Pairing: Lex, Clark/Chloe
Disclaimer: I own nothing, please don't sue. A/N: This came out a lot darker than I ever thought it would and slighty Clexy to boot. I blame and thank Shelia for all. Written for the prompt: On camera Spoilers: Exile thru Reckoning.
Summary: Lex knows what and who Clark was doing the summer he ran away, and he's got it all on video.
Mine. You're mine.
Lex has watched this video a thousand times now.
A viewing per dollar spent cleaning it up, clearing out all the atmosphere noises of a busy nightclub and brightening the video to not look like it was taken in a place that the light of day never touched,
He has spent years on this pet project of his, and now finally his team of technicians have told him that it is as good as it is ever going to get.
"We're sorry, Mr. Luthor. This is the best we can do with a surveillance tape."
Lex had found the tape, along with numerous others a few months after his return from his little 'honeymoon for one' in the tropics. His father had seen Helen Bryce - Luthor for the gold digging bitch she was right away.
Lex had not.
Thankfully his father, who never let sleeping dogs lie, had but a tail on her as soon as he had disappeared.
There were hours upon hours of video of her dining here, shopping there, whilst Lex had fought a battle for his life and sanity, barely winning both.
Heartbroken and maybe slightly unhinged, he had watched them all.
For 3 days he had stayed in his den going through tape after tape. Investigators logs, photos, receipts. Looking for some clue, some notion that she didn't love him. That she had never loved him.
He was obsessed with her, even after throwing her out a plane.
His obsession hadn't stopped until he had come across this tape.
His eyes were glued to the screen. Helen was meeting with a tall and dashing, blonde man for drinks in a club. But it was not Helen, his eyes were glued to as she hugged and kissed the gentleman on the cheek, her lips lingering far to long for a grieving widow.
His eyes were focused on the booth behind her, and the familiar dark haired boy sitting there.
Lionel Luthor never knew the gold he in his hands.
Say it. Say it.
It had been grainy at first.
Two people, barely recognizable but obviously fighting. You could tell that just by their body language.
A small blonde figure, obviously female from the stature and the dress, was waving her hands around annoyingly. The larger male just sitting there, no - lounging there, letting the female rant about, paying her no mind, but flashing her a brilliant and wide, toothy smile.
It had been the grin that had nailed it for Lex.
He would know that mouth anywhere. Be it a shy farm boy smile, or a 'shut the fuck up' smirk like he was giving the girl now.
Lex had heard that Clark had disappeared the summer he had 'died'. He had thought it had been because of a misguided attempt to find and save him, much like Clark always did. Though, on screen, it looked more like Clark had just decided he was sick of playing the country mouse and had run away to the big city to live la vida loca.
Apparently, lounging smirky Clark had reached his limit with the rants of the fiesty blonde and grabbed her, pulling her into the booth with him.
A little detective work had told Lex that Chloe had been in Metropolis that summer working for the Daily Planet. He had been surprised, Chloe was a gifted writer, but at 17 to have your own column in one the world's most read papers, was unheard of.
He had found out that his father had been behind her rapid ascent up the career ladder. Lex did not know what Chloe had done to get Lionel to be so gracious, but he figured either the deal was shady or had been done on her back.
Either way, he knew who the blonde was right away.
He watched them fight some more, or more like he watched Chloe try and fight with Clark while Clark just sat there, lounging about like he was some Greek god and the club and all of its' patrons were his supplicants.
Lex would have liked to have known what Clark had said to Chloe that got him slapped, but the DJ had changed the record to a much harder, much bassier song and the audio guy had told him that clearing it up any further was hopeless.
But playing it on his 72 inch plasma screen tv, Lex could see as clear as day the word 'Bitch' forming on Clark's perfect mouth.
He watched as Clark made a grab for Chloe and then the whole thing went to shit.
Helen and the 'Ken' doll had apparently ordered a most expensive bottle of champagne. Celebrating my death, obviously, Lex had thought.
The waitress and the club manager had come over to them at that point and stood there for a number of minutes, their bodies blocking the camera's view of the booth behind. More than once over the past few years Lex had thought about having that manager tracked down and killed painfully for obstructing his view.
By the time the ass kissing had stopped and they had moved, Lex could see Chloe had been dragged onto Clark's lap. He held her in a vice like grip around the waist. She struggled against him, but he was too strong for her.
