EPISODE FIFTEEN
Carousel
If shame had a face I think it would kind of look like mine
If it had a home would it be my eyes
Would you believe if I said I'm tired of this
Well here we go one more time
Sick Cycle Carousel - Lifehouse
It's far too bright for a funeral.
I remember the day of my mother's funeral being the same way. There hadn't been a cloud in the sky and the sun had been so bright, I spent most of the service squinting at the light reflecting off of her white casket. I remember hearing one of my mother's friends saying how God must have been happy to have an angel like her back in Heaven with Him. But I was old enough by then to understand that things like God and Santa Claus and big, happy families didn't actually exist. So the idea of my mother sitting on some fluffy white cloud, next to a God who shouldn't have taken her away from her family in the first place, was ludicrous.
Unfortunately, Hudson doesn't seem very receptive to comforting words or thoughts, either. For the most part, throughout the service for Rianne this morning, she has remained away from family and friends, staring blankly at the simple casket covered in bright and cheerful flowers. I'd offered only once to pay for the funeral – the responding glares I received from all three Kents caused me to refrain from making the offer twice. She hadn't been with them long, but I know that Rianne will always be considered a part of the family, the sibling that Hudson has never had, the youngest daughter. I find myself both jealous and pleased that Rianne had the chance, at least for a short time, to know what it was like to be a member of the Kent family.
As the minister finishes his short prayer, the crowd around us slowly begins to disperse. Chloe and Pete stop beside Hudson, both giving her a hug before they head toward the parking lot. I continue to hang back, watching her closely as a few more friends from school offer their condolences and move on. The tense set of my Angel's shoulders tell me that, just a few hours into the day, Hudson is already weary, and she needs to be cared for. I wish she didn't have to go through this. She isn't all that innocent any more, in no small part thanks to me, but that doesn't mean I wish to see her suffer. Ever. I've told her in the past that she needs to grow up, but now I find myself regretting those words.
She's not the girl I fell in love with over a year ago on the riverbank.
"Mr. and Mrs. Kent," I call out as the couple begins to move past me, just to my right. "May I speak with you a moment?"
"What is it, Lex?" Martha asks, turning her soft gaze to me, offering a half-smile as she walks up the incline toward me.
Slipping my hands into my coat pockets, I move to meet them, pondering the correct way to broach my question. While their anger at me and Hudson regarding the silence over the change in our relationship has calmed somewhat, I know my presence in their lives still isn't wholly accepted. And it's not like I can blame them. If Hudson were my daughter, I never would have let someone like me near her, as a friend or otherwise. But the Kents are good people, they want Hudson to be happy, and they give people chances. They've certainly given me more than I deserve. Unfortunately, they've never allowed me to make it up to them. I still have hope that someday that chance will be offered.
"I think you would both agree that Hudson needs something to get her mind off of what has happened," I begin, measuring the shifting frown in Jonathan's eyes before turning my gaze back to Martha.
Her eyes widen slightly in curiosity. "What did you have in mind, Lex?" She asks, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.
The action is very Hudson-like, so much that I find myself wondering if the adoption wasn't just some joke. Hudson takes after many traits from both the Kents, and sometimes I can't believe they aren't truly blood-related.
"I'd like to take her to Metropolis with me for the weekend," I tell them. "Just to get her to relax, have a good time – "
"Absolutely not."
Only years of training help me to repress the sigh I feel rise to the surface at Jonathan's immediate refusal. Ignoring the negation I know is coming, I press forward with my proposal. "Mr. Kent, I know that you have your... misgivings regarding our relationship, and I understand where they come from. But please, try to think of Hudson right now – "
Jonathan's frown quickly turns into a glare. "I'm always thinking of my daughter first, Lex, and how dare you imply that I wouldn't. Furthermore – "
"Mr. Kent, I didn't mean to imply anything." My gaze quickly shifts to Martha, who I know has always been more understanding where my relationship with Hudson is concerned. Sometimes, I think she knows more about my feelings for her daughter than I do.
"I'm simply saying that what we normally might consider good for Hudson might not be such in this case. You know that she has a tendency to mope, to shutter herself off from the rest of the world and wallow in her own pain. I'm sure you're as used to her doing that as I am."
Martha nods. "She blames herself for not being able to help Rianne sooner. Nothing we say seems to help."
"And the longer she dwells on it, the worse it'll get," I point out. "Look, I just want to get her mind off of it, take her Christmas shopping, let her see the lights and the city and spend – "
"Spend money on her," Jonathan comments. "Did you ever think money isn't the solution to everything, Lex? Especially where Hudson is concerned."
This time I'm unable to hold back the quick flash of anger that surfaces at Jonathan's accusation. The comparison to my father, to his unique form of 'love', cuts too quick to the core. "I was going to say 'spend time with her', Mr. Kent. As much as I do enjoy spoiling Hudson, and as much as I think she deserves every penny I get the chance to spend on her, I also know that those things mean nothing to her. I would have hoped that, by now, you would have seen that."
Martha sighs, glancing between both of us before finally telling her husband, "Jonathan, why don't you go start the car?"
"Dammit, Martha. I'm not – "
"Jonathan." Her tone is quiet but steely. I've been up against that tone before.
It's moments like this that cause my respect for the woman to grow in leaps and bounds. Someday, when Hudson is older and more confident, she will display this same strength, and I can't help but find myself looking forward to it. My god, she'll be magnificent.
"Don't make a scene," she continues her voice suddenly gentle. Another trick Hudson has obviously gleaned from the woman who raised her. "This has been a rough week for all of us. Go on. I'll be there in a moment with H.C."
Jonathan looks ready to argue before he seems to finally resign himself to letting his wife have her way. His gaze drifts over to me for a moment, as if he wishes to say something further, before he turns and makes his way toward the parking lot. The thought again occurs to me, as it has so many times before – it doesn't matter what I do, Jonathan Kent will never accept me for anything other than my last name. The sins of the father are indeed visited upon the children, and apparently I'm meant to suffer that the rest of my life. I try not to be bitter.
With a shake of her head, Martha brings her attention back to me. "After what happened with Rianne... " She trails off and drops her gaze to the ground as if considering her words carefully. "It makes a parent cling even more tightly to their child out of fear. Sometimes, the world is so cruel." Martha looks over at the casket, where Hudson continues to hover, Lana standing beside her. "We just want to shelter her from it all. And at moments like this, we realize that we can't."
"Mrs. Kent, believe me, I understand," I tell her as I wait for her gaze to return to mine. "If I could, I would hide Hudson away in the mansion and never let anyone hurt her ever again."
Martha smiles a little at that, shaking her head.
I rush to reassure her, "But I know she's better than that. I know she deserves more. Mrs. Kent, please. Let me help. Just this once."
"I'll talk to Jonathan," she replies with a nod. "You'll be by to get her soon?"
"Yes. In an hour."
Martha gives me a slight smile before reaching out to touch my arm, squeezing it once. "Thank you, Lex." She turns to head toward the truck, glancing over her shoulder to call out, "H.C., honey? Your father and I are waiting in the truck."
I watch Martha Kent walk away before moving down the small slope where Hudson still stands beside the casket. Lana passes by me, flashing a small smile that I return before focusing my gaze on my Angel. Dressed all in black, a long wool coat wrapped tightly around her, the teenage girl who has saved my life time and time again – be it with breath or a smile – suddenly appears entirely too old for her age. Her delicate brow is knit together in a deep frown, the expression on her face one that I personally know all too well. It asks a simple question: Why? A simple question that really has no answer. Part of me wants to tell her that, just to get it through her head there is no use in asking a question that can never be answered. But, in my heart, I know it's better to allow her to realize that on her own. It's part of growing up. Knowing that the world around you is a horrible place to be, and understanding there is nothing you can do but live your life.
I stop beside her, saying nothing, slipping my arm around her waist and pulling her close. For the past few days, Hudson has been less than receptive to gestures of comfort, but this time she doesn't resist, simply tucks her head against my neck and sighs, her breath warming my skin. I kiss the top of her head, press my nose into her hair for a moment, smelling the mixture of apples and the crisp air of the morning. The top of her head is warm from the sun, drawing in its rays like a solar panel, and I imagine wrapping myself in the strands, snuggling down in its warmth like a blanket.
"I suppose this is where I'm supposed to say something like 'At least she isn't in pain anymore' or something stupid like that?" Hudson asks, voice muffled against my coat.
I pull her closer. "You don't have to say anything, Angel." Resting my chin on top of her head, I look out over the graveyard, toward the herd of cattle in the pasture beyond the trees. "No one expects that."
"It's unfair," she whispers, voice almost too soft. "Why couldn't they save her? What – why do things like this happen?"
Because life is unfair and cruel and it takes away mothers and babies and children and leaves people like my father in their place, I want to reply.
Instead, I say nothing.
Touching her chin, I tip her head back and kiss away the tear that falls down her cheek. Hudson closes her eyes against the sun behind me, and the light touches the tears that glistened on her lashes, bathing her skin in gold. For a long moment, I can only stare, my fingers reverently brushing against her face. So beautiful. And mine. What was stopping me from whisking her away to the mansion, locking her behind doors, calling in mercenaries to keep the world at bay? It could only be the two of us, forever.
"I'd better go. Mom and dad are waiting."
I snap from my reverie to find her bright green eyes watching me. Brushing a finger gently over her eyes, first one, then the other, I wipe the lingering tears away. "Go home. I'll be there in an hour to pick you up."
Hudson searches my face quietly before asking, "Pick me up? Where are we going?"
"Metropolis. For the weekend."
She makes a face, pursing her lips, a stubborn glint, reminiscent of her father, appearing in her eyes. "I don't feel like going anywhere. I just want... I want to be alone."
I hold tightly to her arm as she attempts to pull away. "Sorry, Greta," I mock. "But I'm not going to let you spend the weekend hiding out in your room, blaming yourself for things you have no control over."
Hudson tugs at my hold, flashing a quick glare. "What do you know?"
"I know you, Hudson Kent." I take hold of her other arm and pull her back to me, wrapping a secure hold once more around her waist as I meet her angry eyes. "What can you do here that you can't do in the city, Hudson?"
"I don't feel like being social, Lex." She lifts her chin defiantly, compressing her lips in a tight line.
I want to kiss her. My reactions to her never seem to make any sense.
"Fine. You don't have to be. If all you want to do is lie in the bed in the penthouse and huddle under the sheets crying, you can do that. And I'll be there to hold you. But, if you want to get out and take your mind off of things, we can do that, too. I'm not asking you to ignore your grief, Angel. I simply don't want you to wallow in it."
"You won't make me go out if I don't want to?" Hudson asks, sniffling once.
"No." I shake my head, caressing the side of her neck with my thumb. "We'll just stay in and order out for Chinese if you want."
"And... my parents are okay with this?"
I glance over my shoulder toward the parking lot where the familiar red truck is waiting beside the curb. "Well, I don't know about 'okay'." I turn back to her. "But they are allowing you to go."
Hudson wrinkles her nose in thought. "I guess it would be kind of stupid of me to say no, then. Huh?"
"Kind of." I smile.
Hudson nods a little and takes a deep breath. "Okay. An hour, then." She lifts her gaze to mine. "What should I pack?"
I grin. I can't help it. "Nothing except your toothbrush." And maybe I'll pick her up some naughty lingerie. Edible undies. The possibilities are endless.
Rolling her eyes, Hudson snorts. It's unattractive, unappealing and adorable. How does she do that? "Gotcha. Footy pajamas and overalls."
"Brat."
"Dork."
"Prude."
"Fiend."
My grin continues at our play. "Yeah. I am."
Smiling, Hudson leans her forehead against my chest. "Thank you for being here, Lex."
"There's no where else I'd rather be." I kiss the top of her head, then set her away from me. "Now go on. Your parents are waiting. I'll see you soon."
Nodding, Hudson turns and her gaze sweeps over the casket again. Reaching out, she touches it, lifting one of the white gerbera daisies into her hand. "I hope she isn't afraid of the dark. I hope... She doesn't belong in the ground, Lex."
"She won't be." I step forward and lay my hand over Hudson's heart. "She's here... And I, for one, can't think of a better place to be."
When I get back to the mansion, Dodd gives me a message that my father will be in Chicago until Wednesday. I'm tempted to call off the trip to Metropolis and just spend the next few days in Smallville, basking in the solitude of the mansion. But I've already promised Hudson, and I know it will do her a bit of good to spend some time away from the well-meaning concern of her parents.
After informing Dodd of my plans, I make my way to the study to gather some paperwork and my laptop together to take with me. There's plenty to do at the Plant, and being away for a few days isn't going to help matters. Sometimes I find myself wondering if my father isn't right, and I'm not ready for this. It's hard not to bitter toward those other twenty-two year olds who are responsible for nothing beyond what bar they're attending that night and the name of the chick they fucked the night before. I'm better than them, I'm meant for greater things than they are, but sometimes I can't help but wonder what my life would be like if it were simpler. If I weren't Lex Luthor.
Stopping at my desk, I scoop a few files into my briefcase and come across one of my Warrior Angel comics. When Hudson unexpectedly showed up with Rianne on my doorstep, I made a point of gathering my collection together to show her. The first time she'd come to Smallville, we hadn't really hit it off. I think I was a little jealous of Hudson's attention to her, and Rianne was very protective of Hudson, almost as if their roles were somehow reversed. It was something I came to understand very quickly – it's difficult to not want to protect her. I haven't met a friend of Hudson's yet that didn't attempt, in some way, to look out for her. Being a child of ten hadn't changed that for Rianne.
This time, though, Rianne and I seemed to reach a silent truce...
"How is the little one?"
I glanced over my shoulder toward Dodd at his question. "She seems fairly shaken up." I ran a hand over my face a moment, eyes still stinging from the past few hours I'd spent going over records from City Hall. "I can't make any sense of why Hudson would bring her here."
My cook shrugs as he pours the steaming hot cocoa into a mug. "Miss Kent trusts you. She knows that if anyone has the answers for what to do, it would be you. You would have been angry if she hadn't come to you."
"Maybe." I turned my gaze toward the hall.
I wasn't worried so much for myself as I was for Hudson. She had a track record for jumping into situations without thinking them through first. Usually I derived some satisfaction from being able to point that out to her, to say 'I told you so' and explain to her what she should have done in each circumstance. But this time there was something about the entire matter that left me uneasy, not the least of which was how she got Rianne out of the hospital in the first place. Normally, just picking a minor up from their bed and walking down the hall and out the doors with them wasn't exactly tolerated. So how had she pulled it off? There no money involved for bribes, no contacts to sign the right paperwork, no –
"Marshmallows or whipped cream?"
I turned my head to frown at Dodd. "What?"
"Would the little one prefer marshmallows or whipped cream?"
"How the hell should I know?" I snapped.
Grunting, Dodd turned back to the counter and grabbed the can of whipped cream. "I will give her whipped cream. It is Miss Kent's favorite."
"Fine. Whatever." I moved over to the counter and grabbed the mug, slowing only when I realized the hot beverage threatened to spill over the sides. "I don't know why I didn't just have you bring this to us," I muttered, heading toward the hall.
"Because then you wouldn't have had an outlet to rant and rave to," Dodd called after me.
Ignoring him, I moved down the hallway and back into the study where Rianne and Hudson sat huddled on the couch beside the fire, talking softly to one another. The girl was wrapped in one of my blankets, beneath which she still wore a hospital gown and slippers. Her dark blonde hair was falling out of the haphazard braids, strands matted and tangled around her neck. She glanced up at my entry, blue eyes round and large with mixture of curiosity and intensity. I tried not to falter in my step at her gaze, even as my memories turned to that moment in the limousine when she'd plucked the name of Julian from my mind. Afterwards, I'd reasoned that Hudson must have told Rianne about Julian, but even now I can't help but wonder if there was something more going on there.
"Here you go, Rianne," I said with a slight smile as I handed her the mug of hot cocoa and took a seat on the chair across from her and Hudson. "How you doing?"
"Okay," she replied, returning my smile. "Thanks to Hudson."
Obviously uncomfortable with the praise, Hudson shifted in her seat toward Rianne, asking, "Rianne, do you have any idea how we can get a hold of your aunt?"
The girl took a sip of the cocoa, licking at the whipped cream on her upper lip. I think she moved to... Arizona."
"How could she just leave you?" Hudson demanded, a frown flashing over her perfect features. It took every ounce of my willpower not to lean over and kiss the furrow away from her forehead.
"A couple months ago, I started getting nosebleeds and headaches," Rianne explained simply. "She took me to all kinds of doctors, but no one seemed to know what the problem was. The bills were becoming too much for her to handle..." She shrugged. "Then Dr. Garner showed up and offered to pay for my care."
I considered her words for a long moment, wondering what kind of doctor showed up with such a display of altruism to take care of a sick child. And why would her aunt just run off and leave her in his care?
"Rianne, what were they treating you for?"
She glanced up at my question, pausing for only the briefest of moments as she seemed to consider her reply. "They... they were treating me— "
"They were holding her for observation," Hudson finished for her quickly.
My gaze shot up at Hudson's words, a sharp stab of disappointment shooting through me. Why was it that every time I believed we were beyond the lies and deception, Hudson insisted on throwing something else into the mix? The lie was so obvious as to be laughable. Even Rianne was staring up at Hudson in surprise before hurriedly returning her attention to the cup of cocoa in her hands. A brief flash of guilt seem to move across the girl's face before she spent the next few moments quietly licking at the whipped cream.
Why are you lying to me? I felt like throwing something as I sat there, staring at Hudson until she dropped her gaze. I continued to watch her as she leaned down to tug at a shoelace, dried mud from the edge of her tennis shoes flaking on to the rug beneath them. She was avoiding my gaze, causing my frustration to mount.
I gave a small smile to Rianne before asking, "Hudson, can I talk to you for a moment?"
Not waiting for a reply, I climbed to my feet and started toward the far side of the room and the hallway beyond. Behind me, I heard Rianne's voice.
"Hudson?"
"Yeah?"
A significant pause. "Never mind." Her voice sounded sad.
"Get some rest, okay?" Hudson suggested before I heard her footsteps following me across the room.
Sighing inwardly, I waited in the hall for her to join me, pacing near the wall as she walked out, her gaze drifting back inside for just a moment before she flashed me a grateful smile. Sometimes, she's completely clueless.
"I appreciate you taking Rianne in," she told me, reaching out for my hand. "If I took her home, my parents would've freaked."
"Yeah, kidnapping has that effect on people," I replied in frustration. Turning to her, I asked, "Hudson, why did you break her out if they were only keeping her for observation?"
She seemed to pale a little at the accusation and the question. Worrying her lower lip, she dropped her gaze. "Look, I didn't have a choice. They were treating her like a lab rat. It was terrible."
If I grabbed her and shook her, would it actually knock any sense in to her? I clenched my jaw and looked into the study where Rianne was quietly drinking her cocoa and watching us. Our gazes met, and again I couldn't help but think that there was something going on there that I hadn't quite grasped yet.
Looking away, I replied, "Hudson, you abducted a minor. They'll trace her to you, and then to me. We're both in a serious amount of trouble here."
