roxy. SV fic post: …is a bitch.

Title: …is a bitch.
Pairings/Characters: Lana, Lex
Rating: R
Word Count: 905
Spoilers: Cure
Summary: Lana watches Lex
Notes/Warnings: a portrait of Lana that's less than flattering.

…is a bitch.

She sits in darkness, in the chill of her 'apartment'. Alone. This is something that can only be done alone, in the dark.

This is payback.

She flicks her eyes from one screen to the other of the bank of screens eye level over the desk. She inhales quickly, her breath runs shallow and her heart thumps, rabbit like. She presses a palm against her chest as if to calm its racing beat. She chooses a screen, enlarges the picture. Lex sits like a black and white scarecrow, staring at his own screen. The light from the laptop bleaches him out and he looks skeletal. His expression is troubled—angry. She grimaces, rubs her cheek. She hates to admit that the expression bothers her—hates to admit that Lex scares her when he shouldn't, not now when she's holding all the cards.

He gets up, shuts down the laptop, turns off the light and moves out of frame.

She sits back, takes a breath. She closes her eyes and thinks. She opens them again at a noise. There's movement on one screen. The bedroom.

Lex strolls in, tosses his jacket on the bed and moves out of sight. She blinks, fingers hovering over the keyboard and Lex walks back in the room, glistening, shower wet. Pulls the bed cover back and lies down on the deep chocolate sheets. He glows like ivory against the dark sheets. She's lain on those sheets, knows just what they feel like against the skin, damp skin. Lex moves a hand through the empty space next to him, and she smiles. Bastard. She hopes he misses her like he'd miss a part of himself—she hopes it burns. She folds her hands and waits.

He sighs, and moves his hand on his tight stomach. Now she should head home, let the cameras record…Lex makes a small sound she remembers and moves his hand lower, drifting towards his…lower. Lower still, he moves his hand in gentle circles. It's something he does, that movement. It's one she knows, and she wonders how many other people know how fascinated Lex is with the texture of skin, with hair. She can almost feel the tug of her hair being pulled, wrapped in a knot in his fist. He always was abusive. Cruel. Clark would never ever do that. Never.

Lex on screen is breathing harder, his eyelashes twitch on his cheek, he sucks his bottom lip and moans so quietly she can barely hear him. Go on, she thinks. He cradles himself, squeezes lightly. Strokes, firm, long…she knows the rhythm, he taught her. Her fingers twitch a little as he arches, strokes harder. She knows what he feels like hard, like satin over hot steel…the slip of skin over and back, revealing a purple rose head. She knows that when (she) he presses (her) his thumb against the smooth hot flesh, it will make him groan and thrust and just as she's thinking it, he does. She leans forward, heat building up between her thighs, she tingles—her nipples tingle watching him squeeze his own between clever fingers. He's stroking faster now, she can hear the sound of flesh against flesh, hear his breath catch, hear the endless small moans falling from his mouth.

She hates him, but can't stop watching him. He thrusts into his hand and she watches muscles bunch and release--his ass, his stomach, his legs. He's moving his lips now but without sound. Of course he's calling her, remembering sex with her, because it was *good*…his hand moves under himself and his penis twitches, drools—his hips take on another rhythm and she realizes he's got his fingers…in him, in his…ass, he's fucking himself as he jerks off. His head grinds back against the pillow, his back bows. She can see the pulse in his throat hammering out a frantic beat. Lex's head turns toward the camera, lashes sweep his cheek, rise and fall and close and his mouth is wide--he makes a sound she knows comes right before orgasm.

What he's doing is disgusting, but she almost hurts, she's so aroused. Presses the palm of her hand flat against her crotch. Grinds and gasps as he starts to shiver, and the first cloudy jet erupts from his red, red penis and he calls a name.

"No!" She smashes her fist into the panel, over and over until it begins to hurt but she still sees the little smile on his lips, sees him whisper that name. He looks…soft, defenseless, until he opens his eyes. His face falls into familiar stiff and guarder lines again. He turns away towards the window.

She takes one deep tremulous breath after another…it's just not possible to hate another human this much and survive. Her temples throb. Her eyes burn.

She wonders how she can ask Clark if Lex and he ever. Had sex. No. It's impossible. Not Clark.

The surveillance system they installed is a damn good one, she can hear him sigh. He pulls up the covers and falls silent.

Once again, she's glad she took the money. She's glad she framed him, sorry he wormed his way out of it and when she gets home tonight, she and Clark are going to have the wildest, most violent sex they've ever had, whether he wants it or not…maybe she'll scream Lex's name at the finish. Let Clark wonder….

10-20-2007

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sv fic

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Posted by

tabaqui

HA!
I like.
:)

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SV fic post: …is a bitch.

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