So I wrote this during a slow night at work, and when I was typing it up, I feared that perhaps I was losing my evil edge… So I sent it to my poor, unsuspecting beta, who was really expecting something else, and… Well, I assure you that carolm had absolutely nothing to do with this. In fact, I think she betad more out of shock than anything, the poor dear…
Warning: This fic made Queen of the Capes SQUEE.
Antipode
*
Metropolis. The city of power. The center stage for his rule.
From here, he controlled the world.
There had been nearly no opposition after he had made an example of the President. In a moment on national television, he had gone from an unknown entity to ruthless dictator. Afterward, those who had rebelled had met a fate far more terrifying, far more brutal, than that of the President.
There was one last thorn in his side, a man who had gone into hiding. So far, not even his most loyal or frightened spy could unearth the leader of the Underground. He would not be looking, but this terrorist had held something before he had. And if nothing else, he was a very jealous, very possessive, man.
Especially when that something had been his wife.
What had ended up in this wonderful, twisted, weakening sensation of love had started purely as a pursuit of the flesh on his part, and pursuit of power on hers. He had only been looking for another conquest, and she’d been shallow, leaving a fiancé who had influence and money for someone she had known would become king.
Soon after their tryst had begun, he’d seen the potential that, with proper guidance and molding, she would become his equal, his partner. He’d taken great pleasure in tearing away from her the last remaining vestiges of good and unearthing the ruthlessness that surprised even him. Of all the things he had done, he viewed her as his greatest creation.
The President had been her idea, voiced with a delighted laugh one night in bed, her bare skin pressing against him.
She appeared then, in the doorway, as though hearing his thoughts of her. She glided toward him, the heels of her shoes clicking on the marble floor the only sound of her movement.
“Lois,” he purred softly.
“Love,” she responded as she reached him, leaping to wrap her legs around his waist, running slender fingers through his hair as she ghosted her lips against his teasingly. She was excited about something, and the delicious anticipation of what it could be caused his fingers to curl more securely around her thighs. “We think we’ve found him.”
He barely resisted tightening his grip on her even further at the thrill the news gave him. Any other being, he would have no compulsion in harming, but her, to do so would be like hurting himself. He probably should have killed her when he had felt the beginnings of love, but he had believed himself immune to such pitiful emotions. Now, it was too later, he was in too deep, as his state of mind seemed to revolve around her. His heart was doomed to a lifetime of servitude to this one human, and yet, he could not bring himself to care beyond the slightest twinge of occasional annoyance.
“Where?” he demanded after pressing his lips tightly against hers.
“New Zealand,” she murmured against his throat.
He growled softly. “Then destroy it.”
“Darling,” she protested. “You know I want someplace of my own. A kind of summer home. Please?”
The idea of her anywhere near where he had been caused his eyes to flash red. “Does it have to be there?”
“Yes,” she stated simply. “I’ve always loved it there.”
Jealousy surged through him as his brain twisted her simple statement into an insidious declaration of love for a man he would now kill himself.
“Luthor,” she began, reading his ever darkening mood. “He means nothing to me. You are who I chose, you are who I love.”
Her fierce declaration, the truth in her eyes, settled him only a fraction. However, he knew that he would give her the world, literally, should she ask for it. So, if she wanted New Zealand, she would get New Zealand.
After he took care of the former billionaire.
“Mine,” he growled possessively, pulling her even closer to his body.
“Mine,” she purred back, forming her body to his, pouring over him like hot fudge over ice cream.
He may have been alien, but in this one way at least, with her, Kal-El was still a man.
-end
an⋅ti⋅pode
–noun
a direct or exact opposite.
