Title: Such A Dirty Word (1/1)
Author: sinecure
Character/Pairing: Chloe/Lex
Rating: Adult (M)
Genre: Smut, angst, drama-rama
Summary: Chloe propositions Lex.
Disclaimer: I don't own Smallville.
Author's Notes: Thanks to JennyLD for the beta. This was written for the Porn Battle over on Dreamwidth.


"I'm sorry, you want me to do what?" Lex narrowed his eyes on Chloe, seeing the independent woman he'd grudgingly come to admire standing before him, back stiff, head back, shoulders straight as she told him--

"I want you to fuck me." The words hadn't changed from the first time she'd said them. Surely she was joking.

A chuckle escaped him, and she narrowed her eyes. "I understand that you're hard up," he said scathingly, turning from her to sit at his desk. "But is this really the best way to--"

"I told you," she snapped, tossing the folder she'd brought with her onto his desk. "If certain people don't hear from me in three hours, those files, and more, will be sent to all the major newspapers in the state, and some across the country. A few smaller papers as well, and a couple of online ones just for good measure."

"You've got all your bases pretty well covered, haven't you?" He stared at the offending folder, the contents of which he knew contained details of recent, morally ambiguous business transactions he'd been involved in. Just a hint of some of those files could bring him to his knees. They wouldn't break him, but they would certainly cripple him for a time.

She crossed her arms over her chest, staring at him. No smirk, no sheen of victory visible on her face, but he could still feel it pouring off of her. "Three hours," she reminded him.

"Overstating your ability to arouse aren't you?" he sneered, sliding the folder across the desk toward her and standing up. Crossing to the bar, he poured a shot of scotch and sipped it slowly. "Why?"

She looked away quickly, eyes sliding from his. He'd never thought Chloe Sullivan particularly stupid, but tonight... this was monumentally stupid. And he didn't trust her.

"I want--" she stopped, swallowing, then paced away, shoving her hair behind her ear. Turning back to him, jaw raised, she stared him down. "I want you."

"Wow, you know, with that kind of passion between us, it's a wonder we've never taken care of the sexual tension before." Circling his desk, he slipped his hands into his pockets, sitting on the edge of the glass surface. "Try again with a little more feeling, and I might actually believe you." He eyed her impersonally. "No. On second thought... how about the truth this time?"

Her head lowered minutely, eyes dropping to her hands in front of her. "Does it matter?"

Tossing her a scathing look, he took her in. She was attractive, in a brash, colorful way. Though she dressed more conservatively these days--and her hair was straight, not the wild blonde strands they used to be--it was still in her. Locked inside, but there. Tonight it was just black jeans--had she chosen her clothes specifically to fit her purposes?--and a simple white blouse that flattered her figure, but somehow the outfit felt louder and noisier than it was.

She felt louder and noisier.

"If you're going to blackmail me into sleeping with you, then I think it matters."

After a few seconds, she rolled her eyes, though it looked more for herself than him. "It's--" She sighed heavily and lifted her head. "Clark--"

"Of course." He'd suspected as much, though he'd hoped it was more than that. Different than that. Everything, for Chloe, came back to Clark. He was the planet she orbited and it disappointed him. She had such potential. "Is he moving on again with someone else other than you? Someone new now that Lana's--"

Shaking her head just once, she bit her lip, eyeing him. "No. And he never finds out about this. Do we have a deal?"

Chloe flirted with the edge that Clark was afraid to go near and Lex found that... appealing. He'd be lying if he said he'd never considered her in a sexual way. She was pretty. Tough. Morally gray at times. Striking, in a way that didn't blind. And he'd certainly had a few fantasies about her over the years. Usually with her accusing him of something and him taking her by surprise and then taking her over his desk.

Or the pool table. The couch. Against the door. In front of the fireplace.

Shaking himself at the images that sprang to mind--the sound of her voice echoing throughout the room as she screamed his name--he stepped forward, fingers brushing the sleeve of her blouse. "Is this your chosen method of revenge? To make him jealous? To make him notice you as more than a sidekick?"

