Deep In The Bottle (Part Nine)

Chloe Sullivan was about to suck his cock. It was everything he never knew he'd always wanted. Or had he known?

He'd always wanted to shut her smart mouth for a change. And he had absolutely no complaints about this current method. He threw his head back as her mouth enveloped him. No. He had no complaints at all, as it was. So he closed his mouth. He had the abject fear that if he said a word, she'd either stop or do some sort of permanent damage. Maybe the latter was her plan all along. At the moment, he was nearly more on board with that than with her stopping. When he was this hard, reason, even self-preservation, took a back seat.

Yet he had to look. There was a part of him that didn't like this vulnerability. Because she could... At this moment, if she wanted to, she could make sure he never saw offspring. And yet... there was nothing but suction and the mild scrape of her tongue. His legs nearly gave out. Maybe it was so good because it seemed so dangerous. He didn't really think she'd hurt him. She had her precious ethics. But she wanted to, somewhere in there.

He wondered if she'd even admit it. How good the danger tasted. No. She probably wouldn't. When this was over, she'd probably lament over alcohol and what it made her do. But he'd know. Because it was more than cold comfort here, more than sex mingled with the freedom of hate. It was the danger of a line crossed. He'd spent his entire life dancing on that line, toying with the space beyond it. The experiments, the freaks. It was all for the common good, really, but there were times when it wasn't even about that. To subdue someone powerful, with abilities he couldn't imagine was so... Well, in the end, it was all about the common...

"Good," he whispered aloud as her mouth descended again.

********************

She was good at this. If there was anything her relationship with Jimmy had given her, it was this. To be honest, she'd often move on to the oral quickly, nearly exhausted from his efforts to please her. It never really worked, no matter how eagerly he tried. The blow job was just a quick end to things. Jimmy fell into a dead sleep after an orgasm. She hated to admit it, but she had been glad of it. Sex was work. It was a constant mental effort to keep her mind on Jimmy and off... Clark. She could admit it. If she was low enough to suck off Lex Luthor, then her Clark fixation was nearly nothing.

Strangely, she didn't feel low or ashamed. Lex may have started this, but she'd made the decision to finish it. Maybe she should finish it now, like with Jimmy. Just finish him off. It would end here. She came. Then he came. End of story.

And no one had to know.

********************

God, he nearly wished he could tape this moment, replay it over and over. He'd often thought of surveillance in this apartment. But where would the fun be in that? What was the challenge?

Besides, footage would cause a whole new headache.

Would he want the world to know this had happened? No. And she'd want it even less.

For him, it was about power. Everything was. And he'd handed her that power. If she pulled away now, he wasn't sure he could stop himself from begging this tiny blonde to not stop... never stop... That would be a sad thing to have spread around.

But for her, it was worse. He was evil personified to her and her little friends, at least these days. If they knew, they'd see her as used by him, defiled in their eyes.

Defiled.

He liked the word, the way it whispered through his mind with a dark sort of promise.

He let one hand slip downward to her shoulder. It was slightly slick, even on such a cold night. His hand slid down to her shoulder blade, but could go no lower, not unless he wanted to interrupt her actions. He wished he could slide his hands all over her now, defiling every inch of skin with his touch. That's what he did. He defiled, he tainted, he took something sweet and pure and turned it into... into what he'd made Lana.

He looked down, saw her eyes, wide-open and boring into his. That was the difference here. Chloe knew. She'd always known what he was. Lana had stared wide-eyed at him, thinking he would be... Well, Clark, really. And Chloe knew that he wasn't. He was no boyscout of a farmer. And Chloe knew it. She wouldn't change. Not over him. Not over anybody. Not even Clark.

He didn't want her to, not really, and it was a startling realization. It broke something inside him. Underneath her hard shell was something good. Something that couldn't be tainted. He let his hand tangle in her hair. Not a push -- More of a caress. He didn't mean it to be, but it was.

A thank you. Because she could touch him, knowing what he was, what he knew he'd be. Maybe being this close to coming was clouding him, but... That someone so untainted would touch him...

"Chloe," he whispered, brushing the hair off her forehead. "God, Chloe..."

******************************

She released him, pulling back, something in his voice putting her on edge. There was a softness. She didn't want that. Not from him. She stood from the bed, pressing herself to him. "I still hate you," she breathed, making sure he knew.

He stared at her in silence for a long time. "I know," he finally said, his hands moving to her hair again, his mouth closing in on hers. "Just please... please..."

She pushed him off, confused and disturbed at the change in him. "No. Don't say please. That's not what you do." It wasn't. He took, she struggled, he still took. Maybe he cajoled a little in between, but it was still taking. She just wanted him to take. She didn't want to give herself to him. That was something she could never do. She wanted to take, too, claim every second of this as something she'd done that was just for her. It wasn't for the good of the world. It was just because it felt fucking good. And it wasn't helping Clark or Lana or Jimmy.

And it certainly wasn't helping Lex. This was helping no one.

But his eyes, so suddenly soft and pleading... It wasn't how this was supposed to go. This was supposed to be fucking and hate and rough, uncaring hands. Not soft touches or pleading eyes. "I'm having second thoughts, Lex." She moved back, let herself sink to the bed as it hit the backs of her knees. "Why don't we just call it a night?"

He stared at her, his mouth hanging open. It would be amusing on anyone but him. "What the hell are you..."

His eyes were narrowed now, angry. "This is just wrong," she cut in. "You and me." She pulled the covers up over her breasts. "I just can't..."

"The fuck you can't," he growled, bending over her, pulling the covers away, grasping her thighs and pulling her to the edge of the bed. She let him. This was how this was supposed to go. It was what he had promised her. Freedom and pleasure and not giving a fuck about tomorrow.

