HumbugGirl
8th July 2004, 00:23
Note to mods: I tried to add this to the completed section but it wasn't having any of it. So I posted it here. Hope that okay.
Title: Strange Bedfellows
Author: HumbugGirl
Email: humbuggirl@yahoo.com
URL: http://www.geocities.com/oddfiction or http://www.livejournal.com/~humbuggirl
Pairing: Chloe/Lex
Rating: NC17 – WARNING: sex, suggestions of rape/slash
Summary: Darkfic. "Chloe and these things, the things he’s discovering about her, are strange bedfellows indeed."
Spoilers: None specific. Sometime S3 though.
Disclaimers: None of the characters of Smallville belong to me. They all belong to other people who are far, far richer.
Notes: Answer to the ns.net official challenge for week 28/29 (Chloe has written down all of her fantasies and likes on Lex in a diary, and one day the diary is missing... Guess who now has it...). Darkfic. Remember I warned you. I should also warn that there are mentions of rape and suggestion of slash in here as well so anyone squeamish about such things should steer well clear. I don’t recall seeing a rating on the challenge either so I’ve gone with what I thought on this one.
Feedback: Tell me what you thought. Go on, I dare ya. *grin*
Her dreams are horrors. Nightmares to anyone else and he would never have thought it.
Chloe’s graphic imaginative is written down before him in stark beautiful language that leaves his heart pounding and breaking all at the same time. The words are audible, the literary muttering and rants tangible as he reads. The curl around his mind comfortingly and then throw him for a loop when he least expects it sending him tumbling into insensibility as his body reacts against his own will whether with revulsion or lust or something else entirely that he isn’t capable of placing.
Pity.
Sympathy.
There is a large part of Lex that knows Chloe would appreciate neither from *him*. Not if the words he’s reading as any signal of her true state of mind that is.
‘I’m wrapped around him and I don’t want to be there.’
The diary had fallen out of her bag that afternoon during one of their clandestine meetings in his office to discuss whatever the hell it was his father had managed to fuck up in both their lives most recently and Chloe, apparently not having noticed, had left it behind when she left. Of course the fact that Lex had taken the opportunity to kick it under his desk and out of her line of sight the moment that he had realised what it was might have had something to do with that.
“Know your enemy,” Lex murmured rubbing his hands over the faux suede front and wondering why the hell Chloe would have picked something that was so blatantly a diary to write within in the first place. Had she learned nothing? Did she not realise that risking the chance of having her private thoughts invaded through the thing was a chance that she should not be taking?
‘A little voice inside my head keeps telling me to push him away – that I could do it if I really wanted to but the words never seem to make it into my arms and become an actual action as a result.’
Of course Chloe wasn’t an enemy as such. She wasn’t a friend either but she wasn’t an enemy. She was… something else; something that fit between and constantly reminded him that their relationship was one of business and convenience and nothing else. And with that one thought in mind Lex had managed to justify delving through the pages and picking at the information there until he found himself fascinated in the disturbed thoughts of an apparently disturbed young girl. Chloe and these things, the things he’s discovering about her, are strange bedfellows indeed.
Know your enemies, your friends and everything in between. Including Chloe Sullivan.
‘Where we are doesn’t matter. In my bed. In his. In his office where he’s grabbed me and pushed me forwards over his desk, scrunched by skirt up over my hips and is making a very thorough examination with his cock. He’s acting like a bastard. He is a bastard and it gets me so angry. It burns and hurts every single time because this is my virginity we’re talking about here. He always tells me I can cry and shout and scream as much as I want to because no one will *ever* hear me but… But at the same time… God I have to remember that it’s me thinking these things and not him. It’s me that’s spending every other moment of every day dreaming up fantasies about pseudo-rape situations.’
‘It’s a dream. I know it is and that that’s where it should stay as well. I shouldn’t be thinking about it when I’m awake and when I’m at work or in maths or in gym with it getting me all hot and sweaty under by clothes and WET. Meetings with him are impossible now. I’m dreading the one later today because it’s all I can do not to cringe when he looks at me and then go all red and flushed – which I know he notices and probably wonders about as well.’
Lex leaned back on his office chair, closing his eyes for a moment while thoughts of Chloe bent backwards over a chair while he buggers her filled his mind, swelling his cock inside the confines of his expensive tailored pants. It doesn’t matter that the fantasies that Chloe’s painting excite him. For him the concept of non-consensual sex is, or rather was, in truth he’s not sure which, a past phase in his life that involved boarding school, strong hands and the knowledge that he was the one who was most likely to come off badly from the encounter and has since grown into sick little fantasies of his own and a extraordinary ability to deny everything and anything. What matters to him is that Chloe shouldn’t be having such thoughts – not about him. Not when there was a risk that the diary in his hands could have been found by anyone and misinterpreted to mean that he *was* actually abusing the blonde teen.
