Carte Blanche

Prompt: When enemies marry (Chloe/Lex or Clark/Lex)
Notes: Thanks to mecurtin and treetracer for scooping up all my extra commas and 'that's. Any remaining atrocities are entirely my own. I meant for this to be a bit fluffy, but instead Chloe and Lex got all serious on me.

Their bed is vast and wide, not queen or king-sized, but something custom-built hosting a landscape of white linens, duvets and pillows of all shapes and sizes. Everything white, and Lex has never gotten it when Chloe says that anyone who uses so much white in their clothing and décor must have something to hide.

They could hide at least two more sham marriages in the bed between them, for example. Chloe on her side, Lex on his, and it would take a map to navigate the gulf between them in just this one room. But the farthest apart they get, Chloe thinks, is when Lex walks around to her side and clambers between the covers, skims her white silk negligee up her thigh like a cat licking cream, dips his blue gaze so it fixes on her collarbone, and with a tiny sigh, she obliges by spreading her legs.

No condom, not since they found out they couldn’t have that kind of accident, and Lex might be many kinds of wrong, but he’s too enamored of his power to risk it on infidelity. No, it’s just the clean and unapologetic slide of Lex into her, his arms braced on either side of her, narrowly shuttering her world until it contains only him.

When she thought about this kind of marriage, if she’d ever thought of it before, she’d always supposed sex would be perfunctory, a formality and probably one to which the wife held the key. She never could have guessed it was this pointed, this vicious and inescapable, Lex holding her open eyes in thrall while he fucks in and out, cruel and slow and hungry. The hunger isn’t for her, but she’ll do, and that’s fair, because Lex probably sees the same thing in her eyes. Her hand steals between their bellies, she pushes hard on her clit while Lex shifts angles, and they close their eyes at the last, alone and separate and shaking.

Afterwards, Lex gets up and walks back to his side of the bed.

Once they’d been different. Chloe worked at the Post, Lex was a senator, and she dogged him with bitter determination. She became his personal sword of Damocles, hovering over him waiting for the slightest misstep. One day, when she’d nearly cracked a minor scandal involving Lex and insider trading, he’d asked her, sounding hunted, “Why?”

“Someone has to watch you, and you seem to be beneath the notice of superheroes.” A sharp cutting grin, and Lex closed the door to his office with quiet fury.

A few months later, he’d asked her out and she’d said yes because she wanted an invitation to that particular benefit. The evening had started with a white limo, Lex in a white tux, and Chloe in an accusatory red gown. It had ended with white and red mingled on the floor of Lex’s bedroom, Lex spread out under Chloe in a single unfathomable piece. She kept waiting for him to ask “Why?” again, but he seemed to know the answer without asking. As they fucked, the shade of Clark Kent stalked around the room, watching but not participating, but it was enough for both of them. Chloe came so hard she almost forgot her own name, and then Lex rolled her onto her back, hooked her ankles behind his neck, and drove into her until he came too.

It was good for a long time, months and months of dating and dueling. Chloe started to grow inexplicably fond of Lex, of his white suits and his extravagance and of his lean hard body. Eventually they forgot what had brought them together, because eventually they were eating take-out in their underwear (in Milan) and laughing about each other’s foibles. “Marry me,” he said, pushing one hand between her legs and shifting aside her red panties because he always resented her clothing. And his fingers parted her, and his mouth closed on her breast, and Chloe’s hand cradled the base of Lex’s skull, and she said yes.

That was seven years ago.

It’s Christmas now, which means a Christmas party at their mansion, hundreds of glittering people who hate Chloe and Lex, hours standing in the front hall with Lex’s cool hand on her waist. Chloe wants to be defiant. She wants to leave Lex so he’ll have to explain where his wife is. She wants to lure some fat old politician into the pantry and see if Lex will divorce her. She wants to sharpen up her five-years-rusty journalistic skills and catch one of the many shady deals that will be made tonight. But maybe Chloe has never been as tough as she thinks, because instead, she’s secretly enjoying the way the other wives are checking her out. She’s thirty-four and last week she had a chemical peel at the spa in preparation for this evening.

“No, I’ve been busy with the AIDS black and white ball,” Chloe is saying when Lex’s hand clenches on her waist. She looks over at him, startled, and sees that he’s watching the front door, watching as someone tall shoulders his way inside, someone whose discomfort is obvious enough to catch Lex’s eye.