While I had no fear of the law, I wanted to be certain that Hudson knew what the consequences of her actions could be. There was a reason her parents would have 'freaked' if she'd shown up on their doorstep with Rianne, but I didn't know if she actually took the time to consider that. With Hudson it was always act first on emotion, then react against the consequences. I'm certain if she ever actually plotted out her response before taking it.
"I shouldn't have involved you," came the reply, including both the pout and the immature tone. "I'll find some place else to hide her."
It would have served her right if I had just let her go. Instead, I reached out to grab her arm as she started to move away, pulling her back to me.
"Rianne's staying here," I told her. "At least for tonight. Tomorrow I'll talk to my lawyers in Metropolis and see what our options are."
Even though they were used to hearing outlandish requests from both me and my father, I couldn't wait to see their expressions when I told them I was involved in the kidnapping of a minor. And I wanted them to make it all right. It could be done, it was just going to take a lot of loopholes, contacts and money to get it all done. I don't mind using any of my resources when it comes to making certain my Angel is happy, but for once I wished that she would be honest with me as to why I was being asked to do so.
"I'm sorry." She sighed and leaned her head against my shoulder, fingers curling against my chest. "I didn't think this through. I saw her hooked up to those wires... I had to do something."
"So you staged a one-woman prison break?" I asked incredulously, ignoring the desire to press her again as to the real reason Rianne had been there, hooked up to wires. Instead, I wrapped his arms around her and laid my head against hers. "How did you manage to get her out without anybody stopping you?"
If I couldn't get the answer to one question...
"Just lucky, I guess."
I closed my eyes and silently counted to ten. One day, she would run out of excuses. "You're the luckiest person I've ever met," I commented wryly. "Let's hope it doesn't run out before tomorrow."
Sighing, Hudson hugged me a little tighter before pulling back. "I'd better get home. I'll be by tomorrow to check on Rianne." She leaned up and brushed her lips over mine in a soft kiss. "Thank you, again."
Nodding, I stared at her silently for a long moment, willing her to trust me with the truth before I turned and headed back to the study to see to my guest...
"... packed."
Snapping from my thoughts, I turn to see Dodd standing in the doorway, watching me with a barely tolerant expression. Sometimes I wonder why I just don't fire him. "What?"
"You're packed. I took the liberty of including dinner clothes, so that you could take Miss Kent out – "
"She may not wish to go 'out', Dodd. Ever think of that?" I remark, turning back to filling my briefcase.
"As well as work clothes in case duty calls," he continues, ignoring me. "I still think that I should be allowed to drive you."
"What? Afraid I don't know how to use the turn signals without your instruction?" He's really getting on my nerves.
Dodd flashes me a look. He's perturbed. Good. "No. But things happen in the city. I should be there. It's why you hired me – aside from making certain your eggs are cooked properly."
It's on the tip of my tongue to say that Hudson's there, she'll protect me. I depend on her entirely too much. It's pathetic. Weak. Especially when I don't know the exact reason as to why I depend on her, trust her. Maybe because she's always been there. She hasn't let me down yet.
"Nothing's going to happen." I snap my briefcase shut and turn to glare at him. "Anything else... dad?"
Dodd returns my expression. "I've killed for less, you know." He pauses. "Your bag is in the hall."
There are times I understand why Hudson sticks her tongue out at him. I wish I were free enough to do the same.
On the drive to the Kent farm, I call the office and tell them that I'll be at the penthouse for the weekend, and to call me if anything happens with the weekend shift. There's a big order to be filled by Monday, and if anything goes wrong, it could spell certain doom for Lexcorp. Gabe assures me that everything is on schedule and there shouldn't be any reason to contact me. Still, I know I'll be calling in the morning just to ease my mind.
Pulling up the gravel drive, I toss my phone into the glove compartment, slip off my driving gloves and climb out of the car, pausing to stare up at the yellow farmhouse as the door slides shut quietly behind me. I start across the yard toward the back door, tucking my hands into the pockets of my coat. It's a warm December day and I find myself wondering if maybe I shouldn't have grabbed a lighter coat for comfort's sake.
It's strange how a place as foreign to me as the Kent farm has quickly become much more of a home to me than any other. I love to hear the sounds of Jonathan Kent working in the barn or the old tractor sputtering in the pasture. The air is filled with scents – manure, hay, farm animals, flowers, vegetables and fruits. As you near the house, those smells are mixed with that of Martha's cooking, varieties of baked goods and home- cooked meals that would make Wolfgang Puck green with envy. I love it here. I think I'll always love it here. And sometimes I wish that I could express that love so the Kents understood how much both they, and their home, means to me.
"Are you sure about this, Martha?"
Jonathan's voice carries out the screen door as I begin up the steps. Martha's reply brings me to a pause just as I lift my hand to knock.
"There's not much we can hold them back from doing, if they want to do it, Jonathan."
Jonathan snorts in reply, like it's the last thing he wants to hear. It probably is.
I shouldn't be listening. There's this societal taboo about eavesdropping that every person is raised with. Everyone that isn't a part of the Luthor family, that is. I've even schooled Hudson on the finer points of the fact that there is no such thing as too much information. Out of respect for the Kents, I should walk away, go back to the car, slam the door extra hard or honk or something to alert them to my presence. Unfortunately, childhood teachings have a way of sticking with you. Instead of doing the right thing, I move to the side of the door, out of sight, and continue to listen.
"I didn't mean... that. Unfortunately, the horse is already out of the barn, so to speak."
Silence is followed by the sound of running water, and Martha rolling down out onto the counter. Cautiously, I peer through the corner of the screen door to catch Martha smirking.
Apparently Jonathan must see it as well because he remarks suddenly, "I don't think it's funny."
"No. It isn't funny, Jonathan. But what are we going to do? Push her away by refusing to allow her to see him? Ruin any chance that we still have to guide her? She loves him. And you have to admit that Lex has been nothing but good to her."
"I don't have to admit anything," he grunts, and I see him crossing the kitchen to the refrigerator. Quickly I duck back against the wall as he continues, "What I'm saying is, two days constantly in his company – well, that's a long time to go and hope that she doesn't let something slip. That he doesn't see more than he should."
Something slip? I furrow my brow at the words, the suspicions I've always harbored regarding Hudson surfacing once again. Not even counting the accident at the bridge, there have been too many close-calls, too many unexplained situations, too many lies. How can I not wonder, not be curious? I've asked questions that Hudson has blatantly avoided.
And now it seems that my suspicions have been confirmed. She is hiding something. Her parents are hiding something.
Martha sighs. "And what do you think would happen if he did, Jonathan? Would the ground open up and all the demons of Hell ascend into the world? Would Lex suddenly grow horns and flame Hudson over a pit of meteor rocks?"
I raise an eyebrow at her mention of the meteor rocks. Once I began to understand their strange effects on many of those who come into contact with them, I suspected that they had something to do with Hudson's secrets. I doubt that Martha's use of them in her remark is simply coincidental.
"I can't believe you can joke about this!" Jonathan snaps.
"I'm not. I worry about Hudson's safety the same as you do. I have nightmares about it. My god, Jonathan! She's my daughter, too. But that doesn't mean I can't have a little faith in her and her judgment...
"Yes, I know who Lex's father is. Yes, I know about the kind of people he associates with. Yes, I know he's done some questionable things in the past regarding this family. But I also know how much good he's done, how much he cares about our daughter and how happy he makes her. I'm not going to begrudge Hudson the minor normalcy she can have in her life from a relationship with him just because I want to keep her safe."
I find a smile at Martha's defense of me. It quickly disappears, though, with Jonathan's following remark:
"I can't imagine referring to any relationship with a Luthor as 'normal'."
"One of these days, Jonathan, you're going to regret having lumped Lex in the same category as his father."
"Well, I hope you're right, Martha. I'd like to be shown that they're not the same person --"
"Mom!" Hudson's voice rings out and I hear her scrambling down the stairs. "I can't find my bathing suit!"
"Bathing suit?" Jonathan asks. "It's early December. Why the heck would you need a bathing suit?"
"Oh, Lex has a hot tub in his penthouse."
Great. Why don't you tell them my sheets are black and I have a secret room with shackles on the wall as well, Hudson? I love her, but sometimes she doesn't think. She just says whatever she wants to, and more than once I've seen that behavior come back to bite her in the ass. And me. It's the folly of youth to speak before thinking, but Hudson seems to have a particular knack for it. I blame it on her unwavering ability to always look at the world through rose-colored glasses. She could never truly imagine someone using the things she says or does against her. And god, I hope that no one ever does.
"I think it's in the laundry room, honey," Martha tells her. "I hung it up after washing it in September and left it for the summer."
"Thanks, mom!"
There's a momentary banging of pots and pans, and then the distinct sound of Hudson's quick steps up the stairs.
"H.C.?" Jonathan calls out. "I want to speak with you a moment."
Here it comes. The inevitable moment when Jonathan changes his mind, tells Hudson she can't come with me to Metropolis. She'll likely argue with him – Hudson's grown prone to arguing in the past few months with anyone who impedes on her plans – but then she'll give in because she always does. And these are her parents, whose opinions and requests hold a lot more sway with her than I think she'll ever admit to me.
There's a slight pause and then, "Uh... Lex will be here any minute."
"You have time," her father replies.
Sighing loudly, I can hear her stomping down the steps with all of the enthusiasm of any teenager waiting to be told what they don't want to hear. I smile a little, thinking of my own rebellious years against my father, forced to live under the same roof as him, forever determined to rage against any dictate he handed me. Things haven't really changed. I'm even stuck living under the same roof as him again. Funny how some things tend to go full circle.
"I want you to be careful, H.C.," Jonathan begins.
I lean around the corner again to see him hold up a hand for silence when Hudson starts to reply.
"Now, listen. I know you trust Lex. I know how much you care about him. But that doesn't change the fact that you're going to the city, a relatively unknown place for you, and a million things can happen. You're going to be there for forty-eight hours, and you very well know how much can go wrong in that amount of time."
"Dad – "
"H.C., this isn't about Lex and the fact that he's a Luthor. It's about being careful, knowing when the time is right. You might be ready to tell Lex everything, but your mother and I aren't."
Hudson rolls her eyes and releases a long-suffering sigh. "Dad, I'm not going to tell Lex anything this weekend, okay? That's like, the last thing I want to deal with right now. Lex wants to get my mind off of things and I want someone I can talk to about Rianne. Is that so wrong?"
I lean back against the wall, out of sight once more. What is it that she isn't going to tell me? And why not? Don't I have a goddamn right to know? Fuck. I close my eyes, and tell myself it's all worth it, and that one day she will tell me, and right now she's just used to abiding by her parents' wishes. She's still a child. She still lives under their roof. I love her and I want to be with her, and once she asked me to give her time.
It's all a bunch of fucking bullshit.
"No." Jonathan shakes his head and gives his daughter a smile. "I just worry about you, honey. You've been through a lot lately."
"I'm fine, Dad. After all, I've got you and mom looking out for me."
Except that she should trust me to look out for her, too.
There's another moment of silence, and the sound of Hudson's feet on the stairs.
I feel cold. I try not to think about it. This weekend getaway was for Hudson, to help ease the pain of Rianne's death, to give us some time together. Maybe it will make everything better. Maybe it will give me the chance to convince Hudson to open up. I've told her so much. So much more than I've ever told anyone. It's only fair that she reciprocate.
Shaking the disappointment and anger from my mind, I quietly move down the steps, then turn and jog back up them, certain to make enough noise to announce my arrival. I rap against doorframe with my fist, forcing a polite smile as Jonathan appears before me, pulling the door open.
Behind him, Martha calls out, "Hudson! Lex is here!"
"Mr. Kent."
"Lex." Jonathan returns his nod of greeting, but doesn't exactly move out of the way to allow me to step into the house. He nods his head toward the Ferrari parked in the driveway. "I hope you plan on driving that thing responsibly with my daughter in there."
I slip off my sunglasses and tuck them into my coat pocket, taking the moment to carefully tamp down the quick flash of anger that surfaces at Jonathan's assumption I would purposely do anything to harm Hudson. "I would never do anything to put Hudson in danger, Mr. Kent."
"I'm entrusting my little girl to your care, Lex. For two days. But don't think for a moment that means I'm happy about this. My wife believes that H.C. needs to get her mind off of things, and I agree. But I'd give my right arm to have another option."
As usual, I have to give Jonathan credit for at least being honest with me. I flash a quick smile that I don't feel. "I understand that, Mr. Kent. All I can do is assure you that Hudson's best interests are all I care about, and that she'll be safe with me. You're free to call whenever you wish."
"Trust me. We will – "
"Lex!"
Hudson appears at the door, still wearing the clothes she wore to the funeral but her face is slightly flushed, eyes more animated. She's smiling and I can't help but wonder if she remembers the conversation she just had with her parents regarding her secret, or if she has easily pushed it from her mind?
"Ready to go, Angel?" I ask, returning her smile because there's a part of me that can't deny her anything.
She smells good, the Giorgio perfume I gifted her with a month ago wafting over me as she leans out the door for a quick kiss. Jonathan's lips are pursing together in displeasure but the look disappears quickly as Hudson pulls back to grab her bag behind her.
"Give me a hug," Martha instructs her daughter, hugging her tightly and kissing her cheek. "Enjoy yourself. Relax. Try to forget about everything for awhile, okay?"
"I'll put this in the car," I tell her, taking the bag from her hand and nodding at her parents once before I turn and head down the porch steps toward the car. I can feel Jonathan watching me, likely still wondering if he should call this trip off. And maybe he should because now I know. Or, at least, I know enough that no lie that falls from Hudson's lips will ever convince me otherwise.
After slipping her bag into the trunk of the car beside mine, I glance up to see Hudson still saying goodbye to her parents. She hugs both, and steps back to leave, only to have her mother reach out and fix the collar on her coat before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Another quick kiss and a promise to be good, and then Hudson is moving quickly down the stairs and across the yard, leather boots crunching against the gravel with her quick steps. I meet her at the passenger side door, holding it open so that she can slip inside. She brushes against me, creating an overwhelming urge within me to throw her against the hood of the car and fuck her until she tells me everything. But then she's waving to her parents again and telling them she loves them, and the desire just as quickly fades away.
I close the door behind her and walk around to the driver's side, glancing up to see the Kents still standing on the back porch, Jonathan still disapproving, Martha nervous. At one time, I would have been proud of causing such distress in the parents of someone I dated.
Now, I just feel ashamed.
The drive is silent as we head out of Smallville and onto I-70 toward Metropolis. Hudson stares out the window beside her at the passing scenery, the browns and grays of the approaching winter a stark contrast against the bright blue of the sky. Occasionally she chews on her lower lip or fidgets in her seat, but her usual animation and talkativeness is missing.
And it is missed.
I have no desire to force her into conversation, nor do I wish for her to abandon her grief over the loss of her friend. But seeing her like this is painful. She has never been the type to withdraw or dwell on sorrow. That's more my behavior, and I hate to think that I am influencing her in adopting that conduct.
"Hey."
She glances over at me in question.
I wave a hand toward the CD player. "You're free to put anything on that you'd like to hear. The case is behind your seat."
Hudson shrugs. "No. This is okay."
If I hadn't known before that this behavior was out of character, I did now. Hudson and I do not agree on music. She never bypasses the opportunity to replace anything in my player with either Shania Twain or a Disney soundtrack. Her taste in music is so eclectic as to be frightening. And here she sits, telling me that "Chopin is quite all right, thank you very much. Have you been to the gallery lately?" instead of "Jiminy Cricket, Lex! Must you be both arrogant and boring? This stuff will put you to sleep!" We don't have similar taste, but I'd give anything for her to reach over and slip 'The Lion King' into the CD player right now. At least then I would know it mattered to her.
Watching as she turns her gaze back out the window, I suppress a sigh and focus on driving for the moment. As usual, the turnpike is virtually empty, the road smooth and open before me. Unfortunately, it is also completely flat and straight, free of the sharp curves that make driving a Ferrari a blessed experience. With no challenge ahead of me, I'm left with either my own thoughts – and I'm really tired of focusing on business, and the corrupt politicians in Smallville – or convincing Hudson to talk to me. Denied of one challenge, I decide to focus on another.
"Have you decided what to get your parents for Christmas?"
There's a moment's pause before I notice her dark head shake briefly out of the corner of my eye. "No. Well, sort of. I mean, I know what they want but I haven't narrowed it down yet."
"Do you know what you're getting me for Christmas?" I press, giving her a quick, hopeful look. Not that I care, or want anything, really. Well, maybe Hudson wrapped in a big red bow. And nothing else.
A soft smile appears. That's better. "Nice try. I thought you didn't like Christmas?" She shifts in her seat, facing me.
"A lot can change in a year," I reply, shrugging lightly. "Maybe I just didn't believe in Christmas before."
"Now you're starting to sound like a children's book." Hudson sighs and immediately her eyes become downcast again, fingers picking lightly at the hem of her dark plaid skirt.
Lifting my hand from the gear shift, I lay it over hers, feeling the warmth of her skin through my driving glove. "We can do some shopping for your parents if you'd like while we're in the city?" I offer quietly, squeezing her hand.
She doesn't answer. Silence fills the car, broken only by the low drone of the Sonata in G minor coming through the speakers at the softest setting. Hudson's fingers loop through mine, the pad of her thumb playing over the nail of my index finger. I can't help but smile inwardly at the tender, intimate touch. Sometimes I'm so comfortable with Hudson that it feels as if I'm were merely an extension of her. I've found myself wondering if I could ever feel this way with anyone else, just before I stop myself, realizing I don't want to think about that. I've never felt this before and I want to hold onto it, especially when all of the people and past events in my life have seemed so transitory.
Even with the lies between us, I'm closer to Hudson than I've ever been with anyone.
"What do you think happens when we die?"
Taken aback by the question, I glance over at Hudson quickly, noting the desperate light in her eyes as she waits for an answer. I feel as if this might be the most important question I've ever been asked. My mouth compresses into a tight line, gaze returning to the road ahead of me, as I consider my reply.
"Lex... "
"Do you want the accepted answer? Or the truth?"
"I want to know what you believe."
I let go of her hand, gripping the steering wheel with both of mine. "Nothing," I answer. "You die. End of story. Your loved ones mourn you and the grass grows up around you and maybe it feeds a few cows. Life moves on and most of us are forgotten."
Silence. Kind of like the end of eternity. Or the beginning.
I steal a quick look at Hudson to find her expression thoughtful. "Does that upset you?"
She lifts her gaze to mine, and shakes her head. "No. It's... kind of comforting, actually. I hate the thought of Rianne being somewhere, wishing that she could be here. Crying because she knows her death caused me pain. Longing to make it better when she knows she can't. I wouldn't want that for her. I guess the idea of an afterlife is cruel, when you think about it."
"For some it represents hope... for something better. It gives them a reason to go on." Noticing a police car on the other side of the road, I quickly downshift, slowing slightly. "It's why I've always tried to live for today. There's not much point in worrying about the future when you aren't going to be a part of it."
Taking a deep breath, Hudson turns to look out the window again, her brow knitting into a deep frown. I wait patiently, sensing that there is more she wants to say.
Finally, "I saw... there was this... dream." She turns back to me, eyes intent. "I was in a graveyard, surrounded by tombstones. All of the people I love were there. It was dark and raining and the graves just stretched on and on, endlessly."
