Lunch at the Gotham Caf
Keywords: futurefic, romance
Spoilers: Season 1, Vortex,
Disclaimers: All traditional Smallville characters belong to... well, not me, that's for sure.
Summary: A familiar tradition takes an unexpected twist
Author's Notes: This is for the Stephen King Title Challenge at http://www.livejournal.com/talkread.bml?journal=slodwick&itemid=33206# cutid1
"Lunch at the Gotham Cafe"
[Gotham City, 2012]
She was alone at their usual table when he arrived, sipping water from stemmed crystal while she flipped idly through the menu. Her bearing and demeanor was that of casual boredom, her appearance--a black pants suit offset with a cream-colored lace chemise and highheeled shoes--a pleasant mix of professional and seduction. She'd let her hair grow out recently, and it was curly now... a mass of golden ringlets framing her pert face. The years had changed the spunky reporter from Smallville.
He looked pretty much the same, with the exception of a few more care lines around his eyes. The same dark suits and his customary shirts in varying shades of purple, the same piercing determination in his eyes.
He watched her for a moment and then turned to the hostess. "Of course, Mr. Luthor," she said in answer to his question. "Your party is this way." He allowed himself to be led to the table.
"You're late," his companion said as he shrugged off his black overcoat and sat down.
"I know. My meeting with Bruce ran long," he said by way of explanation.
"Meeting? Oh, please. The two of were probably holed up in that gothic wonder he calls a home, knocking back cognac and sharing all the details of your latest conquests." As she spoke, her lips curled into a sarcastic smirk.
He laughed heartily. "Bruce doesn't seem to have slowed down any, does he?" Every time he saw his sometime colleague, sometime adversary, he had a new woman on his arm.
"No, but you certainly have. You do know you're only Number Five on the Top Ten Most Eligible Bachelors list this year, don't you?" There was an accusation here... something left unsaid that they hadn't discussed.
"Only?" he asked with a trademark smirk. "I must be slipping in my old age."
She snorted softly. "So... how's tricks in good old Metro these days?"
He loved the way she could change the subject without batting an eyelash. "Off the record?" he inquired with an upward quirk on his eyebrow.
"Of course." Another playful smirk of her full lips. He returned it, making eye contact and letting something pass between them nonverbally.
"Oh, you know. Same old, same old. Shadowy business deals, crooked politicians, and flying farm boys everywhere I look--largely thanks to your incredibly oblivious cousin, I might add."
Chloe laughed. "Do you mean to tell me Lois still hasn't figured it out yet?" She sounded doubtful.
"As blatantly obvious as it is--no, I don't think she has." He was laughing with her now. They'd both figured out their mutual friend's secret years ago, but it was beginning to look like Lois Lane never would.
"How about you?" he asked when their mirth began to fade.
"Oh, you know Gotham... between the criminals and the Big Black Bat-- it's utterly boring."
Their conversation stopped as the waitress came to take their order. They both ordered the Caesar salad and then she added, "Chef Bob has a new specialty."
"Does he?" Chef Bob? Roberto would be turning several shades of white if he heard her bastardizing his name like that. "Are you recommending it?"
"Sure, why not!" she grinned as she handed her menu to the waitress. "I'll have the usual, Sally. So will he."
Sally smiled. "Coming right up, Ms. Sullivan." She took Lex's menu, and then paused, adding a tentative "I loved your article in the Times. It was really great."
"Why... thank you. But you don't have to say that. It wasn't that good."
"Don't be so modest, Chloe," Lex told her as the waitress left. "It was wonderful. Much better than anything Lois Lane's been writing these days."
"You read it?"
"I read all your articles. I'm quite the fan." Did she think he wouldn't check up on her? "I'd venture to say you're doing well for yourself."
"All right," she met his gaze with eyes twinkling. "I just moved into a bigger apartment."
"Really?" He remembered dropping her off in front of the apartment she rented when she first moved to Gotham after their first semiannual lunch date and thinking he should turn the car around and take her back to Metropolis with him rather than leave her there. "Is it bigger than that cardboard box you lived in before?"
