Spoilers for Siren, Fracture
PART EIGHT
She was next to him in the car, after his having nearly pushed her over the console into the passenger seat. She was breathing heavily. But that didn't give him any kind of security. He had to seal this soon.
He put the car in reverse and turned to her. "Where?"
She leaned her head back on the seat and stared ahead. "Not my place."
"Well, we're now in the car and leaving your place, so I figured that." He was impatient, frustrated. It had been months. He'd been out for a drink sometimes since and so ready to fuck her out of his system with just about anyone. But it was all too easy. He wanted what he wanted. When he was a kid, he was the same way. If he wanted beef for dinner and chicken was in front of him, he wouldn't wail about it. He just wouldn't eat. Not unless it was what he wanted.
"We'll go to your place," she said, still staring ahead of her. She was stiff, her hands clutching the edge of the seat. The only thing that interrupted her nearly stony stillness was the shaky breaths, making her chest and stomach contract and expand.
Fuck! My place it is... Fuck!
"Yes. That would be great, except for the fact that my asistant is working overtime... again." And getting a little above herself, calling him, checking in, touching him... He supposed that would be easy, too... if he was into the mother figure deal. Not young enough. Not blonde enough. Not fucking her.
He wasn't about to have a long conversation about it. Because that would give her time to back out. She said it. She admitted it and he'd be damned if she wasn't going to follow through. Well... he was surely damned, anyway. But she'd follow through regardless. He took his foot off the brake and switched it to the gas, backing out of the alleyway. He jerked to a stop as something splattered on his windshield. His coffee. Didn't matter. Wasn't like he'd paid for it.
But she stared at it, then at him, suddenly shaking her head. "What am I..."
"Don't," he said firmly as he reversed fully into the street, stopping with a slight screech, then sped forward. He wouldn't let her finish that. He knew where it would go. Some reasonable argument that even he might have to acknowledge. He wasn't insane. He knew this was dangerous. He'd told himself to stay away. His pride could be at stake. His freedom, even. If she decided to chuck it all and get what she knew to the right person, he would be well and truly destroyed. But he could do the same to her. And she knew it. He knew it. So why the fuck were either of them in this car?
They wanted more. Of each other. Life was crazy that way. The biological imperative of a good fuck trumped it all, no matter how advanced the human race pretended to be.
"Where are we going?" she asked on a breath.
"Does it matter?" He moved off Main Street, following the signs that led to the freeway. There would be something. Something where no one might know them. Not Smallville. Not Metropolis. Something in between. He didn't care if it was a forest glade at this point. He just had to get her there.
"I didn't think this through," she said.
"No, you didn't," he agreed.
"It's only because I'm so... I... I shouldn't..."
"Don't," he warned again and pushed the overdrive button on the gear shift. She'd think her way right out of this again if he didn't do something. So he did. he steered with his left hand and let his right move to her. He didn't caress. He didn't meander seductively. He jabbed hard between her legs, hoping she felt it through the stupid pants.
He vaguely wondered how sexist he'd be painted if he made skirts somehow mandatory for female employees. They did it at some restaurants, after all. He dug in, hoping he at least nudged her clit. He couldn't see and, if they wanted to live through this drive, he shouldn't try.
He heard a muffled moan and nearly smiled in relief. He pressed in harder, circled just a bit, before he felt secure enough to let it go... just until he got inside her pants. He undid the hook at the top, then pulled at the zipper, nearly thanking God (as if he would listen to him now) that he hadn't had any scotch yet. He bypassed her panties completely, digging his hand in and pulling them to the side, feeling his way through her wetness. Fuck, she was wet.
He tried to keep his eyes and mind on the road as her breathing grew faster, punctuated by slight vocalizations. Nothing that could be classified as a word, just slight grunts, groans, drawn-out moans. Good. He'd remind her why this was happening. No matter what, he knew that only him, only her worst enemy, had ever made her feel this way.
The windows glazed over slightly as he kept moving. he should probably offset it with the AC, but he wouldn't remove his hand from her pants for the world. He squinted through it. Looking for something, anything, somewhere they could go...