“Merry Christmas,” Clark is saying to the butler, cheerful and nervous and sincere. He looks up and over at the Luthors as he slips out of his snow-dusted shabby dress coat.

Clark is as beautiful and radiant and healthy as ever, stepping forward to greet the host and hostess. Chloe stopped keeping track of Clark’s personal life years ago, and she can tell from Lex’s abject shock that he did too.

“It’s like a reunion,” Clark says, awkward warmth and polite eyes trying not to obviously notice how Chloe and Lex have changed. “I was in town and thought I would –”

It’s not clear if he’s crashing or if he wrangled an invite from one of Lex’s staff members, but Chloe brushes it off with a quick smile. “We’re so glad you did,” she says. Clark’s gaze is ping-ponging between Lex’s face and Chloe’s cleavage.

“It’s been too long,” Lex says at length, offering his hand after Clark and Chloe lean in, kiss kiss. “You’re doing well? I see your byline in the Planet and on the AP wire almost every day.”

Clark shrugs this off, muttering something about a workaholic partner and needing to keep sharp. “No kids yet, you guys?” he asks jokily, making the fortunate few socialites nearby perk up with interest.

“We’re talking about it,” Lex says, giving their usual answer. Behind them, the band shifts into Gershwin and slow dancing and Chloe hasn’t felt this sweetly romantic since Smallville, watching Clark bounce on his heels with anxiety. She doesn’t know why Clark is here, why he’s chosen this day to descend on them after such a long absence, but she still feels more like herself than she has in years.

“Come in,” Chloe requests, slipping her arm into Clark’s and leading him out of the foyer. It’s breaking the rules, they always greet all their guests, but Lex doesn’t care either, because he’s on Clark’s other side, and the three of them are walking into the ballroom, into the laughter and luxury of the Luthor Christmas gala.

Clark is bewildered by the press of people, like he hasn’t been living in Metropolis for fifteen years, and when Chloe starts to smile at his wide-eyed confusion, she catches Lex doing the same. She and her husband lock gazes, and for a moment, it could go either way. They could compete for Clark, and it’s more than likely neither would win, that Clark would flee the scene in terror and she and Lex would end up tangled in furious and fiery passion, both kissing the man who’d left.

Or…

It’s decided in an instant, and with seven years’ rehearsal, neither of them will falter in a single move. Lex glides smoothly away after declaring his intention to find drinks for the three of them, and Chloe smiles sexily at Clark until he runs out of blushing capability and realizes what she wants him to ask.

“Can I have this dance?” he blurts. She bites her lip and tilts her head and nods, and it’s all too easy to become sixteen-year-old Chloe, to be shy and bubbly and infectiously adorable and eager. Clark’s hand feels huge and warm on her waist, his gaze feels heavy as it strokes down the curve of her neck.

“Just like freshman year,” she says, nestling her head into the curve of his shoulder, almost touching but not quite. She feels Clark frozen and fearful and yet, underneath it all, Chloe can sense the hot-burning core of the man he must now be. She sighs quietly and lets her head drop onto his chest for the barest instant, and then lifts it again to look up into his eyes. His gaze goes soft and sweet and Chloe knows it’s almost time for Lex’s turn. She lets Clark lead her back to the edge of the room to where Lex is waiting with a drink in each hand.

Lex begins his attack using charming stories of life on Capitol Hill and the occasional nostalgic reference to Smallville, mixed in with increasingly frequent long gazes. Chloe watches with fascination as Lex unlocks Clark tumbler by tumbler, until she scarcely recognizes their companion. This is Lex’s version of Clark, she knows – not tender and protective like he is with Chloe, but convoluted and fiery and unafraid.

Chloe drifts away. Even though she’s almost afraid to leave them alone, it’s worth it when she returns. Lex has somehow raised an uneven flush along Clark’s white tuxedo collar. Clark’s somewhere between terrified and desperate, and Chloe’s the one who has to tip the scales in their favor. She draws his attention by stroking his arm gently, then summons all Clark’s heterosexual fervor by toying with her diamond necklace and flashing coy glances his way as she speaks.