"Just because it didn't have a million empty rooms and wasn't covered in gargoyles didn't make it--" she stopped when he began to smirk at her. "Oh, you!" He knew she loved it when he teased. "Yes. It's bigger than the cardboard box. Would you like to see it?"
This was new. He'd never actually been inside her apartment--any of them--in the three years they'd been doing this. It'd been her longstanding rule, actually. Lex Luthor was too "high profile," she'd said. Then again, Chloe Sullivan wasn't so low on the totem pole these days, either. Maybe the rules were changing along with the woman. "I'd love to."
Her new home was a spacious penthouse suite with a gorgeous view of the city. He told her it was magnificent.
"Not as nice as yours," she commented as she took shoes off by flipping them from her feet and sending them skittering across the carpeted floor. "But I love these plush carpets... my toes just sink right in. Feels so good after a long day."
If the look on her face just then was any kind of guide, it was practically orgasmic. "I can see that," he told her, slipping off his own custom-fitted shoes. "Mind if I try it?"
"Knock yourself out."
As he allowed himself the indulgence of losing his toes in the soft sea foam green floor covering, she crossed the huge living room and headed for the kitchen.
"You want something to drink? Coffee? Water?" she asked.
"Anything you have is fine," he told her, making himself comfortable on her white leather sofa. It was over-stuffed and just as wickedly pleasurable as the carpet. He really needed to get the name of her decorator. He'd never be able to go back to cold marble after this.
She returned a minute or two later--not with coffee or water, but a bottle of champagne and two long-stemmed glasses. She'd removed the jacket which matched her dress pants, and sight of her standing there- -glassware in one hand, champagne bottle in the other, just the right amount of skin showing through her lacey top--was the most erotic thing he'd seen in ages. She was breath-taking... a vision he could stare at for hours and never tire of.
"Champagne? What's the occasion?"
"Our sixth date anniversary, silly," she told him, eyes sparkling.
"Has it been that long already? How the time flies." Only it didn't, not really. The past three years--especially these last six months--had been torturously slow for him. He wondered if she felt the same way. "Here," he said, standing to take the bottle from her. "Let me help with that." He opened it and poured them each a glass.
"What shall we toast to?" she asked, sitting down on the sofa and looking up at him with an expression almost too reminiscent of the innocent girl she used to be. It was like an open invitation to...
He slid in beside her, smiling as he got as close as he could without spilling their drinks. "Smallville, I think," he suggested, even though neither of them had been back to the Kansas town in a very long time.
"Smallville?" Chloe asked, her head tilting sideways in the quirky way he loved so much.
"For bringing you to me," he replied selfishly.
"Or you to me," she retorted. Something altogether different from snark danced in her eyes, however.
"That too." His words were wrapped in a silky package of now unmistakable desire. Lex reached out and took the champagne from her hand. Toast forgotten, he leaned in to claim the kiss he knew was waiting for him.
Her mouth opened beneath his with a soft sigh. The sound shot through him like a bullet through the air, going straight to his groin. Hungry for more of her, he deepened the kiss--sending his tongue inside to explore her mouth in languid strokes. Her tongue met his eagerly, massaging and dueling in turn. It was sensual and aggressive at the same time, much like the straightforward woman in his arms.
His fingers slipped into her hair, tangling themselves effortlessly in the curls as he pulled her even closer. Her sighs grew to low moans, each muffled against his mouth. "Oh, Lex..." she vocalized finally, pulling away to catch her breath. She looked flushed and so beautifully wanton, and it thrilled him to know that he'd made her that way... with each kiss and touch. What he wouldn't give to see her like this every day, every night... for the rest of his life. "Chloe..." he breathed in response, leaning back in for another kiss. His lips and hands continued their slow exploration of her, until her moans had risen to a high-pitched keening and her body was arching greedily into his every touch.