She grasped his shoulder, digging her nails in slightly. She smiled slightly. "Maybe I can if you stop being such a wuss."

He smiled, too, though his eyes were still narrowed. "You're such a bitch," he murmured, leaning down. She let him kiss her this time. A rough meeting of lips as he pulled her thighs wider, settling between them, probing at her. She took the hand from his shoulder, letting her nails scrape down his chest before reaching between their bodies, reaching for his cock.

There was a moment of fear and doubt, even combined with the urgency. She was about to let Lex Luthor's cock inside her. A part of her whispered barely intelligible warnings that flitted through her mind. The louder part was screaming to do it. Do it now. Or she never would. She met his eyes, wide and almost scared. They must be mirroring her own. How scary was this?

Like in almost every instance in her life, for better or worse, she responded to fear with insolence. She shifted, positioning him as her eyes held his.

He looked down, then back up at her, his gaze almost questioning. She closed her eyes. She wasn't giving out permission tonight. He would or he wouldn't. She breathed deep, waiting. She nearly wondered if there was some shred of nobility in him. Would he pull away and apologize and gather his clothes, guilt weighing him down? She often fantasized about Clark up to this point. This is when he'd usually cry off, leaving her aching and alone. This was a hard point to get past, even in her wildest dreams. Then again, this wasn't Clark - a point that was made even clearer when he shoved inside hard, in no way going easy on her. Really, she should have expected nothing less.

Her eyes flew open and her hands clutched at the bedding. She stared at the ceiling a moment, adjusting to the shock and the mild pain, before letting her eyes drift back to him. His were closed, his mouth partially open, slightly uneven breaths whispering against her lips.

"You could move," she said. She'd wanted to sound authoritative, but it came out shaky. Everything was shaky. Her God damned teeth were even chattering. She tried to close her mouth, stop them.

He opened his eyes, then. They were slightly wide and unfocused before they returned to half-mast, bringing with them the smirk that always seemed so at home on his lips. "I'm sorry, Sullivan. It's obviously been a while for you. You want me to be gentle?"

Her lips formed a thin line as she pushed up against him. A while. It hadn't been that long. Was he implying she didn't know how to fuck? Because she knew... mostly. She obviously knew more than she thought she did, because her movements wiped the smirk off his face as he grunted out "Shit! Fucking tight."

Was she? She really didn't know how she measured up, considering she'd only been with Jimmy. But that didn't mean she didn't know what to do. She was a bona-fide expert at getting it over with. She pushed up again, squeezing him inside her.

He cursed, bringing one hand to her hips, pushing them down. He met her eyes again. "Yeah. Got it."

She didn't get to ask him what exactly he got because he started moving then. A moan tore itself from her mouth as he scraped and thrust inside her. As much as she was a expert at getting it over with, she wasn't quite sure what to do here. This was good. This felt... "Ungh! God..." Yeah. This was new.

He groaned deeply into her mouth now and she felt herself pulling at his neck, taking his groans in, joining her own with his as he pulled almost all the way out before plunging back in, their pelvises connecting almost painfully. That was good, too. Then, he was drawing back and thrusting into her now in a pounding, jarring rhythm and it was even better. A part of her wanted to analyze even that. Why was it so good? Was it the hate? Was it the danger? Maybe it was just that someone with as many notches on his belt as Lex probably knew what he was doing.

Of course, thinking just took away from it. She was happy to let her mind stop and let her body just... "Yessss," she hissed as her eyes slid shut.

There was no room for thinking here.

*****************************

God, he was trying. He was trying to just give it to her, get her coming again, focus on getting Chloe Sullivan off with his cock deep inside her. Then these feelings would go away, this strange and unwelcome... gratitude.

He sped up, one hand holding her hips steady as the other grasped her wrist, bringing it up above her head.

He wasn't grateful to be fucking her. He wasn't. In fact, she was wrong about who owed who. Chloe Sullivan owed him a good fuck for all the data mining, for all the secrets, for all the times she looked at him with disgust. Was he disgusting now? Her eyes were closed. He didn't want that. He needed to see.

"Look at me," he grunted, even as his hips kept pumping into her.

She didn't. Her eyes squeezed shut harder as her face contorted.

He stilled. "Fucking look at me."

She did, then, her eyes almost angry as they bore into his. "Don't you dare stop," she panted.

But he did, staying still, searching her face as it changed again.

"Lex... please..."

Desperation. Chloe Sullivan was desperate for him to fuck her. Didn't that just beat all?

In a perfect world, he'd stop here. She could know what it was like to be shut out like he'd been. It would teach her, teach all of them. If only she wasn't so fucking hot and tight and... He started moving again, unable not to. In seconds, he wasn't sure why he had even stopped. Her thighs were sliding up to his waist. Her head thrashing against the bed. The nails on her free hand were digging into his sides... and it hurt like a bitch.

He grasped her wrist, pulling it up and above her head to join the other where they almost dangled off the bed. He realized that his knees were on the floor, that his pants were still around his ankles, and that she was slipping forward, nearly pushing him off what purchase he had on the bed, sideways as they were. He couldn't care less at the moment. He held her wrists tight, keeping his position, their position, as he jerked his hips forward.

She was almost whimpering now. He shut his mouth tight. He didn't want to let it out. Let her be the one who was...

"Oh, fuck," he breathed as she tightened around him, fairly fluttered around him. Her insides gripping and vibrating around his cock. It was good. Too good. He was nearly worried he'd come just short of her when she suddenly rose up off the bed, her body bending upwards, stiffening as a hot surge of wetness coated him inside her. It was the end for him. He followed, collapsing on her lightly shuddering chest, his hips jerking spasmodically as he emptied inside her.

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