No One Lives In This Room	 No One Lives In This Room

 by Nifra Idril

 

 

  

 As you take off your clothes, you don't look at him. You can't. Instead,
you watch rain pearl against the window as you fold your shirt just so,
and tuck your wedding ring into the pocket of your jeans. 

 He stands behind you. You can feel his hands pass over your hair,
lightly. You know he didn't mean to touch you - not yet. 

 "What now?" you ask when you're naked. It's always cold in his penthouse;
and your skin ripples tensely into gooseflesh. 

 You have never done this before. You have always wanted to, and you have
always been ashamed. 

 You don't know why you're here now. You don't know how it happened, what
pushed you here - this is not the first night that there has been blood on
your hands. This is not the first night that you have closed your eyes and
seen the curve of his lips as you flew past his penthouse. 

 Lex's breath is warm against the curve of your neck. "Look at me," he
orders, and the buttons of his shirt press into your back. His hands busy
themselves at his fly - you feel his knuckles brush against your bare
buttocks. 

 "Look at me," he says again, and you bring your eyes up, to meet his in
the glass before you. 

 Water runs over the reflection of the two of you, and you look young. You
look afraid. He looks like he is drowning beneath the streams of rain, and
his bright eyes look like two river rocks in the bed of his face. 

 Lex licks his lips, and the tip of his tongue brushes against your skin
for a second. You shiver, and you feel his cock against your skin. It's
hot and wet. It shocks you, and you gasp. 

 One of his hands comes lazily around to your front, and you can't look
away as his fingers stroke your abdomen. 

 "I'm not the man you want," he says flatly. "He died in Smallville." 

 You say nothing, because you know he is wrong. You know he doesn't think
you capable of wanting what he has become. You know he needs you to be
incapable of wanting him, so that he can go on wanting you. 

 He thrusts lightly against your ass, and you hear him hiss in a breath as
you moan. You lose your patience, and you grab the hand still playing at
your waist and drag it down to your cock. You wrap his fingers around you,
and rock into them, and back against him. You drag your body against his,
and he's hard, he's so hard, and his hand is tight around you. 

 This won't last long for either of you, and you're grateful. You begin to
set a rhythm, his cock rubbing into your crack and you pushing into his
hand, but he stops you. He holds onto your hip, and holds you steady. 

 He bites your neck. If you were human, he would draw blood. If he were
human, he would break his teeth against your skin. 

 You both come away whole, though. "Does she ever - " Lex begins, but
catches himself before he finishes. He knows you'd never answer that
question. 

 He knows you. 

 You buck again, and he cracks - pushes you forward, moves his hand
fiercely, quickly on you, and you groan, brace both of your hands on the
windowsill and spread your legs. He works you open with the fingers of his
free hand, and you bite your lower lip to keep from screaming. Your head
hangs down, and you watch his fingers as they work you. You watch his skin
against yours - pale against blood dark, and you feel him inside you,
blunt and pushing. 

 It doesn't feel wonderful, it feels desperate. It burns. It feels the way
it should, and you can't stop keening wordlessly. 

 Lex is ruthless with you; he won't let you come. He brings you to the
edge again and again, but won't let you over. 

 He fucks you fast. His belt buckle clacks against the tile floor as he
snaps his hips into you again and again. And the friction, the push of his
cock, the pull of his fingers, the electricity that crackles over the two
of you builds and builds until he fists a hand in your hair and drags your
head up. 

 "Look at us," he growls, and over your shoulder, his teeth are bared and
his eyes are dark caves. 

 Yours are the same. You have hollowed each other. You have darkened each
other. 

 You turn your face, and you kiss the inside of his wrist, and then you
set your teeth against it, pressing down slowly but firmly. He screams,
and you taste his blood on your tongue as he comes inside you. His hand
never stops moving, and neither do your hips, seeking his fingers, and
finally you spill out your orgasm onto the plush purple of the carpet. 

 Lex's face rests between your shoulders, and his arms wrap around your
waist. You put one hand over his, and together you both catch your breath
- his body curves around yours. You hold him up, and he covers you. 

 His lips brush your skin in an accidental kiss. "I'm sorry," you want to
say. You say nothing because if you start speaking your remorse aloud, you
might never stop. 

 Finally, Lex steps back, and pulls his pants on. He reaches across you,
and pulls your jeans off the chair. You put them on. He puts his hand in
your pocket, fishes out your wedding ring and jams it on your finger until
it catches on your knuckle. Then he walks away. 

 Your skin is still hot from him when you fly home, even in the cold hours
before dawn beneath the gray sheets of driving rain.   
 If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Nifra Idril

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