Why? Because I *really* wanted to read an OT4 fic in SV and couldn't find a single one. You know, equal parts het, slash and femslash. So of course, I had to write it, am writing it. And I think that maybe only 2 people besides myself would want to see it. Heh. I'm okay with that.
But here's a preview.
Chloe came home one day to find Lex standing in the middle of the living room, hands in his pockets, face placid as if merely waiting for his limo.
"I thought we agreed that you wouldn't visit. As in ever," she said.
"That agreement was between Lana and myself. As I recall, you're not on my list of ex-wives." He moved over to the window, brushed aside the curtain. "Nice view. The neighbor across the way has a roof garden."
Chloe put her purse down. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, I thought I'd see for myself how my alimony check is being misspent," he said, eyeing her discarded purse. "Vuitton, isn't it? Must be nice to buy in the country of origin."
"You know, I have a job," she said.
"Of course you do." He turned and smiled slightly, advancing towards her. "So do I."
Chloe heard the door crash open behind her. She turned to look and there stood Clark, just Clark in Clark clothes, panting slightly.
"Chloe, are you okay?" he said, grabbing her into a protective hug.
"Clark, I'm fine," she sputtered into the sleeve of his jacket.
Lex laughed, bitter. "Well, well, if it isn't Clark Kent to the rescue. I'm sure there's a kitten in a tree down the street who could use your services."
Clark pulled her in tighter. "Lex, you have no right to be here. Get out."
Lex ambled up, close enough so that all Chloe saw were his shirt buttons. "I have just as much right to visit the little French love-nest as you do, Clark. I don't think you're on the guest list either."
"Clark, let me go." Chloe felt a little claustrophobic. Plus getting to her cell phone in her purse sounded like a really good idea about now.
"Oh...sorry," he said and he released her. She scrambled towards her purse on the entry table, found her cell phone. Oliver's private number was #5 on her speed-dial.
"Admit it, Lex, you were going to hurt her."
"There you go again, Clark, accusing me of the most vicious crimes."
"I should just..."
"Go ahead, hit a defenseless man. You think you're incapable of pain, but you're not."
Chloe turned to see Clark, hand curled in Lex's shirt, fist raised, and Lex with a small metal box in his hand, slightly open.
Hopefully, Oliver had someone local he could send over.
But before she could press 'send', another voice came from the doorway.
Lana stood there, market bags in hand, and calmly said, "Stop it. All of you."
Both Lex and Clark looked over at her, horrified, and backed away from each other.
"Lana..." they both said.
She didn't reply but walked into the kitchen and set the bags down. When she came back, she walked over to Lex, the shawl falling from her shoulders, and lightly kissed him. "Hello," she said.
But just as he started to smile, she reached over, grabbed Clark's hand. She pulled him in for a light kiss and said, "Hello."
Chloe flipped her phone closed, reached for her purse. She'd go downstairs and order a carafe of wine, sit at one of the outside tables. This particular reunion she didn't want to see.
Lex and Clark looked at Lana and then each other, and not finding any answers there, finally looked at Chloe.
"Chloe, come here," Lana said. "You're part of this too."
She made sure not to step on the shawl as she walked over to meet them.
At first, they paired off. Or, rather, Lana and Lex did while Chloe and Clark fidgeted, at least a foot apart from each other, on the couch.
She didn't want to look at them on the floor, on top of the quilt that Lana had stripped off the bed. So slow and intimate, the way Lex kissed each fading stretch mark, Lana's hand caressing the side of his face. But then if she didn't look there, she'd have to look at Clark.
Clark's hand reached over to hers. "We could just make out for a while," he said. "Keep busy so we don't have to, um, watch."
Okay, she had to look at him now. "What is this, junior high? This isn't Spin The Bottle, Clark." She looked down at his hand in hers. "Don't worry, I'm sure you're next in line here."
"Hey," he said, putting his arm around her, tilting up her chin. "Is that what you think?"
"One of these things is not like the other, Clark. I'm the only non-ex in the room."
"Uh uh, Chloe. Lex and I never..."
"You don't have to put the 's' in front of 'ex' for it to still be true."
"Well, if you're going to play that game, then that counts for you and me too."
"I know second-fiddle, Clark," she said. "I practically invented it."
"Chloe, it's way more complicated than that, and you know it," he said leaning down, pressing her into the couch, kissing her.