He saw a sign with cartoonish pictures depicting food, fuel, lodging. Just three miles. He could keep her going for three miles. He jolted as her hand slapped over the console to grip his thigh. That or he'd die trying. He sped up.
By the time he slowed, moving down the exit ramp, looking for anything that seemed like lodging, they were both panting. He saw it to his left. The Paradise Motel. An ugly series of squat buildings. Pink and mint green. Neon palm trees flanked the sign, as if that was supposed to be tempting. It was good enough for him.
A rusty pick-up nearly plowed into him as he jerked left, roling into the parking lot as its horn blared and faded away. He pulled into a parking spot in front of the office sloppily, slightly over on his side. He didn't care. They just had to get in. He reluctantly pulled his right hand from her pants, not bothering to wipe it as he stuffed it into his coat pocket, pulling out his billfold. He tossed it to her. "Get us a room. I don't care what. Just..."
"Me?" He turned at her outraged, nearly squeaky, tone. "Why do I have to..."
He leaned over, letting his lips brush her ear. "I think that you're a little less conspicuous, don't you?" He nipped just below her ear. "Or do you want a dozen tabloid photographers waiting for our exit?"
She pulled away and glared at him. "No. I don't want this at all. None of it. Including our..." She stopped on a gasp.
He smiled and mouthed her neck loosely. He'd slipped his hand back into her pants, one finger now flicking at her clit. He didn't say a word, just wanted her to feel it, to know there was more if she just did what he said. He couldn't go in there. He had to stay behind the tinted windows or he might as well waltz into the office, wake the probably sleeping desk clerk and announce that bald billionaire Lex Luthor had arrived and was ready to fuck some nameless woman. He'd had it happen before. It didn't matter if it was a hotel or a motel, glitzy or cheap. Someone was always looking for some cash on the side. "Something on the end," he whispered.
He was pleased and surprised when she nodded, zipping her pants and picking the billfold up from the seat. He let his hand slide from her pants as she opened the door. He leaned back in his seat as she got out, closing his eyes at the slam of the door.
This was happening. Just like that night, he could still hardly believe it. That he wanted to was a given, even the first night. He always wanted what he just knew he couldn't have, but that she would... It still floored him. It shouldn't. But sex always had a bit of that effect on him. He often imagined what it was like for the woman and he never could, not fully. The man raged in, conquered, invaded... But the woman accepted, sheathed, even sheltered just a little... With any woman it was a marvel. Just that it cold happen at all. To be taken, infiltrated, violated by a foreign object. But that she would... It was even harder to comprehend. Like it was a trick, a game. If he didn't know her better, he'd think it was.
But Chloe Sullivan didn't play games. There was a guilelessness to her. She should have hidden her reactions, her moans and soft, little sighs. But she didn't know better. Maybe she'd learn. Maybe he'd be the one to teach her somehow. Such honest reactions should be guarded. It gave the other party power. Even when she spat fire at him, she couldn't hide, not really. Those subtle hints of arousal were to close to the surface, too easy to see. Dilated eyes, hissed breaths, tight, puckered nipples.
He leaned his head back and looked through the tinted window. He was no better. Hard at the very thought of her. He saw her now, smiling slightly at the desk clerk, faking a yawn, even. She wasn't gorgeous. She wasn't a woman who turned heads as she walked down the street. He actually wouldn't be caught dead with her at charity event or museum opening. So what was it about her?
As she took the key. He let out a relieved breath at the sight of it in her hands. He'd nearly thought she'd stop, stomp back to the car, demand to be taken back to Smallville. But he'd left her too close to orgasm for that. She'd come back for more. She had to. Who else would give it to her?
Once again, he reflected on the blindness of the men in her life. Jimmy left her cold, Clark left her aching. It was hard to even admit that much. Half the reason she was so ready to fall into bed with him, even the first time, was because Clark left her primed with everything he didn't do.
He wondered what Clark would think, if he could see them. It wasn't a petty thought. Just curiosity. He might feel protective, sure. Outraged, even. But it wasn't half the blinding rage he'd feel if he could see what he'd done with Lana. Some of it, she'd even enjoyed, or at least put on a good show of it. He was never sure with her, even now. He almost wished he hadn't stopped taping at the mansion at Lana's behest. Clark could see it then. Now that was a petty thought.
