Title: Burn
Author: Jinni
Rated: 18
Pairing: Chlex, of course. Does anyone expect me to write anything different?
Disclaimer: All things Smallville belong to DC Comics, the WB, et al.
Distribution: The normal places.
Author’s Notes: Every now and then I ask those people that read my LJ to challenge me to write a fic of their choice. This is in response to Clannadlvr’s challenge on my LJ. She wanted an iris, a letter opener, and for me to gain inspiration from some pretty dark lyrics. This is what she got. And beta'd. *lol*
Dedicated: To my beta and challenger, Clannadlvr.
Summary: It’s the iris on her doorstep that lets her know what’s waiting…
~*~*~
It’s the iris on her doorstep that lets Chloe know what’s waiting on the other side, tucked safely away from her neighbors’ prying eyes.
No, not –what-, she corrects herself as she bends down to grab the flower, inhaling its delicate fragrance.
-Who-.
He hasn’t been by in a week and she doesn’t know why he bothers now, only that there is still some part of her that wants him here, no matter how much it hurts when he leaves again. She’s resigned to this half-relationship with little lies that she tells herself. Things like “he cares about me” and “he wants to be with me,” which she knows are true only on the most basic of level…
… and yet it is pretty to think that maybe, just maybe, one day things will change between them.
Her breath hitches in her throat as she unlocks the door. The sound of the lock sliding back makes a resounding click in the otherwise silent hall… or maybe the stark difference is just a sign of her nerves playing tricks on her.
Turn around, walk away, a little voice whispers in the back of her mind. Go back to the office or get a hotel room… he’ll forget about you again soon enough.
Don’t let him walk all over you, the voice continues even as she begins to open the door. Inch by inch she’s giving in, without even meaning to… craving what he can give her like a drug that she can’t get enough of.
And, like a drug, she knows she needs to stop coming back for more, but is powerless to do so.
She can see his profile as she steps into the entryway. A shadow of darkness on the background of the sunset that shines in through her living room window. He’s at her desk and she doesn’t doubt that he’s been through whatever she left laying out. Even as she watches, he plays with the letter opener. Her mail, she realizes, is stacked nice and neat on the corner of the huge, oak monstrosity of a desk that she uses when she works from home.
A desk that he bought for her to commemorate that first time that she had lied to herself. When she had laid back on his desk, a pen biting into her back, and let him take her passionately, roughly. She had loved it. Loved the way he could make her feel.
But she hadn’t loved the cold way she felt after.
“You’re late.”
“I didn’t know I was having company tonight,” she argues pointlessly. Her coat is thrown on the back of the couch, her purse joining it. Shoes are slung over to one side of the room, kicked with all the fury that she doesn’t dare unleash on him.
No sense staying dressed… he doesn’t want to see you dressed.
He stands, swiftly moving around the desk even as she struggles to catch her breath. There’s something wild in his eyes as he grabs hold of her upper arms, pulling her roughly to his body.
Something primal, feral.
“Lex –“
His lips cut off her words. Tongue forcing its way into her mouth, he all but growls his pleasure.
And it makes her wet. Instantly. The kiss, the hard way he’s holding her, the noise he makes – she can’t say for sure what about him does it for her, only that it makes her insides melt.
She pushes into his body as he lets go of one of her arms. Hand sliding up her thigh, Lex easily bypasses her skirt, fingers hooking into the delicate line of her pantyhose. They rip and she whimpers.
“Why can’t I get you out of my head?” he groans into her mouth, pulling away from their kiss so briefly that Chloe wonders if she heard him right… or if maybe she had just imagined it all.
His finger is between her legs, pushing indelicately at her tender folds, demanding entrance to her body. She spreads her legs as much as her skirt and torn pantyhose will allow, giving him access to her heat. At the first touch she fears she just might come undone.
But she doesn’t.
She doesn’t scream or cum, though she’s burning to do both. His touch is fire on her already heated folds, stroking her clit with caresses that belie the feral intensity he has used thus far.
And, because she’s not screaming, because she’s holding back, there’s no denying that she understands what he says next.
“You’re my obsession…”
She pulls away, looking at him through lust-hooded eyes. He doesn’t question the move, but doesn’t speak again. Doesn’t offer any words of explanation.
