Chapter 13
Lex racked them up again. It was him against him. And it looked like he was winning. At least he had that going for him.
He grabbed his scotch from the edge of the table and took a long sip. It was a hell of a celebration of life. He wondered what getting out of the hospital after a near-death experience was like for normal people. From TV, it seemed to involve mylar balloons with cartoon characters, a meal accompanied with jokes about how bad hospital food was, and a large, hand-painted banner when he got home.
He'd had none of these things after any stay in any hospital. He didn't exactly want them, plebeian as they seemed. But sometimes he wondered just what it would be like. To have his life celebrated.
You are as alone as anyone could be, for all your money and power. If you died tomorrow, half the world wouldn't care. The other half would throw a party.
"Bitch," he muttered, putting his scotch down to break. The words had been said months ago, moments before she'd taken him inside her and changed everything. He'd never absorbed the words then. But they came home to him tonight. Her words haunted him because... despite that he'd survived, despite the progress he'd made with Kara, gaining her wary trust, it meant nothing. He was still alone tonight.
Does it ever bother you that absolutely no one wants to be around you?
Not no one. Gina had been waiting with flowers and the bottle of scotch he was halfway through. Did that count?
Let's not count the help.
No. he supposed it didn't. He'd just taken the bottle and told her to go home till Monday. He said the same thing to all his staff members, after the many forced recitations of "Welcome home, Sir." He didn't want to ring in a new start on life with his employees. He wanted... He wanted things he couldn't have. It wasn't as if he wanted to go back, say power didn't matter, just live some normal life somewhere, but... He wanted those things that came with normal life. Mylar balloons and a messy banner and a large table at some hole like Applebee's with people who weren't paid to be around him. Maybe he did want those plebeian things.
But that would mean a plebeian life. A life where he wouldn't have seen what he had. Wouldn't have done what he did. And maybe being alone was just the price of, one day, being remembered as the hero. The one who had figured out if Kara Kent was a savior or a warning. And if Clark Kent was...
He tried to push Clark from his mind, just focus on the game. He'd just sunk three solids. He'd have a real job keeping up with himself now.
It was so hard to even think of it. So hard to think of Clark (nice kid, kind, clear eyes, never judged him... once upon a time) as someone not to be trusted.
He'd stared across his desk at Clark today and... Trust me, Lex, there's nothing that's lost that can't be found again.
Perhaps he was getting drunk and sentimental, but what if...
What if he'd stood, come around the desk, asked Clark to sit. Told him everything. About Reeves Dam and the army he'd been building to defend the earth. About Kara and the fact that he knew --- he knew --- she saved him in the river. About how everything he did, he did because it was needed.
And what would have happened?
Clark would have lied. Clark would have called him silly and paranoid. Clark... Clark knew more than he was telling. The fact that the very girl who he was sure (he was fucking positive) pulled him from the water showed up as Clark's cousin from out-of-state only confirmed that Clark knew. Whether it was more than just knowing...
And Chloe... He had a feeling that whatever Clark knew, Chloe knew.
"Fuck em," he muttered, sinking a stripe. "Fuck em both." He chuckled as he realized he was still behind himself.
Because he wasn't going to have a normal life. He wasn't going to gain Clark's friendship again by lying to himself. And he wasn't going to have her in his bed again because he refused to stop his work.
He was on a path now. He was closing in on the truth. He felt it. No one was going to stop...
He straightened. His study door was open. He could feel the air at his back and the light scent of honeysuckle that accompanied it. It couldn't be her. She didn't wear perfume.
He turned slowly, eyes widening as he saw it was her. Standing in the middle of one of the double doors. "Chloe?"
She stared back at him from the doorway.
He turned back to the table. "I won't even ask how you got in. Between you and Clark, my house has always been wide open." He took another sip of his scotch. "Remind me to beef up security." Remind me not to give security a whole fucking weekend off.
He waited, but no snarky response came.
"What are you doing here?" He set his glass down and lined up to sink another stripe. "I thought Clark's lecture was sufficient. Come to make sure I'm properly contrite?" He placed the cue between his fingers and pulled back as the silence dragged on.
"Why would I do that?"
Her voice startled him and his cue scraped against the felt. He tossed it and turned to her. "Because I knew where Kara was. Because I found her and never said. Because I obviously did all that for some dastardly purpose."