He glanced to his right as the door opened. "Around the corner and on the end," Chloe said quickly, tossing the billfold to his lap. "I told him I needed eastern exposure." She turned to him and lifted an eyebrow. "That far enough for you, Your Grace?"
He grinned and licked his lips. She really was a mouthy thing. He was starting to like it. Maybe Clark wasn't blind. Maybe he saw exactly what Lex did. It would explain him keeping her close all these years. Maybe he'd be more than outraged, but this... This was something he'd never share, not with anyone, not even to see Clark's pain.
He backed out of the spot without a word and drove toward the end, turning to his left.
"Last room," Chloe said. Her voice was shaky.
He screeched into a spot and turned the engine off, getting out quickly and coming to her door. He opened it, nearly pulling her out. "No second thoughts," he said, pulling her flush against him.
She pushed at him slightly. "I never said I was having any," she growled. "I said I'd do this and I will. Okay?"
He pulled the key from her clenched fist and smirked. "So you'll just lay there and suffer me?"
Her brows drew together. "Well, maybe I won't now. If you keep..."
"Just checking. Stop being such a baby." He pulled her to the door.
"I'm not being a baby."
He smiled. He knew she was mad. He wanted her mad. He didn't want her scared and shaking. They didn't have alcohol to lubricate things, as it were. He was almost glad of it. No sensation would be dulled now. He half-wondered, even now, if it had just seemed that good because of the boozy haze. He'd know for sure now. The downside was that she was still quaking next to him. He turned the key and moved in.
"Chloe..." He flipped the light switch and moved furter in. A lamp next to the bed flickered to dim life. He turned to the doorway. "You coming in?"
"I... I said I would."
"So do it."
She closed the door, then leaned against it for a moment.
He moved to the far side of the bed, near the bathroom. It smelled like harsh pine disinfectant and burned slightly in his nostrils. It only further reminded him that he wasn't drunk tonight. Neither was she. He closed the bathroom door and glanced at her from his side of the bed. "Say it."
She moved closer to the bed, directly across from him, then shook her head and stared at the bed. "What am I supposed to say?"
"No more lies, Chloe." He shrugged out of his coat and let it drop to the floor.
Her eyes met his, then fell away. "I told you I wanted this."
"Then tell me more."
Her eyes met his again, stayed this time. "What kind of more do you need? I hate you and everything you stand for, everything you think is right, the things you do... And I'm here," she growled. "Isn't that enough?"
"I'd rather we left that at the door." He squared off with her. "What about the sex, Chloe?"
She stared at him for a long moment, then shrugged off her own coat. "You know it was good. We established that."
"Not in detail." His hands went to the hem of his sweater and he lifted it up and over his head, tossing it away. "I mean, do you know that you have the greatest pair of natural tits I've even seen?"
She blinked at him in the dim light. "Oh, that's poetic."
He shrugged. "Wasn't trying for poetic. It's just true." He toed off his shoes.
She looked down. From her shifting, he could see she was answering his move, taking off her own. "I..." Her eyes stayed down even as she stilled. "I find myself thinking about your hands sometimes."
His brow furrowed. "My hands?"
Her head stayed down slightly, but her eyes met his from behind her lashes. "They're strong, but smooth. Long fingers. Almost graceful. Like a pianist."
"Well..." He found his hands moving, clenching at his sides. "I do play." He pulled his undershirt off and tossed it... anywhere. "You have a strong body. It's small, but strangely powerful."
Her hands went to the buttons of her violet blouse. "And this is a good thing?"
He nodded, staring for every inch she revealed. "I'm not afraid to touch you. I couldn't break you... not in any way," he added hoarsely. He didn't want to. He never wanted to hurt enyone, not really. Not unless he had to. He'd broke Lana in a way. He hadn't meant to. Her bitterness was just something left in his wake. He'd be sorry for it, but he just couldn't be. Not anymore. In the end, he'd do more good than harm. If he could only get what he wanted... He would soon. He was going to Detroit again tomorrow. Kara, or Linda, was noticing him, at least. That faint spark of recognition. Maybe it was time to introduce himself, gain some ground...