And she let him.
Clark definitely had a weird definition of making out. Last time she looked it up in the dictionary, making out fell somewhere between first and second base. Making out did not mean her legs wrapped around his back and his balls slapping her ass. Knowing him, he was holding back, but it sure didn't feel like it.
She didn't care. Not with his hand braced against her hip, his thumb working her clit. Sitting down comfortably for the next day or so was way overrated.
"Clark...Jesus," she said against his neck, his mouth.
Almost there, almost there...
"Hey, sweetie," Lana said, hand brushing her hair aside, tongue in her ear.
And Chloe saw a large but slender hand run up Clark's arm, his shoulder, turn into a fist curling in his hair, pulling his head back and to the side. Lex's mouth there to meet Clark's when he turned.
Clark stilled, whimpered, and thrust frantically, thumb switched to vibrate.
Her hips, only human, couldn't have possibly pushed Clark all the way up, Chloe's back arching off the couch.
But somehow, they did.
Chloe took a bottle of Scotch and a six-pack of Coke bottles out of a bag, placed them on the counter.
"Is that tonight?" Lana said from behind her. "I'd forgotten."
She turned to find Lana, barefoot, arms clasped against her chest as if cold. Apparently, today had been a Bad Day.
"We could cancel, Lana. It's okay. It's a weird set-up anyway," she said.
"I went to the park today," Lana said, wandering off to the living room. "There was the most adorable little girl on the swings. Her mother was busy with the baby so she let me push her."
"Sounds like fun," Chloe said, following.
"Oh, it was," she said, lost, hollow. "I had the best time."
Chloe lay face down between Lana's legs, Clark pumping her hard from behind, Lex adding extra pushes from behind him. They'd all agreed that no talking was best, but Lex just couldn't keep his mouth shut.
"Fuck, so tight...God, Clark, fuck her...Spread her wider, Chloe, I can't see..."
But he never talked to Lana that way. Between them, all murmurs and little kisses.
Chloe looked up to see Lana, hair wild, staring wide-eyed.
Reaching out her hand, difficult because she really needed both to brace, Chloe said, "Hon, be here with us, okay?"
Lana looked down, smiled.
When Lana leaned forward to kiss Clark, Chloe found it hard to breathe at that angle. And when she heard their mouths meet above her, she felt them both come.
Later, when she had Lex's cock in her mouth, he muttered, "Some things never change."
And she knew exactly what he meant.
Chloe picked up her extension at the bureau. "Chloe Sullivan," she said.
"Are you up for lunch?" Lex said on the other end. "I'm in town."
"I don't think that's such a good idea. You know the arrangement."
"Screw the arrangement," he said. "It's just lunch between friends."
"We're not friends, Lex."
"Just meet me at Papa Maya in half an hour." And he hung up.
"I never figured you for Tex-Mex," she said as she sat down. "Have you eaten here before?"
"LuthorCorp tries to keep abreast of the latest trends, even in the food industry."
"American cuisine in Paris is hardly new, Lex. Even I know that."
"Be that as it may, I'm in the mood for a burrito. Paris cannot deny me that."
Despite herself, she smiled. "The definition of burrito changes with the continent, Lex. You'll find out."
Later, she asked, "How's the burrito?"
"It has carrots in it," he said as he poked it mournfully with a fork.
"Why don't we go back to my place for an digestif?" Lex suggested. "My private bar has a superior selection, plus a view of the Seine."
Oh boy. "Lex, I agreed to lunch, not a nooner. Besides I'm not your type and we both know it."
He leaned forward, smiled. "You really think I'm that shallow?"
"Brunette, slightly crazy...Okay, that last one doesn't quite explain Clark." Unfortunately, these days, it did explain Lana.
Lex's mouth turned into a grim line, his eyes narrowed. "Don't talk about him."
"All is not well in LexandClark land?"
Lex signaled for the check. "Hardly. He's quite adamant about observing the arrangement."
"What goes on in the room, stays in the room."
"Precisely, outside he's the same self-righteous asshole he's always been."
"I don't see him that way."
"What, you think I'd be impartial? Lex, I know where my loyalties lie."
"Do you?" he said. He took a sip of water and gazed out the window. "If Clark had..." His voice trailed off, broken and fading.