“I want to show you the rest of the house,” she concludes, and it’s working, because it takes Clark three beats to respond, to tear his eyes from the curve of her fingers on her neck.

“I’d love to see it,” he says hastily, and Chloe catches Lex’s infinitesimal nod before she takes Clark by the arm and pulls him out of the room via a hidden stairwell.

They’re in the long portrait gallery, pausing in front of the oil painting of her Lex commissioned when they were married, when Clark asks. “Are you happy, Chloe?”

She shrugs her shoulders inside Clark’s tuxedo jacket (she’d feigned a shiver three minutes earlier) and flashes him a brave smile. “No marriage is perfect, Clark.”

“But Lex – he treats you right?” Clark pursues, and he grasps her shoulder to force her attention.

It’s an exquisite moment, with faint sounds of the band threading through the air, and Chloe only has to look up, big-eyed, and he’s licking his lips, making up his mind to do it, he’s bending down, holding his breath.

“Chloe?”

Lex’s voice shivers through the hall, and Clark bolts upright, but it’s too late (or so it must seem), because Lex is right there and he must have seen Clark’s retreat.

“So sorry to interrupt,” Lex says coldly.

“Lex,” Clark says, choked and urgent.

Lex divides a cold stare between Clark and Chloe, and Chloe has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

“You –” Lex bites down on the rest of the sentence, but now he’s looking at Chloe. “You couldn’t wait to get him alone.”

“Jealous?” Chloe asks, and she can actually feel the breeze stirred by how quickly Clark turns his head to stare at her.

Lex comes closer and grabs Chloe by the waist, dives in and kisses her roughly, eliciting a moan from her as he devours her mouth, pulling Clark’s jacket off of her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. When they part, panting, Chloe is aware of Clark’s attention riveted to them, against all Kentian propriety.

“Like what you see?” Lex asks, half-jealous, half-aroused, turning his head to catch Clark watching. “Would you like to watch me fucking her? Is that what you want?”

Very obviously, that’s exactly what Clark wants. The question is whether Clark will allow himself to admit it. Chloe stems any protest by reaching down to palm Lex’s cock through his pants, feeling it already hot and heavy. Clark’s eyes follow the motion and a small breath escapes his mouth. Chloe feels herself growing wet against her panties for the first time in ages, and it’s with scarcely a hesitation that she follows the pressure of Lex’s hand on her shoulder, dropping to her knees, her white silk dress pooling on marble as Lex opens his fly and pulls his cock out. Chloe hasn’t done this for Lex for a long while, but she wants it now, wants Lex’s cock to stretch her mouth, wants to be full and to feel Clark’s jealousy and desire so nearby. Lex’s fingers are threaded through her hair, pulling her careful chignon awry, but Chloe takes her time.

A long stripe down the underside of Lex’s eager cock, and Lex is panting already, or is that Clark? She swirls her tongue around the head, thinking how strange it is, Lex’s familiar shape and taste but all seeming new and unbearably sexy, as though she’s seeing this through Clark’s eyes.

“She’s – she’s a fucking tease,” Lex gasps as she tongues the underside of the head, then dips into the slit. “She’ll keep you waiting for it.”

Chloe opens wide and takes Lex in, moaning at the silky slide of Lex’s cock against the roof of her mouth, breathing so hard that she almost misses it when Clark murmurs, “God, god.”

Lex’s hips are solid wings in her hands and now she begins in earnest, slowly but steadily fucking Lex’s cock with her mouth, feeling the slight hitches of Lex’s pelvis, the well-known rhythm he needs. His thumb traces the round O of her open mouth before his hand cradles her jaw, steadying her as she picks up the pace.

Lex can take this for twenty minutes or more nowadays, which is why Chloe can’t be bothered most of the time, but with Clark watching, Lex progresses all too quickly from languid enjoyment to the short, sharp noises that presage orgasm. She gauges it well – Lex actually shakes his head with dazed frustration as she withdraws, when he’s about three strokes away from coming.

“Let’s go upstairs,” she says, pulling herself to her feet with the support of Lex’s hands. “Clark will be more comfortable there.”

