Title: Ease
Author: Clannadlvr
Rating: R
Category: Songfic, Short Story
Spoilers: None that I can think of.
Summary: Lex walks in on Chloe on a private moment and proves that sometimes bodies in motion are all you need.
Disclaimer: No, I don’t own them. If I did, Chlex would be a reality. ‘nuff said. Oh, and I certainly don’t own the amazing music of Tori Amos.
Feedback: Please, please! This is my first posted Chlex fic so I’d really love some responses.
Archival: sure…how DOES that whole thing work, exactly?
Author’s note: This whole piece just popped into my head as I listened to the song “iieee” off of Tori Amos’ album, “From the Choirgirl Hotel.” Taking a page from Not an Addict’s utterly amazing “Always With You” series, if you have this song or can get a hold of it, definitely play it when you read this. I think it definitely sets the mood. Oh, and if you’re looking for resolution…sorry! *grins*
********
Lex fingered the notebook as he beeped the Ferrari closed. Discovering it in his office after the botched interview- botched on Chloe’s part of course- his first thought had been “clever girl.” No doubt retrieving it was a means for her to pay him another visit and continue the conversation about campaign finance and LexCorp that he was not about to have with a 17-year-old. Still, she was incredibly intelligent and resourceful, a theory he’d had of her that was confirmed as he thumbed through her notebook. Granted, these were the notes that she wanted him to see…to see how much closer she was to his corporate intrigue than he had realized, without giving away any new leads she was following.
He was impressed. Impressed that she had gotten so far. Impressed that she was cunning enough to plot her way into another interview.
He hated to spoil her plan.
Almost.
So after a few well placed questions to Lana, he’d found that Chloe was burning the midnight oil at the Torch. True, he could have had the notebook messengered to her, but that would have ruined the fun of seeing her face when she realized he had figured out her gambit. The pleasure of renewing the challenge and upping the ante was what brought him to the Lysol scented halls of Smallville High. Perhaps more than that…
She fascinated him. A little too much, in fact, for his comfort and for the legal age of consent in the state of Kansas. The corners of his lips turned up at the reaction he expected he’d get from Clark if his friend knew that his thoughts about Chloe were not always…innocent. Still, feelings were one thing, actions another, and Lex Luthor knew how to keep boundaries clean and even when necessary.
Or so he thought.
Walking down the hall to the Torch office, Lex thought he heard the strains of music coming from down the opposite hall. Shrugging it off, he strode purposefully into the office, but stopped abruptly, surprised that the overzealous editor was not in front of her beloved computer. Curiosity getting the better of him, he took her mouse and moved it slightly, ending the screen saver. He broke out in a grin when he saw her editorial on LexCorp, cursor blinking at the end of a sentence, painfully incomplete as a result of their meeting today. Leaving the notebook on her chair, Lex turned to leave, not necessarily wanting to shove the loss in her face. At times, he could be somewhat kind.
Then he heard the music again, louder now.
He walked down the hall, trying to identify the artist…it was dark, angsty, laced with passion. A female voice crooned, moaned, ahhing and oohing over an introduction, swelling with strings and seductive percussion. Intrigued, Lex made his way to the door of the student theater. The blackbox setup was empty, save for a lone spotlight on the floor and the figure occupying it.
All thoughts of keeping things clean and even fled from his mind as she began to move.
Her eyes were closed, her head rolling right to left, in time with the languid beats. Her hips moved as well, sinuously as if each note was connected to the small of her back. The look on her face was one of pure abandon; nothing existing for her but the rolling of the music, the sweet pounding of it. Then the aching voice began its torment:
With your E’s
And your ease
And I do one more
Need a lip gloss boost
In your America
is it God’s
is it your’s
sweet saliva
Those last words went straight to a place well below his gut. The feeling intensified as he watched her hands make their slow progress from her neck, down her chest, along her sides, curving over her flat stomach, then traveling lower, all the while her body wavering like a tendril of smoke.
Desperately wanting those hands to be his own, he barely noticed when he shed his coat and quietly made his way to the dance floor. He knew he’d startle her, but didn’t care. Getting dangerously close, he placed his hands on her hips from behind. She jumped instinctively and tried to turn around.
With your E’s
And your ease
And I do one more
His hands firmly keeping her in place, he brushed his lips against her ear and murmured, “No, don’t stop.” She caught his intense gaze from the corner of her eye as he pulled away slightly, awaiting her decision. Nodding almost imperceptivity, her hips again began their slow rocking.
I know we’re dying
And there’s no sign of a parachute
His fingers spread slightly, gaining more purchase on her hips. Skimming his lips along her neck, he pulled her closer, his hips moving in tandem with her own.
We scream in cathedrals
Why can’t it be beautiful
With a short intake of breath, she tilted her head back slightly, her eyes closed. As if moved by desperation, no longer tentative as she had been moments before, her left hand reached back, snaking up his silk draped arm, along his strong shoulder, till she reached his neck. Pulling him closer.
Why does there
Gotta be a sacrifice
Gotta be a sacrifice
The music changed. Now it screamed, demanded. And he demanded with it.
Just say yes
You little arsonist
He turned her around roughly, bracing her against him. She willingly formed to his body, hooking her arm around his neck, pulling him to her possessively. He snaked one leg between her own, hopelessly aroused as she moved against it.
You’re so sure you can save
Every hair on my chest
His hand stole up her back, to her neck, pulling her head back roughly. Her eyes flashed open, filled with knowing as she locked them with his.
Just say yes
You little arsonist
The music sweetened. He lowered his forehead to hers, then slipped slightly past, her face nestling in the crook of his neck. Her lips rubbing against his skin, torturing.
with your E’s
and your ease
and I do one more
Their hands linked and they pulled only a breath apart, still moving as one.
with your E’s
and your ease
and I do one more
He spun her out, then in, bringing her so close he was almost inside of her. They continued to sway, his hands running up her neck to her face, caressing, gentleness with an edge. Her hands kneaded his sides, neck, torturing him as they came to his hips and inched to the front.
Well I know we’re dying
And there’s no sign of a parachute
He stifled a groan as her fingers latched onto his buckle. As she danced slightly apart from him, she looked at him from lidded eyes, a soft triumph lighting her features. Tables turned.
In this chapel
Little chapel of love
He brought his lips a hair’s breadth away from her own, advancing, retreating, but never engaging. The strangled sigh that broke from her was his own private victory. Advantage gained. He turned her around, draping her arm across her body, grasping her hip.
Can’t we get a little grace
And some elegance
His fingers traced the line where her shirt and jeans didn’t meet, then swirled, burning delicious patterns in her flesh.
No we scream in cathedrals
As he felt her completely loosen, he had to fight for control. He dragged his hands up her sides, grazing the sides of her breasts.
Why can’t it be beautiful
Grazing his nails to where her delicate features met her neck, he came in close, whispering only, “don’t stop.”
He pulled away, walking quietly backwards, watching her all the while.
Why does there
Gotta be a sacrifice
She continued to move, dipping, arching. He was aching.
Why does there
Gotta be a sacrifice
And forced himself to walk out the door.
****
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That was a hell of a first fic! I could totally hear Lex thinking those thoughts. I think they ring so true to his character as does Chloe’s attempt to gain a continuation of the interview with her little notebook scheme. I thought the impromptu dance between Lex and Chloe was really hot and sexy. I loved the whole give and take, cat and mouse, seduction on the sly feel it had to it. I just cannot believe you ended it there. Don’t you know you could start a riot ending on a note like that? 
hmy: 
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