It sounds so typically teenager that I find myself anticipating her to pull out a slip of paper, the dream turned into a clever little poem, dark and tragic. Feeling the tug of a grin on my lips, I turn to make a comment about it to Hudson, only to hold back when I catch the sincerity in her eyes, echoing the seriousness of her words. She looks twenty years older suddenly, and my heart aches for her.
Swallowing, I glance back to the road. "We all have fears of losing the people we love, Hudson. Of being left behind, alone. After my mother died, I had similar dreams, especially when Pamela left. Everyone I loved was gone, and living with my father was the same as being alone." I purse my lips in thought. "Maybe I've grown immune to the idea."
"That's what I fear."
Her whisper is so soft, I almost miss it. For a moment, I think she is talking about me. "What?"
"Not caring. Becoming immune. Having it happen to me so often that eventually it just... doesn't matter anymore."
I frown. "Sweetie, that's not going to happen to you. Ever. For one, you're not going to be left alone. We're all here and we're going to remain here. And second, even if you do lose people that you love, you're going to go on loving and go on caring. It isn't in you not to."
"But it's in you."
It's almost a question. "We're different, Hudson. You and I. We were raised differently, we've had different experiences. We view the world differently."
She nods but I can tell by the set of her shoulders that she doesn't agree with me.
I let it go, and concentrate on the feel of the car beneath me. I try to focus on the sound of the music but keep coming back to Hudson's dream. As usual, it feels like there is something I'm missing, but I can't figure out what. And now I know for a certainty that if I ask, the question will remain unanswered. There is something personal in the dream, something she is only willing to share to a point, and that hurts. With the earlier confirmation that Hudson doesn't tell me everything, that there is a secret part of her life she has never invited me in to, this is like a second blow to my heart. Her secrets seem to always hover there between us, a yawning cavern that threatens to pull me in and swallow me up. They have time and time again. I try to ignore them, but so often Hudson seems to flaunt them in front of me, shouting without speaking that I will never truly be a part of her life.
In the end, it all comes down to the realization that she doesn't trust me. I refuse to believe that it is because of my name – it seems so petty. And that isn't Hudson to me. But, she has been raised by Jonathan Kent, and certainly she considers his words regarding us Luthors. There are only so many times you can be told something, and not begin to believe it.
"You weren't there, you know."
Pulling from my thoughts, I glance over at Hudson quizzically. "What?"
"In my... in the graveyard. You weren't there." She's staring at me hard now, as if she looked at me intently enough, she would discover the answers to the universe.
I flash her a smile, reaching out to touch her, my hand laying over her thigh. "That's because I'll never leave you, Angel. I'll always be a part of your life, a part of your future."
Hudson makes a noise in the back of her throat, brow furrowing. "Is that it?" She continues to watch me. "What if... what if it means that what I feel for you really isn't love? How do I know?"
Heart constricting at the question – no matter how innocent it was meant to be – I grip the wheel a little tighter, shifting back into fifth as the Ferrari flies over the blacktop.
"It's up to you to know your own feelings, Hudson. I can't tell you whether your love for me is real."
My tone remains even, unconcerned. But inside I can feel something breaking apart. Maybe it's just a simple reminder – nothing lasts forever.
Still, I can't stop myself from remarking, somewhat bitterly, "Perhaps if it is this easy to doubt your feelings for me, you never believed them in the first place."
"No." She replies quick enough to lessen the tension in my shoulders. "It's not that. It.. I was just... thinking out loud."
She turns away again and inwardly I admit to my confusion. What I thought was a conversation about Rianne's death is quickly becoming something I don't understand at all. Then again, Hudson is something I don't understand, no matter how hard I try. I could probably tally the hours I've spent pondering the mystery of her, and come up with weeks of my life that I will never get back. All of my theories, all of my hunches, all of the non-answers just pile together into a heaping mound of frustration. Hudson doesn't want to share her secrets with me. Not this weekend. Maybe never.
And now I can't help but wonder if that has anything to do with her doubts regarding me, regarding us.
"Hudson?" A tilt of her head tells me I have her attention. "Why don't you trust me?"
Now I have her full attention. She is looking at me, blinking with those damnable innocent, lying eyes. "I... I do trust you, Lex."
"Then why do you lie to me? Why do you tell me half-truths?"
"I don't – "
"When I asked why Rianne was in Summerholt, she started to tell me. But you interrupted, said they were holding her for observation." I hold up a finger. "That was one, Hudson. One out of so many I've lost count. The only conclusion I can come to is that you don't trust me. I want to know why. I'm not even asking you to share your secrets with me, Hudson. To tell me the truth. I just want to know why I'm not worthy of it?"
Her mouth falls open slightly as she stares at me, guilt written in fluorescent pink colors all over her face. "Lex, I... I do trust you."
I sigh. We will go in circles again. There will be no answers. Perhaps there will never be an answer. "No. You don't."
Chin lifting in a slightly defiant gesture, Hudson counters, "The same can be said of you. You don't tell me everything, Lex. I've asked questions – questions about your past, about your relationship with your father, even about Lexcorp. There are plenty of answers you've never given me."
I grow silent, unable to deny the charge, however different it might seem to me.
Check mate. Or stale mate. However one sees fit to label it. This discussion is over.
There is little conversation between us the rest of the drive to Metropolis. We stop once at a McDonalds along the turnpike when Hudson mentions her hunger. She gets two double-cheeseburgers and fries, saying little more than thank you when I hand over the food. I get an eggnog milkshake for myself, which I've admitted to no one but Hudson are actually very good. In fact, I have a slight obsession with them.
When we pull up to Luthorcorp Towers II, the bellman, Tom, meets us at the car to carry in our bags. I move over to the passenger door, taking Hudson's hand in mine, leading her into the lobby and over to the private elevator that will take us straight to the penthouse. The low-heels of her boots click across the marble floor, echoing through the corridor, the only sound between us. I notice her looking in the mirrors of the far wall and I catch her eyes, flashing her a smile. She seems to force one in return, then squeezes my hand as if in apology. I don't understand what's going on between us, but now isn't really time to talk about it as Tom walks up behind us.
The elevator takes us to the 76th floor, opening directly into the penthouse. The heavy scent of disinfectant is in the air, signaling that the cleaning service has been here earlier today. I wait as Hudson exits the elevator, her gaze sweeping over the main room.
"Mr. Luthor, is there anything else I can do for you?"
"That's all for now. Thanks, Tom."
I slip him a fifty and hold the doors as he steps inside the elevator. Turning away as it returns him to the lobby, I find Hudson looking at me, her bag in her hands.
"So, ummm, where to?"
Picking up my own bag, I nod down the hall. "Follow me," I tell her as I start toward the spiral staircase.
The penthouse was built to be as lavish as everything else my father owns. Three stories with five bedrooms, six baths, kitchen, formal dining room, living room, study, a Jacuzzi on the balcony, which also contains an elaborate garden. It's decorated as sparingly as his office, extremely modern and a far cry from the rustic warmth that I've grown used to in the mansion. I used to love staying here as a teenager, filling the place with hundreds of people I didn't know, delighting in the destruction of its furniture and pristine white carpeting. Now, I don't feel as comfortable here. I feel like I'm on display, that I'm just another Luthor prop to be admired and envied. Untouchable in my ivory tower.
"This definitely isn't anything like the other apartments I've seen in the city," Hudson comments behind me, awe evident in her voice.
I shrug. "Well, it's a penthouse, not an apartment."
"Semantics," she replies with a light laugh. "It's really nice, though."
"Glad you like it."
This polite conversation is setting me on edge. I need a drink.
Leading her into the master bedroom, I set my bag on the chair beside the dresser and wave a hand toward the closet. "You're welcome to hang up anything you need. The dressers are mostly empty as well." I remove my jacket and toss it onto the bed before tugging a few of the buttons open on my shirt.
Hudson looks uncomfortable. She sets her bag down and smoothes her hands over her skirt and looks at me with a slight smile. I want to make this better but I wasn't the one who questioned what was happening between us. I didn't question my feelings for her. It doesn't matter that I haven't actually admitted to my feelings for her – the fact is, she has and it hurt like hell to sit there and listen to her take them back. Maybe she shouldn't have said anything in the first place.
Damn, I can't let this get to me. "I'm going to go down and have a drink. When you get settled in, I'll show you around."
"Okay." Hudson chews on her lower lip a moment, then picks up her bag and heads into the closet.
Running my hand over my scalp, I let out a breath and head back down to the first floor.
After pouring myself a glass of scotch, I step out onto the balcony and stare out across the city. My city. The place I never thought I'd leave. And yet, I've come to love Smallville, its people, its culture. I can't imagine moving back to the hectic life of Metropolis, surrounding myself with all of those people who tried to convince me they were my friends, who used me for my connections, my money, the drugs I could get for them, the parties I could take them to. I've learned that having people use me for who I am only encourages my behavior to act on the Luthor arrogance. When you realize you can have any woman you want (or man), when you understand that there's no such thing as too high a price, when it finally sinks it that there are no limits, your world becomes a much more dangerous place. I'm not afraid of it – I never have been. I've drank and partied and spent to every excess imaginable. I've lived a lifetime of lives that most can't begin to imagine.
And what do I have to show for it?
My father's scorn, bad press, scores of enemies, the loss of those who might have truly been my friends. It's odd how blurred the lines between friendship and animosity become when the question of power comes into play.
Since she refused my first gift to her, I've always believed that Hudson was the one person in my life who was there, not for what I could do for her, but because she wanted to be.
Now... I just don't know anymore.
"Well, all situated."
I take a sip of my scotch and turn to look at Hudson as she joins me on the balcony. She flashes her gaze to me a moment then quickly looks away, taking a few steps toward the railing. She's wearing blue sweatpants and a pullover shirt that's far too big for her. I think it must have once belonged to her father and I frown at the thought that even here I can't get away from Jonathan Kent's presence. Sometimes trying to outrun him is like trying to outrun my own father.
"Wow. We're... uh... really high up." Hudson steps back, wrapping her arms around her waist.
If the tension between us doesn't end, we won't make it through the weekend.
I lean against the column behind me and continue to watch her. "You won't fall, Hudson."
She glances back at me, a smile hovering over her lips. "If I did, would you catch me?"
"And lose an unfinished glass of twelve-year old scotch?" I ask in disbelief. "You're not that cute."
Her smile broadens and she walks over to me, placing her hands on my waist, gaze intent on mine. "I am, too. Else I wouldn't be here."
I don't respond. I don't know if I can. Part of me wants to agree, tell her she's right. The other part just wants to scream at her, beg her to make it better. Unfortunately, it appears that Hudson senses that side of me because the smile fades away from her face, and her eyes cloud over. And now's the moment that will dictate if the weekend will go well, or end here.
"I'm sorry," she says softly, simply. "Those things I said in the car... "
She sighs and shakes her head, dark hair falling like curtains over her face. I imagine it's hiding her shame. I hope she feels shame. I want her to feel something, dammit. I don't want this to be a lie. Not again. Not this time.
"I don't know why I said them." Hudson lifts her head and her hair falls away, like clouds parting allowing the sun to shine through. Her eyes are alight with it. "I've never doubted what I feel for you, Lex. Maybe I was just wondering if I could. Or something like that."
She touches my face, too warm fingers against my flesh. I fight the urge to move into that touch.
"From the moment I first looked at you, wet and shivering on the riverbank, I knew I wanted to be a part of your life. And here I am. And there's nowhere else I'd rather be."
Her tone is earnest, she's smiling like she knows all of the answers. It makes me want to believe that this is only a momentary obstacle between us. That when she's ready, she'll tell me everything and not even the opinions of her parents will stop her from sharing her life with me. I want her to believe in me but more than that, I want to be able to believe in us.
She lays her head against my shoulder and wraps her arms around me. I remain still, holding the scotch in my hand.
"I love you," she whispers against my shirt. "You believe me, don't you?"
I don't know anymore. "Do you believe you?"
"Yes," she answers without hesitation.
It has to be enough. I kiss the top of her head and rest my cheek against it. "Then so do I."
We remain silent for the next few minutes. I shift slightly against her, moving so that I can set my glass on the ledge of the planter. Placing both arms around her, I pull Hudson closer to my body, pleased when she angles her head back to receive my kiss. Sometimes it's better like this; no words needed. No lies left unspoken. In silence, I can let her know how I feel, without committing myself to those emotions. If I'd told her, if she knew the truth, then her words in the car would have made me a fool. And I won't be laughed at, not even by Hudson Kent.
"I thought you were going to give me a tour?" She whispers against my mouth, breath warm, smelling faintly of peppermint.
She must have freshened up when she changed her clothes. Even her hair is softer, recently brushed. My fingers curl into it and I hold her head still a moment as my lips move over her right cheek. Hudson sighs softly, hands dropping over my ass, cupping it, pulling me in. I smile as she rubs against me, causing a rising fire in my groin. I nip at her earlobe.
"Why don't I show you the bedroom?"
She laughs breathlessly as my tongue slips around the contour of her ear. "I've seen the bedroom."
"Then I'll show you one of the other bedrooms."
Before she can speak another word, I claim her mouth again, pushing my tongue past her lips to taste her. She makes a sound in the back of her throat that I realize I've been craving to hear all day. Her tongue touches mine and we fence with one another before I grasp her hips and pull her with me back into the penthouse. She stumbles slightly against me, laughs, never breaks contact with my mouth, hands already tugging my shirt out from the waistband of my pants. I've had my share of experienced women, the ones who've done everything, and if they haven't tried it yet, they're more than willing to do so. They're slightly jaded, almost bored with the activity, looking to you to spice it up, comparing you to every other person they've slept with. While I've never failed to impress my lovers, I've discovered I have a specific kink for enthusiastic farm girls who are just beginning to unlock the secrets of sex and their own sexuality. Let every other man in the world have the experienced women, the ones who'll sleep with anything that has a light pulse. It's Hudson's inexperience, her desire to learn, her slight fears of the unknown, that make my blood boil. Maybe I'm a letch, maybe I just like debauching little girls who have daddys with big guns.
Or maybe Hudson's cast a spell on me.
"You're doing it again."
I blink, pulling away my mouth away from her neck, wondering how I got there. My shirt's hanging open and her fingers are almost tickling my ribs as she splays her hands against my skin.
Hudson rolls her eyes. "Thinking, Lex. I'm tweaking your nipples and you're probably pondering the theory of relativity or something."
I choose not to respond to that. Instead, I tug her sweatshirt over her head and toss it to the floor. "Better?"
Biting her lip, she grabs me by the collar of my shirt and pulls me down for another kiss. I wince slightly when she nips at my upper lip, her playfulness getting the better of her. The pain goes straight to my cock and causes me to almost rip her bra off of her. One of us trips on the first stair and we fall against them, tangled limbs, hands grabbing, pulling at clothes too desperately not to tear something. She rolls us over, pinning me beneath her, stairs digging into my back. I'm missing a shoe, my shirt is hanging off of one arm and Hudson is wearing entirely too many clothes.
She pulls away from my mouth, taking a quick breath as she angles upwards, and I take the opportunity to admire her breasts, palms skimming over them, cupping them, teasing the nipples into tight buds. Hudson squirms against me, whimpers softly, then leans down for another kiss as she straddles my hips.
Too. Many. Clothes.
Hooking my thumbs in the waistband of her sweats, I tug them down over her hips, fingers brushing against her cotton panties. I slip my hand between us, pressing into the soft fabric where she's warmest, the material damp to my touch.
I want to slide inside of her this instant but she hasn't removed my fucking pants yet!
She's playing with me, I can see it. Every time she lifts her head, and glances quickly into my eyes before leaning back down to press her lips to my skin, I see it. A smirk.
Little tease. Time for some payback.
I push the crotch of her panties aside, teasing a finger along the cleft of her wet folds. Hudson groans softly, moves against my finger for more. Taking momentary pity on her, I slip inside, continuing to the swollen button of flesh. When my finger brushes over it, she bucks against me, teeth grazing my collar bone. I flick my fingertip back and forth over it, and she becomes more vocal, whimpers and groans muffled against my chest and neck, as she swivels her hips into my touch.
Smirking slightly, I pull my hand away and lay it over her ass. She stills. I count to three.
"Hey!" She lifts her head up, flashing me a frown. "What's that all about? Tease!"
"Pot. Kettle."
A smile flickers across her face and she groans in frustration. "Just for that – we'll both be deprived!"
Springing off of me, she scrambles up the steps. I roll over and grab her ankle as her foot moves past my head. I tug, and she loses her balance, falling to the landing with a surprised laugh. Crawling up the steps after her, I kick off my last shoe, shrug out of my shirt, straddle her legs to lean in for another kiss as I quickly pull at her panties. Her hands move over the front of my slacks, palm pressing against my erection, fingers curling around me through the material. I breathe into her mouth, thrust against her hand once.
"Do you have anything?" She whispers, barely breathing as her lips slant over mine.
"Back pocket."
Hudson reaches around, slips her hand into the pocket, withdraws the Trojan. I move away from her mouth, tongue trailing against the dewy skin of her breasts, latching onto a nipple where I suckle as I hear her tear into the condom packet with her teeth. She's gotten quite adapt at it.
Moments later, she's tugging at my pants, and I reach down to help her, though I have no intention of withdrawing my attention from her breasts. I make my way to the other orb, tongue tracing the outline of her areola before sucking the taut flesh into my mouth, teeth grazing her skin slightly. Hudson gasps, arches off the landing against me, and then her hand is around my cock, caressing, stroking, pulling me toward her. I'm tempted to just bury myself deep inside of her and to hell with safe sex.
"Lex." Her voice is filled with impatience. "You have to sit up. I can't get it on."
"Well, why the hell not?" I tease, leaning up to my knees.
Shaking her head, Hudson sits up with me, finally gets the condom on and then I attack her mouth again, forcing her back down to the carpet. Her legs fall apart, cradling me between them and then her warmth is drawing me in, encompassing me, pulling me deeper. I sink into her and she moans into my mouth, hands cupping the back of my head, hips arching to meet my thrusts. Every time this gets better, each moment we learn to anticipate the other more, and for the life of me I can't explain why the wrongness of sex with an Angel makes everything so very right.
"You... never... gave me... a tour," Hudson comments, gasping between words as I rock into her.
Now that she's grown more comfortable with sex, with me, I've discovered that Hudson enjoys conversing during the act. In fact, sometimes she doesn't fucking shut up. It's at times annoying, almost always amusing and the last thing I ever expected out of her.
Grasping her hips, I lean up slightly, angling more deeply into her. We're slowly moving across the carpet. Her head is only inches from the wall.
"Well, Hudson," I reply as her whimpers grow in pitch. "This is the landing."
"Unh!" She grabs hold of my ears and pulls me down, latching on to my bottom lip and biting none too gently. "Bastard. You're not cute."
When she releases me, I lean back again, intensifying the force of my thrusts. Her head hits the wall and she laughs, reaching up with her hands to push away, back onto me. Fuck, that's incredible.
Once my senses collect enough to reply, I tell her, "I'm fucking adorable."
Hudson grins up at me, arches her back and presses hard into my next thrust. "How sweet!" She gasps. "Calling me adorable."
Brat.