She stared back calmly. "Yes. You did all that," she said. "And obviously for some nefarious reason of your own. But you forgot something."
"Oh? What else did I do to upset your little cabal?"
She stepped forward. "You didn't show."
He furrowed his brow.
"It was Friday," she said, as if that explained everything.
He shook his head, so bleary. "And?"
She stepped forward again. "And you didn't show," she repeated.
His head cleared as he stared at her, coming closer. [i]Friday. Paradise Motel.[/i] "And you did? I never thought you would."
She opened her mouth several times. "Is that what you think of me?" She narrowed her eyes. "You nearly died. I'm not supposed to be... concerned?" she finally finished, her face red.
"No, you aren't," he shot back.
"Why?"
"Because I... Because you aren't supposed to be. Period. Do you know what this is?" He gestured between them. "This is not just hate sex. This is loathing sex. You fuck me because I am the worst possible choice and I fuck you because..." his voice stopped. He found himself panting.
"Because?"
"Because I want to know." He rushed forward. When she didn't back away, he grasped her shoulders, pushing her against the one door that still stood closed. "I want to know what it is about you that makes you so far above me. I want to know why I can't stop..." He grabbed fistfuls of her sleeves hard, as if that would make thinking easier. "I want to know what it is about you and... all of you. But... mostly you." He relinquished her sleeves and slid his hands up her shoulders to her neck. Such a pretty neck... He grasped either side of her head. "I want to see into that mind of yours Sullivan. It's not just that you're here, you know. I want to know how you can be here in spite of what I did. But I want to know what exactly I did in your eyes. How the hell it concerns you!"
She only stared back, her eyes steady, not wide and frightened. Why the fuck wasn't she frightened? He sure as hell was. From the minute he saw her there. Because he wanted her to be there so badly. Too badly.
Ask him years ago and he wouldn't have thought they would be here, either fighting or fucking. There was a time when she worked beside him, a witness against his father. He hid her. He sheltered her then... "We... walk this line now." His hands softened on her and he ran them over the hair behind her ears. Some of it came undone, still slightly wet. "There's this gulf between what you know and what I know. We're on these opposing sides and I don't know why. what happened? How did we even fucking get here?" How did I? Can I ever go back?
"Lex..." He saw hesitation so clearly. She was measuring, somewhere in there. What to say and what not to...
"No." He grasped her by the shoulders again, pressed her against the door. "You tell me." Something changed somewhere. If he wasn't fucking her, he might not have the right to ask. But he was inside her... yet never really there. "When did I become the fucking enemy?"
Her hands came up between them, pushing. "Maybe when you kidnapped me and my mother, it put a damper on..."
"Bullshit," he growled, gripping the forearms that pushed against him. "It was two years before that. Suddenly I was..." What? The bad guy? He'd been the bad guy long before. He knew that. But she'd had no way of knowing, way back then. "Suddenly I was dirt under your heels," he breathed. "And I never knew what changed."
"If you're talking about when you dragged me by force to the Kawatche caves..."
"It started before that. You were sneaky."
"You mean you were." Her eyes narrowed. "Always trying to..." Her voice trailed off and he shook her.
"To what? What was I too close to, Chloe? What do you know?"
The hands that were pushing at him suddenly grasped his shirt, nails scraping his skin through the fabric. "Stop... talking... shop," she growled, before pulling him down, meeting his lips hard.
*************************
He wanted to pull himself off her. Fuck her rules about not talking shop. This wasn't about work. They were finally getting to some home truths. That mattered. That was everything he wanted.
But, with her mouth under his, he could no longer tell what he wanted more -- the truth or her. All of her. Any of her.
God, he was pathetic.
He really should stop this. Get back to those home truths.
He didn't, however. His hands dropped from her arms, moving down to her ass, pressing her against him. He suddenly realized he was hard. Not exactly new. Ever since they'd started this, he was hard in her presence. But this was the first time that hard-on hadn't been the first thing on his mind the minute he saw her. Maybe he wasn't so pathetic, then. This might even be progress. If they could get the fucking out of the way, then he could pick up right where they left off. His mind would be clearer then.
Even thinking it, he knew it was a rationalization for not stopping.