Clark and Lex both have to adjust themselves before they can follow Chloe, but soon enough they’re in the bedroom and Lex is punishing Chloe for her cruelty, holding her against the wall with her wrists pinned over her head, kneeing her thighs apart and kissing her while she rocks up into his leg. Lex hates barriers, hates anything keeping him from what he wants, so when he releases her, Chloe doesn’t have to ask why. She steps away from the wall and turns, and he is unfastening her dress and slipping it down her shoulders. No bra, it’s a backless gown, and so when she steps free of the pooled fabric, she’s only wearing white lace panties, and she’s suddenly glad she chose white, because it must fit Clark’s image of her, judging by the way he flushes and stares hungrily.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Lex says, cupping a breast in each hand. “I could never understand why you would choose Lana over her. Chloe’s exquisite.”

Chloe unpins her hair and shakes it down, as long and shiny and silky as Lana’s ever was. Lex lets one hand drop over the surface of her body, skimming fingers over the waistband of her underwear, and then he looks over at Clark. Chloe looks too.

Pressed up against the closed door of their bedroom, Clark is a beautiful sight to behold. All the healthy glow normally in his face is now condensed into two hectic spots of color, one in the hollow of each cheek. His bowtie is askew and he’s in his shirtsleeves, his tux jacket having been abandoned in the portrait gallery below. Just under the waist of his pants, Chloe can see the profile of his hard cock. Clark’s hands are clenched into fists, presumably to keep them from doing anything else. His eyes are wide and trapped between fear and desire.

“I’ll touch her,” Lex bargains, slipping his fingertips under Chloe’s waistband, “if you touch yourself.”

Clark complies hastily, fumbling his fly open and wresting his cock free – the cock that’s featured in most of Chloe’s fantasies for over a decade, and it doesn’t disappoint. Big, uncut – Clark flicks the foreskin back with a pass of his tunneled fist – and very much interested in the idea of Lex’s hand in Chloe’s panties.

Lex turns back to Chloe and dips his hand down, through her thatch of curls, to where she is almost meltingly ready. His eyebrows rise because she hasn’t been this wet for him since the take-out in Milan, but Chloe can only close her eyes and cry out. Lex is too good at this, shouldn’t be able to make her come so fast with only the clever tips of his fingers, but he does. Index and middle finger merely teasing at her opening, thumb alternately pressing and stroking her clit, and Chloe cries out louder, shifting mindlessly into his touch. She doesn’t even have to open her eyes, doesn’t have to think about Clark seeing this, because she’s needed to come since Clark walked in the door of the mansion, and suddenly everything goes white and red.

“Did you ever see a woman who came so easily?” Lex’s voice is saying off in the distance as his index and middle finger now slipped up and in, his thumb tapping out the last surges of her orgasm. “She’ll just keep going, watch.”

Like narrating a fucking nature documentary, but Chloe doesn’t care, because Lex is starting all over again, and now with his fingers inside, the orgasm starts to build from somewhere deeper, and Chloe has to brace herself against Lex’s shoulders in order to get leverage, to fuck herself down onto his perfectly timed hand. “Oh, god, Lex,” she shouts, and comes again, harder this time, and it’s been a long fucking while since Lex had the patience to take her farther than this, since he did that sadistic twisting thing with his wrist while she’s coming, driving her orgasm up and up and up instead of easing her down, and Chloe’s probably screaming and maybe they can even hear her over the band downstairs, but Lex isn’t letting up and it’s shaking her all the way through, deep and relentless and she’s afraid he won’t ever let her down again. But he knows, he always knows, and when she finally tops out, miles higher than she ever expected to go, he drives his fingers into her hard and fast, one last time, and kisses her down into safety as her mind flashes in a million colors.

When Chloe sinks back onto solid ground, she hears a sharp slapping sound and looks lazily over to rediscover that Clark is here, he’s watching, and he’s enjoying it.

“I could make her come again, if you like,” Lex offers politely, as though Chloe’s orgasms are like finger sandwiches or glasses of champagne. Chloe doesn’t actually think Lex could make her come again, since her clit still hasn’t checked back in with the rest of her body, but she knows Lex isn’t afraid to use his teeth to get what he wants, and so she’s glad when Clark shakes his head and abruptly slows his hand, reverting to a lazy compulsive tug.

“Then I think it’s my turn,” Lex says, looking back at the remains of Chloe. “And I think Chloe’s not up to it just yet.” Lifting one brow, Lex glances across at Clark again. “Would you?”