Intent on making her shut up, at least when it comes to the conversation, I grasp her right calve, lifting it upwards, providing me more room to move inside of her. I hear her nails scratch against the paint on the wall. Reaching between us, I lay my thumb against her clit, rubbing in time to our movements. I can feel her inner muscles closing around me, just barely beyond the point of actual pain. She's close now, words traded for soft cries, groans, the occasional curse or whisper of my name. I close my eyes, speed up, familiar burn pooling in my lower back. And then Hudson's crying out, muscles contracting around my cock, my balls tighten, release, and everything I am seems to flow out of me in short, quick bursts. I collapse on top of her, just barely better than drooling against her breast as her arms wrap loosely over my back, fingers trailing through the perspiration on my skin. I don't see how she has the energy to make even that minor a movement.
"I think I scratched the paint on your wall, Lex," she comments after a few minutes of silence.
I just want to lay here and listen to the beating of her heart. "Mmph." I grunt in reply.
"See? There's some under my nails."
I think she's waving her nails in front of my face but my eyes are closed. I'm comfortable. I could sleep here. "Mmm."
"Lex."
"..."
She sighs deeply, my head rising with the movement of her chest, and it's the last thing I notice before I drift off to sleep.
"Thirty-two."
"Hmmm?"
"You have thirty-two freckles," Hudson announces. "From here to here." She draws a line from shoulder blade to shoulder blade across my back, as if connecting the dots.
I grunt in reply. The freckles that mar my skin across my back and shoulders are a grim reminder of the very red hair I no longer have. I try to forget their existence. Hudson loves them. Kisses them, traces them with her fingers. Once she even took an ink pen to them while I was sleeping. I didn't speak to her for two days. She thought I over-reacted. I told her she needed a better hobby than playing connect-the-dots on my body.
Sighing, Hudson leans her chin on my shoulder, peering down at the laptop open in front of me. After a quick nap on the stairs, we finally made our way to the bedroom where I pulled out my laptop to send out a few emails. Currently, the screen in front of me is filled with numbers and figures that all lead back to various bank accounts around the world.
She huffs in my ear. "What're you doing?"
"Work. Not all of us get to live off of our parents, you know."
"Oh, like this is your penthouse," she snorts, nuzzling her nose against the back of my ear. "At least I know we don't have to pay your father for the damage to the wall. And the stains on the carpet."
"He's done worse."
"I really don't want to hear about your father's sex life, Lex."
I smirk as I hear her sigh again. Apparently realizing I'm busy, she lays back against the pillows, picking at the sheet that lay partially over her body. I sneak a quick peek at her out of the corner of my eye, noting the way the rays of sun peering through the curtains color her legs in golden tendrils of light. Her toenails are painted bright red. I don't think I've ever seen her with painted toenails before, but it looks nice.
"What's so important anyway?" Hudson's voice indicates a pout. She's tugging at the sheet bit by bit, exposing more of my hip.
"The future," I reply, snatching the sheet back. "Acquisitions that need to be made in order to secure Lexcorp's hold in the business world."
"Oh, is that all?" Pulling her leg up, she pushes her foot against my thigh, poking at me with her toe. "Don't you ever get sick of work and business and stuff?"
I shrug, having never really thought about it much. I've known all my life that one day Luthorcorp would be mine. Business seems as natural to me as breathing lately. Still, I've learned that an occasional break isn't a bad thing.
"Sometimes." I glance at her briefly. "But then, you're always good for a distraction when I need it."
"Is that all I am? A distraction?"
I fight the urge to roll my eyes and instead, ignore her, returning to my work.
Growing silent again, Hudson burrows under the sheet. A few moments pass and I reach out to touch her knee, rubbing my fingers over her skin absently as I glance through the latest Lexcorp stock report.
"Lex?" Her voice interrupts the numbers going through my mind.
"Hmmm?"
"Do you... well, do you like to get... blow jobs?"
I glance over my shoulder to find her face flaming with the question. Hesitantly she raises her eyes to mine, and I can't help but smirk.
"Interesting question."
Hudson gives a little shrug, dropping her gaze to the mattress where she begins drawing circles with her finger against the sheet. "And?"
"Depends on who's giving it," I reply, unable to keep from smiling.
"What do you mean?"
"You're really serious about this, aren't you?"
When Hudson doesn't reply, I set the laptop aside on the nightstand and lean back against the headboard, watching her silently for a long moment. Finally, I begin, "Very well. It all depends on the technique. Some women tend to look at it as a circus trick."
Hudson makes a face in confusion.
Smiling, I explain, "They want to impress me by showing how far they can shove it down their throats. They might as well just use a sword or swallow fire." I pause, staring at Hudson as she opens her mouth and shoves her finger into it. "What're you doing?"
"Trying to see how far I can go – "
I reach out and smack her hand away, catching her fingers in mine and holding them. "Then there are those who are just doing it because they think I want it. They don't really want my dick in their mouth, they secretly find it disgusting, but they do it anyway. There's no fun in that. I might as well be making love to someone who hates sex."
Hudson's eyes cross at my words. "Who would hate sex?"
"Trust me. They're out there." I bring her fingers to my lips and kiss them. "Why are you asking all of this, Angel?"
She looks away, returning her attention to the sheet, smoothing the edge with her fingers. She wiggles her toes and sighs. "Well, I've... I've been curious for awhile because... well, you know, you do that to me and I thought – "
"I do what?" I can't help but ask in amusement.
Hudson shoots me a look. "You know... that."
Raising my eyebrows, I shake my head in mock innocence, though my mind is whirling with questions.
"Crap. You aren't actually going to make me say it, are you?"
"Humor me."
She snorts indelicately. "All I ever do is humor you."
I grin. "Say it... "
Pursing her lips, Hudson seems to mentally recall through every description she's heard, but she can't seem to decide on one that she is actually brave enough to voice in front of me. Her face slowly turns various shades of red as I continue to watch her. She's so beautiful when she blushes. I don't think she knows that I love that about her. I hope she never stops blushing.
Leaning over to her, wanting to play a little bit, I press my nose against her ear and whisper, "Say it... "
"Can I describe it?"
"Only if you do it in detail."
"Well, hell." It seems that option is even worse.
I grin against her ear. "Cunninglus," I whisper.
Her eyes widen and her face turns a deeper shade of crimson.
"Eat out."
"Lex!"
"Wet-velveting, carpet munching, muff diving, mustache ride, lick-out, pearl diving, chawing box, tipping the velvet –"
Squealing in embarrassment, Hudson throws herself face down into one of the pillows, giggling uproariously as I continue the torment, leaning in over her, speaking each syllable with a particular enthusiasm I rarely feel. Moments later I break off to laugh with her, body draped half over her back, breath brushing over her neck with each chuckle. She sighs and turns her head, glancing up at me where my cheek rests against her ear. She's thinking about something, I can see it. Sometimes she gets this dreamy look in her expression, and I know she's thinking about me. It's not conceit on my part. I've seen her get that same gaze in her eyes when she speaks my name.
"You get embarrassed entirely too easily, Angel," I comment softly, stroking my fingertips against her cheek. "You don't have to with me, you know. Especially not here, when it's just the two of us. We know each other far too intimately for that."
"I know."
She rolls over beneath me, reaching up to trail her fingers along my jaw line. I love it when she touches me like this, though I don't allow it often. It's so personal, it has so much... feeling behind it, and I'd probably go mad if I had to open myself up to that kind of emotion every moment of every day. Sometimes it upsets her when I pull away, but I think she's learning.
"I'm getting better, though," she brags. "I can say... penis now with barely a hesitation."
Chuckling at her hesitance, I kiss her lips. "You're adorable."
"Because I can say... penis?"
"Because you're proud of the fact that you can say penis."
"And I have you to thank for that," she tells me with a grin, her fingers tracing the shape of my face. "I think about your... penis quite a bit."
I feel an eyebrow raise in amusement, wondering if she sits around and discusses me cock with Chloe and Lana. Fuck. I'll never be able to face either of them again. "You do, do you?"
"Mmhmm." Her grin broadens and she leans up to kiss my chin. "Which is why I wanted to know if you would like me to... "
"To?"
"Must we start that again?"
"Angel, you said blow job quite easily earlier," I remind her.
Hudson shrugs. "Well, that's because it wasn't in reference to me." She shifts slightly beneath me, a grin appearing as her thigh brushes against my erection that's been there since this conversation began. "Hmmm. I do believe you aren't totally opposed to the idea."
"Not totally," I agree. I bend my neck and kiss the edge of her collar bone. "But, I don't want you to feel as if you have to, Hudson. I don't want you to be uncomfortable."
"Oh, I'm not! I mean, I want to. I love touching you, so I don't see how doing anything more would be any worse." She takes a deep breath, shuddering slightly as my lips move over the top of her right breast. "I just... I want to do it right. Will you – would you talk me through it, Lex?"
I lift my head and laugh lightly. "I don't think you need instruction, Angel. Just go with your instinct."
There was a time, not too long ago, when she accosted me in my study, and proceeded to do exactly what she is afraid of doing now. She hadn't required any instruction then – in fact, I believe she had every intention of teaching me what blow jobs were all about. So I have to admit I'm a bit confused by this change in behavior. She excused her behavior then by saying she was angry. Apparently anger makes Hudson less inhibited. If I actually believed that, I would spend my days making her as angry as hell.
Pushing it from my mind, I sit up, pulling her with me, and kiss her lightly. "Remember, enthusiasm is the most important component."
"Enthusiasm." Hudson nods and smiles. "Just... tell me if I do anything wrong, okay?"
"You won't do anything wrong, Angel."
I chuckle again as she pushes me back against the headboard, scooting her way down the mattress. I lean back, reaching out to touch her cheek as she smiles at me again then turns her attention to the sheet, sliding it down my hips.
Stretching out, Hudson lays her head against my stomach and reaches out with her fingers, running the tips down my cock, smiling when it twitches against her familiar touch. She wraps her hand around the shaft, her petal soft lips kissing my abdomen as she inches closer to her goal. Personally, I think she is taking entirely too long, and I must make a noise to that effect because Hudson glances up at me, a smile hovering over her lips. Finally, she returns her attention to her work, hand slowly beginning to stroke me. I breathe in sharply at the contact.
If there is one thing Hudson has perfected in our time together, it's her skill at giving hand jobs. She's taken the time to learn just where to touch and how to touch and how long to touch to send me over the edge. She alternates between a soft caress and a strong stroke, finger tips trailing along the shaft, palm brushing over the tip, then back to the beginning again. I can only anticipate that she'll be just as expertly skilled with her mouth.
I watch as her nose nuzzles my groin, tongue darting out to trace along the base of my cock. Another sharp breath and I close my eyes, losing myself in the feeling of warm hands, warm tongue, warmer breath along my skin. Both hands are pressed against my thighs now and I feel her move between them, lips placing whisper-soft kisses against my skin, up, up, never quite touching but always near. The strands of her silky hair tickle my skin as she moves over me and I peer an eye open to see it laid out like a dark mantle across my hips.
Hudson glances up at me, expression filled with trepidation. I give her a slight smile and touch her cheek. "Take your time, Angel. No hurry."
She nods, and delicately wraps her fingers around the shaft as her tongue tentatively flicks out across the head. Apparently deciding that nothing about me is going to kill her, she grows a little braver, soft, feather- like kisses, occasional explorations with her tongue here and there. I'm so used to women just shoving it down their throats, and this almost-loving exploration, while different, is extremely sexy in its own right.
She giggles suddenly, the tone a little frustrated, as she shifts slightly to the right, and then back again, head tilting. "You'd think hair wouldn't be an issue here."
I smile and reach out to move her hair back from her face, gathering it into one hand behind her neck and holding it there. "Better?"
The relief on her face is apparent as she beams at me. "Is this okay? Am I doing it right?"
"Everything you're doing is fine, Angel."
"Do you... are you enjoying it?"
I just smile.
Accepting my lack of response for the approval it's meant to be, Hudson dips her head back against me once more, tongue flattening against the head a few times before her lips slowly descend over it. I suck in a low breath as the heat of her mouth engulfs me, tensing slightly as her upper teeth brush against my skin. I'm sure she knows enough not to bite down, and while the light sensation is extremely pleasing, it's not something I want to experience on a deeper level. But to warn her of it now would only halt the progress she's made and, for the moment, I don't want Hudson to feel as if she's doing anything wrong. Her technique is sloppy – if you can label a first blow job with anything like 'technique' - and the lack of skill is obvious, but so is the enthusiasm, her actual desire to taste and touch and explore. I attempt to ignore the fact that my hands are shaking, that I want to tug on the hair I'm holding and thrust my cock deep into her throat.
There's a fairly loud slurping noise, and luckily I refrain from grinning because Hudson's gaze darts up to me, embarrassed and slightly horrified. I touch her neck with my free hand, the backs of my knuckles caressing her skin in assurance.
"It's okay, Angel. You're doing great."
Her expression is doubtful at first, but finally her gaze drops down once more and her attention focuses fully on what she's doing. There's another slight graze of her teeth and my hand tightens reflexively against her hair. Her hand begins moving over the length of my cock, haltingly, completely out of time with the motions of her mouth, and yet somehow, it's still perfect. I moan slightly at the friction and Hudson looks up at me, a trace of a smile in her gaze, expression relaxing as she becomes more comfortable with what she's doing. Sighing deeply, I lay my head back and loose myself in the feeling of touch – my fingers threading through her silky hair with the same smooth glide of her mouth, hand closing over the warm skin of her shoulder even as the deeper heat of her tongue swirls over me.
"That's it, baby," I whisper. "Fuck... that's perfect."
By porn industry standards, it's far from the best blow job ever given. But when compared with the dozens of men and women who've performed a similar service for me, Hudson's tentative touch and sloppy start rises to the top. Maybe it's because she's taken the time to notice what I like, or maybe, as trite as it might sound, it's the simple addition of love that's already building up the deep burn in my lower back. Then again, it is Hudson, and I've never seen her fail at something she set her mind to. Even as her tongue slides back and forth over the slit, causing me to moan and arch, pushing slightly up into her mouth, the understanding that she's doing this because she wants to, not because she's expecting anything out of it, hovers at the corners of my mind.
My reactions give her confidence, and Hudson's grip around me strengthens, her strokes finally beginning to time ever so slightly with her mouth. The swipes of her tongue are bolder and she attempts to take me deeper into my mouth, halting only when her gag reflex apparently protests. The fingers of her hand against my thigh flinch faintly, and her timing begins to slip once more.
"Shhhh... "I whisper brokenly, fingers of one hand curling around the back of her neck even as the other tightens in the strands of her hair. "Don't... stop, Angel. So good... feels so good... "
Holding her head, my hips begin thrusting very gently into her soft and hesitant suckle. I see her eyes widen only for a moment, before my own slip closed and I give over completely to feeling. Warm, velvety fingers, sultry mouth, tender strokes, silky tongue. Even the occasional slurping noise of her too wet mouth against my cock is fucking hot. I dig my heels into the mattress, my thrusts becoming erratic, rough, as everything in my body seems to tighten, white heat pooling in my groin, balls tightening.
"Fuck – " Normally not vocal, I find I care little about what I'm babbling at the moment, all thought lost in the realization that my cock is buried deep in my Angel's mouth. "Hudson -- !"
She jumps away, almost as if burned, as my release hits, the jet of warm liquid spattering over my stomach. I let out a deep breath, every muscle in my body melting as I feel Hudson crawling her way back up beside me, feeling her gaze locked on me in question. I just want to lay here, quietly, enjoying the post-coital sensation of floating, one of the greatest all-natural highs a being can experience. But I know that her confidence for doing this again is hanging in the balance. Opening my eyes, I find her watching me, worrying her lower lip, waiting. I smile.
"Was that... did I do good?" She asks nervously.
I loop my arm around her lightly. "You couldn't tell?" I grin.
I can feel her relax beneath my touch. A moment passes.
"A little warning would have been appreciated," she mutters.
"Well, as they say in the business world 'come at 'em when they least expect it'."
"Uhn!" She slaps my arm in indignation as I chuckle. "That wasn't funny – eewwww! It's in my hair!" She exclaims in horror as she touches the strands along the side of her face, her fingers sliding through the wet mess.
Gathering my energy to sit up, I pull her against me and kiss her lips. There's the faintest hint of me on her lips, attesting to the fact that she was caught off guard. I can't help but linger there a moment, lost in the idea of my taste mixing with hers. She's a little less Hudson suddenly, and a little more me. Mine.
"Come on," I whisper against her mouth. "Let's go shower."
"What's the rush?" She leans into me, her arms looping over my shoulders, deepening the kiss.
I want to just lay back in bed, pulling her with me, and not move until tomorrow. But there are things I want to show her, places to take her. As much as I desire to hide Hudson Kent away from the world, I know she deserves far better.
"Shopping, dinner." I pull back and give her a smile. "But first – shower. And maybe I'll even show you a little appreciation for your first successful blow job."
Grin splitting across her face, Hudson bounds out of bed toward the bathroom. "Well, what the hell are you waiting for??"
Indeed.
Hudson Clark Kent is the most beautiful being I've ever known. And I've dated my fair share of supermodels, actresses, singers – the most sought- after women in Metropolis. But Hudson is a step above them, and she only continues to grow more beautiful as time passes. I don't know what it is that draws me to her, that draws anyone to her who takes a moment to look past the jeans and t-shirts. Maybe it's her slightly slanted eyes, her flawless golden skin, or hair so thick and strong and full that you swear it couldn't possibly be real. It could be her mile-long legs, adorable ass or pert, round breasts that fit perfectly in the palm of my hands.
More than likely, it's her smile. When she flashes it – this enormous, gorgeous smile, all pearly teeth and glowing eyes – the sun just seems to shine right through her. It lights up the room, lights up everything around and her and never, not once, have I ever been able to withstand it's intensity. Some unseen force tugs at my lips, and the next thing I know, I'm grinning like some village idiot as well, and feeling ten times lighter. The power of her smile can make almost anything seem better.
And here now, at Saks, she's dazzled the store clerks. I can see it in their eyes. At first, it was only my name and the promise of my money that forced their attention on her. But Hudson won them over, either with furious blushing or polite manners, I'm not certain. More than likely, a few of the women are laughing at her naivety, carefully hiding their scorn from my observation. I don't mind as long as Hudson doesn't feel or see it. I understand that the world those women are used to, the one that I'm used to, is one where Hudson doesn't fit in. She's not versed in witty, mindless banter, she doesn't wear her pedigree like a charm around her neck – she probably doesn't know anything about her ancestors beyond the first person to build the farm she lives on. And that's the way it should be. Hudson is unique. She's a mystery. Both to herself, and to me.
"The red looks marvelous on you, dear!" One of the older ladies, Marianne, praises, standing behind Hudson in front of the mirror, peering around her shoulder. "As perfect as the black one!"
Hudson shifts slightly, tottering almost dangerously on the three-inch matching heels they slipped on her feet. She's an inch taller than me in the damn things.
"Which do you like?" Marianne presses.
She looks to me for guidance, and maybe that's what I love. Her gaze catches mine in the mirror, and she waits patiently for my verdict. If only she trusted me so deeply in every aspect of her life.
