Challenge Fic: Villains
Title: Lex: Evil is a Definition of Society
Author: Alex
Pairing: Chloe/Lex (hints of Chlark and Lexana)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,493
Warning: Some angry sex and alcohol consumption
Summary: A chance meeting in the rain, Brandy-flavored everything, and an evil plan.
Disclaimer: Too bad it’s not mine. But I can wish really hard!
A/N: For the
sv_flashfiction challenge. Villains. Possible sequel in the making if I have time.
Her speech was slurred delightfully and Lex knew at that moment that he wouldn’t take her. He wasn’t that type of man, didn’t need copious amounts of vintage booze to reel any gal in. He had the copious amounts of dollar bills for that.
Not only was her judgment a little impaired but this was also Miss Chloe Sullivan. So, any moment of perplexity on her part was truly quite hilarious. Not only was she laughing a lot in his presence, but she was also flirting unabashedly. Perhaps it was a new technique to abscond with valuable information but Lex couldn’t help but respond to the nearness of her brandy-scented mouth and that tell-tale squeeze of his lower left thigh. His guard was up mercilessly anyway.
His suit was dark coal gray with an icy lilac dress shirt beneath. The shoes were expensive Burberry brands along with his dark raincoat. The watch on his right wrist was made by the Hamilton Company and he smelled like Hugo Boss and power. Chloe, on the other hand, wore sharp imitations of wealth. Her suit was a fading forest green but the skirt was fashionably tight and buckled sternly by a thick brown belt. Below the worn and fitted blazer were a crisp caramel dress shirt and an apricot scarf. The shoes were possibly Vera Wang inspired but were normal cream-colored sling backs a good three inches high, and her slender legs were erotically encased in brown fishnets.
She carried a briefcase and a bright yellow umbrella, both still dripping with spring-time acid rain. Her hair was a little disheveled and the bright blonde had dulled to a warm gold in the polluted air of the big city. Her eyes were the same as he remembered, friendly.
She caught him walking in the rain, bent over his Burberry shoe to retie the blasted lace. It wasn’t raining very hard but his dark raincoat glittered with wetness. The rain had ceased suddenly and he glanced up those lovely legs and impressive breasts to that familiar face of Miss Chloe Sullivan.
“Mr. Luthor, what a coincidence! You shouldn’t be in the rain, you know, you could catch a cold without anything covering your head,” she teased and expected a comeback. He saw her face dull amusingly when one was not offered, no intelligent mental foreplay to be had.
He murmured niceties and spoke of work casually as she held the umbrella up for the both of them. It was she who suggested finding a place to sit and talk, saying that her arm couldn’t bare the weight of the umbrella any longer and that it was way past noon.
He offered his penthouse. She offered her arm and umbrella and they made their way around the corner.
Now she was silly with her third glass of Brandy and her lips looked even more appealing even as he suspected her innocent questioning. She spoke of their past and their barely-there friendship. He knew she knew of his less than innocent stories that have been circulating the media lately about his candidacy; it was she who wrote two thirds of the headlines. But she remained so friendly, so indulgent; especially with her hands.
Her friend was Superman. Lex Luthor was very much aware of this. He was hatching a plan already, placing it in his mind’s pocket for later use. He was a man after all, even if monster was a more regular word choice. The hand that slid from lower thigh to mid-thigh was inching higher again and caused his cock to twitch.
Chloe smoothed her brandy-flavored tongue over her booze-burning pink lips and leaned in closer, closer still, until she whispered a little secret on his lips in the form of a light white hot touch. His response was instantaneous.
The glass of vintage brandy exploded on the floor and wet both of their legs as he pushed forward into her, demanding her back to make immediate contact with the leather couch. She acquiesced perfectly, blazer-less arms wrapped affectionately around his neck and skirt riding up in a hurried and whorish manner.