But why stop? Didn't he deserve one welcome home? It was no messy banner with a large group of friends underneath, but it was one piece of that simple life. Simple. It was nearly laughable to call any moment in this affair simple. Yet this was. It was a god damned messy before and after, but during... There was a sort of beautiful simplicity about being pulled into a warm, soft woman. Being welcomed home.
And she was warm and soft and her hair was still slightly damp and he could smell her shampoo and it was slightly surprising because she never came to him with damp hair. She came at night, straight from work or from home, not showered up because it would look suspicious if she took a shower before she left to "jog." But she had tonight. He deepened the kiss, breathing harder through his nose and he smelled honeysuckle again. Perfume or one of those girly sprays women doused themselves with. It was very faint, as if it had worn off and he was surprised again. She never wore perfume.
He noticed something else. Her hands were nearly clawing at him, first on his chest, then his neck, then the back of his head, then gripping at his back. He wanted to ask what the hell had gotten into her. But that would require tearing his mouth away from her and he just couldn't.
He pulled her backward, turning them around. There was a sofa in here somewhere. he found them stopped and opened one eye to see the pool table in the way. That could work, too. It had actually never been officially christened, Lana being so squeamish that way and...
He squeezed his eyes shut and pulled at her coat, dropping it to the floor. He really didn't want to think about Lana right now. Not when she was so... bare.
He pulled back, finally breaking the kiss. Her eyes stayed closed for a moment before they opened on his. He glanced down. It was a slip dress. Something flimsy. One step away from being lingerie. "A dress?" he choked out.
She swallowed, then sort of shivered, but didn't speak.
"Little cold?" Her nipples stood out and he could feel gooseflesh rising on her arms. No wonder. The dress was more suited to summer than late February. "So... all this..." He met her eyes again.
"Lex..." Her hands went to his buttons, though her eyes stayed on his. "I don't want to talk right now. When we talk," she parted his shirt, pulling it slightly out of his pants, "things get ugly and I... I don't want any ugliness. Not tonight. Okay?" Her hand dipped into his pants, completely bypassing his belt and buttons.
He found himself nodding without thought. She kind of had him by the short hairs right now. Not just literally, but with her dress and her smell and her... eyes.
Her eyes were hooded and sort of soft. Yet they were the hardest thing of all right now. He couldn't tell what she was thinking. Usually, it was so easy with her. Not that he considered himself a mind-reader by any stretch. But her face was an open book. He couldn't tell exactly what she was thinking, but he got the gist, whether it was lies, lust, or barely concealed rage. Really, that was all she had with him. But tonight... he couldn't tell. He hadn't seen this face.
He hissed when she squeezed him and decided he really didn't have to figure her out this second. He pulled her hand out of his pants and moved his hands to her waist, ready to lift her onto the pool table.
But she grasped his arms and shook her head. She moved from between him and the pool table and he turned, his body following hers. She grasped his wrist and lifted her face to his. He knew this face. Determination. She had some sort of plan tonight. Just as well. Someone should. His plan had been getting slowly drunk alone. He liked hers better, whatever it was.
She pulled on his wrist and turned, pulling him behind her as she moved. He was being led. And by a very minuscule blonde. It should be unthinkable that he was letting it happen, yet he was. He chalked it up to this determination he saw in her tonight, this single-mindedness. He'd seen it when she first came in. This nearly unflappable resolve to... he didn't know what. Something. He wanted to find out. Maybe that was why he let her lead him into the hall and toward the stairs and up...
She stopped at the top and he drew up behind her. Her shoulders suddenly stiffened as she stared around her. "So...I'm doing this," she whispered, almost to herself.
He didn't know what that meant, but it sounded like back-pedaling. "The best guest room is to the right," he found himself saying. "If you want..."
"No. End of the hall," she muttered, pulling him behind her again. "Double doors. Only you would need two damned doors." He heard something that might have been a laugh. but he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure of anything tonight. It was even more disconcerting that she seemed more sure of herself.
She pushed open one of the doors and turned, pulling him inside. Once in, he closed the door behind him, wondering where exactly she wanted this. Most of his clothes were in the closet and he had a scarcity of surfaces if she...
He was surprised, again, when she pulled him toward the bed. He was even more surprised when she stopped, turning to him and taking him by the shoulders, backing him towards it.
