Ah do not own Mon-El, Faora Hu-Ul, the Phantom Zone, nor anything else in this story save the idea behind it! DC comics does! Please don't sue moi! *eeppp*

Rated PG-13 for some adult situations and some really nasty imagery, ya'll:(:(

This one is for Samy Merchi, who's observation that a thousand years is a really long time to be sexually deprived and whose innocent question "Could Lar have had a lover in the Zone?" sparked this fic! Bless ya'll Samy, sweetie:):) *dipsmootchie*

Faora Hu-Ul smiled and readjusted the fit of her colorful uniform, smoothing it across her slender hips.

Rao take him! The boy was brooding again. She hated that. Why did he have to be so crestfallen and shamed every time?

But, then, she supposed that was part of the appeal, wasn't it? The humiliation, the shame she left in her wake once she had finished with her little games. Delicious were they not? Oh, yes. And like a hungry cream fed cat she lapped them up.

Yes, it most certainly was part of the appeal.

Smiling still, the Kryptonian villainess regarded the suffering teenager before her. So young .... So innocent ... so much fun.

"For Rao's sake, Lar," she laughed, "button your pants."

Silently, he obeyed. But still he would not meet her eyes. Could not. He floated there, head bowed, studying ... what, she wondered? There was nothing in this cursed place to contemplate or study. This was the Phantom Zone, after all. They were all prisoners here. All condemned to this endless, killing nothingness. Trapped by the destruction of Krypton. All of them.

Well, almost all of them. He was no prisoner; no criminal. He was here because someone loved him enough to save his life, wasn't he? Briefly she wondered what that must be like.

And that was part of the appeal, too, of course.

Of them all, only he had the promise of release one day.

And that was part of the anger, naturally. Their common desire to rip and tear at his hope, to watch gleefully as it disintegrated little by little, year by year until hope became a part of the very torment they made of his life here in this place.

Her gender had simply given her a unique way to vent her rage, if the truth be known.

Reaching out she cupped his sharp chin in her skilled hands and forced him to look up, into her eyes. "Don't be so sad, little boy," she taunted him, her voice mockingly soft and alluring. "You'll give yourself a complex if you're not careful."

Silent boiling wrath roiled beneath his skin and spilled out his blue eyes as he tore his face from her grasp and turned his broad back to her. Chuckling dark, vile mirth Faora wrapped her arms around his hips and stroked him smoothly. Beneath her caressing fingers she felt his flesh stir and smiled. "Why, you ought to thank me," she husked in his ear. "Just think of how boring life would be without our little ... encounters ... " He shivered.

"Think of it as a public service," Faora advised him. "Imagine what could happen to you if I didn't 'protect' you? It's really a shame that General Zod utterly fails to see your many charms." Her unwanted embrace tightened. "You'd be well advised to beware of Jax-Ur, though, sweetmeat." Unseen, something hot and viscous blazed in her deep set eyes, burning like a star. "Jax-Ur likes to play rough, little boytoy. He likes to ... damage ... his playpretties. I'm much nicer. Trust me on that."

Once more, the young Daxamite pushed her away, hanging his head and gritting his teeth.

"Poor lost little one," Faora sneered. "Was I your first?" In this colorless, substanceless void it was impossible to tell if he blushed but the look in his eyes confirmed it. "Why, yes!" she exalted, surprised. "I think I was! How touching."

With one long nail the Kryptonian woman traced the curve of one high boned cheek. "So sad, really," she mock mourned. "Such a handsome little boy! And to have your first experience be here, in this Raoless sink pit ... Such a tragedy. I could weep."

She didn't, of course.

"Go away, Faora," he hissed. "Go away and leave me alone!"

With her sharp nail, Faora Hu-Ul drew a line of blood across Mon-El's smooth cheek. When she pressed her eager lips to the small wound, glorying in the salty metallic taste and scent of his heart's blood, he didn't even flinch.

"Why, of course," she smiled. "I'll be glad to leave you alone, Lar. If you're sure that's what you want ..."

In answer he moved off, and her smile broadened. "Oh, I'm not worried, my lusty sweet boy," she called after him, voice ringing with pleasure and certainty. "You'll be back. Oh yes. You'll be back. Never doubt it."

And he didn't.

Not for an instant.

The End