His hands found those impressive breasts and massaged them, not for her benefit but for his own. They were soft and strained so beautifully against that flattering caramel colored shirt. He ripped the buttons then, eager to touch flesh instead of fabric. But he was only met with more fabric, silky violet cups shielding her from him, the most extraordinary hue of violet he’d ever seen. He was completely entranced by the color.
Only Caesars were allowed to don such a color and here she was, shielding it beneath her clothing, over her soft flesh, begging to be penalized for such a bold action. And he would be ready for it.
The bra was off with a sudden yelp of surprise and discomfort. She glared at him drunkenly and angrily and he laughed down at her.
“There she is! I knew I wasn’t fucking Lana Lang!” he exclaimed with amusement in his eyes.
“And you’re no Clark Kent!” she shot back, anger overriding her impaired judgment as she made an intelligent choice of moving from under him to end their frenzied collision or stop it from even starting.
She had pushed him hard and slid from his warmth with surprisingly deft movement. But he wasn’t impaired at all and his hand shot out to grab her wrist and pull her back, meaning for her to land back onto the couch, but she struggled for a good moment and landed with her deliciously curved ass onto his unprepared groin which bulged with that first ripe contact. There was a breathless hiss and a moment of stillness. Nothing moved except his twitching cock beneath her.
The moment spanned too long and their breaths were erratic. He moved to pull her beneath him again but she wasn’t playing Lana Lang anymore and refused his superiority. It infuriated him immensely but she held her own, releasing his hold with learned techniques every girl ought to be taught. But she was straddling him which didn’t seem like a very un-agreeable position. Her skirt was up so high by this point but he couldn’t make out much from the darkness between her legs. Her breasts were revealed however, and dusty pink peaks were hardened as her flesh shook with each struggle.
His hands moved from trying to hold her wrists to hold her hips firmly in place, shoving her down against him, both of them annoyingly covered. She grabbed at his fingers then, trying to pull them away and cursing at him, making delightful sounds of struggle. One hand left her hip to venture between her legs. He could smell her arousal but he wanted to feel it with his own hand. The twist of hosiery that formed fishnets pressed against her panties which pressed against her. And he pressed against all three with two of his knuckles.
She gasped suddenly and stopped her struggle, staring down wide-eyed at him. She was unbelievably wet but denying every moment of it. He pressed again, brushing his knuckles up and down and encouraged their struggle to start once more. It did, in a way. She pressed back, eager for more sensation.
Lex growled at the lack of flesh touching flesh and took a hold of the fishnet hosiery and tore a large hole through the fabric. He pulled the panties aside, felt her clit, slippery from their encounter. She bucked and tried to back away all at once but he held her firmly.
“Do you have to tear everything?!” She demanded shakily.
“I like immediate results Miss Sullivan. I don’t think you could get naked fast enough.”
“You’re lack of faith in me is troublesome, Alexander.”
He grimaced and furrowed his brow. Two fingers thrust into her mercilessly as punishment but she seemed to enjoy it, moaning suddenly and rocking against him, ass stroking his cock teasingly.
He was jealous of himself, such a strange feeling, his cock jealous of his fingers. He pushed at her again and in her pleasured state, was pliable enough to fall back a bit against the arm of the couch so he could sit up, fingers slipping wetly from inside her.
He didn’t unbuckle, just pulled himself out and at the sight of him, he could see some fear glittering in her eyes. That aroused him completely, that fear. But when it disappeared, he grew angry. It was wrong to shove Lana onto Chloe, they were nothing alike.
She arched away from him, he held her, to keep her from going too far but she grabbed her briefcase and pulled out a condom. She didn’t look at him when she tore the package and pulled out that lubricated second skin. There was a possible blush on her cheeks or perhaps the flush from their struggles.
It was a rather quiet and innocent moment. She rolled the condom on easily; each downward stroke excited him and caused him to throb in her hands. He watched his cock, gripped by another, watched her intent face, refusing to look at him. It felt strangely warm and he wasn’t sure he liked it.
She inched forward then, the small of her back off the arm of the couch, supported by one powerful hand. His other powerful hand guided his cock up into her but she hovered a moment. Lex believed it was a moment of more fear or shyness, but when he looked at her from his up sitting position, he could tell it was neither.