She didn't answer.

And he still didn't trust her.

Reaching behind her, he grabbed her bag and tipped it over, dumping the contents onto the couch.

"I don't have hidden cameras or recording devices," she sighed, making no move to collect her things, to hide them from her prying gaze. Her eyes rose to his, amusement swimming in them. "Paranoid much?"

Sifting through her wallet, pens, crumpled up papers, and various other items, he tossed her a disbelieving look. "Come on, Chloe. Revenge that only you'll ever know about? That's hardly satisfying."

She shrugged, tipping her head down minutely. "It's none of your business."

"On the contrary, it's very much my business." Satisfied that she wasn't secretly recording them, he stood up and grabbed the folder full of his downfall. It was sloppy work, hastily done, but effective enough. Especially with the way the press seemed determined to find fault with him over every transgression.

Luthors were never innocent.

Chloe shrugged, reaching for the folder, but he held it back from her, tossing it to his desk.

"I think I'll just hold on to this." She had more, and all of them were poised to be sent at the drop of a hat. Or rather, a press of a finger on a keyboard. Maybe a voicemail. Maybe all three. He still wasn't sure what all of this was about--certainly more than blackmail--but he was sure of one thing; Clark was at the center of it.

Clark and Chloe were the best of friends, but she'd never been satisfied with just that. Even after all these years, she was still in love with him. And Clark was still in love with Lana.

And Lex was... happy to take Lana from Clark.

But what about Chloe? He could take her from him as well. She was here, offering herself up in some twisted form of revenge. One that only she would know about. And Lex as well.

But then he realized, it'd be there, always. Every time Clark looked at Chloe, she would have that knowledge on her face, in her eyes, and Clark would wonder.

Secrets.

He hated when others kept them. But he loved having secrets of his own.

So, was this all for revenge? One only they would know about? Perhaps, yes. Chloe's vengeance was legendary, after all; hadn't she once joined with his father in the name of brash, obvious revenge?

Joined with him to take down his father for the same?

And now.

Sliding his hand down her arm, just barely touching her skin, soft and smooth beneath his fingers and palm, he watched in satisfaction as she shivered, lips tightening. "And what makes you think I'll give in to your blackmail?"

"Such an ugly word," she sighed, sounding like she was saying what was expected of her rather than what she wanted to say. "Lex, you'd do anything to keep those documents from coming to light." Moving forward, she straightened her shoulders, looking up at him. "And I'd do anything to--"

"Make Clark notice you." Her devotion to Clark mirrored his own to Lana. He wanted to taunt her, tease her for the way she clung to Clark like a lifeline, but without holding the mirror up to himself, he didn't think he could without facing a few truths. And right now, he didn't want his truth.

So, he'd let hers slip by.

"I told you, he doesn't ever find out. Or Lana." Her brows rose in challenge. "I don't need to parade any of this in front of them, it's just for my own... I--" she exhaled heavily. "Look, Lex, you're the perfect form of revenge. Everything Clark hates. You're already taking everything he wants in the form of Lana. But this is for me. Something I need to do."

He still wasn't completely sure he believed her.

Did it matter? No. He wanted her to use him, and he certainly wasn't averse to using her as well. No one would ever know. But they would. Lana might pick up on something, Clark would see him through his usual filth-covered glasses, but they'd only be left to wonder and speculate.

And that was fascinating to him.

"All right," he finally agreed, crossing to take another sip of his scotch. "I accept your terms."

She merely stared back at him, looking caught. Unprepared. "Good," she forced out, nodding shortly. "Good." Slightly more confidence the second time around, but not enough to make him think she really wanted to do this.

"You're not changing your mind now that it's come down to it are you?" he asked, eyeing her disinterestedly. He hoped not, now that he had a vested interest in this, now that he wanted her for the simple reason that she was being dangled in front of him. Pulling away now would just make him want her more, and that was unacceptable.

It was a flaw.

"No," she insisted. "I'm not. I want-- need to do this." The words were more for herself than for him, and, as much as he didn't want her to back out, he began to think twice about the whole thing.