"I prefer the red," I announce, and the sale's assistants around us jump into action instantly, gathering undergarments and accessories to match the dress.
Hudson takes a deep breath and brushes her hands over the red satin material. The short skirt shows a tantalizing amount of leg, and the bodice is but just above her midriff, bare across the sides and her back, a scalloped neckline around her breasts. I move up behind her, placing my hands on her sides, pressing my fingers into the warm flesh. She smiles a little at me in the mirror.
"What is it?" I ask against her ear. She smells like a department store, heavy perfume and expensive makeup.
"This dress... seems a little unpractical, Lex," she whispers, waving toward her reflection in the mirror. "I mean, I'll freeze in it tonight."
"It's not meant for wearing around a walk in the park, Angel," I reply in amusement, kissing the back of her ear. "You show it off inside. Outside, you wear a coat over it."
Glancing over my shoulder, I wave Roland, the store manager, over to us. He's carrying an ankle-length white mink. Taking it from him, I slip it over her shoulders, lifting her sable-colored hair out from beneath it to hang down her back.
"You wear it with this."
She's already shaking her head. "Lex, my parents would kill me! They'd kill you, too. I couldn't possibly wear this."
"Don't you like it?" I ask, my voice tinged with the offense I can't help but feel at her refusal.
"It's not about liking it," she huffs, the familiar obstinacy gleaming in her gaze. "Of course I like it. But it's not... practical!"
I shake my head and look away, muttering, "There you go again."
"What?"
"You sound more and more like your father every damn day."
"What's wrong with that?" She settles her hands on her hips and glares at me. Down at me. I don't like it one bit. "My father happens to be a very good man."
My gaze narrows. "And just what is that supposed to mean?"
Hudson sighs, is just short of rolling her eyes. "God, Lex. Not everything has a hidden meaning behind it, you know."
The clerks around us have grown silent. I hate being watched like this, knowing we'll be the subject of conversation for the next few days in this place. I'll be lucky if this little disagreement doesn't make the society columns. Hudson doesn't understand that. You'd think she would, considering how many times Chloe has written about situations going on in her life.
Setting my jaw, I snatch the coat off of her. "I don't want to discuss this here." I toss it back to the manager. "You can wear your own damn coat." Without another word, I turn and head toward the register.
I shouldn't be this angry. It's unreasonable, but that's the way I behave around Hudson. Everything I do and say is irrational when it comes to her, and I just don't know how to stop it anymore. I don't know if I can. Little things, like her refusal to accept my gifts to her. Big things, like her lies and secrets. Is it so wrong to want to be included in her life? Is it so wrong to want to give her the world? The dress, the accessories – they're not enough. She needs the coat and a car and a castle to match, dammit. And maybe, once I have her encased in that fantasy world that only I can create for her, maybe then she'll give me her secrets, she'll invite me into her life.
I pay for the items and walk outside, waiting on the sidewalk while boxes and bags are piled into the limousine. Hudson moves up beside me, heels clicking on the pavement. She's tense, I'm tense. She's wearing her black wool coat over the dress, and it doesn't match, and looks completely wrong, and that just makes me angrier. Fuck. This is stupid.
"I don't see what you're so upset about," Hudson whispers, arm brushing against mine as she shifts her feet.
"I don't expect you to understand," I snap, moving forward as Ross holds the door open to the limo.
"Where to, Mr. Luthor?" He asks as I climb in, not waiting for Hudson.
I want to say back to the penthouse, or Smallville even, and to hell with the weekend. But that would provide Hudson with an out that I'm not prepared to give her. Better to force her into my presence, my anger, let her stew in my silence. And maybe I'll just get angry enough to do something stupid.
"Le Petite Fleur," I announce, settling back against the seat.
Hudson scrambles in through the door with Ross' help, flashes me a curious look, and slips onto the seat beside me. The door shuts.
"You are seriously the moodiest person I've ever known."
"Hudson, the best thing for you to do right now is to shut the hell up."
I didn't mean to say that. Not to her. I flash an apologetic look but her head is turned, gaze focused out the window. I can't take it back, so we're left in an even colder silence. Sighing in frustration, I rub my hand over my scalp and wonder why it seems we just can't have a peaceful moment together anymore. There was a time when all of this seemed so easy, so right. And it's not that it seems wrong now, it's just... sometimes it feels like there's too much effort involved. Like we're forcing something that shouldn't be. As much as I want to blame Hudson for all of it, I know that I'm to blame as well.
My gaze returns to the back of Hudson's head. She's still focused on the scenery passing us by outside the window. Or avoiding my gaze, which is more likely. I watch the Christmas lights flickering on in the store fronts that we pass, the sun now fully set, the city awakening from it's daytime slumber. I wonder what Hudson thinks of this, the way the city comes alive at night, since in her world daylight is your friend.
Realizing my anger has faded, replaced with a poignant acceptance, I reach out and touch the back of her head, brushing my fingers through the soft strands. She starts a little at the touch, shoulders tensing. I continue to stroke her hair until she relaxes beneath my touch, and I curl my fingers into it, tugging her gently back to rest against me. Wrapping my arms around her, I kiss the top of her ear.
"Thank you for my gifts," she says quietly, fingers smoothing over her silk stockings.
"You're welcome," I whisper into her ear. I pause for a moment before adding, "You look stunning in that dress, you know. Beautiful."
She turns her head and tucks her face against my neck, her skin warm. "Thank you." Her words are muffled.
Smiling, I rub her arm and hold her a little tighter and am pleased that the evening isn't ruined. I hope that she'll forget about my little outburst. Normally, I'm focused on keeping my upset internalized but lately... I just can't seem to hold it back. Maybe things are getting too out of hand. Maybe I should just confront Hudson about everything once more, and see what happens.
Maybe I should just let it go and trust her.
The car stops outside the main doors to the Westin Metropolis, where the restaurant is located. I kiss Hudson's cheek and push her upright, fingers straying to her temple where I brush a strand of dark hair back. She offers me a smile and everything seems all right once more. When Ross opens the door, I help her out and lead her into the hotel.
"Wow. This place is pretty."
I stop just inside the doors, allowing Hudson a moment to take everything in. The Westin is the best hotel in Metropolis, or at least in my opinion. They've certainly put up with a lot of my shit in years past. Discretion is one of their greatest strengths, along with sheer class. The seven- story waterfall in the lobby is really the only adornment, the rest of the decoration left to soft lighting, lots of glass and stone, leather couches and chairs in the lounge.
"I thought you'd like it." I reach out for her hand and lead her toward the glass elevator that will take us to the top floor.
The elevator attendant nods at me as we pass through the doors. "Mr. Luthor."
Hudson glances over at me with a wry grin. "I'm not the first girl you've brought here, I take it?"
"No," I reply honestly. "But you're the only one that matters."
She smiles and gives me a quick kiss before the elevator starts upward. As we move out of the lobby, the view of the city immediately surrounds us and Hudson gasps, stepping into me hard and throwing her face against my shoulder.
Oops.
"Lex! You didn't warn me!"
I chuckle and glance over at the attendant who's looking at us with a raised brow. "She's afraid of heights," I explain.
"Ah." He nods. "Then I take it you won't be dining at a window seat."
Grinning, I shake my head just before Hudson's plants a fist in my belly. "Oof!"
"You bastard," she whines against my shoulder. "Why didn't you warn me?!"
"Because I thought this would be more fun." Another fist in the stomach. "I'm kidding, Angel. Honestly, I didn't even think about it. Don't worry. We're almost to the top."
Hudson swallows and lifts her head slowly as the elevator slows. She won't look towards the windows, focusing only on the doors. I tighten my arm around her in assurance and kiss her temple.
"Relax, Angel. It's all right."
She practically tosses me out of the way to get off the elevator first. Slipping the attendant a fifty, in the hope that he'll refrain from talking about Hudson's phobia to everyone he knows, I follow her into the restaurant. She's standing with the maitre d', who looks up to greet me as he slips her coat from her shoulders.
"Ah. Mr. Luthor. Good evening. Usual table?"
"No, thank you, Jean. I think we'd prefer something a little deeper into the restaurant, away from the windows. Maybe on the upper level?" I slip my arm around Hudson's waist and give her a smile.
"Certainly, sir. Right this way."
Hudson tsks at my side. "You come here entirely too much."
I shrug as we follow Jean through the restaurant, ignoring the flashes of recognition from the diners around us. "It's the most romantic restaurant in Metropolis."
"You mean, it's the best way to get laid," she whispers in my ear.
Well, yeah. That, too. "Hudson Kent, you are the only female I know that the way into your bed is through your stomach."
She elbows me in the ribs and I wince as we reach the table.
Holding her chair out for her, I kiss her bare shoulder, flashing her a return smile when she grins at me. Jean hands us our menus and I order a bottle of 1998 Corton [Cordon?] Charlemagne. Glancing across the table, I see Hudson squirming in her chair, frowning down at her menu. Her eyes flash over it quickly, then across the table to me.
"Something wrong, Angel?"
"There aren't any prices listed on the menu!" She whispers frantically. "How am I supposed to order?"
I almost laugh but I hold my amusement in for her sake, not wanting to upset her. "Angel, don't tell me your parents told you to order the cheapest thing on the menu?"
She huffs and I almost laugh again.
"The point is for me to know the prices, not you," I tell her. "I'm the one paying, after all."
"That kind of thinking is so outdated it's prehistoric."
I raise an eyebrow. "Oh. Were you planning on paying then? We can switch menus, if that's the case. I'll warn you though – that bottle of wine I just ordered is more than two months allowance for you."
Hudson makes a face at me, and I swear she's ready to kick me under the table. "You're such a show off, Lex. And you're not half as cute as you think you are."
"That's not what you were saying on the stairs this afternoon."
This time I see a flash of her tongue at me.
I don't smirk. I frown. "Behave. We're in public, Hudson." I want to jump across this table and devour her. Rip that tiny dress off of her and show her what she can really do with her tongue.
Huffing once more, she grows silent, hiding behind her menu. She's probably sticking her tongue out at me still.
Our server approaches, bearing the wine I've ordered. After giving it my approval, he pours two glasses for us as I ask Hudson what she would like for an appetizer. She shrugs in reply, before quickly adding anything except snails. I contemplate ordering the escargot just to eat it with relish in front of her, but decide that's a juvenile activity best left outside of the public eye. Instead, I order the crevette and fois gras, deciding that if she doesn't like either of those, than maybe we just shouldn't be together.
"My parents would kill you if they found out you're letting me have wine," Hudson comments as she fingers the stem of her wine glass. She grins, like this is the greatest secret we've ever shared. Unfortunately, it ranks at the top.
"I guess I enjoy living dangerously." I gesture toward her glass. "Try it."
She takes a sip and makes a face. Hesitantly, she tries it again, expression more accepting this time. "It's... an acquired taste, I guess."
"I probably should have started you with something sweeter," I reply, sipping at my own wine. "This might be too dry for you."
Hudson's expression is one of complete skepticism and I can't help but grin in return.
"If you want to order a Coke, I won't think any less of you."
She seems relieved. "Oh. Good." She glances over her shoulder then back to me. "Think they'd give me a cherry in it?"
Sometimes I forget how young she really is. "Two, even."
"Well then, this place just might be worthy of my patronage, after all," Hudson announces with a flourish, picking up her menu once more.
Shaking my head, I catch the eye of our server and order a Coke with extra cherries. Is it wrong of me to hope that no one I know is here tonight?
When her Coke is delivered, Hudson appears infinitely happier with her beverage of choice. She sucks half of it through the straw with more flourish than she applied to me earlier that day, and I can't help but feel a stir of jealousy toward the piece of plastic. She nibbles at a cherry and I sigh. I think my angel is tormenting me on purpose.
"Think of it this way, Lex," Hudson comments, setting her nearly empty glass away from her. "You get to save money on alcohol. I mean, you know I'm a sure thing, right?"
Did I create this monster? I shake my head again, not wishing to encourage her, even as I feel a smile tugging at my mouth. A comfortable silence falls over us as Hudson continues to glance over the menu, her attention finally turning to the windows, which are apparently situated far enough away from us not to send her squealing into my lap. I can only imagine the society pages having a field day with a story like that. I've already spied a few of the paparazzi snapping a picture or two of us shopping, and I have no doubt we'll be prominently featured in tomorrow morning's edition of the Inquisitor, among others.
After ordering our meals, I notice that Hudson's attention is focused over my shoulder. Curious what she is so raptly interested in, I turn slightly to follow her gaze only to see a couple taking their seats a few tables over from us. The woman is wearing a white mink, similar to the one I wanted to buy for Hudson. Her throat, ears and wrists are dripping in diamonds, glittering like her platinum blonde hair and the shimmering red gloss on her lips. My attention moves to the man she's with, and our eyes meet for the briefest of moments during which he gives me a quick nod. I turn back to Hudson.
"Stop staring," I admonish her gently.
"Who are they?"
"I don't know who the woman is, probably nobody. The man is Tony DiRisio."
She stares at me blankly.
Reaching out for my wine, I add, "The most powerful and dangerous hitman in Metropolis. He's a Captain in the Pagliuca family."
Her eyes widen and she leans forward. When she speaks, her voice is a fierce whisper, "You mean the mafia?"
I can't help but poke at her naivety. "No. A singing group."
Hudson looks like she wants to kill me. "Wait. How do you know who he is?"
"You mean besides the fact that he's been the subject of an article in the Daily Planet more than once?" I respond with a smirk. "My father's done business with Salvatore Pagliuca in the past."
"With the mafia?"
I can't help but feel that the Luthor name has fallen another few points in her esteem. Hopefully this is information she will keep to herself and not share with her parents. Even with the amount of headway I've made with the Kents, I seriously doubt her father would understand that my father's business associates, and my own, are two very separate and distinct groups.
"What would he need the mafia for?" Hudson queries, brow furrowed in thought.
I shrug, preferring to end this conversation. For one, I don't feel comfortable with her banding about the word 'mafia' with every other sentence, especially since Tony is seating not two tables away. Second, I've always had my suspicions as to my father's dealings with the Pagliuca family, and that's information I would rather keep Hudson innocent of. She's looking at me now, an expression of confusion, eyes filled with questions, and I wonder if I haven't already tinted those rose-colored glasses of hers just a little too much.
In an effort to distract her, I ask, "So have you thought about what you want to get your parents tomorrow? We can concentrate our shopping in the Plaza district or Westport. Your choice. Have you ever seen the Mayor's Christmas tree? It's down in the park, overlooking the ice rink."
Success! Her eyes light up with my words, proving once again that Hudson Kent is easily distracted by the discussion of Christmas. As our appetizers arrive, she begins listing the various items she's considered for her family and friends, hinting coyly that she already has my gift all picked out.
I've been invited over for dinner this year and while I've agreed to go, I can't help but feel the slightest trepidation at doing so. There's something so intimate about the way the Kent family spends their holidays, and I hate intruding on that. It doesn't matter if Hudson insists that I'm part of the family now, or Martha goes out of her way to make my favorite foods, or even that Jonathan spends the entire time being friendly and welcoming toward me. I still feel as if I'll always be peering through a window into a world I'll never really understand or feel a part of, no matter how strong the desire burns within me to do so. The problem is, I can't disappoint Hudson. And I especially won't do so on Christmas.
Hudson's animation slowly fades away, the joy of the coming holiday disappearing almost completely from her gaze. I reach out and lay my hand over hers, caressing her fingers.
"What is it, Angel?" I query softly, catching her gaze over the flicker of the candlelight.
"I was just thinking about Rianne." She worries her lower lip. "We talked about stringing popcorn together for the tree, and getting up Christmas morning to make breakfast for my parents." Her eyes meet mine and she searches my face for a moment. "I don't think there'll ever be a time when I can look at a comic book or hot air balloon and not think of her."
I squeeze her hand. "You're never going to forget about her, no. But the pain will lessen."
"Promise?"
I think about my mother, knowing the pain has only grown worse. I force a smile. "I promise."
Silence once more descends as our entrees are brought to the table and we concentrate on our meals. Hudson flashes me the occasional quick smile, apparently pleased with her food as she shoves bite after bite into her mouth seemingly without taking a breath. I raise an eyebrow at her, and she returns it with a rueful expression, eventually slowing her food intake to a reasonable pace. As the minutes pass, she begins paying even less attention to her food, causing me to wonder if she's suddenly developed a distaste for it when I realize her attention is focused over my shoulder. Frowning, I'm about to remind her to stop staring when I hear a woman's voice whisper fiercely behind me:
"I've had just about enough of this. I'm leaving."
"You're going to keep your ass in that chair," the unmistakable voice of Tony DiRisio replies. "Or you'll have two broken legs that won't get you anywhere."
"Ouch! You're hurting me!" She hisses.
Hudson blinks across from me, her expression darkening.
"Stop eavesdropping, Hudson. It isn't polite."
She brings her gaze to mine. "She sounds like she needs help."
I sigh and point with my fork toward her plate.
"...Stop saying those things, Tony," the blonde's voice picks up again. "Why can't you just leave me alone. Let me go!"
"Shut up!" Tony's whisper is angry, his temper obviously pushed past his limit. "One more fucking peep out of you and you'll never have to worry about what I have to say again."
Hudson's gaze narrows further and I can see her poised to jump out of her chair. Quickly, my hand moves across the table and I grab her wrist, holding her in place. "Don't."
"She doesn't want to be here with him. Can't you hear that, Lex?"
"Hudson," I whisper back. "It isn't any of our business. Did you even bother listening to me earlier? That man is not someone you intentionally pick a fight with."
"That doesn't make his behavior right," she replies, glaring at me slightly.
"I never said it did. But there are some people in this world that you can't protect. They either don't want your protection or there is nothing that you can do to protect them. Not without hurting yourself or the ones that you love."
She looks ready to argue for a moment, before her shoulders slump slightly and she returns her gaze to the table behind me. I wish she would stop staring. She's going to bring unwanted attention to both of us. I'm distracted when our server appears, asking if we're interested in having dessert. Hudson absently shakes her head and I wave him away, knowing that the young woman across from me is singularly focused, or she wouldn't have turned down the chance to feed her sweet tooth. I finish off the last of the bottle of wine as I watch her purposely avoid my gaze for the next few minutes.
"I'm going to use the restroom," she tells me suddenly, slipping her napkin onto the table and sliding out of her chair.
I get to my feet politely as she excuses herself, watching her carefully to make certain she actually heads toward the lobby and not to the table behind me. Once she's out of sight, I take my seat again, pay our bill and wonder what drives Hudson in her desire to look out for the underdog. All young people have some inherent belief in them that they're invincible, that they'll live forever. But Hudson seems almost driven by that belief, as if her supposed immortality would allow her to protect and save everyone around her. I've seen her do it with me time and time again, and lately I've begun to realize she does it with everyone.
"Ready to go?"
I glance up to see Hudson standing beside me, shifting from foot to foot, glancing around nervously. I frown. "What's the hurry?"
"I... I'm bored." She shrugs with the obvious lie.
Drawing in a deep breath, I consider denying her the chance to walk out of here without an explanation but, having no desire for another fight, I place my napkin on the table and get to my feet. Jean meets us with Hudson's coat and I slip it over her shoulders before taking her hand and leading her toward the elevator. We pass Tony, who is standing in the lobby, apparently waiting for his date to emerge from the restroom. We give each other a parting nod as Hudson and I move into the elevator, and head back down to the street.