She was teasing him! Making him wait for it! There was a little smile at the corner of her mouth and he kissed it, thought it tasted of brandy and powerful sex appeal. How could Clark Kent resist this?!
The kiss was his ticket, a softer and slower one. She eased herself down and only then did he throw off that Clark mask and kissed her with more fervor than she could handle, gasping against him, her hands pushing at his shoulders.
But he forced her into a grind, made her ride him and pounded her mercilessly like she probably knew he would. Moans came from the both of them, choked gasps and irrepressible cries of a bit of pain and a lot of pleasure.
They fell to the floor eventually, neither of them depleted quite yet but the cooling floor on his back was nice. It was her luck that she landed on top again. Brandy-kissed glass glittered warningly near there legs and they both still wrestled against one another.
There was a tensing then, his perfect moment to top her while she came with her own fingers pressing on her clit this time, but her grip was painful on his bare shoulder, pushing him down flat then as she rose and fell onto him quick and hard. She matched his heartbeat by the throb he knew she felt inside of her and he admired her intuitiveness and inquisitiveness then, never missing a beat.
And without being able to help it, just once, completely powerless, he came violently. Thrusting so hard into her that she cried out in dubious pleasure. That made him feel better about their current positioning.
He laid there, eyes on his high ceiling, vision vaguely blurred. She kneels above him, still stretched so tightly around him and back slouching from exhaustion. She reached for his right hand and he was too tired to snatch it away, but there was a slight defiant twitch that caused their eyes to meet, hers amused, his expressionless.
But Chloe knew Lex well enough to know certain expressionless faces meant certain things. This one could only cause amusement but she was too tired to laugh out loud. After careful glance at his expensive watch, Chloe pulled free. Lex hissed, both of them sore.
“It’s two in the morning, we’ve both got work,” she excused simply and he could only nod, angry at the twitch in his left hand which clamped a bit suddenly on her hip, to keep her. Damn her, but she noticed.
“Unless you want me to stay…” she ventured, maintained brows arched questioningly, not a trace of amusement, just a legitimate question. And he hated it.
“No,” Lex replied and removed his hand completely. She slid away but bent back down to remove the condom for him, flung it into the metal trash can near by.
He stood finally, felt a pinch on his palm and looked down to see a piece of glass had penetrated his flesh. He grimaced and removed the damn thing, turned away.
“I’ll buy you a new suit,” he said as he rummaged through his desk drawers. He could hear her protest and the sound of fabric on fabric. When he turned back around again, he saw her pretty breasts covered up by the blazer, buttoned to the top.
He walked toward her, saying no more about the suit but not going to take her protests seriously. He held a velvet box out toward her, eyes angry.
“Oh, Lex, no need to propose. It was just for fun!” She laughed a little and took the box anyway.
Her eyes grew cold when she stared at the contents. Not a ring like she assumed but very beautiful earrings. She knew the tale behind a box of earrings from a Luthor. But these were different, not diamonds at all.
“Ah, such a grand gesture. But I thought you sent it to the girls, handing them over yourself might confuse the ‘good-bye’ message,” she murmured a bit sharply.
“They’re not diamonds,” he pointed out but anyone would have known. “They’re emeralds,” he half-lied. He plucked her small cultured-pearls from her ears and replaced them with the new earrings. She allowed him to and allowed a delicate caress down her jaw and her chin. She tilted up to his kiss and returned it hesitantly.
“Never take them off,” he commanded sensually against her mouth. They were meant for another girl, a girl that seemed the best choice at the time. But it was only because he never thought of Chloe.
He would use her, use her well. He’d invite her back to him, wrestle with her, and watch her face when he tells her that he couldn’t have killed Superman without her help. Watch her suffer below him and then he would be amused.
His eyes twinkled. His soul blinking pitifully inside him, trapped within an unrelenting black void. Chloe held him just a moment longer.