Over the years, many people had accused Lex Luthor of being power hungry, and it occurred to him now that they might have been right. He was hungry for power--his power to drive Chloe Sullivan mad with desire. He loved knowing just how to touch her, where to kiss her, and loved her responsiveness to his ministrations. Loved knowing she shared his need. Loved being wanted by her.
He loved her.
He wondered if she knew or even guessed just how deeply his feelings for her ran. She must, he reasoned. She'd pointed it out first thing at lunch--he hadn't been dating. Anyone. Bruce Wayne had women lining up for one night at his side, and on the other side of the country, the only man who could possibly rival his infamous playboy status was a virtual monk in his celibacy. Except for twice a year... with Chloe.
"Chloe... " he murmured again, his breath skimming across the earlobe he'd been sucking. A soft mewling noise was the only acknowledgement he received as she ran her fingers lightly over his scalp. Pleasure coursed through him, and he knew if he didn't say this now, he'd be too swept in desire by the time he did, and she'd never take it seriously. "Chloe, " he reiterated, a little more seriously. "Come back to Metropolis with me."
She pulled away to give him a quizzical look. "What?"
"Come back with me, Chlo'," he stated again. "This... what we have... is wonderful, but I need more."
"Oh, Lex..." she breathed, and Lex felt certain she'd say yes. "No."
"Lex, I love what we have, too. But I have a life here, and a job, and I don't want to leave either of those to go back to Metropolis as your mistress."
"My what? Chloe! You would never be my mistress! You'd be my wife!"
Her hands flew up to cover the "o" of surprise that suddenly formed on her lips. "Lex Luthor!" she exclaimed, recovering quickly. "Was that a proposal of marriage?"
"Yes, I believe it was," he countered. He hadn't planned it this way, but that had always been the beauty of their relationship--its spontaneity and ability to amaze him. Like her... always keeping him on his toes.
"I'm not sure what to say. It's very sudden."
"Say yes, and we'll work out the finer details later," he said smoothly, running his hand along her inner thigh.
"You must think I'm incredibly cheap," she told him mischievously.
"We've only had six dates, and here you are proposing already." Six dates over the course of three years.
"I should have asked sooner... like right after that first night together."
"And how cliched would that have been?" Chloe asked, the writer in her showing through.
"Extremely." Lex laughed softly. "But no more so than playing starcrossed lovers and bemoaning the fact that time and circumstance have conspired to keep us apart. Chloe, please... I've never wanted anything like I want you. Will you be my wife?"
He could see the emotions warring on her face--shock, wonder, fear and hope. And finally... joy. "Yes!" she said at last, throwing her arms around him. "Lex, yes!"
Words couldn't express what he was feeling, which was just as well. Chloe had decided that hugging him wasn't enough. She crawled onto his lap, straddling him as she pressed eager kisses into his mouth. Her body rocked against his, and Lex moaned at the sensations she created.
Wrapping his arms around her, he pushed her gently backwards in to the sofa. "You know... " he said with an evil chuckle, trailing a finger across her kiss-swollen lips. "I've never made love on white leather."
"Just black, huh?" She returned his sinister look with one of her own.
He gave a curt nod. "Sometimes brown... but never white."
Laughter erupted from her. "Far be it for little ole me to deny Lex Luthor when there's something he's never experienced before." Her eyes were gleaming. "There can't be too many of those firsts left in the world."
"Pretty cocky for a woman in your position, aren't you? I could do anything to you right now, and you would hardly be able to stop me," he retorted, although he was unable to keep the mirth from his voice. He'd never harm her, and they both knew it.
"What makes you think you I don't have you right where I want you?"
"Do you?" he asked, leaning down so the words were crushed between their meeting lips. The only reply he got was her answering kiss and the hands that wrapped possessively around his shoulders. He briefly wondered if that wasn't some non-verbal version of "was there ever any doubt?"
There were suddenly too many layers of clothing between them, and Lex's hand moved to the lace of her shirt, feeling his way along the curves of her upper body until he found the juncture where it met the waistband of her slacks. A simple tug and his slipped inside to feel the smooth skin of her stomach. "May I undress you?" he asked softly.