His pants are still open from downstairs and his cock is half peeking out anyway, but Lex takes his time in removing his jacket, tie, and shirt, before going back to his cock.

Clark watches it all intently, but doesn’t respond until Chloe speaks. “You don’t want to leave him like that, do you?” she asks, nodding towards Lex’s cock, wet at the tip and so hard it’s curving up towards the ceiling.

Clark is shaky as he steps forward, mouth open in readiness for all the questions and answers he hasn’t managed to voice. When he’s between them, though, he seems to gather his courage. “You want me to –” he says, not really addressing either of them.

“If you touch him,” Chloe says, moving in to unbutton Clark’s shirt so that her breasts brush over Clark’s torso, “I’ll touch you.” She finishes unbuttoning, parts the sides of Clark’s shirt, and then slides it off and to the floor. Clark is even more built than she remembered. She edges around him and slowly presses into his back, reaching around front to stroke his cock. She can’t see from here, but she feels the shiver of heat over Clark’s skin as he reaches out and takes Lex in hand, causing Lex to gasp.

They find a rhythm, Clark mimicking Chloe’s motions at first from shyness, and then as Lex becomes more vocal, Clark forgets to be timid and starts doing something that makes Lex cry out. Chloe is getting wet again just from the sounds of Lex and Clark, the feel of Clark in her hand, but it’s not enough, and so she sidles back around to see for herself.

Lex and Clark aren’t kissing, aren’t even touching except where Clark’s hand is closed on Lex’s cock, and where Lex’s palm is resting in silent urgency on Clark’s shoulder, but their eyes are locked and intense, and Chloe can’t decide what’s sexier – the motion of Clark’s hand, the little squeeze of Lex’s fingers on Clark’s shoulder, or that vivid visual fuck passing between the two of them. Clark doesn’t even seem to notice Chloe has stopped touching him, so she drops to her knees again and focuses her attention on Lex, licking at the base of Lex’s cock where even Clark’s big hand doesn’t quite reach. Lex is close – Chloe can feel the telltale tightening of his balls – but at the last minute, he reaches up and stops Clark’s hand.

“I want to watch you come first,” Lex says, his voice broken and rough.

Clark seems too sex-stunned to process this at first, then hastily moves his hand back to his own cock before Lex stops him again.

“I want to watch you come inside her,” he clarifies.

Chloe smiles at Lex’s cleverness even as she begins to unlace Clark’s shoes, removing them and then his socks before she reaches up to pull his pants off. He’s looking down at her, startled like this is the senior prom and Lana Lang suddenly offered to blow him. “How do you want me?” Chloe asks coyly.

She doesn’t really expect him to answer, but this is Lex’s version of Clark and he does. “On your hands and knees,” he orders, then adds “…if that’s okay.”

Chloe starts to squirm out of her white panties, but Clark shakes his head, so she merely plants her palms on the thick plush of the carpet and waits. It’s not long before she feels Clark’s heat and size behind her, his knees urging her legs apart, his hands on her ass, spreading her. His fingers, when he reaches down to push her panties aside, are big and wide and unfamiliar. Lex has moved to stand in front of Chloe, so when she glances up, she sees that Lex has undressed too, and he’s watching Clark’s preparations with interest even as he ignores his own cock.

“God, Chloe,” says Clark, and with no warning whatsoever, he’s pushing inside her. It’s been a while since there was anyone or anything in Chloe but Lex, and Clark is bigger and wider and Chloe’s instantly seventeen again, breathing hard and telling Jimmy ‘don’t stop, don’t stop’ even though it hurt. “You’re so tight,” he murmurs, and draws back, none of Lex’s sadistically calculated maneuvering, just brute animal hunger, as he slams his hips forward again.