"Where to now?"
Hudson seems more relaxed now that we're back in the limo. She cuddles up against me, fingers playing over the front of my shirt, picking at the buttons, occasionally slipping inside to touch my stomach. I'm tempted to go back to the penthouse and fuck her until the sun rises on Sunday. But there's something I want to show her. A little piece of myself that I hope might encourage her to share her own secrets with me.
"There's a place I want to show you."
"Oooh. That sounds all mysterious." Hudson grins up at me, the streetlights casting shadows across her face. "I like it when you're mysterious." She leans up for a kiss.
Her mood has done a complete one-eighty since the restaurant and I can't help but wonder at the reason for the change. It doesn't take long for her lips and hands to distract my thoughts, though, and all too soon I am engulfed in everything Hudson. Her fresh, earthy scent, the feather soft touches of her fingers against my cheek and neck, the honeyed flavor of her tongue brushing over mine. She makes me forget who I am, what I'm doing, years of teachings all drain away in a single moment, a solitary touch. Sometimes I think it's a special power she has, maybe that same secret her parents don't want her to share. Mostly, I'm certain I'm a fool, and people are laughing at me behind closed doors because this teenage girl sends my senses reeling. It's why I keep her at arm's length in public. I have to.
Capturing my lower lip between her teeth, Hudson pulls back, tugging it with her almost painfully before letting go. There's a thin thread of saliva still attaching us and I can't stop myself from swooping back in for another kiss, pushing her back against the seat as I plunder her mouth. My hands roam over the bare skin around her ribs, thumbs slipping beneath the edge of the bodice to brush against the underside of her breasts. Again, I consider just going back to the penthouse and to hell with opening up to her. Sex should be enough.
Right?
Fuck.
I sit up, pulling her with me, smoothing out her dress so that it's all back in place. She's looking at me as if I've just killed her best friend or something. Sighing, I lean in and kiss her gently. "You deserve better than a tussle in the back of a limo."
Surprisingly, Hudson laughs. "Lex, you could have sex with me in a broom closet. I wouldn't mind!"
I can't help but smile. I really have created a monster. "I'll keep that in mind for later. Right now, we're almost there."
I point out the window toward the parking lot we've just entered. Up ahead are the lights of the Metropolis Waterfront Carnival, its gates closed for the evening. Hudson wrinkles her nose as she takes in the sight before lifting her gaze up to me in question.
"A carnival? What's up, Doc?"
I pinch her nose. "You're not cute."
"No. I'm a sexy, sexy thang!" She thrusts out her chest and wiggles her hips a little suggestively, eliciting a laugh from me. "No, really. What're we doing at a carnival? That just doesn't seem very... Luthor-like."
Smiling, I push the door open as the car comes to a stop in front of the gates. "That's the point."
"Huh?" She takes my hand when I offer it, climbing out of the limousine to stand beside me, staring up at the cardboard medieval towers that bookend the gate. "Lex, have you lost your mind?"
"I'm standing outside a closed carnival after nine with a sixteen-year old. What do you think?"
Hudson rolls her eyes as I close her coat around her, making certain a few buttons are closed. "You warm enough?"
After she nods in affirmation, I tug her forward toward the side employee entrance. As promised, the door is open and I slip inside, smiling at her when she flashes me a curious look. We should be the only people on the grounds, except for the security guards who were strictly instructed to stay in the guard house unless called.
Threading our fingers together, I tuck my free hand into my coat pocket and lead her deep into the carnival. The carnival is fully lit up with lights, music playing, the rides turned on. The air is still filled with the scent of popcorn and cotton candy from earlier in the day, though a slight breeze from the river threatens to wipe it away. Beside me, Hudson is wide-eyed and silent, her gaze attempting to sweep over every little detail as we slowly make our way in and out of the booths around us.
"This is really kind of creepy," she comments in almost a whisper.
I smirk. "Why are we whispering?"
She waves a hand. "Creepy. There's no one here but us."
"Oh, there are others. They're just hiding out."
"And that's supposed to make it less creepy how?"
"Brat." I pull her close and kiss the top of her head. "I thought you would like this."
"Oh, it's cool. And unexpected. Just... creepy."
"We can leave," I offer, glancing away.
"No." Her fingers tighten around mine. "I like it. I mean, being alone with you like this. Well, quasi-alone." I turn back to see her flash me a smile. "It's kind of like one of those 'end of the world' movies, where it's just you and me and we can do whatever we want!"
I chuckle. "Except that it isn't the end of the world. Though we can do whatever we want."
"You mean we could go on a spree through one of the malls in the middle of the night and take whatever we want?" She looks shocked.
"I can arrange it." I shrug. If Hudson wants to live out any fantasies, I can certainly see to them. It's a perk of being ridiculously wealthy.
Hudson's eyes are even wider as she stares at me for a moment, and I can't help but wonder if this is the first time she's ever really understood how much money I have at my disposal. I look away, a little uncomfortable with it, remaining silent so that she's allowed to process this newfound information. I know it doesn't matter to her but I can't erase the fears that one day it might. One day, she'll begin asking for favors, and I'll grant them because I love her, because I can't say no. And eventually, I'll hate her for using me, and I'll hate myself even more for allowing it to happen.
"Oh!" Hudson breathes beside me. "Look at that carousel!"
I glance up at her exclamation at the antique carousel that is the pride of the Waterfront Carnival that looms before us. Dating back to the late 1800's, it's been fully restored, well-cared for and is the main attraction for all attendees of the carnival. Even those who come just for the roller coasters have to stop and take a moment to appreciate the beauty and grandeur of the structure. It's lit up tonight, bright white lights covering the domed top amid beveled mirrors and delicately painted animals in various carnival attire, all gaudy colors and overly ornate. The horses are the focal point – whites, bays, black and grays, posed in various gaits, some prancing, others tossing their heads, two half-rearing, each wearing painted-on tack that appears worthy of a King's ransom. Tigers, lions, zebras and ostriches complete the available seating.
"Want to ride it?" I ask Hudson as we draw near.
She glances around. "But, I don't see an operator."
I shrug and jump onto the platform, turning to hold my hand out to her. "It's not a magic carpet, but it's the best I can offer on short notice."
Hudson shakes her head with a grin, taking my hand and stepping onto the carousel beside me. "If I told the people of Smallville what a romantic you are, they would never believe me."
"That's a good thing. We wouldn't want it to get out."
She laughs as she moves past me, long fingers caressing the neck of a black horse. She turns slowly, admiring the animals around her, soft smile highlighted by the glow in her eyes. I could stare at her for hours. Sometimes I consider commissioning an artist to paint her, naked of course, either standing in the garden with the sunlight warming her skin or reclined on a carpet in front of the fireplace. Her parents would kill me, and I would never be allowed the opportunity to gaze at my naked painting of Hudson with impunity. Maybe when she's older...
"So, have you picked a mount?" I ask finally, as Hudson hovers near one of the white horses, its neck arched, legs lifted high in a prancing motion.
"Why is it the most harmless questions can sound so dirty out of your mouth?" Hudson glances at me over her shoulder, smirking.
I roll my eyes and move between the animals, making my way to the center of the carousel where the control room is located. "You, Hudson Clark Kent, live in the gutter."
"There's room for two!" She replies cheerily, hopping up onto the white horse.
Ignoring her remark, I open the small door, camouflaged as one of the eight full-length mirrors, and flip the necessary switches. The carousel lurches into motion, campy music filling the air as the lights begin dancing around us. Gently closing the door, I turn around to find Hudson watching me over the tops of the animals. I grin as she rises up, and back down, and up again, and back down again. She shakes her head, drawing my curiosity, and I duck under a few horse necks to make my way over to her.
"What?" I ask as I stand beside her, my hand settling on her thigh.
"I admit it, Lex. I'm completely stumped. How on earth do you know how to operate a carousel?"
I shrug. "It's not that difficult. This is an antique, Hudson. There's a power button and a stop button."
She crosses her eyes at me, a sign that she isn't taking me seriously at all. It's so cute that it forces me to lean forward to kiss her nose, but the horse ends up rising and I catch her chin instead. She laughs and catches me in a quick kiss on the way back down.
"Now, Alexander Joseph Luthor, are you going to tell me the truth about how you know the intricacies of running a carousel?"
Stepping back, I slip up onto the gray horse behind me, sitting so that I face Hudson, sideways in the hard wooden saddle. "You know how so many kids... well, they sometimes look at their family and they think to themselves, 'There's no way I came from them! I must be adopted!'?"
Her gaze searches my face for a moment before she nods.
"Well, it wasn't quite the same for me. I mean, I always knew that I was a Luthor. I couldn't look in the mirror and question my heritage because I couldn't escape it. It was always there, drilled into me from the cradle. I never questioned it... "
I trail off, gaze dropping to the slatted floor beneath us. There's a blob of bubblegum beneath Hudson's mount, a crushed piece of popcorn caught between the slats of wood. I'm reminded of the last time Hudson and I went to the movies together – I can't recall what we saw, only that we sat in the back row and made out the entire time. And my feet kept sticking to the floor.
"Lex?"
Glancing up at her inquiry, I smile. "Sorry. It's just... even if I knew what I was, it didn't mean that I wanted to accept it. 'Do not go gentle into that goodnight' or some such.
"Shortly after the meteor storm, I began studying places, groups that I could hide out with. Where I could erase my identity and become someone else, someone nobody knew. I could start all over, far away from the Luthor name, and write my own destiny, not the one my father had mapped out for me."
I run a hand over my head nervously, unable to look at Hudson as I continue to impart information I've never shared with another. "So I studied them all – the military, the mafia, carnies, cults – "
"Wait. Carnies?" Hudson interrupts, eyes blinking with amusement. "Lex, you wanted to run off and join the... carnival??"
I flash her a glare. "I didn't just want to. I did."
"What?" Her mouth is wide with humor now, lips twitching desperately for more expression. "You ran away and joined the carnival?"
"What's so unbelievable about that?" I retort, frowning.
She worries her lower lip a moment. "I don't know. You just... don't seem the type to run away, I guess."
I nod. "Well, I was ten at the time, so I wasn't exactly thinking clearly."
"Mmm. So what happened? Did your parents catch you?"
"Not immediately." I glance out over the carnival, remembering that first night that I spent away from the safety of home, from my parents and Pamela. I can't help but smile at how stupid I was. "I packed a couple changes of clothing, a few toiletries, a package of crackers, some peanut butter and a jar of caviar – "
"Caviar? No. Really – caviar?"
With a shrug, I reply, "My father used to say that you could convince anyone to give you what you wanted with well-thought strategy, and a good Beluga caviar. Since I figured I already had my strategy planned out, it wouldn't hurt to have the caviar along, too. Just in case."
Hudson looks like she can't decide if she wants to laugh or cry.
"Anyway," I turn away from her gaze and stare at the animals as they continue to move up and down around us. "I took a cab deep into the city. It wasn't until I got to the train station that I realized that would be one of the first places my father would have his people look. That, and the airport. So I decided I needed a less obvious method of transportation out of Metropolis.
"As I was wandering around the train yard, trying to think of something, I saw the train that a carnival was packed onto, heading off to their next engagement. It was 'Wild Bill's Carnival of Thrills' – "
"You're making that up."
"I am not!" I snap, flashing her a silencing look. "Do you want to hear about this or not?"
Hudson rolls her eyes. "I don't know if I'm ready to... but go ahead."
I'm tempted to just stop right there, except that I can see the sincere curiosity in her gaze. One would think I'd be used to her teasing after all of this time, but it's hard to get over the belief that not every joke made at your expense is meant to be hurtful. Especially when the past has always shown the opposite.
"Figuring my father would never think to look there," I continue. "I climbed up into one of the box cars, made myself comfortable in between what I thought were some props, and promptly fell asleep. I didn't know where I was or where I was going and, at the time, it really didn't matter so much. After the meteor shower... well, I'd never really had friends to begin with. Being bald only made it that much worse. And my mom... she always looked so sad after that whenever I was with her, like she blamed herself or something. My father – well, I don't think he knew what to do with me. I didn't fit into his strategic plan for family and future. So I thought it would be better all around if I just went away."
I feel something touch my hand, and glance down to see Hudson's fingers brushing over my skin. Without looking at her, I acknowledge the small offer of comfort by curling my fingers into hers, our hands clasped between the horses.
"So, you were in the box car...," Hudson prompts.
Nodding, I continue, "I woke up the next morning, only because I could feel that I was being stared at. When I opened my eyes, it was to find half a dozen midgets surrounding me – "
"Is this the part where you tell me they offered you some magical beans for your pet cow?"
"Hudson – hush," I reprimand her with a grin. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but this was how it happened.
"See, I fell asleep in the clown car. In fact, the entire box car was filled with all of the props the clowns used. We'd arrived at their next stop in Oklahoma City, and they were beginning to clear out the cars when they found me. They weren't very nice about it, either," I add, vividly remembering the eldest of the group grabbing me by the ear and yanking me out of the car.
"So, um, did they all clown-pile on top of you inside of the car?" Hudson asks with a grin.
She doesn't believe me. I sigh. "No. They took me to – "
"Their leader. Bozo the Magnificent."
"Christ, Hudson!"
She giggles, and then leans across the space between us and kisses my cheek. "I'm sorry. I'm just having fun. Go on. They took you where? To Wild Bill, the owner?"
I remain silent, refusing to continue to be made fun of. Hudson tugs on my hand and flashes me a contrite smile and big, saucer-shaped eyes, silently pleading for the rest of the story. Damn her and whatever ability she has to make me willfully humiliate myself.
"Only Wild Bill wasn't a Wild Bill at all, but Wild Bill's widow, Shirley." I cast a quick glance at Hudson, waiting for another retort but she just watches me innocently, waiting for the rest of the story.
Sighing, I tell her, "Shirley was this older lady, who'd been part of a carnival ever since she was born. Her parents worked with the animals. She was a tough woman who apparently wasn't afraid of the name Luthor, even though she recognized both it and me almost instantly. She sat me down in her tent and made me tell her everything – who I was, why I wanted to run away. I told her... "
I pause and look over at Hudson again, wondering just how much I should share. If I want this to work, if I want her to be honest with me, then I need to be honest with her. I need her to know I trust her.
"I told her that I was a freak, and therefore it figured that I would fit in with the other freaks of the carnival – "
"Lex – "
"She didn't seem to like that explanation. She lectured me about the lack of right I had to refer to anyone as a freak, including myself, and how little boys should be more concerned with collecting bugs and climbing trees than how others might characterize their outward appearance. I just figured she didn't understand, and that I would be sent home that night." I shrug. "Surprisingly, though, she didn't send me home. She set me up in a tent with her two sons, and a boy whose father was the elephant trainer, and she put me to work."
"You worked with the carnival?" Hudson stares at me, blinking. "But, what about your parents? Weren't they worried about you? Surely your dad was tearing up Metropolis looking for you!"
"Actually, Shirley called him the moment she realized who I was," I tell her with a slight grimace. "My father told her to keep me. That if I was insisting on behaving like a child, then I didn't fit in to any part of the Luthor dynasty. I know this because I heard Shirley recounting her conversation to Edwina, the snake girl."
"He just... left you there?"
"It was a lesson," I remark frankly. "There was no way my father was actually going to allow his own blood to be caught working in a carnival. Shirley was paid to keep quiet and retain me in only low-profile jobs. I figure there was a bonus for her in there somewhere if I was never injured, as well.
"A month into it, my mother appeared to take me home. I remember feeling awful for the worry I'd put her and Pamela through, and they were both so happy to see me, and so angry that I'd just left like that. I get the feeling my father never explained that he knew where I was all along – and that he wanted me to stay there until he was ready for me to come home."
"What did he do when you got back? Were you punished?"
I shake my head and purse my lips. "No. He never spoke a word about it. Pretended it never happened. A few years later I found out that Wild Bill's Carnival of Thrills had suddenly become one of the largest, wealthiest carnival's in the states. They stopped traveling and set up a permanent structure. All because my father paid them off to keep them quiet."
Hudson is silent and I refuse to look at her, wondering if she is ready to break out into laughter again. She drops my hand and I take the opportunity to slip off of the horse and move to stop the carousel. But then Hudson is standing in front of me, her gaze filled with... something. I don't know what to name it. But she's looking at me and smiling softly, and I can't help but lean into her touch as her hand cups my cheek.
"You amaze me," she whispers. "There is so much about you that just... takes my breath away."
I struggle with the desire to tell her she's full of shit. It's an automatic response. But I can't deny the expression on her face, or the gentle touch of her fingers over my skin. I kiss the pads of her fingertips as they brush against my lips. "I've never told anyone that story."
She sighs and leans against me, arms wrapping around my shoulders. I hold her, waiting for a confession, a truth, more than she's ever given. The carousel music has become absurdly annoying but I don't want to move, afraid that I'll break the spell.
"What about you?" I query softly. "Any deep, dark secrets you're ashamed to share?"
A long silence. I can feel her tensing in my arms. Then, "I did run away once."
The fight goes out of me. I don't know how much more of this I can take. "Did you?" I reply, tone blank.
Hudson laughs lightly, pulling back. "Yeah. I was six. And determined to find my biological parents." She cocks her head to the side thoughtfully, an expression of wistfulness on her face. "I wanted to know why they gave me up, why they didn't love me."
"Just because they gave you up for adoption doesn't necessarily mean they didn't love you, Hudson."
"I know. I... "She trails off and sighs, flashing a chagrined smile. "Dad found me. He took me home and I remember mom was so upset. She cried and held me and told me how angry she was that I ran away, even though she never stopped crying and kept kissing me. When I told them why I left, I remember my dad telling me that sometimes we get the opportunity to choose our own family. I never understood what he meant... until recently."
She takes my hand and squeezes it. "Maybe we've both been given that opportunity, Lex."
Would you choose to have a family that lied, Hudson? Would you?
Giving her a half smile, I move to the control panel and turn off the music.
When I wake up the next morning, Hudson is pressed against me like a second skin. Her face is pressed against my shoulder and I think she's drooling. It's either that or she fell asleep mid-kiss. I watch her for a few minutes silently, tempted to roll her over and wake her up with my tongue and another eager part of my body. Unfortunately, she appears dead to the world, in one of those deep sleeps where a nuclear explosion could go off, and she wouldn't notice. And it really isn't any fun to make love to an unresponsive partner. Not that I think she would be unresponsive for long but we have a big day ahead of us. Leaning over, I kiss her cheek softly before climbing out of bed and heading for the shower.
Showers are extremely quick for me. Once you take out the necessary washing of one's hair and shaving, there is very little left. In school, it always meant being the first one in line for breakfast each morning. In my adult life, it allows me to sleep a few minutes longer, or appear to a meeting that much earlier than anyone else. Hudson said she'd kill to never have to bother with washing and drying her hair again. I replied that I would kill her if she ever tried to get rid of it. She just laughed at me, but I don't think she realizes how much I envy the hair of everyone around me. Sometimes, when I happen to be in a store, I wander by the hair products and simply stare at the various gels and hair sprays and shampoos. Hudson uses an apple-scented shampoo by Suave. She says it's cheap and she likes the smell. I stocked all of the showers at the mansion, and here at the penthouse, with KMS because it smells like bubblegum and seems like her. She said if only they could combine the two, it would be a perfectly scented shampoo. Today I should buy her some apple bubblegum, just to see what it tastes like in her mouth.