‘It’s all some misplaced desire. That much I’ve managed to figure out all on my own. Probably related to abandonment issues although naturally I’m loath to admit that because it ends up making me sound far too Lana-esque for comfort.’
‘Or maybe I’m just a really kinky little bitch and I don’t know it yet.’
Another page, another day and more vivid descriptions of the explicit and depraved acts that Chloe sees them engaged in. Her nighttimes are active ones that involve frustrating dreams involving whips and chains and some things that Lex even hasn’t heard of followed by accounts of her own fingers.
Lex slammed the diary closed and threw it onto his desk. Thirty seconds later saw him silently pulling the zip on his pants down, reaching inside his boxers and coiling his own hand around his own cock, fighting images of Chloe knelt before him, lips alternately pouting encouragingly one moment and trembling with fear the next, with one half of his mind while eagerly embracing them with the other.
Fist working furiously, eyes closed and his head thrown back Lex didn’t notice the rain soaked figure that appeared in the door to his office. He never saw the way she glanced horrified at her diary lying on the table and then towards Lex as he breathed heavily and made every attempt to fuck his own hand or the flicker of lust that followed seconds later in her eyes. Indeed he was oblivious to the blonde figure who had padded her way silently across the room until she arrived at his side and then it was only because she took hold of the arms of his chair and turned him to face him. For the briefest second Lex imagined that the drippy, pale spectre he saw before him of a girl who had been kept awake for days by thoughts that he might be in possession of her dirty little secret was all in his mind and then she shattered the illusion by falling to her knees, scrapping wet hair back behind her ears and then bending over and tentatively licking the head of his cock as he appeared through his frozen hand.
Thirty seconds after that and he was willing to forget whether what was happening was real or not. The only thing he was concerned about was the warm, wet mouth enclosed around him and the way in which she was coaxing herself to take him deeper into her throat as if it’s unnatural for her but she’s going to try anyway. It only takes a moment longer and his hand is in her hair urging her forth, the small whimpers that she makes around him becoming meaningless as his mind search and finds and acknowledges that this is what she wants.
And at that moment, the sweet moment when he comes Chloe’s fantasies are the least of his concerns because his own are forming and reforming rapidly.
And this time they involve her.
THE END
Title: Strange Bedfellows
Author: HumbugGirl
Email: humbuggirl@yahoo.com
URL: http://www.geocities.com/oddfiction or http://www.livejournal.com/~humbuggirl
Pairing: Chloe/Lex
Rating: NC17 – WARNING: sex, suggestions of rape/slash
Summary: Darkfic. "Chloe and these things, the things he’s discovering about her, are strange bedfellows indeed."
Spoilers: None specific. Sometime S3 though.
Disclaimers: None of the characters of Smallville belong to me. They all belong to other people who are far, far richer.
Notes: Answer to the ns.net official challenge for week 28/29 (Chloe has written down all of her fantasies and likes on Lex in a diary, and one day the diary is missing... Guess who now has it...). Darkfic. Remember I warned you. I should also warn that there are mentions of rape and suggestion of slash in here as well so anyone squeamish about such things should steer well clear. I don’t recall seeing a rating on the challenge either so I’ve gone with what I thought on this one.
Feedback: Tell me what you thought. Go on, I dare ya. *grin*
Her dreams are horrors. Nightmares to anyone else and he would never have thought it.
Chloe’s graphic imaginative is written down before him in stark beautiful language that leaves his heart pounding and breaking all at the same time. The words are audible, the literary muttering and rants tangible as he reads. The curl around his mind comfortingly and then throw him for a loop when he least expects it sending him tumbling into insensibility as his body reacts against his own will whether with revulsion or lust or something else entirely that he isn’t capable of placing.
Pity.
Sympathy.
There is a large part of Lex that knows Chloe would appreciate neither from *him*. Not if the words he’s reading as any signal of her true state of mind that is.
‘I’m wrapped around him and I don’t want to be there.’
The diary had fallen out of her bag that afternoon during one of their clandestine meetings in his office to discuss whatever the hell it was his father had managed to fuck up in both their lives most recently and Chloe, apparently not having noticed, had left it behind when she left. Of course the fact that Lex had taken the opportunity to kick it under his desk and out of her line of sight the moment that he had realised what it was might have had something to do with that.
“Know your enemy,” Lex murmured rubbing his hands over the faux suede front and wondering why the hell Chloe would have picked something that was so blatantly a diary to write within in the first place. Had she learned nothing? Did she not realise that risking the chance of having her private thoughts invaded through the thing was a chance that she should not be taking?