Chloe barely remembers how to get off on this, this male indifference to reciprocal pleasure, but she knows enough to get one hand off the floor and down inside her underwear, to angle her hips up just a little so that Clark’s deep hard thrusts are grazing her in just the right place. It shouldn’t be hot that Clark is so unskilled or uninterested in rousing her, but after Lex has had her for years, had her reactions catalogued and measured and calculated, it’s oddly empowering to have this instead, this brutal proof that she’s desired more than she is controlled, to have her pleasure in her own hands instead of given over to someone else. She and Lex are always extracting sexual vengeance on each other, getting off more on the control than the release, but Clark is all about the release. He’s got Chloe by the hips and his cock is driving faster and faster, and Chloe’s getting there in spite of it all, and maybe Lex is right, maybe she is a really easy fuck, because she’s going to come from this, and –

Clark comes, hot flood inside her, and Chloe drives back as hard as she can, almost there, almost, almost, but Clark’s slowing down and his thrusts are getting too fast and shallow and now he’s pulling back and Chloe could almost cry from frustration. Was this really what she’d wanted all through high school? She could kick her younger self, who hadn’t known a damn thing about – about –

But Lex is behind her now, pushing Clark aside, slipping Chloe’s underwear off, and yes. This is right. Lex’s mouth, his tongue, god, lapping up Clark’s come from Chloe’s body, taking each of her backward rolls and interpreting them in exactly the right way, knowing that she’s almost ready. And Clark’s in front of her, and he’s kissing her, which is strange, yes, unfamiliar, but good because it helps stop the flow of noises that seem to just keep emerging from her open mouth. Lex draws a slow-flaring roll of climax from her, not nearly as supernova as she’d expected, but then he’s lifting her up and onto his lap and she’s full again, riding him slowly as Clark moves forward to kiss her breasts.

It takes longer this time, but Chloe’s glad because she’s savoring every second – the buttress of Lex behind her, the way he’s pinioning her in this moment, and the dip and gentle drift of Clark’s hands and mouth, unexpected patterns of motion and – at the last – his big index finger, finding her clit and pressing into it with every thrust from Lex. Clark and Lex are kissing over her shoulder, their first kiss, she supposes, but it’s all fading into background noise as she comes, hard bright waves of feeling.

Lex is still hard and he can’t be enjoying it anymore, Chloe thinks as she gently pulls herself away from the pair of men, who move into each other’s embrace automatically. They’re still on the floor, which is wrong when there’s that vast stretch of bed right next to them, and so Chloe firmly separates Lex and Clark before leading them both to the bed.

Clark is splayed out in the middle of the mattress, hard again, and though Chloe wouldn’t mind taking an hour or two just to explore, Lex is shaking and hard-breathing and there’s a fine line between delaying pleasure and torturing a man.

“Clark, Lex needs you to fuck him,” Chloe whispers in Clark’s ear. “Will you do it?”

Clark shivers and nods, and reaches for Lex while Chloe travels off in search of the lube. When she returns from her trek to the night table, she finds Clark and Lex entwined and rubbing against each other. “Do you want to get him ready,” Chloe asks, draping herself over Clark’s naked back, “or shall I?”

“You do it,” Clark answers muzzily before bowing down to lick and bite Lex’s nipples. They’re all on their sides, so Chloe only has to reach over Clark and Lex to reach Lex’s ass, to slide a finger down the cleft. They’ve done this before, mostly the other way, but she knows how to open Lex, and she does it with merciful efficiency. Even so, Lex is barely himself, barely human in fact, by the time she’s done. His pupils are blown and his back is slick with perspiration and it takes both Clark and Chloe to coax him up onto his knees, elbows on the pillows, so Clark can get inside him. Chloe slicks Clark’s cock and nudges him forward, and Clark takes all the time he didn’t with Chloe, even though Lex is cursing and urging him onwards.

Finally he’s inside Lex and Chloe feels a little wild herself from anticipation. There are a few ways she could intimate herself into this situation, including helping Lex, but she feels the symmetry of this moment and knows instinctively that this has to finish with both her and Lex making love to Clark. So she waits until Clark has settled into a slow tender rhythm, waits until Lex is crying out, and then she bows down behind Clark and spreads his flexing ass cheeks.

“You bitch,” Lex half-laughs, because Clark stops short with shock. But Chloe is heartless, she needs to be part of this, and she licks a little ring around Clark’s hole, making him whimper. She uses the flat of her tongue next, until Clark is pleading wordlessly, and then she pushes with the tip of her tongue, breaches him. Clark slams forward into Lex, back onto Chloe’s tongue, and with only a few minor shifts in position (mostly unnoticed by Clark), they are able to find a new rhythm. Lex comes first, harsh guttural shout, and Clark goes wild, feeling Lex come, following quickly after him, flexing around Chloe’s tongue with beautiful agony. Chloe is ready to leave it there, even though she’s wet and not a little desperate, but suddenly she’s on her back again and Clark and Lex are stretched alongside her on either side, Lex’s clever fingers working her clit while Clark’s bigger hand is fucking her roughly. They are kissing, Clark and Lex, and Clark and Chloe, and Chloe and Lex, and Chloe comes like lightning, fast and complete in an instant.