"If Clark had what, Lex? That child wasn't meant for this earth and you know it."
He took out his wallet, paid. Looking back at her, he said, "It's Clark that wasn't meant for this earth." He let out a small laugh, the laugh of a man who knew the punchline to some sick joke. "And so few of us know that."
Chloe stood. "Thanks for lunch. I'm going to the ladies'."
Lex stood as well, reached out and touched a strand of her hair. "You could dye it, you know, keep your stereotype of me." He leaned in, a whisper. "It's horrible to have your worldview shattered. I know."
She turned and walked away.
She almost made it to the door when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Lex spun her around and pushed her against the wall, between the doors marked femmes and hommes. His face calm, but his eyes fervent and wild.
"Lana's not the only one who lost a child, Chloe."
She didn't know whether he was appealing to her or accusing her. Probably both. Somehow Lex could believe five different things at once.
"God, Lex, I'm sorry," she said.
"You should be," he whispered, hands pinning her shoulders. "You should be." And this time, the whisper was against her mouth.
Lex had locked the door to the ladies' room and had his hands underneath her ass, her legs around him, as he pushed into her. Her head rested against a case stack of Jarritos, Mandarin flavor.
And for all the times he spewed dirty nothings in the room, all of them there, this time he was utterly silent, even as he came.
Only when he had his back turned to her, washing his hands at the sink, did he say anything.
"We're all capable of betrayal," he said. He unlocked the door, turned. "Even you."
One day she found Lana in the Degas room of the Orsay, her face glowing in the blacklight, as if the pastels emitted a light of their own.
"How long have you been here?"
"Only a few hours," Lana said, smiling. The tourists and video cameras parted around her. "I just need to see."
"How he could see them and not see them," she said. "They're all so beautiful, but they're creatures, as if they're not women anymore." She paused. "He thought he owned them, in a way."
"No one owns you, Lana."
"Who said I was talking about me?"
Lana and Clark were curled against each other on the quilt, gently kissing, hands brushing each other's back. Chloe couldn't look.
Which she didn't for very long. She was busy.
"Have you ever been fucked in the ass?" Lex said softly as he leaned on one elbow, fingers teasing her cleft.
"And I would let you why?" she said.
"Because I know what I'm doing," he said along her shoulder. "That's why you're thinking about it."
"Relax," he said as he pushed in, slowly. "Deep breaths."
Stretch and burn and nothing like the fingers that he'd pulled out just moments before. Just a tingle of okay, but the rest not.
"What a rip off," she said into her elbow. "I want a refund."
"Don't...don't make me laugh," he said.
"I thought we were supposed to relax."
"No, you relax. I'm working."
"That sounds like fun."
He had a hand wrapped around her, fingers working her pussy and clit. "It'll get fun in a minute," he said.
And when the burn didn't go away exactly, it expanded into a whole lot of okay and really intense until she started pushing back. Intense went up a notch, ten notches.
"I knew you'd like it," he said, moving with her, the wrap-around hand speeding up.
God, she hated it when Lex was right.
Still trembling from the orgasm, she slapped at Lex's hand that was still working her. "Don't you know when to stop?"
"Not really," he said, but his hand slowed down.
And then, still spooning, he whispered along her neck, "Jarritos, mi corazon...burritos with carrots..."
Her eyes flared open. "Shut up," she hissed.
And for whatever freaky reason, she glanced over at Clark. Of course he heard, but it didn't have to make sense.
"Jarritos...burritos..." Lex whispered again.
Clark, Lana against his chest, just looked at her, startled, suspicious.
"Chloe," he said. "Come here." He motioned to her. "Over here by us."
Of course she went, crawling into Clark's open arm. Lex was a big boy, he'd follow or he wouldn't.
She and Clark sat on a park bench in the Jardin des Tuileries eating ham sandwiches, pigeons darting about their feet.
"Chloe, be careful," he said.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I think you know." He pulled off a bit of bread and lightly tossed it, the pigeons following.
"Clark, it was just lunch. What's the big?"
"It's never just lunch with Lex. I know." He took a sip of his Coke, swallowed. "Burritos, huh?"
"Clark, tell me you didn't..."
"No, I didn't. But I should've never had lunch with him in the first place. He just...twists everything around. He's never the asshole, you are," he said. "And then he has you believing it." He took another sip, looked away. "It sucks."
