AN: Anyone out there still remember this story? Sorry for the delay. Summer has not been good to me in terms of inspiration, but I'm slowly getting back into it. Enjoy. :)

6.

She was dressed and packing when Lionel woke up. He squinted his eyes, clearing all remnants of sleep, and zeroed in on her figure, running back and forth from the bathroom to the bedroom, dropping toiletries in her suitcase. He smiled, remembering the night before. He still couldn’t quite grasp it. He propped himself up on elbow and raised his eyebrows.

“Going somewhere?”

Startled, she stopped in the doorway, eye wide as if caught in an illicit act. She pushed her hair behind her ears, as she did whenever she was nervous, and shifted her weight to one side.

“Uh.”

Lionel frowned, sensing an air of discontent he hadn’t sensed before. “Trying to make a clean break of it?”

She took a deep breath, not meeting his gaze, and began approaching the bed slowly. “I…” Halfway there, she paused, suddenly taken aback by the site of him in bed, in the bed that they’d shared all night. She remembered how gentle he had been, yet so fervent. She had been so disconnected, and had even caught herself thinking of Jonathan once or twice. But Lionel had been so grateful, so generous. She couldn’t ignore how badly he had wanted it. “I’m sorry, Lionel.”

He pursed his lips, dreading what it seemed likely she would tell him. “Sorry for what?”

Martha looked away, tapping the toothbrush she was holding against her palm repeatedly, a nervous tick. “I thought I was ready…”

“You are ready, Martha,” Lionel insisted, sitting up fully. “But that doesn’t mean the first time is easy. It’s been three years. Ready or not, you’re bound to feel a little resistant. The change doesn’t happen overnight.”

She sighed, then sat on the edge of the bed, with her back to him. “I was thinking of him.”

Lionel closed his eyes, hurt by the words, then nodded knowingly. “I know.”

Martha turned her head, surprised. “You do?”

“Well, you weren’t all there, I figured you were either thinking of Jonathan or Robert Redford, my guess was Jonathan.”

She scooted over a little, now adjacent to him. “It’s not fair to you. You’ve waited so long…”

“That’s right.” He nodded. “So what makes you think I’m likely to give up now?” Martha turned and locked eyes with him, and he saw that hers were brimming with tears. He leaned forward, taking her hand. “You’re doing fine, Martha.”

She nodded, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. “He would hate this.”

Lionel glanced down, away from her gaze. “He would want what you want.”

Quietly, she whispered, “I’m not sure what I want.”

“You seemed pretty sure last night,” he replied, meeting her eyes fleetingly, to gauge her reaction, before looking away again.

Martha shrugged. “Heat of the moment.”

“Heat indeed.”

She felt her lips curve into a reluctant smile as she rolled her eyes at him. After a minute, her expression transformed into one of a forlorn, confused woman. “Lionel…” She hesitated, biting her lip. “You know we’ll never be able to have a…real relationship.”

He pulled his hand away from hers and leaned back against the headboard, sighing reflectively. He had feared hearing the words, yet had always known them to be the truth. Though part of him wondered if the chase had been half the appeal anyway. No, he thought, looking at her. Just part of the fun. “I understand.”

“I’m surprised you still want me,” Martha said, as if reading his mind. “Now that you have me.”

He looked at her seriously, his expression nothing less than genuine. “I always want you.”

She smiled, and Lionel couldn’t determine whether she was happy to hear this or sad. She had always wondered why he had such strong feelings for her. Not that she was particularly self-deprecating, but she wanted to know why he, Lionel Luthor specifically, had always been so crazy about her. She was never quite sure of anything except that he was.

As she studied his face, nervous and eager, enamored and patient, she suddenly felt her muscles loosen a bit and her lips curved into a wider, slightly more seductive smile. Despite the improbability of a relationship between them and the damaging problems he had caused her family, she couldn’t deny that it was nice to be wanted. She had experienced the lust directed at her from the oversexed men in Washington, but somehow it wasn’t that same. Lionel wanted her in more ways than they did, and had for so long. That, she acknowledged, was worth quite a bit to her.

Martha stood then, feeling unexpectedly confident, discarding the purple suit jacket she had donned while he was asleep. He watched her curiously and intently, entranced by her every move. When the jacket hit the floor, she kicked off her high heels and began unbuttoning her silk blouse, her eyes never leaving him. As her undressing progressed, Lionel’s eyes widened with both desire and astonishment. Though he had known her for so many years, her ability to surprise him continually amazed him. Her blouse fell to the floor beside the jacket and she reached behind her to unzip her form-fitting, purple pencil skirt, and soon it was the latest to join to rapidly growing pile of clothing. She crawled into bed then, pleased by the stunned and delighted expression on his face, and hovered over him, smiling deviously.

“Why, Martha Kent,” he breathed, smiling widely. “There are few people in this world who have rendered me speechless. You…” He was cut off by her lips, taking his by force, her scantily clad body pressing his down further into the bed.

Breaking the kiss, she grinned with wily satisfaction. “You were saying?”

He shook his head, partly at her and partly due to his unwillingness to say anymore. As their hands began to roam again, Lionel knew that this time, she was thinking of him. And though neither one of them knew what would become of their little patchwork relationship the next day, it would do them no good to think about it now.

END.