When she'd first offered herself up, it'd been exciting and delicious. But now that she had doubts, it felt more along the lines of non-consensual sex, and that was abhorrent to him.

"You don't want to do this." He was concerned that she was making herself do the very thing she seemed determined would the best thing for the situation. Though he didn't understand why, or the way her mind worked.

"And you do?" she tossed back, near-desperation on her face. Wanting reassurance, or the truth?

Leaving his scotch behind, he ran his eyes over her. "It's not the first thing that comes to mind when I hear blackmail." His lips curved up, brow rising in amusement. "There's usually more pain and blood involved. But this time, the necessary easily became want. Yes, I do want it." Slipping his knuckle down her cheek, brushing the peppering of moles there, he told her the truth. "I can't say I've never thought about it before."

She snorted, nodding, dislodging his hand. "Yeah. In between all the marriages and chasing Lana, I'm sure your mind has been filled with thoughts of me. Look, I don't need pretty words and lies. I'm committed. I just had a second of doubt, that's all."

Sure there was more to it than that, he watched her a moment longer, but she didn't flinch or pull away. "Very well." He took her wrist and drew her toward the doors. "Let's go--"

"Go? Go where?" She pulled her hand free from his, staying where she was, looking as mutinous as he'd ever seen her. She might be willing to sleep with him, but she wasn't quite ready.

He couldn't have that. Not when he'd decided to take advantage; of her, of the situation. Of his reputation as a lecherous lout.

"To a bedroom," he said slowly, as if she were slow, knowing she'd react strongly, giving back as good as she got. He liked that about her. It kept things interesting.

She shook her head, stepping backward. "I don't want to go to your room. God knows who you've had up there."

"I said a bedroom," he retorted, feeling an irrational urge to grin at her. "Not my bedroom. I don't--" shoving his hands into his pockets, he faced her more fully, unwilling to share the details of whom he did and didn't allow in his bedroom. "Where did you have in mind then?"

She tossed her arm out. "I thought we'd do it here."

He stared at her in disbelief. And rising desire. Here, where his fantasies could collide with reality. "In my office? What makes you think I'd want to fuck you here?" She flinched minutely: but he ignored it.

A better man wouldn't take her up on her offer. A better man would speak of loving another woman, being faithful to her, and point out that all of this was wrong. A better man would take his lumps and escort Chloe out.

Lex Luthor wasn't a better man.

"I don't know." She glanced around, staring at certain spots. "With all the horrible things that've happened in this room, wouldn't it be nice to add something... good? Ish." Her hand caressed the couch back, eyes lowering to the leather. "I fantasized about it, you know. Here." She grinned suddenly and gestured to the desk with her head. "There. The pool table."

It surprised him that she'd actually fantasized about him. "Little Chloe Sullivan had naughty thoughts about evil Lex Luthor. Will wonders never cease?"

She drew in a deep breath and dropped her bag, shoving her jacket off her shoulders. "Never said I was fantasizing about you. Just this room."

His eyes lit up, imagining her here, solo.

"Not that either," she added, fingers slipping the buttons of her blouse free.

"Jesus," he breathed, the familiar feeling of disgust and betrayal flowing through him at the thought of yet another woman in his life--no matter that they weren't involved--wanting his father.

"God, Lex, I meant with Clark." Her eyelashes lowered to her cheeks, brushing the skin at her admission. "Can we just get this over with already before you think I meant with Lana too?"

Well, that was an interesting thought.

Loosening his tie, he watched her slip her blouse off, dropping it to the floor without hesitation. Not modest then. He liked that. She bent to pull off her boots and he turned to shut and lock the doors. Was he really going to fuck Chloe just to keep a few secrets quiet?

No. There was more to it than that, but he wasn't about to tell her that. He'd allow her to continue to think that he'd fuck her--someone who couldn't stand him--because she was blackmailing him.

Would it be worth it? Maybe not. Still, he was becoming aroused. How much of that was because he was stealing something from Clark?

Something Clark thought was his alone.

