid was swollen nearly shut already. It hadn't exactly been a walk in the park to get the three of them out of Metropolis and away from heavily-populated areas, and it had cost a lot of collateral damage and lives along the way that he knew he should've been able to save and wouldn't likely ever forget. He felt bone-weary, exhausted and ready to just fall to his knees, praying his plan would work out.
Watching the three Kryptonians wander through the main chamber, though, he fought to keep himself steady and upright. Couldn't let them see how hurt he was. Couldn't let them know just how much they'd broken him.
“You stare into space like an imbecile,” Ursa said haughtily as he worked to shake off the pull of their influence and keep himself together. Circling him and very obviously inspecting him like a side of beef, she held her hands on her hips and hummed appreciatively at his assets. “However, that may be overlooked, considering your... physical attributes. You may yet prove a welcome distraction from the rigors of ruling this weak-willed planet.”
Turning to Zod, she arched an eyebrow. “What say you, General? Shall I keep him as a pet?” Eyes turned back to Clark, she leaned closer to whisper in his ear, “Shall I put you on a leash, my sweet? Place a collar of the finest Kryptonian steel around your beautiful neck and keep you at my side? Ready and willing to service me and fulfill my every desire?”
Clark swallowed hard; the thought of being kept as her slave was detestable at best, vile and terrifying at worst. In this respect, Jor-El's warning hadn't quite been sufficient, and Clark was woefully unprepared for the way she grinned like a shark at him, lips shining crimson in the ethereal light of the Fortress.
“Answer me, Kal-El!” she spat, her grin morphing into a grimace as she straightened and landed a slap against his cheek, hard enough that he actually felt the sting and burn of it, the instant bloom of fiery pain in the broken bones of his face. “You shall agree with me, now and forever more.”
“Let him kneel before you, my dear,” Zod spoke up as he approached them, stepping down from a higher platform. “Show him his place, while I transform this palace into our new home, from which we shall rule.”
Another smug grin brightening her features, Ursa gripped Clark under the chin, her fingers tightening around his throat and nails digging in painfully. He tried to choke out a defiant oath in return, but no air came to him, and a sense of panic filled his chest instead as he tried not to struggle against her grip.
“Kneel before me, Kal-El, and you shall be allowed to live. My favorite new plaything,” she breathed against his face, her lips finding his in a sick parody of a kiss, slick and hot and agonizing against the deep tear in his flesh.
He wanted to resist, his lungs screaming in protest and hands curling into desperate fists as he forced himself still beneath the onslaught, but Zod was already at the control console, moving crystals in the sequence he'd anticipated. Another minute, and the portal would open, attuned to carry the three criminals back into the void of their prison. All he had to do was play along, do whatever Ursa wanted while Zod was occupied and Non wandered around somewhere out of sight, silently menacing.
Allowing her to shove him to his knees, he dropped almost into a heap as she released his throat and raked her hands through his hair, gripping tightly, and a gasping breath of shock filled his burning lungs of its own accord. She could likely do whatever she cared to with him at this point, and if his plan didn't work, she would. Against his internal protests, he imagined her forcing his face to her center to service her, imagined her leashing him as she'd planned and keeping him tethered and weakened enough to prevent his escape, imagined the tortures she'd inflict upon him if he dared to defy her.
But then an insistent hum filled his ears, just as Ursa swore at him and yanked him forward by his hair to hold him just an inch from her sex, promising that this would only be the beginning of his duties as her pet, slave, consort.
“You will be mine to breed, Kal-El, our offspring stripped of your pathetic lineage and raised in the House of Zod, strong soldiers loyal to the General alone,” she went on as the hum grew louder, the pressure heavy against his eardrums. He didn't know how she wasn't aware of it, tried not to think about the things she promised as the scent of her filled his nostrils, his good eye squeezed shut against the sight of her above him.
But the anticipation and terror were short-lived, as she jerked him back violently, ripping hair from his scalp, and shouted to Zod, “What is that infernal noise?”
“I do not know!” Zod shouted back, rapidly moving crystals to try to make it stop.
The humming became a painful, angry buzz, as the entire Fortress seemed to become highly pressurized, the air thick around them, swirling and stifling until a crackle of energy ripped open a vortex high above them.
Screams filled the space, barely audible as the vortex began to roar like a train, the three criminals dragged bodily upward to the portal. Clark pried himself from Ursa's grip as he rose from the floor with her, shoved himself away to get free, and relief flooded him as he fell to the floor, watching Ursa and the others struggling against the pull of gravity that swept them toward the Phantom Zone. Her face was shot with rage and fury as promises of retribution flew from her mouth in a mirror of Zod's venomous threats.
Higher and higher they went, fighting the inevitable, their cries dying beneath the cacophony of the portal, and then-
The vortex shut with a crackle and a slam, leaving nothing but a gentle breeze in its wake. Clark's ears rang with the sudden silence, and he blinked up at the space where the swirling portal had swallowed his enemies, sealing them to their fate.
He shuddered with the agony that he couldn't ignore anymore, his body screaming with his injuries. It left him lightheaded, wanting to just collapse in place and sleep for a month now that the danger was past.
But again, he couldn't. He had to get home. Had to get to... to Lois. Let her know he was all right, that it was all over. That Zod hadn't won. That Ursa hadn't taken him as her pet and consort as she'd promised to.
Those singular thoughts drawing him back to his feet, his vision swimming with a curtain of stinging tears and blood, he rose from the floor and out of the Fortress through the open apex high above. He just had to get back to Metropolis. Just that far. Summoning what little energy he had left, he turned south and shot forward, desperate to find the comfort and safety of Lois's arms, if she would still have him, after... after this.
~*~*~