Getting out of the shower, I wrap a towel around my hips and reenter the bedroom to find Hudson still dead to the world. She's moved in her sleep, diagonal across the bed, head firmly planted in the center of my pillow, sheets barely covering her well-shaped ass. There are many perfect aspects of Hudson's body, but I think it's her ass that I like best. I've even caught Pete checking it out. My bed sheets are obviously shameless in their attempt to destroy all of my enjoyment. Determined to rectify the situation, I move over and remove the last bit of obstruction from my view of her naked form.
Perfect.
"Leeexxxx – "
Well, nothing lasts forever.
I glance toward the pillow to see Hudson peering one eye open at me. "What're you doing?"
"Admiring the view."
"It's cold in here, and you're trying to make me freeze my ass off. Literally."
"Hudson," I drawl with a smile. "I would never do such a thing."
"Don't Luthors know how to use heaters?" She whines before reaching down for the edge of the covers.
"It isn't that cold in here," I point out, snatching the covers out of her reach and tossing them to the floor. "Tsk, tsk. You're very spoiled, Hudson Kent," I inform her as I kneel on the bed and crawl over her, sprawling across her body.
Instant squeals. "Lex, you're wet! And cold! Christ, you're like marble!"
"And you whine a lot." I nuzzle my nose against the back of her ear and then lick it. She giggles. "It's time to get up, Angel. We'll never make the game, and get the shopping in, if you don't get ready."
Sighing beneath me, Hudson struggles to roll over until we're facing each other. I find myself wondering why I left my damn towel on. "I don't think I want to go out today."
I regard her silently for a moment before remarking, "You've always wanted to go to a Shark's game. Sit in the owner's box. Look down on the common folk." I give her a smile.
"I know. And I still would like to. Just not today." Her fingers trail over my upper arms and she looks up at me from under her lashes and really, how would I deny her anything? "I want to stay in my sweats and just have you all to myself."
"I can't argue with that thinking," I reply, kissing the tip of her nose. "But what about shopping for your family?"
She shrugs. "I'll find things in Smallville. Lex, you told me if I didn't want to go out, you wouldn't – "
"I know," I interrupt with a forced smile. I made the promise that we could stay in if she wanted, but there is a part of me that selfishly wants to spoil her – take her places, buy her things. I can't really do that if we're stuck in the penthouse.
Unless...
I smile. "We'll stay in for the day," I agree, kissing her once more before sliding off of her to my feet. "And you'll still do your shopping and watch the game." I grab my phone off of the nightstand as I ask, "What is good football-watching food?"
"What're you doing?" She sits up, gathering the sheet around her to cover her nakedness.
Damn.
"Answer now or I order caviar."
Hudson makes an adorable face at me, confusion still evident in her eyes. "Umm, barbeque, of course. Ribs, sausages, KC strips, corn on the cob, big, fat heavily seasoned fries –"
"I get it," I laugh, dialing the number to the best caterer in town. "Anything that clogs the arteries."
"Something like that."
She flops back down on the bed, long limbs sprawled across the sheets. If I took her to business meetings like this, and laid her out on the conference tables, I'd be able to turn corporate takeovers into an art form. Rivals would be so lost examining her impossibly perfect legs that they'd forget what they were doing there. I could own the world, if I could only convince Hudson to marshal the parade.
Turning away from my angelic little devil on the bed so that I can remain focused, I order our lunch to be delivered later, and then place a call to the concierge for the Luthorcorp tower. I explain exactly what I need from him in intricate detail down to the exact shops and items that I want to see represented. By the time I hang up the phone, Hudson has the bedroom TV turned on, is flopped over on her belly, sheets tangled around her hips as her feet swing above her in no particular rhythm.
"You might want to get showered and dressed," I remark, opening the dresser for a pair of underwear.
"Why? I thought we were just laying around the house."
"We are. But that doesn't mean we're not going to have company."
"Hell."
I smile at her apparent annoyance, glancing over my shoulder as I dress to see her slip out of bed and stomp to the bathroom, sheet dragging along on the floor behind her. No one should be allowed to be gorgeous when they pout.
By the time Hudson is done with her shower and enters the living room dressed comfortably in grey sweats and a red and blue striped shirt, Max, concierge to the Luthorcorp Tower, has arrived with shops in tow. Watching Hudson for a moment as she settles on the couch, feet tucked beneath her while she looks at the half dozen strangers gathered in the room, I turn back to Max and nod in satisfaction.
"Well done, Max."
"Thank you, Mr. Luthor."
"What's going on?" Hudson inquires from her seat, leaning over the back of the couch to look up at me.
"Shopping," I explain, crossing over to her. I wave toward the group as they quickly begin shuffling around through the containers behind them. "I brought the stores to you."
She blinks up at me in apparent shock, then turns to regard the shop managers once more. "You mean they shoved their entire stores into those boxes?"
Chuckling, I sit on the arm of the couch beside her. "Nnnoooo. They brought only the items I thought you might be interested in for your parents and friends."
"Wow." She grins. "This is so... eccentric of you, Lex Luthor."
I shake my head. "Actually, my father began doing this for my mother when she became too ill to leave the house. He didn't want her to miss out on the simple joys of shopping and having new things, so he brought the stores to her. I remember once a week, climbing up onto the bed with her and watching as expensive clothes and jewelry were paraded out in front of her."
Smiling at the memory, I look down to find Hudson watching me, sympathy in her gaze. I kiss the tip of her nose. "If they don't have what you want, describe what you're looking for, and they'll find it."
"I feel like I'm in a movie," she comments with a sigh, though there is a sparkle in her eyes as she gazes at the group of people who stand at the ready to serve her. "It's kind of like Pretty Woman. Only you're not as skuzzy as Richard Gere."
Laughing, I lean in and whisper, "And you're no prostitute."
"Well, not at the moment..."
"Hudson Clark Kent –"
Giggling, she rolls her eyes at me and launches herself off of the couch and toward the store managers. I follow behind her, nodding silently to Mr. Sykes, the manager for Saks, to begin his presentation. He steps forward, offering his hand and introducing himself, then steps back to wave a hand toward his wares. The accompanying model displays a wildly colorful outfit that sends Hudson into pleased applause, commenting to me that it would be perfect for Chloe. When she asks the price, I sedately shake my head once more, pointing my thumb downwards toward Sykes. He barely flashes me a glance before giving Hudson a false number that is so ridiculously low it could easily beat a Walmart price. Frowning, she glances back at me as if expecting me to be holding a sign up with the price displayed.
"Is that really the cost, Lex?" She asks.
I shrug. "Do I look like I work in a department store?"
"Well, you dress like it."
"Be nice, Angel."
Making a face at me, Hudson returns her attention to Sykes. "It seems kind of cheap – the price, I mean. Considering the source and all."
"It's from our clearance section, Miss," Sykes replies without hesitation.
I'm going to have to give him a good tip.
Hudson still appears disbelieving but she shrugs and reaches out to touch the material of the skirt, lost in thought. Finally, she nods and moves on to the next item. I share a quick look with Sykes before focusing my attention back to Hudson as she continues with her 'shopping'. Surprisingly, she finishes everything up rather quickly, and when she disappears to the bedroom to get her purse for her spending money, I reach into my pocket and hand my credit card over to Max who quickly writes down the information. Slipping it back into my pocket just as Hudson reenters the room, I flash her an innocent smile as she is given a bill for an amount just under the cash I know she's carrying. If she ever discovers proof of my perfidy, I'm dead.
"That was relatively painless," she comments as she drops back onto the couch and looks up at me. "Now I get to go home and wrap everything."
"I could have Max – "
"Lex," she interrupts with one of those 'Don't you know anything??' tones. "Christmas is about the shopping and the wrapping and the scrambling to find the time to do it all. You've just eliminated one tradition for me, no need to eliminate the others."
I sit beside her, arm moving around the back of the couch. "But couldn't you spend that time doing more interesting things?"
"I take it you have something in mind?" She smirks at me as I lean in for a kiss.
"Oh, I could think of one thing... or two.. "
"Or a dozen," she adds before I cover her mouth with my own.
"Stop fidgeting."
Hudson glances up at me as if I couldn't possibly understand the position she is in. "But... I feel naked."
"You're the one that picked that dress out," I remind her. "Not me."
And I'm beyond pleased that she did. It shows all of her more perfect assets gorgeously – short skirt, scandalously low neckline (if it could even be considered a neckline), and absolutely no back whatsoever. Jonathan Kent would have a heart attack if he saw his daughter in the thing. I certainly wasn't going to say no when she picked it out, especially since I could tell she was purposely attempting to be rebellious. It's nice to see Hudson play the role of teenager; she doesn't do it very often.
"Besides," I tell her. "You still have your coat on. You won't be naked until we get inside."
"Swell."
She wiggles her shoulders beside me once more as we approach the Bouncer outside of Atlantis, the latest nightclub in Metropolis to take the much- coveted place that Club Zero's closing left open. The few dozen in line along the building glare at us as we approach, and the braver souls toss out a couple of bawdy comments toward me. It feels like forever since I was last in this type of atmosphere, even though it hasn't been two years.
"We're never going to get inside, you know," Hudson whispers confidently. "He'll take one look at me and realize I'm underage."
I barely refrain from rolling my eyes. When did I pick up that habit?? "Hudson, you could be in diapers. As long as you're with me, you'll get in."
"That's really sick, Luthor," she quips with a smirk.
Smart ass.
The Bouncer glances over at us as we near the door and gives me a slight nod. "Lex, it's been a while."
"That it has," I reply, slipping a fifty into his hand as we pass by and I escort Hudson through the door.
Atlantis prides itself on being classier than Club Zero, only it isn't. It's bigger and gaudier and the drinks are more expensive, though the clientele hasn't changed much. Its reputation, on the other hand, is fast becoming worse than that of my old haunt, and I have every intention of not allowing Hudson very far out of my sight. Her eyes are already far too wide, the combination of her beauty and innocence drawing stares from all around us, and I wonder if maybe this wasn't a good idea. I slip her coat from her shoulders and hand it to the girl behind the coat check station, taking the ticket she hands me in return.
Placing my hand against Hudson's back, I guide her through the crowd, attention focused on our surroundings as we move toward the largest of the three bars located in the club. Her skin is warm and I can't help but caress my fingers lower, hoping that those around us are watching, that they understand she belongs to me. We make it to the bar and Hudson slips up onto one of the stools as I lean in beside her to order our drinks, figuring she might enjoy a Cosmopolitan. Reminding myself I'm only going to let her have one. Then again, she's apparently so fascinated by her surroundings that I could hand her gasoline to drink, and she wouldn't notice the difference.
"This is awesome, Lex!" She practically squeals, dancing in her seat with barely contained excitement.
"Glad you like it. Just don't stray off."
I slip a bill across the bar to pay for our drinks, and then hand one to Hudson.
Clinking our glasses, I tell her, "Welcome to Wonderland, Alice."
"Does that make you the Mad Hatter?" She asks, taking a cautious sip of her drink. She blinks for a moment and takes another.
"You're in a feisty mood."
"The Sharks won. That makes me very happy. I still have hopes that they'll make it to the Superbowl."
I shake my head and turn my gaze toward the dance floor. "Won't happen. Hasn't happened in decades. My father laments over it all of the time. Luckily, the fans keep coming or he would have sold the team long ago."
"Well, with the way he keeps hiking the price up on tickets and parking, I don't see why he would want to sell. It's the only legal way he can steal from the public."
Chuckling, I lean in and give her a quick kiss. "This is why we're made for each other, Hudson Kent."
She beams over her glass at me as she takes another drink.
The afternoon spent watching the Shark's game had been a pleasant one. It began with sex on the couch, a minor bout of cuddling, and then the joy of watching Hudson stuff her face with barbeque from Arthur Bryant's. She got sauce all over the shirt she was wearing, so I made her take it off and we went back to cuddling on the couch in our underwear until the Sharks won. Apparently seeing her favorite football team win stokes Hudson's hormones into action, and she had me on the floor in minutes.
Not that I'm complaining. I just can't recall ever spending a day so... relaxed. I can't help but wonder if life with Hudson would always be like that, if such a thing is possible. Is that the way her parents act when they're alone together? Is that the way couples are supposed to behave?
"I want to dance."
Pulled from my thoughts at her words, I look over at Hudson and raise an eyebrow. "Is that so?" I take a sip of my drink but make no move to lead her to the dance floor.
Hudson frowns. "Oh, don't tell me you're one of those who is too full of himself to dance in public?"
"I simply choose not to look like one of the many idiots out there flailing around," I reply.
"They're not idiots. They're having fun and we're not." She slides down from the stool and places her hands on her hips as she looks at me. "Why on earth did you bring me here if you didn't plan on dancing?"
Shrugging, I look around. "I thought you'd like to see it." I pause and flash her a smile. "And, there are quite a few dark little places to hide out in... "
Hudson rolls her eyes. "You're like a machine, Lex. You'd think you've had enough sex today."
"There's no such thing!"
Huffing, Hudson glances out toward the dance floor longingly, affecting a pretty pout. Unable to withstand such behavior, I wave a hand toward the crowd.
"Nothing is stopping you from going out there, Angel," I comment, rubbing my hand over her over.
"Really?" She looks at me hopefully.
I nod. "Just stay close to the edge of the floor where I can see you, okay? And if anyone starts anything – "
She laughs. "Lex, I can take of myself, you know."
No, you can't.
She leans up to kiss me, then hurries away from the bar to the dance floor. Figuring this should be a pretty good show, I take a seat facing the crowd of dancers to watch. As Hudson situates herself amidst the others, I carefully seek out the gaze of each man near her, waiting until their eyes meet mine before moving on to the next. For the first time since we left Smallville, I find myself wishing I'd brought Dodd along. Then again, he might have cleared the entire floor before allowing Hudson out there.
Assured of her safety from roaming hands, I return my attention to Hudson, watching her closely as her body moves in rhythm to the beat. Hips grinding, breasts bouncing beneath the silk of her dress, hair tossing wildly around her face. Fuck, she's gorgeous tonight. I'm getting hard just watching her, and normally I can exhibit a little more control over myself in public. But not with Hudson, not now, not when she's out there tempting every man in the building, and so obviously showing off for me. No one's ever done that before. No woman I've ever dated has ever been innocent enough to stand in a crowd of others and think that no one is watching her but me, to so brazenly exhibit herself as if to say 'I'm yours to do with as you please'. It's reckless and dangerous and makes me want to throw her to the ground and fuck her through the dance floor.
"Now, if Lex Luthor had ever bothered watching me like that, I certainly wouldn't be wasting my time dancing."
Repressing the sigh that immediately springs to my lips, I turn to regard Celia Dawson, uptown socialite and ex-fuck buddy. "Hello, Celia."
"Lex," she purrs, fake eyelashes fluttering closed for a moment. "I was beginning to think we'd lost you to the Children of the Corn."
Cute. I shrug, my gaze returning to the dance floor. "I grew tired of the Metropolis nightlife."
"So I hear. You traded it in for cornfields and cows."
Celia takes the seat next to me, uninvited. Pulling a cigarette out of her purse, she hesitates a moment, apparently waiting for me to light it for her, before finally fishing out her lighter and doing it herself. Taking a long, slow drag, she brushes a strand of blonde hair from her face and leans closer.
"Rumor has it you're interests have turned to farmgirls." Laughing, she nods toward the dance floor. "And, seeing as how no one here recognizes your leggy companion, I'd be willing to bet she's more comfortable in jeans and cowboy boots than she is silk and leather."
Expression carefully blank, I finish my drink and set it on the bar. "Shouldn't you be busy trying to sucker some loser into a quick fuck and some expensive blow?"
She frowns, pulling away, the heavy scent of her perfume and cigarette lingering. "Well, one thing is certain, the sticks haven't done anything to improve that surly attitude of yours. Tell me, does your innocent little companion know that deep down inside you're an arrogant ass? Or are you still blinding her to your true self with flashy gifts and charm?"
It's one thing to share snappy banter with an ex-whatever. It's quite another when they decide to hit so close to home. That's one of my biggest fears – that Hudson might really look one day and see the ugly person that I am, hidden beneath the clothes and the smiles and things I try to do for her. I'm afraid she'll discover I'm not the Prince Charming she envisions, that I have a past far different from her own.
"Celia, is there a point to this little chat?" I ask, my voice bland, bored.
Shrugging, she flicks the ashes of her cigarette into the tray on the bar. "People are curious, Lex. This is the first we've seen of you – other than when your name was all over the society columns due to that two day marriage of yours. Whatever happened with that?"
"I'd say it's none of your business, Celia, but you have trouble grasping such a simple concept."
"I'm simply looking out for you, Lex," Celia replies, touching the sleeve of my jacket. Her eyes regard me imploringly. "Myself – the entire group, we all miss you."
"What group?"
I turn from Celia to see Hudson standing in front of us, dots of perspiration on her chest and face, eyes bright, hair mussed. Her color is a little flushed and her gaze narrows the longer she looks at Celia. I watch as her eyes drop to my arm where Celia is touching me, and I realize that Hudson is jealous. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes.
"Our group of friends, darling," Celia replies, flashing a false smile at Hudson. "The group of friends Lex abandoned when he sequestered himself out in Cowville."
"Smallville," Hudson corrects, watching Celia almost curiously. I wonder at her expression.
"Whatever," Celia flippantly remarks before turning back to me, ignoring Hudson. "As I was saying, Lex, love – "
"You're in my seat."
I quickly grab my refilled drink, taking a sip to stifle the laughter at Hudson's interruption. Celia swings around to gaze at her in surprise.
"Excuse me?"
"I said you're in my seat," Hudson tells her sweetly. "I didn't punch your lights out for touching my boyfriend, but don't push me."
"Boyfriend?" Celia repeats and looks at me, laughter bubbling out. "Oh, how very cute!"
"Look, lady – "
"Angel, why don't we have a dance?"
Getting to my feet, I take her hand and lead her away from Celia toward the dance floor. Hudson tugs on my hand all of the way there. Once hidden within the crowd, I turn to her, pulling her tight against me as we begin moving to the music.
"You slept with that woman, didn't you?" Hudson asks, glaring at me beneath the blue lights.
I smirk. "I wouldn't say I've slept with her, no."
"Sex, then. You had sex with her!"
"I've had sex with a lot of women, Hudson Kent. And when you come to Metropolis, it's likely that you'll run into one."
She purses her lips. "I don't like it. I don't like knowing they've touched you. I don't – "She cuts herself off and focuses her gaze on my shoulder.
No woman I've ever dated has ever displayed such an overt reaction to the attention I've received from other women. The jealousy, the blatant threat to Celia, the upset now. I used to think such cloying repugnant, but now I'm finding that I want it from Hudson, I crave it. She's as possessive of me as I am her. I don't want other men to even look at her, let alone talk to her, touch her. And while I have the satisfaction of knowing I'm the only man she's ever been with, she can't say the same about me.