She was all grown up now, and Lex had noticed. Glancing at the side door, he saw the lock was turned and returned his attention back to Chloe. She was standing in her bra and jeans, which were open enough to show a triangle of white panties. Definitely grown up. The stark white of her bra contrasted with her tanned chest and stomach, the mounds pushed up to their best advantage.

Had she dressed for him? Expecting to stand naked before him?

His cock hardened.

Drawing the tie free from his collar, he strode back to her, watching her peel her jeans off and toss them to the floor. Blood flowing a little faster, he tipped his neck back, unbuttoning the collar of his shirt. Then his sleeves. Chloe watched him, unwaveringly, not playing at being bashful.

Not hiding from him.

"Can you hurry it up? I said three hours." She pressed one foot on top of the other, finally showing some nerves. "You don't even have to undress," she groused, sighing. Crossing to him, hips swaying unaffectedly, she reached up and brushed his hands aside. "You'd think, after all the women you've fucked, you'd be better at undressing."

"I'm a skilled lover, Chloe, but even I think three hours is shooting a little high." Undoing his pants, he opened them, inhaling the scent of her skin. She methodically undid his shirt, hands not touching him. She'd have to get over that rather quickly if she expected them to fuck.

Reaching into his pants, he rubbed his hardening cock as she finished with his shirt. It was just a business transaction to her; fuck Lex, get back at Clark. For him as well; fuck Chloe, keep his business.

But it bothered him. He was usually the one that felt that way. A warm body to slake his lust in. That's all most women were to him.

"You're going to have to touch me eventually, you know."

"It's business," she told him, shoving his shirt open. "I won't say I don't find you attractive. You are, and you know it, I know it. The world knows it. I won't even say I'm not willing and somewhat aroused." She took his hand and settled it on her chest, sliding it inside her bra where her nipple was tight and puckered. "That's obvious. But at its core, this isn't about us. We both want something, and sex just happens to be the price."

His lips curved up bitterly. "Such a romantic prelude." Unwilling to listen to more of her reasoning, he grabbed her jaw and tilted her face to his. "Last chance to back out."

"I started this," she reminded him, then snaked her hand behind his neck, drawing him down, slamming her mouth to his.

His first taste of Chloe was spicy and warm, like rum and nutmeg with a hint of sweetness. But the sweetness was deceptive. She didn't bother with foreplay, didn't bother trying to get him in the mood, and he wasn't even sure if she was. Her hand dropped between them, shoving his aside to stroke him over his boxers.

Fingers cold and stiff, she encircled his cock and pumped, strictly to arouse, not to please.

He tore his mouth from hers. "Chloe--"

"Shut up." She dropped her head to his chest, breathing harshly, heavily. The weight of what she was doing settling on her shoulders. "Just... please." Eyes lifting to his, begging him, she licked her lips and reached behind her to release her bra.

Taking her arms in a way that he knew she was familiar with, he stopped her. "Why are you really doing this?"

His question didn't please her, she froze for a second, blinking rapidly, then shook his hands from her and resumed her task, dropping the bra from her shoulders and sliding it off. Eyes following the path the white cloth took, he hardened even more, slightly disgusted at himself for becoming aroused when she was so obviously not enjoying herself.

Not completely able to throw off her morally imposed rules. Rules that he had no doubt Clark had a hand in shaping.

Cupping her face, feeling a little guilty for agreeing to it, yet not wanting to stop now, he tipped her face up to his.

She shook out of his grip again and bent to pull off her panties. Kicking them aside, she stood before him, drawing in a deep breath. "I just am. Don't worry about me now, you stopped that years ago."

Bitterness.

He wasn't surprised; she was right. He'd dropped her as soon as her usefulness had ended. Dropped her into the life of a partial pariah and felt no guilt in doing so.

Nodding, he accepted the accusation. "All right, no phony concern. Shall I fuck you now, Chloe? Here?" He gestured to the desk. "There maybe?" The pool table. "It's sturdy, surely it'll hold our combined weight." Eyes dropping to hers, he saw her flinch. Again. "You're so small, I'm sure... ah. Remembering a certain conversation?"