"You're stronger than you look," she said.
He lifted his head and focused on the blonde that was actually in front of him. No. He really couldn't break her even if he wanted to. Even in this seedy room that reeked of misuse and disinfectant, now in her bra, about to climb into bed with him, she was so untainted still.
"I always thought you had a swimmer's body, lean and..." her breath caught as her eyes travelled down his chest to where his hands were on his belt buckle, "smooth. Not that I saw you naked before. I just..."
"You thought about it?"
She nodded, staying still as he removed his belt from the loops. She wasn't wearing a belt, so he supposed she didn't have a move right now in this unspoken mutual strip tease. Except... He tossed his belt to the floor. "I'd thought of you, too, before. It was when..." he stopped deliberately.
She took a step closer to the bed. "Yes?"
"You know, I'm not wearing a bra."
She smirked. "You'd look pretty funny if you were."
"Ah, but you're behind. Fair is fair." He looked pointedly at her chest, then at her face again.
She raised her eyes to the ceiling and let out a small breath, nearly a laugh, as her arms twisted behind her. She pulled the bra down her arms and tossed it to the bed. "Happy?"
He hummed slightly in his throat. "Very. Much like nearly every other man in the world, breasts always make me happy. Especially yours, lately. Though I do like that mouth of yours. It's.."
"Listen, you don't need to butter me up anymore," she cut in, her arms suddenly crossing. "I know I'm not blindingly beatiful."
"No, you're not."
She didnt look hurt, as if she'd been fishing for compliments. She just tilted her head, as if asking him why the hell he was bothering.
"You're pretty, though."
"Yes. Thank you. Thats good enough. Now can we just..."
"It's better than good. It's even better than beautiful. Beautiful's nice to look at, but hard to touch. You'd almost rather put a beautiful woman in a glass case. Preserve her forever. Don't let anything touch or sully her. But pretty... It's like the difference between a flawless diamond and a really good piece of pie." He nearly rolled his eyes at his analogy. He must have pie on the brain, what with his visits to that Detroit diner. He went with it, anyway. He was never one to back down from what he'd started. "That diamond is just something to look at, even marvel at. That's beautiful for you. If you touch it, you've taken some of its mystery away. But pretty... you'd be a fool not to touch it, take it... devour it, even."
"So... I'm pie?"
He shrugged, not about to back down from his analogy. "Wouldn't you rather be pie? Rather be tasted?"
Her throat worked and her hands moved to the clasp of her pants. "When?"
"Right now, if you want."
"No." Her hands worked her zipper down, then stilled. "When did you think of me before?"
"Many times. But most of them were during that summer."
She tilted her head. "The safe house?"
"You and your father were separated. Those guards worked for me. You were lonely. You'd hug me back then. You'd sometimes hug me just a little too long. I sometimes thought of how easy it could be to take you, teach you. But you were under eighteen, then."
She pushed her pants past her hips. "You were a little late. I'd already... learned by then."
He quickly worked at his own pants. "No, you hadn't. I don't think you learned a thing until your twenty-first birthday."
"Why?" She kicked her pants away. "Because I came? It wasn't the first time."
"The first time with someone else in the room, though."
She rolled her eyes slightly. "Yeah, well... I would have let you."
He nearly stumbled, then, trying to toe off his socks. "You liar."
"No. I'll leave that up to you." She lifted her chin. "You were the only man under forty I saw that summer. Even when you were sick, I wore my tightest shirts. Think I was wearing them for the guards?"
"I hoped not." He smiled suddenly. "You little minx."
"Well, I never thought you'd do anything. You were in bad shape that summer. I just had to make a good show of myself."
"You seemed to stop caring what kind of show you put on for me after the new year," he pointed out. "Avoided me like the plague, didn't you?"
She looked away, then back at him, hooking her thumbs in the sides of her panties. "Do you really want to keep talking?"
TBC
Yes. I know. I didn't get to the actual sex yet. But it's sometimes hard to get these two to shut up. They have lots of barbs and verbal sparring to get out, especially since they hardly share a scene in season seven. Lots of stored up snarkiness. Honestly, I think I'm lucky I got them to admit to even wanting each other.
Damned stubborn kids!
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