She munched her sandwich for a while, watched a nanny walk by with a little girl, bows in her hair. The same age that Clara would have been. Lex had insisted on a nanny; Lana hadn't wanted one.
Clark watched them go by too. "Same color hair," he said. "God, if I'd just..."
Chloe put her arm around his shoulder and he laid his head against hers.
"So what did you have?" she asked.
"Prime rib. With horseradish."
"And Lex still made a move on you? With that breath? That's not determination, that's storming the beach at Normandy."
Clark laughed, laughed until the bench shook. "I miss you," he said. "Sometimes so much."
"I miss you too, big guy." And her hand ruffled his hair.
He put his arm around her too. They sat there for a while, finished their sandwiches.
"So, um, what Lex did the other night..." And he blushed.
"You liked it?"
"You mean the whole backdoor thing? Surprisingly nice."
"Do you think maybe...?" He turned, voice suddenly low, a little rough. Her nipples suddenly tender against her bra. His mouth by her ear now. "What goes through my head..."
"You don't have kinky, porno thoughts, Clark." Although flashing on Clark's internal porn made her want to take that large hand that was just made for sex and put it right there.
"You don't know what I think," he whispered, his breath ghosting her jaw. "I could just whisk you away to that rooftop over there and make this that kind of lunch." His mouth worked its way up to hers. "I want to, Chloe, so bad."
"Why don't you?" she whispered back. What was right and fair could just kiss her ass right now. And Clark should kiss her ass right now too, little nips and bites. And she did reach for his hand, moved it up her thigh.
"That's not the arrangement," he said, pulling away.
He stood, neck flushed and his hard-on there for all to see, for her to see.
"It wouldn't be fair to Lana." He closed his eyes briefly. "Or to him."
"Like you care what he thinks," she said. Okay, so she was twelve. But she'd never been this wet when she was twelve.
"I feel for him, Chloe. I wish I didn't."
"What, as in sorry? He's just playing you, Clark."
"It's more than that. Twisted and gross, yeah, but it's more."
"Clark, oh Jesus..."
"I'll see you later," he said, leaning down, brushing her lips.
And then he wasn't there to say goodbye to or otherwise.
One day she came home to find Lana sitting with a glass of red wine at the café downstairs, a book facedown in front of her. Seeing Chloe, she smiled that dazzling smile she had from before, before everything.
"Well, aren't you quite the Parisienne?" Chloe said, sitting down next to her. And she looked it, hair falling about her neck, casual elegance. Chloe never managed anything beyond An American In Paris. She had that look down pat.
"I've been painting again," Lana said.
Chloe ordered her own glass. "I hope you opened up the windows."
"Just a little. It's going to rain," she said.
On cue, the first drops hit the canopy above them. "That's just this side of eerie. Talk about timing."
Lana took Chloe's hand in hers. "Even the rain would wait for you," she said.
Chloe looked at her, her eyes shifting gold and warm within the hazel. "Why, Lana Lang, are you trying to romance me?"
Lana leaned in, just the edges of her mouth twisting up in a smile. "I don't know. Is it working?" she said, voice soft and low, teasing. "You're the writer." And her voice fell softer still. "I'm just good with my hands."
"You could get me drunk first and then invite me up to see your etchings," Chloe said, quite enjoying what one of those hands was doing to her knee.
"We have wine upstairs..."
Rain fell hard against the window, canvases haphazard along the wall. The sheets rucked up and sweat stained, blankets long ago kicked to the floor.
Lana straddled her, fingers pumping. "Come here," Chloe said, hips rising,
"No, I want to see you."
"I want to see you too," Chloe said, taking Lana's other hand, licking the fingers, and putting it by Lana's clit. "Do it."
So dirty and intimate the way Lana let go for her. Chloe supplied most of the talk, but Lana made up for it in action. Seeing her, head falling back, breath hitching, enough to make her tighten and rise.
"Finish..." Chloe said, shuddering down, as Lana rolled off and to the side.
"Going to..." Her knee pulled up and her hand jerked faster against herself. "Kiss me," she said.
Chloe did and disappeared into it.
This her Paris, this her now. Just them.
"I love Paris in the rain," Lana said later, retrieving the blankets from the floor.
Funny, to Chloe, Paris in the rain smelled like motor oil and chestnuts. "I love you in the rain," she said.