She gave a sex-warmed chuckle. "Would be nice... especially if we intend to do something more than make out."
He grinned at the semi-sarcastic invitation and slid a hand around to the button at the back of her shirt. Undoing it, he pulled the lace chemise over her head and tossed it aside. It landed on the carpet near one of her shoes. Looking down at her, his grin curled into something reminiscent of the Grinch who stole Christmas. Under her shirt, Chloe wore a strapless lace brassiere the same cream color as the shirt that had hidden it from his view. But that wasn't what made him smile. It was front fastening, and the sight of it gave him all sorts of wonderfully sinful ideas.
Ideas he'd act on in a moment. First, there was the question of her dress slacks and panty hose. He worked on the button of her slacks, undoing it with sure fingers before easing down the zip and sliding them off her hips. He felt her shudder as his hands ghosted along her skin, his own body shivering in return. She lifted her hips, and he slid the pants the rest of the way down, pausing briefly to mold his palms to the curve of her backside. He squeezed and responded by wiggling playfully into his grasp. Giving one cheek a quick pat, he quickly removed the slacks the rest of the way, tossing them aside, as well.
Her silk stockings came next, sliding from her body with fluid easy. Then Lex sat back to admire the vision before him. A fallen angel in delicate lace, sensual and heavenly at the same time.
Settling back down upon her, he reached out to smooth one curling lock of hair away from her forehead. She was so beautiful; it made him breathless. His fingers trailed lightly down the side of her face, across her jaw and down the slim line of her neck. There, they drew a path down the valley between her soft, ample breasts. Her skin was creamy, warm to the touch, and shivering with anticipation.
When his fingers met the clasp of her bra, he stopped, leaning down to kiss each breast through their lace coverings. He heard Chloe's gasp as he took the fastener between his teeth, manipulating it with the ease of man who knows a woman's garment. It opened for him, and he released it, pushing the material aside to reveal the treasures hidden within. Her coral nipples were already erect, and he took one into his mouth, worrying it with his teeth and lips until she gave an anguished moan. Then he trailed wet kisses across her skin to the other breast and repeated the process with the other hardened nipple.
One hand dipped down between her legs, pressing with gentle force until he could feel the wetness soak through the cloth. Her hips bucked in response to his touch. The little moans escaping her lips only served to feed the flame of his passion. He needed her, badly, and knew she had the same need for him.
He pulled away from her reluctantly, ignoring her groan of protest in favor of undressing as quickly as possible. He then resumed his position over her, leaning in to kiss her deeply, running his tongue along her lower lip. "God, Lex," she gasped into his mouth. "You're teasing."
"Yes, I am," he murmured slyly.
"Don't." With that, she pushed his hand back to her panty line, urging him to remove the last remaining layer between them. He tugged at them, and grinned at her when they heard the thin material rip. The destruction hardly fazed her, as she suddenly and decisively wrapped her legs around him, pulling his already hard length into her. She was hot and tight from six months without him, and it felt so good... like going home.
He gave her a minute to adjust to his body and then began to thrust in long, languid strokes. Each time, he pulled out a little further and thrust back a little harder, the sound of her pleasured cries fuelling his desire. They climaxed together--something which had never happened before--shuddering in release as Lex fell on top of her.
"Chlo'?" he murmured sleepily. They were still in her living room, him spooning her as they lay in unabashed nakedness on the white leather sofa.
"Did you mean what you said about getting married? It wasn't just something you said on a whim, right?" There was a hint of teasing in her voice, but also a touch of severity.
"I always say what I mean, Chloe," he told her. "Did you mean it when you said you would," he countered. Again, a touch of teasing and a hint of seriousness.
"I don't say things unless I mean them, either."
"I should hold you to that," he told her, kissing the back of her neck.
"I'd rather you just hold me," was the comeback. He could do that, too, Lex decided. Quite happily, in fact, and for the rest of his life.
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