Enhancement of the video showed Clark moving his mouth from Chloe's ear to neck, but it was not clear if he was talking to her, or just mouthing her skin. Her will to fight was weakening, and Lex was unsurprised when she tilted her head back and grabbed at the dark hair, pulling his him closer to her skin.
It had been obvious to Lex, that Chloe had wanted Clark for years, but it had seemed she was stuck always playing second fiddle to the exquisite Lana Lang.
While Lana was beautiful and kind, Chloe was lacking, but she made up for that in an apparent willingness to be kinky.
Large hands moved all over her, not caring that they were on display for all to see. Lex watched Clark cup her breasts as he sucked on her neck. They were rubbing against each other like a couple of animals in heat. Bodies grinding in time to the beat laid out by the music in the club.
Lex sat on the edge of his seat, waiting with held breath, even after all these viewings, for the moment Clark slides inside her.
Chloe's mouth opened with a gasp and stayed like that, hanging open in a surprised 'oh' shape, while Clark's face took on a deep look of concentration. Lex watches as she starts to rise and fall in his lap.
Slow at first, maybe partially so as not to gain the attention of the dancing boozing crowd near by, but also Lex thinks it is because this is Chloe's first time. Her face contorted in a mask that does nothing to hide the look of pain one normally associates with getting one's cherry popped.
Or it could just be that Clark is that fucking huge that it makes her eyes go wide and her teeth bite into her bottom lip with enough force it make it bleed. All he can see of Clark is dark hair and the hint of his eyes glittering over her shoulder.
Lex curses yet again the presence of a table in front of them, hiding from view the sight of their joining. He could close his eyes and imagine it. Skirt rucked up around the waist, jeans opened just enough for basic sexual function. Clark's big cock sinking into the tight wetness hidden between her legs.
He could see it all, if only he was willing to close his eyes for just a second.
But then he would miss his favorite part.
I'm yours. Always yours.
The couple on screen were moving faster now. Lex could tell Chloe was close, gone was the look of discomfort and pain, her face now etched with a look of pure and unadulterated dirty pleasure. She jumped at Clark's use of his teeth on her neck, marring the pale flesh with a mark that was visible even on this crappy video.
And then Clark spoke.
The first hundred viewings of the tape, it wasn't clear what he was saying, but over the bass of the music, and the noise of the club goer's, Lex was certain he had heard Clark speak.
And now, he had his proof.
Proof that without a doubt, it was Clark in the club, screwing his 'gal pal' like he didn't have a care in the world.
No parents to answer to.
No sweet and innocent small-town girl at home pining over him.
No 'dead' best friend to mourn after.
Nothing but giving into pure and simple basic needs.
Want. Take. Fuck.
The words might not have sounded like Clark Kent, but the voice was a dead giveaway.
"Mine. You're mine."
Lex's hand found its' way into his pants. His cock, already hard and leaking. He stroked himself, timing his hand with the movements of the couple on screen.
He had never thought of Clark as being a talker in bed, especially outside of golly gee and oh my. Lex had to admit it was fucking hot hearing Clark of all people be bossy and aggressive, hell possessive even, during sex.
Say it. Say it.
His balls were tightening and he was moving his hand faster and faster. Getting closer to the edge with each thrust of Clark's hips into Chloe.
Lex grabbed the remote, not ready for this to be over with just yet. He hit the 'back' button, that gave him 15 seconds more.
Say it. Say it.
No, he told himself. He wouldn't. Not this time. Not again.
Lex closed his eyes, knowing the image on screen by heart. Clark's eyes screwed tightly shut, his hands gripping her body as he pushed her and himself over the edge.
I'm yours. Always yours.
Lex said it aloud, alone inside his huge medieval castle in the middle of rural Kansas, but at the same time as the girl on the screen.
He opened his eyes and watched as Chloe came down from her orgasmic high, Clark threw her off his lap with a smug bastard grin. Lex put himself back in his pants when Clark did the same. Throwing back the last remains of his drink and giving Chloe another pithy glance. He threw a bill on the table and get up and left.
Lex stopped the tape here. He had no desire to watch poor little Ms. Sullivan cry her eyes out over Clark Kent, yet again.
As always after he had watched his tape, Lex was left pondering the same thought he had been toying with ever since he had found this little 'gem'.
What would Lana think of this?
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