"Seems I'm good enough to fuck at least."

He didn't regret his taunts. She didn't have any business telling him or Lana what they should do in their lives when she, herself, had barely stepped out of the wading pool into a love life. Apparently, she was slightly more experienced than he'd thought. "Never said you weren't."

Tired of talking, he pulled her to him and kissed her, holding her still for it, feeling her fingers twisting in his undershirt.

She was tired of stalling as well. She shoved at his pants, lowering his boxers, freeing him more fully. He was hard enough now. Not completely, but enough to do the job for her. And he would. Sliding his fingers between her legs, he checked, surprised to find her wet.

Pulling back, lips smacking apart, he stared at her. So nervous and uncomfortable, but--

"Told you I was aroused," she said, avoiding his gaze.

To thoughts of Clark? he wanted to ask, but didn't. Couldn't. He didn't want Clark in this anymore than he already was.

Grasping her waist, he lifted her onto the back of the couch and then kissed her, pressing his fingers into her again, rubbing quickly at her clit. He wanted this over quickly; it all felt so dirty to him. But he wasn't stopping it from happening.

He still wasn't a better man.

She whimpered into his mouth, and his cock twitched at the sound. The tone of her voice had always been pleasant to him, but tonight, in this situation, and with the way it was so deep in her throat and at the attention of his hand, it more than pleased him.

Tonight changed things between them.

It might be a simple, quick fuck, but they'd never be the same.

He'd always hear that whimper when he heard her voice, always feel the wet flesh on his fingertips, always feel her leg wrap around his waist, holding him closer. Would she, as well? Would she hear his voice and be reminded of the feel of his fingers, his mouth, his cock? He wanted her to. If he had to be haunted, shouldn't she?

"Harder," she moaned, startling him. Actively participating.

He'd expected nothing but simple responses. It was nice to know that she didn't intend to lie like a dead fish as he had his dastardly way with her. "Touch me." The words surprised him as they spilled from his lips, a slight pleading quality to them.

Her legs were around his hips, her hands in his shirt, lips on his in between words, but he wanted more.

Sliding her hand down to his cock, she stroked it slowly, fingers brushing his balls on every down-stroke. Her lips slid down to his jaw, pressing and tasting and licking. This was more acceptable. Less dirty. "You're so hot and wet," he murmured into her ear and felt her shiver.

Like it was a game, she tossed back how hard he was. And then, "So, you'll just fuck anyone, Lex?" It wasn't an accusation because she was guilty of the same.

Shuddering at the sound of his name in that deep, throaty voice, he thrust his fingers deeper, leaving off her clit for the moment. "Not just anyone," he admitted, pulling free of her lips to slip his fingers out and slide them into his mouth. "Special circumstances."

"That makes it worse." She thrust her hips forward, using him as leverage. Wrapping an arm around his neck, hand drawing him closer, she guided him to her, pressing the tip of his cock tantalizingly close to her heat. "I'm no better," she muttered, arching into him. "Worse actually."

"Maybe." He couldn't really blame her for something he, too, was doing. Lana wasn't just his last chance at being pulled into the abyss his father resided in, she was also a chance to fuck over Clark. Revenge.

His tasted sweet. Chloe's didn't. That was the difference between them.

Grabbing her hips, he bent his knees and thrust into her, catching her as she fell forward into him.

"Fuck," they both groaned as she adjusted around him and he buried himself as deep as he could. Her wet, welcoming body felt better than he'd ever thought it could. He should've instigated this years ago. Sucking in a breath, he held her hips and began to thrust, lifting her legs higher up his waist.

"God. God. God." Body shuddering against his, she tightened her hand around his neck and drew him down, lips and teeth and tongue taking everything she could from him. Giving back too.

He felt like he was drowning, and happily.

Cock twitching in her, he began a rough, quick pace, too impatient to go slowly. He'd wanted it over quickly earlier, now he just wanted it. Wanted her. Ready to get down on his knees and beg her to squeeze harder and-- fuck! Her hand cupped his balls, the heel rubbing him, making him jerk against her.