And she doesn’t let herself think anything more of it than what it is. He wants her, the same as always. The only difference is that now he is giving voice to that want.
It doesn’t mean that he will be there when she wakes up.
Doesn’t mean that this has turned into something more than a quick, furious fuck.
She fumbles for the zipper on his pants, her body trembling with need until he is finally in her hand. Hard, thick… ready beyond a reasonable doubt to take her just like she wants to be taken.
Doesn’t she want it softer, slower, that annoying little voice whispers to her? Doesn’t she wish, just this once, that fucking would give way to making love?
“Fuck me,” she hisses, back arching as he finds a good tempo with his fingers, stroking her clit to the point she fears she might melt down in his arms. It’s as much an answer to that demanding voice in her head as an entreaty to him.
He smirks, stepping back. The clothes are shed, piled neatly on the couch. It wouldn’t do to ruin a three hundred dollar outfit for something as trivial as this. Just two people indulging in their baser natures.
Nothing more.
The wall is cold on the back of her thighs, as he presses her against it, hands lifting her up and onto his hips. She moans his name, knowing that she’ll be screaming it soon.
“LEX!”
The screaming his name part comes sooner than she would have thought, she chuckles silently as the wave of pleasure his mere entry into her body caused slowly begins to pass.
She puts her hands on his shoulders, bracing herself as he drives her into the wall. With every out stroke she can feel the coolness of the air on her wet heat and wishes that he would just stop pulling out, just rock against her and keep that blessed warmth between them.
He puts his head down, mouth resting lightly in the crook of her neck. The hot air of his breath beats against her skin even as his body slams into hers. Once, twice. Pull out and do it again. She counts the rhythm in her head to distract herself, to prolong that ecstatic feeling of being on the edge that he brings her to, even as she reaches a hand up to cradle the back of his head.
God, if she could just keep him like this.
But the moment is over too quickly, as it always is. She is the first to cry out, screaming his name over and over again in a harsh litany that leaves her throat raw. Body pulsing, she convulses around his hard length, spasming from the inside out as her body tumbles head over heels into the gaping cavern of her orgasm.
Seconds later he joins her, quieter but no less impassioned. Her name tumbles from his lips as he stiffens, deep within her body.
Chloe.
He’d said her name.
She thinks that she might stop breathing when the realization of it hits her. Her name, on his lips… when he’s never called out like that before. Groans, moans… but never her name.
And, for one brief moment, she allows herself to indulge in the pleasure that the moment brings.
But… only for a moment.
He pulls away and that fire that threatened to burn her alive is suddenly quenched by the coldness that his departure brings. She knew it was going to happen, but the loss never ceases to hurt.
“I can’t fuck this need away,” he growls, reaching for his clothes, and the statement takes her aback.
“I’m sorry?”
But she’s not. As much as the words are torn from lips that obviously hate to say them, she relishes them for what they are.
An admission.
He does need her.
He looks over, smiling bitterly. “You should be, you know. I go to sleep at night wanting to be with you. I wake up wishing you were there. I try to stop… to leave you alone, but I can’t.”
“Why –“
“Because you’re better off without me!” he yells, face flushing. His shirt is balled up so tightly in his hands that she wonders absently if the wrinkles will ever come out. “I told you that before… before we started this.”
”And we did it anyway.”
He snorts. “We did. And I’ve spent every moment since then trying to get you out of my system.”
But he can’t, the words go unspoken.
“I’m not a nice man, Chloe. You know that better than anyone.”
She nods and he just stops, staring at her through dark eyes.
“Why do you still let this happen?”
“Because,” she pauses, licks her lips. “… because maybe I can’t get enough of you either.”
He grunts, nodding his head once. “You were warned.”
“I know.”
Another nod, another indecipherable nod of the head as those cool, sparkling eyes regard her with unreadable emotions swirling in their depths.
She feels frightened… exhilarated… and something else that’s indescribable…
“Pack what you need.”
And that’s all that she needs from him, because it’s all that he can give her now, at that moment.
And, damn if that hope hasn’t wriggled its way back into her life.
Perhaps this time she’ll even let it stay.
~*~End Ficlet~*~
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