‘A little voice inside my head keeps telling me to push him away – that I could do it if I really wanted to but the words never seem to make it into my arms and become an actual action as a result.’
Of course Chloe wasn’t an enemy as such. She wasn’t a friend either but she wasn’t an enemy. She was… something else; something that fit between and constantly reminded him that their relationship was one of business and convenience and nothing else. And with that one thought in mind Lex had managed to justify delving through the pages and picking at the information there until he found himself fascinated in the disturbed thoughts of an apparently disturbed young girl. Chloe and these things, the things he’s discovering about her, are strange bedfellows indeed.
Know your enemies, your friends and everything in between. Including Chloe Sullivan.
‘Where we are doesn’t matter. In my bed. In his. In his office where he’s grabbed me and pushed me forwards over his desk, scrunched by skirt up over my hips and is making a very thorough examination with his cock. He’s acting like a bastard. He is a bastard and it gets me so angry. It burns and hurts every single time because this is my virginity we’re talking about here. He always tells me I can cry and shout and scream as much as I want to because no one will *ever* hear me but… But at the same time… God I have to remember that it’s me thinking these things and not him. It’s me that’s spending every other moment of every day dreaming up fantasies about pseudo-rape situations.’
‘It’s a dream. I know it is and that that’s where it should stay as well. I shouldn’t be thinking about it when I’m awake and when I’m at work or in maths or in gym with it getting me all hot and sweaty under by clothes and WET. Meetings with him are impossible now. I’m dreading the one later today because it’s all I can do not to cringe when he looks at me and then go all red and flushed – which I know he notices and probably wonders about as well.’
Lex leaned back on his office chair, closing his eyes for a moment while thoughts of Chloe bent backwards over a chair while he buggers her filled his mind, swelling his cock inside the confines of his expensive tailored pants. It doesn’t matter that the fantasies that Chloe’s painting excite him. For him the concept of non-consensual sex is, or rather was, in truth he’s not sure which, a past phase in his life that involved boarding school, strong hands and the knowledge that he was the one who was most likely to come off badly from the encounter and has since grown into sick little fantasies of his own and a extraordinary ability to deny everything and anything. What matters to him is that Chloe shouldn’t be having such thoughts – not about him. Not when there was a risk that the diary in his hands could have been found by anyone and misinterpreted to mean that he *was* actually abusing the blonde teen.
‘It’s all some misplaced desire. That much I’ve managed to figure out all on my own. Probably related to abandonment issues although naturally I’m loath to admit that because it ends up making me sound far too Lana-esque for comfort.’
‘Or maybe I’m just a really kinky little bitch and I don’t know it yet.’
Another page, another day and more vivid descriptions of the explicit and depraved acts that Chloe sees them engaged in. Her nighttimes are active ones that involve frustrating dreams involving whips and chains and some things that Lex even hasn’t heard of followed by accounts of her own fingers.
Lex slammed the diary closed and threw it onto his desk. Thirty seconds later saw him silently pulling the zip on his pants down, reaching inside his boxers and coiling his own hand around his own cock, fighting images of Chloe knelt before him, lips alternately pouting encouragingly one moment and trembling with fear the next, with one half of his mind while eagerly embracing them with the other.
Fist working furiously, eyes closed and his head thrown back Lex didn’t notice the rain soaked figure that appeared in the door to his office. He never saw the way she glanced horrified at her diary lying on the table and then towards Lex as he breathed heavily and made every attempt to fuck his own hand or the flicker of lust that followed seconds later in her eyes. Indeed he was oblivious to the blonde figure who had padded her way silently across the room until she arrived at his side and then it was only because she took hold of the arms of his chair and turned him to face him. For the briefest second Lex imagined that the drippy, pale spectre he saw before him of a girl who had been kept awake for days by thoughts that he might be in possession of her dirty little secret was all in his mind and then she shattered the illusion by falling to her knees, scrapping wet hair back behind her ears and then bending over and tentatively licking the head of his cock as he appeared through his frozen hand.
Thirty seconds after that and he was willing to forget whether what was happening was real or not. The only thing he was concerned about was the warm, wet mouth enclosed around him and the way in which she was coaxing herself to take him deeper into her throat as if it’s unnatural for her but she’s going to try anyway. It only takes a moment longer and his hand is in her hair urging her forth, the small whimpers that she makes around him becoming meaningless as his mind search and finds and acknowledges that this is what she wants.
And at that moment, the sweet moment when he comes Chloe’s fantasies are the least of his concerns because his own are forming and reforming rapidly.
And this time they involve her.
THE END