They collapse into an unmoving tangle of limbs and Chloe drifts into slumber.

When she wakes, it’s to utter disorientation. There is someone with her, but at first, Chloe can’t discern who it is. Then there’s a soft waking hum, and Chloe knows that sound.

“Morning,” she says, nestling more closely into Lex’s shoulder. “Where’s –”

“He left, after,” Lex says, obviously unwilling to hear the name.

“And you stayed?” Chloe asks, not a little surprised.

“I got up when he did,” Lex answers, honestly. “Called him a coward and a liar and an asshole and a lot of other things.”

For every chapter of confusion and anger between her and Clark, Chloe knows, there is an entire volume between Lex and Clark, so she doesn’t try to untangle the truth now. She only runs one hand down Lex’s chest and dips her pinkie into his navel. “And?”

“And he called me all the same words and – flew off.” Lex’s voice should maybe be flat, disappointed, or angry, but he seems shockingly unconcerned.

“But you came back,” Chloe prompts, because to her, this is the strangest part of the whole evening. “You came back to bed.” And not just to *bed* -- because Lex could easily have slipped under the covers on either side of the bed and spent the night alone – but he’d crawled into the middle of the mattress, put his arms around his wife, and slept that way instead.

Lex doesn’t answer right away. There’s a long pause while he strokes Chloe’s hair and then he says, “Are you sore?”

Chloe shifts her legs experimentally. “Not really. I bet you are.”

“He’s not small, is he?” Lex says, the wince audible in his voice.

“Or sweet and tender,” Chloe adds, feeling the bruises on her inner thighs.

Lex exhales a breath of laughter and plants a kiss on the crown of her head. They lie in silence for a while before he speaks again. “I think he needed to know, too.”

“Needed to know?” Chloe asks, puzzled.

“That fantasy almost always trumps reality.” Lex tucks his chin down on top of Chloe’s head, holding her close. “It was incredible, don’t get me wrong… but it wasn’t what I thought it would be.”

“What did you think it would be?” Chloe knows, but she wants Lex to say it.

“A revolution.”

They let the words sit between them for another minute, and then Chloe slowly sits up, gently rearranging Lex onto his back before reaching for his cock, jacking him to fullness with practiced ease. She swings one leg over him and sinks down, sighing with pleasure at the simplicity of the motion, the strange closeness that’s sprung up between them.

She rides him in silence, watches his eyes darken as they trace her body, as her body gradually awakens and rouses. He lifts a hand to cup her breast, rubs a thumb over the rising nipple, and then makes a sharp sound of pleasure as she changes angle, takes him deeper. Looking down at him, Chloe sees Lex splayed on the vast field of white that is their bed, sees her own thighs straddling him, sees the two of them centered on the mattress, pinning it down and making it seem small, intimate, private. Their eyes meet and Chloe feels what it’s like for Clark, feels Lex spinning her own tumblers until she’s wide open for him to see, white on white on white, and something moves in the margin of his mouth and Chloe sees that Lex feels it too. His hand shifts down, fingers her clit, and with eyes still fixed, they build their climaxes in tandem with confidence born of long experience.

They come together for long seconds, and when they’re done, Chloe drops down onto Lex’s chest, loath to break their connection, eager to keep his cock inside her. Chloe’s head is filled with impossible things, thoughts that don’t seem to belong to her, thoughts of them leaving Washington and her getting freelance work and Lex selling the mansion and both of them trying to make this revolution happen in small increments.

It’s not take-out in Milan. It’s not giddy suspension of disbelief, and it’s not angry sexual chemistry, and it’s not a perfect moment of union between lovers who are forever meant to be.

It’s Lex’s heartbeat, slow and important, under Chloe’s splayed palm, and the knowledge that they’ve finally found each other in the white drifted dunes of their marriage bed.

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