He wondered if she knew. She had to know. He'd been pushing for the bed all along as obviously as she'd been avoiding it. But for it to be his bed and in his house with a dress and perfume and... And now he realized that she did know. She knew that he wanted her in beds and dresses and perfume and those pretty things that would show she... cared. Did he want her to care? He wasn't sure. But the more pressing question was why. As justifiable as his actions with regards to Kara seemed, in light of the ends, he knew that they weren't justifiable in Clark's eyes... or in hers.
Her eyes were still unreadable as she pushed his shirt down his arms.
This all felt strangely like a... reward. And for bad behavior. He had to ask. "Why?"
She glanced up, holding his eyes before looking at his forehead. He wondered if he needed to elaborate before he felt her lips between his eyebrows.
She drew back. "You're alive." Her hand moved to his chest and she stared down at it, her eyes squinting slightly. "I'm alive."
So this was some kind of mortality thing. His near-death had made her think of her own or... It didn't seem like the answer. There was something more here. He ran a hand over her collarbone. "Chloe..."
She grasped his hand and pushed it back to him. "No touching." She didn't stop pushing, pushing him down on the bed, pulling herself over him, pushing him back even further until he felt the headboard at his back. "You're always doing all the touching."
"You touch me as much..."
"I touch in reaction. But you always start it. Not tonight." She shook her head. "Tonight, I start it. Tonight... I'm really doing this. This actually happens." She bent over him, running her lips along his jaw. He kind of thought this had been actually happening all along, but he wasn't about to mention it when her lips and tongue were working at his neck.
"So... this is my welcome home party?" He gasped as her mouth closed on his nipple. "You shouldn't have."
"No more talking," she said against him.
He didn't feel inclined to argue.
*****************************
It was new and strange tonight. Tonight, it was actually happening. It wasn't Lex, seducing her into things she would never do. Tonight, she was seducing him. She wasn't reacting. She was choosing. She felt strangely powerful doing so. It was on a par with the power she felt that moment she placed her hand on his chest, the moment she saved him. She placed her hand there again, bracing herelf as she lifted herself over him, lowering herself onto him.
It was as if, in saving him, she felt somehow responsible for him. That she couldn't let him greet this second chance at life alone. She had to be there because... she'd given it to him. It was entirely too big and scary to speak of. But she could feel it as he gasped and rose up, pushing himself deeper into her. She braced herself and rose up and down.
She thought of them again as soldiers returning from war with their lives. He knew he'd narrowly escaped intact. But he didn't know she had. This was as big for her and she couldn't... she wouldn't just let this moment go by unmarked. As messed up as this affair seemed, it was one of the only things that told her she was alive. It used be her job. But at work, she seemed to only keep afloat, so determined to hold the fort until her paper became everything it should be again.
He was the one that took it down, many great journalists with it.
Was it strange that he could be her ruin and her salvation all at once? Probably. But she was used her life being somewhere just above normal. Just shy of making any sense.
She let sense go and grasped his shoulders as his head lolled against the headboard. She moved faster, rising up and down over him as long as she could, then just snapping her hips forward when her strength started giving out. She could feel her body quickening and this sudden fear and languor took over at once. Even after nearly a day in bed, she was tiring. She didn't want to tire out. She wanted to feel life explode in her body. She needed that before she could rest again.
"Lex..." His eyes opened as her forehead fell against his. "I... can't..."
Whatever the message was, he seemed to get it, gathering her against him and rolling them over.
Her body sprawled under his lazily as he began pumping into her in earnest. His mouth opend at her ear. "So... fucking good... never... so..."
She wanted to tell him not to talk. She'd said no more talking, damn it. But she hardly had the energy. Every scrap of life in her body was gathering inside the place where he shoved inside her... if she could just get there first, then she could let the languor take over. If she could just...
Her body tightened and rose up, using what strength she had to push up against him. She was dimly aware of him, shuddering with her. And there was this warmth inside her and then....
"...didn't use anything."
She wanted to tell whoever it was to shut up. She was trying to sleep for another day or so. Then she realized that Lex was still on top of her, still inside of her. "Huh?" She tried to open her eyes. She succeeded with one, saw his head on her chest.
"No... condom," he said against her breast. It tingled slightly and a part of her wanted him to talk against her some more, but she was too tired...
Condom... Oh, that. "S'fine. Shut up. I'm sleeping."
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