"Again," she panted, fingers clawing into his neck, scraping down the skin, leaving stinging pain blossoming in their wake. "God, Lex, do that again." Her voice was strained and reaching a pitch he'd never heard from her. Filled with desperation and pleasure. Dropping her head back, she gasped, fighting for breath, but drawing in more than she let out.

She was close. Already. That surprised him as much as how wet she was. For him.

Slamming his hips forward, he angled her back, forcing her to hold onto him with arms and legs, forcing her to balance precariously on the back of the couch. Better able to slide into her this way, he dug his fingers into her hips, nails scraping her as she had him. He thrust hard, in short strokes, feeling his body begin to tighten.

Illicit, secret sex with someone who was hands-off by all accounts--his and hers and Clark's and Lana's--turned him on. Her breasts, bouncing with his every thrust, turned him on. The cries leaving her throat, rising in pitch and need turned him on. He wanted it to last forever now, to stay here with her, always sliding into her body, hovering near the edge--

Edge of his couch, edge of his arousal, edge of completion.

--fucking her into oblivion as the outside world rotated around them, unaware.

"Faster, Lex. God. So hard and--" She threw her head back, arm holding him still as she kissed him again, hampering his movements, but drowning him in her.

She tasted of warmth and spices and sex and him. She smelled of him and he wanted the scent to stay on her, for everyone to know.

"Hard," she bit out, clenching around him, gasping. "Thought it'd-- I shouldn't-- ohhh! Lex!" Her voice wrapped around his name as if it were new to her and the only thing between her and life and the string holding her up. Body arching like a bow, she jerked and bucked against him.

Coming. Beautifully coming under his body. Around him.

"Lex," she gasped, drawing the name out like a savior. "Not supposed to-- not-- oh, god." Her body went limp.

He caught her again, and drove into her hard, lifting her tight against him, barely sliding out anymore. He wanted-- needed-- there. Just... right-- so close. Her hand grabbed his balls again, rubbing quickly, and he lost his grip on his arousal.

It slammed into him, moving through him with the force of a truck, snapping his control. Hips bucking against hers, fingers digging into her ass, he buried himself deep inside her as his cock began to spurt his seed. So deep. So warm.

Drowning again.

Almost.

"Chloe... oh, fuck. You're-- don't..." He scrambled to pull her to him, needing her body on his.

Wet muscles clenching around him, she rocked into him, riding out small contractions fluttering through her, and him. He wasn't sure whose body it was, but he thought maybe it was his. His cock continued to twitch inside her as he rose up and drew her bodily against him, plastering her sweat-slicked skin to his.

Warm and solid.

Her breath burst against his neck, fingers smoothing lightly down his scalp as they both settled down. His cock slowly went soft inside her, and he still didn't want to move. She didn't seem inclined to either.

Breathing hard, he flattened his palms on her back, trying to stay inside her as long as possible.

"Such a dirty word," she whispered.

********

"Did you get it?" Chloe asked.

Kevin glanced around before moving out of the shadows toward her. "Money shot." He held his camera out, flipping the digital screen around to show her a picture of her and Lex; her arm was around his neck, legs wrapped around his waist as he thrust inside her. His shirt was still on, pants hanging off of his hips by the grace of the devil and her foot.

Swallowing, she flicked her eyes away from the image, feeling her stomach tighten.

Mission accomplished.

She hadn't known Kevin for very long, just long enough to hire him, tell him exactly what she wanted, and how to get it--the side door to Lex's office, money shot--but he seemed to sense her mood and didn't bother with small talk.

Swinging the camera around on the strap until it rested squarely on his chest, he squinted up at the moon and then back at her. "Ms. Lang will have them in her mailbox by morning. Anonymously, of course."

Chloe nodded, lips tight, not trusting herself to speak. Disgust roiled in her. For herself, for Lex, for everything that she was willing to do to save her friends from themselves.

"I'll be going then," Kevin told her, turning and disappearing back into the shadows. His footsteps echoed down the alley, fading into nothing.

Chloe turned to go home, then dropped to her knees and threw up.