"It's okay," I tell her, pulling her closer, one hand drifting down to cup her ass. I lick the shell of her ear before whispering, "She's not touching me now. You are."
Hudson makes a sound much like a whimper, and then her hips are grinding against me, my cock aching for closer contact. This is why dancing in public is a bad thing – there are many other things I'd rather be doing to her at this moment than dancing with her. But Hudson seems to enjoy the music, and she isn't stopping, her body swaying alternately against and away from mine, hands moving over my shoulders and chest, head dipping back, back arching, gorgeous neck vulnerably exposed. I follow it down, nipping at the hollow as her hands cover the back of my head, rubbing the extra-sensitive skin.
"Fuck, Hudson," I breathe against her throat, pulling her back up.
I'm not certain how much time passes. We move to the music together, stopping occasionally for a drink, lost in the smoke-clouded crowd, barely noticing the existence of others. Hudson teases me with her body and hands, and I give as good as I'm getting until it becomes a game to us. The alcohol and the music and the atmosphere seem to relax her, giving her more of the teenager aura, and less of the 'weight of the world on her shoulders' adult role that she apparently enjoys adopting. I wonder what my life would be like if Hudson were older, if we'd met a few years earlier. Where would we be today? Would we own the world together?
The music all sounds the same to me now. We're plastered together, barely moving to the beat, her hair damp against my cheek. The scent wafting off of her skin is intoxicating – sweet, fruity, musky, like she smells after sex. The smoke of cigarettes and marijuana, the tangy scent of alcohol, seem to repel away from her. It makes me want to lick her everywhere, cover my body in her skin.
"Nice."
I open my eyes to see a dark-haired man hovering behind Hudson, gaze roaming over her, roaming over me. As our eyes meet, I notice an invitation in his that I haven't seen in years. And there is no way in hell I'm exposing Hudson to it. I know myself well enough to realize I wouldn't handle anyone else touching her, especially in front of me, no matter how hot it might be. I flash him a frown and return my attention to her the shoulder just below my chin.
"What's going on?" I hear Hudson mumble lazily into my neck.
"Unwanted attention. Nothing to worry about."
"Oh."
We drift into companionable silence once more when I suddenly feel hands that aren't Hudson's move over my waist. My eyes shoot open to see the uninvited man back again, this time pressing himself against Hudson's back and touching me.
I lift my head and glare. "I suggest you find your party elsewhere."
He smiles. "You can't seriously mean to keep this hotness between the two of you? I've been watching you both, all over the dance floor. Everyone has. Don't think you can offer such an exhibition and not deliver on its promise."
"Fuck you," I reply neatly. "Back away. Now."
"Be cool, man," he retorts, removing his hands from my waist as one drifts over Hudson's ass.
Before I can react, she whirls around and slams her hand against his chest, pushing him away. I watch in stunned amazement as he flies back through the crowd, slamming into a table just off of the dance floor and sliding to the floor, dazed. Touching Hudson's arm, I turn her to me, about to ask how the hell she did that when someone grabs my shoulder.
"Hey, that was uncalled for, bitch," someone shouts at Hudson.
Staying between her and the latest trouble, I swing at the man in front of me. No one calls Hudson a bitch, least of all in front of me. My fist connects with his jaw just as Hudson calls out to me and I duck a blow coming toward me from the right. The missed attack lands on another dancer beside us, and then all hell breaks loose.
Grabbing hold of Hudson's hand, I pull her out of the crowd, hurrying toward the exit which we duck through just as a couple of the bouncers hurry inside, slamming the door shut behind them. Beside me, Hudson laughs as we break into a run down the sidewalk, the sounds of screams and breaking furniture echoing out from inside the nightclub. As I move toward the limousine, Hudson stops, pulling me to the side and deep into a dark alley beside the building. The next thing I know, I'm up against a wall, her hand cupping the front of my slacks, stroking my erection through the material, tongues locked in fierce combat with one another.
"What's this all about?" I pant against her mouth, nipping at her lower lip.
"I've been wanting to do this since I saw that skank with her hands all over you."
"She only had one hand on me, Hudson."
Her tongue grazes over my teeth and she pulls back, looking up at me with a teasing smirk. "Ever had sex in an alley?"
"Many times," I reply.
Smile fading from her face, Hudson begins to pull away.
I pull her back, spinning us around so that her back is pressed against the wall, my knee pressing between her legs, parting her thighs. "But never with you," I whisper into her ear, hand slipping up the skirt of her dress to push her panties aside. "And that's all that matters."
Whimpering softly, Hudson's hands work at the zipper of my slacks, freeing my cock from the slit in my briefs and soon I'm buried deep within her, wet heat surrounding me. Grabbing the back of her leg behind her knee, I hitch it up over my hip and thrust against her, pressing her hard into the wall of Atlantis. She gasps, leg clutching around my ass, pulling me in deeper. I cover her mouth with mine as I continue to thrust into her, hard, fast, needy. Hudson utters soft little cries into my mouth where they extinguish at the back of my throat and I speed up my assault, aching so badly for release.
Pulling away from her mouth, I bite at her neck none too gently before nudging the sleeve of her dress off her shoulder, exposing a pert, dark nipple. Bending my head, I catch it between my teeth, tugging slightly before suckling, drawing on it like a starving man. I barely hear the thump of Hudson's head against the wall behind her, fingers digging hard into my shoulder. I flinch slightly before shifting the angle of my hips and rocking into her deeper, faster.
"Oh god!" Hudson gasps. "Lex, please... "
I can't deny the excitement of taking her like this, the thrill of being discovered, the stained beauty of fucking my Angel up against a wall in a dirty alleyway, fully dressed. Just this once, I can take her out of that ivory tower and pretend she's just like the rest of us. Lifting my head, I reach up to curl my fingers into her hair, pulling her head back and to the side, staring down into her open gaze. She's the most glorious individual that I've ever met. Sometimes, I don't even believe she's human.
"Does this feel good?" I whisper, kissing her temple and cheek, trailing my tongue over her lips. "Are you feeling it, Angel?"
"Yes," she pants, eyes drifting closed as I feel her begin to shudder against me.
The feeling goes straight to my groin, balls tightening, burning. "Open your eyes, Hudson."
She does so; she looks straight at me as our release sweeps over us both.
And for only a moment, there's honesty between us.
"I don't know where you put it all."
Hudson glances at me over the top of what's left of her double bacon cheeseburger with a sheepish grin. "I have a high metabolism."
"Apparently." I reach out with my napkin to dab at a bit of mustard on the corner of her mouth. "Too bad there's no way to bottle and sell it."
She gives me a strange look before hurriedly dropping her gaze and returning to her food. I wonder at it a moment as I take a quick bite of my cheeseburger, curious as to why a joke about her metabolism would set her on edge.
After sex in the alley behind Atlantis, we'd both worked up enough of an appetite to stop by Town Topic for burgers. The booths were all taken so we grabbed the last two seats up at the counter, enjoying the witty banter of the cook and waitress while the twelve-inch black and white television behind them drones on with the late night news. It's hard to sit here together, watching Hudson devour her burger and shake, and not remember the first time I brought her to the tiny diner. It seems like a million years ago that I took her to see 'Phantom of the Opera', a million years since I doubted we would ever be anything more than friends. Yet here we are, casting knowing looks at one another, sneaking the occasional touch, knees brushing against one another. I find myself thinking of the past and realize that, at the moment, nothing matters more than the two of us sitting here together now.
"Thank you," I tell her softly, my hand drifting down to settle against her thigh.
Hudson blinks at me, licking a bit of ketchup from her upper lip. "For what?" She places what's left of her burger on the cheap china plate in front of her, and lays a hand over mine.
Her gaze is too intent. I don't want to have to explain myself. Instead of replying, I lean in to kiss her, just a simple kiss, a barely-brush of our lips against one another. I catch the faintest flavor of mustard and ketchup on her mouth. When I pull back, she's smiling and I'm certain she understands. I would have never shared a day like this with anyone if Hudson had not come into my life. A weekend like this. There have only ever been three other people in my life who've known about my affinity for greasy burgers – two of them are dead now, and I've never cherished the idea of spending an evening on the town with Dodd. For all of our, at times, insurmountable problems, Hudson still has the ability to give me hope. Rare glimpses of a life not engulfed with ridicule and pain, where love is simply given and not asked for in return. I want to give her the same, I can only hope that what I have to offer is on par with what she deserves.
"You're a hopeless romantic, you know that?" She whispers as I pull away.
"Shhhh." I place my finger to my lips and give her a slight smile.
Shaking her head, hair falling over her shoulders, Hudson gives me the customary roll of her eyes before picking up a couple of fries. She never eats them just one at a time – usually half a dozen, all crammed together, smearing her fingers in grease – and then she's shoving them into her mouth, shiny bits of salt clinging to her lips. I reach out and brush them clean with the pad of my thumb before slipping the tip into my mouth and sucking the salt away. Hudson's eyes widen a little.
"Lex Luthor. I think that's the most salt I've ever seen you ingest."
"It's not my fault you have the diet of a future heart disease patient," I quip.
Hudson mumbles something about knowing good food when she smells it, then picks up her chocolate shake and sips about half of it through the straw with one breath. I raise an eyebrow, saying nothing. I keep waiting for her to let out a loud belch and wipe the sleeve of her dress across her mouth. Her dad did that once when I was over for dinner. Hudson laughed, and Martha turned twenty shades of red, and Jonathan simply shrugged. I knew he was likely doing it just to annoy me, or mark his territory in some strange fashion. It was like he was saying, 'This is my house and I'll do what I goddamn well please, Luthor or no Luthor.' I found it more amusing than anything, wondering what it was like to grow up with a dad who didn't mind being himself around his family, and probably gave Hudson a special lesson on how to belch her loudest when she was younger. I just hope it was worth his spending the night on the couch, because Martha looked seriously pissed off at the behavior.
"This has been nice."
I glance over at her with the comment, brow furrowing slightly. "What? The food?"
"No." Her face reddens and she flashes me a quick smile. "This whole weekend. Thank you, Lex, for convincing me to come with you. It's helped. I mean, I still think of Rianne when we get quiet or I see something I know she would like. But mostly, I don't feel so sad. And when I start to... well, you're here."
It's strange to think that I'm responsible for making someone feel better, feel happy. That's certainly not something that I'm used to hearing and I find myself waiting for the other shoe to drop. That moment will come when Hudson realizes I'm not the knight in shining armor that she's come to believe I am. Valor and heroism aren't associated with the Luthor name, and whatever armor I might be wearing is extremely tarnished. Growing silent, I return to my meal while Hudson scarfs down the rest of hers.
As I sit back to finish my cup of coffee, Hudson starts up a conversation with the waitress, Annie. She's maybe thirty-five, at best, but the lines around her eyes and the gray in her hair would cause a less observant person to judge her to be ten years older. It's evident in her slow, weary smile that she hasn't experienced an easy life, and while she gazes at Hudson with envy, there's a strange hint of joy as well. It's as if she recognizes that the animated girl in front of her has an entire lifetime ahead of her, and Annie wants her to live it to her fullest, to experience things she could only dream of. If this were Smallville, I wouldn't mind taking the time to get to know Annie better.
"It's getting late, Angel," I tell Hudson softly as I reach into my pocket to pay the check.
Hudson glances at the old analog clock on the wall with my words. "Oh! It is. I'm all hopped up on adrenaline and good food."
Grinning, I hand over my credit card to pay for the meager check, and as Annie walks away, I surreptitiously slide a hundred dollar bill under my plate. Hopefully she won't notice until we're gone. After all, I don't want to offend her.
"I saw that," Hudson whispers into my ear, breasts pressing into my arm as she leans against me.
"Shhhh." I put my finger to her lips and smile slightly. "You're seeing things, Hudson Kent."
She flashes one of her megawatt smiles and kisses my finger. "Of course I am."
Shaking my head, I take my card from Annie and sign the receipt, and Hudson waves her goodbyes as we move away from the counter to the exit. Pushing the door open, I wait as Hudson digs into her purse for a quarter and slips it into the slot of a bubble gum machine, fishing out an enormous red gumball. She bites into it and holds the second half out to me, while chewing away at the first.
"Want some?"
I raise an eyebrow at the offer and smirk. "I'd rather not."
"You don't know what you're missing," she replies, happily popping the second half into her mouth to join the first.
I watch her work hard at mashing the hard ball into some semblance of gum before I wave a hand out the door. "Are we leaving? Or do you plan on standing here all night massacring gumballs? You know, they haven't done anything to you."
She sticks her red-coated tongue out at me. "You're not cute."
"You keep telling me that." The door swings closed behind us and I follow her out. "And yet you keep coming back."
"Yeah, well... the sex is good."
"Hudson Kent. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" I grin, enjoying the sway of her hips in front of me as she heads for the limousine.
"Nope. It's reserved solely for you."
"I guess that makes me lucky."
"You have no idea."
Hudson glances over her shoulder at me, eyes dancing with amusement. I just want her to get in the damn car so I can have my way with her again. Sex in the alley, sex in the back of the limo. It'll be a night of firsts for her. She stops near the rear tire, bending over in front of me, and a hundred innuendos, remarks and hand gestures all fly through my mind at once.
"Oh! A penny!"
I open my mouth to reply that I can give her a billion pennies when a loud popping sound rings out across the parking lot, and a burning, searing pain rips through my shoulder.
"Lex!" Hudson screams.
Everything seems to be moving in slow motion.
"Fuck!" I cry out as I stumble back, my fall stopped by Ross.
Another shot is fired.
"Get in the limo!" My driver barks, shoving me forward, ignoring the fact that I'm bleeding all over my new Hugo Boss leather coat.
I hit the seat a little hard and roll to the floor, cursing again as excruciating pain echoes from my shoulder through my body. Another shot, this time from close by, most likely Ross' gun. I peer over my shoulder, looking for Hudson, realizing that she's not in the car with me.
"Hudson!" I call out, struggling to sit up – fighting against panic – to get back to the door where Ross' body is hovering, crouched, just low enough not to be seen over the roof of the car.
"Ross!" I shout. "Where's Hudson?"
Images of her lying on the asphalt, blood streaming from her body, flash before my eyes. And just what would I say to her parents? How would they ever forgive me if I let something happen to her? How would I ever forgive myself? I shouldn't have brought her to Metropolis, shouldn't have taken her to the club, had sex with her in the alley. Hell. I shouldn't have started dating her, truth be told. We never should have even been friends.
But I couldn't let her go.
I can't let her go.
Giving way to the panic filling me, I push against Ross, trying to get out of the car.
"Mr. Luthor, stay down!"
"Dammit, Ross! Where's Hudson? Where is she?"
He cranes around, searching, gun clenched in his hand. A frown forms. "She ran off –"
"What?" I stare up at him, dumbstruck.
Ross peers over the roof of the limousine once more as I sit in shocked silence, bleeding all over the car, holding my shoulder, wondering where the hell Smallville's town heroine thought she was going. What she thought she could do. It's one thing to stop an invisible teen from pummeling me in the mansion, or stop her own father from putting a bullet in my brain. But this is Metropolis and Hudson doesn't know the city, she doesn't know the dangers. She's relatively innocent to the cruelties humankind can create – at least as innocent as I've kept her, for all of my influence and apparent desperation to turn her into someone like me. Someone like Celia.
God, why didn't I leave her on her farm?
Slipping the gun back into his jacket, Ross glances around as sirens are heard by us in the distance.
"I need to get you to the hospital."
"No. Hudson – "I shake my head. "If she's out there, I can't take the chance of her being involved in an investigation."
I lean back against the seat and force myself to breathe, to think, to block out the pain. "Take me back to the penthouse. Call Toby. Have him meet us there."
The door slams shut and within seconds, the limousine hums to life and pulls out of the parking lot. Closing my eyes, I continue to breathe, refuse to think that Hudson may be hurt, may need me, may be in terrible danger. And I refuse to think of what caused her to run off like that in the first place.
The pain in my shoulder seems insignificant at the moment; I've suffered through worse. The torture during the two kidnappings when I was young, the accidental drug overdose, too many car accidents at ridiculous speeds, knife wounds, head wounds... Christ. It's a miracle I'm alive.
A miracle named Hudson Kent.
"Ow! Fuck, that hurt!"
"Well, if you haven't noticed, you've been shot," Toby drawls at me, completely unperturbed by the angry glare I've been flashing at him for the past forty-five minutes. "If you'd take one of the pills I offered you – "
"No," I state flatly, taking another swig of the scotch from the bottle in my hand. "The pain's dulling anyway."
At least from what it was. Toby was pleased to inform me the bullet had gone straight through, which meant he didn't have to dig it out. But that didn't make the subsequent cleaning and stitching any better. The hole is near the top of my shoulder, just to the right of my collar bone. A little to the left and it would have went right into my neck. A little down and it would have lodged in my chest. I guess I could call this one of my lucky nights.
"Don't see why you won't take the pills," Toby nags, just like somebody's mother. "That night – Club Zero – you were more than happy to take anything I offered you."
"That was different."
I just wanted to forget the events of that night. I wanted to block it from my mind and remain in a drug-induced haze for as long as I could. Not tonight. Tonight I need to be lucid, I need to be ready. If the cops get involved, if there were any witnesses, if anything should happen that I need to cover up, I need my head to be clear. My gaze strays once more toward the clock. It's going on three. She's been missing for over an hour.
Fuck.
Ross drove back to look for her, said the police were combing the area, but there was no sign of Hudson. I don't know where she is, but I'm beginning to piece together what happened.
Looking back up at the television that is now on mute, I frown at the news anchor who is currently discussing sports highlights from the day. The victory of the Sharks over the Bills, the recovery of the team's star quarterback from a concussion suffered on the field. The remote sits beside me, and at any moment I wish, I can hit the recorder and go back to the top story of the evening. Right now, it's the last thing I want to think about.
My phone beeps, the doorman's voice booming too loudly over the 2-way radio. "Mr. Luthor. She's here."
I close my eyes in relief. "Let her in."
Finishing off the scotch, I set the bottle heavily on the end table and get to my feet, ignoring Toby's protests as the room sways slightly. I wait it out, gaining my bearings in time to hear the door open quietly at the top of the landing. Looking up, I see Hudson slink her way inside, manner and appearance very much that of a cat burglar, like she isn't supposed to be here, or doesn't want to be caught.
I'm betting on the latter.
"Well, well, well. Look who decided to let me know that she was alive and well," I snarl, knowing that I'm drunk and wishing I could be much more so.
She jumps, as if not expecting me, eyes wide in the low light. Hurrying down the steps, she crosses over to me. "Lex, you should be at the hospital."
"I have Toby," I announce grandly, sweeping my good arm toward him. "Toby, this is Hudson. She didn't get shot."
Hudson winces beside me before nodding at the doctor who looks more like some bum I dragged in off of the street. I really don't feel like giving her an explanation. Not when I'm the one that she should be explaining to.
"Where the hell were you?" I demand, my words only slightly slurred. "One minute, I had a bullet going through me, bleeding all over my goddamned Hugo Boss, and the next thing I know, you're no where in sight! Do you have a fucking explanation for this one, Hudson? Because I would sure as hell like to hear it."
She blinks, as if she's never heard me cuss before or something. "Lex, you're drunk – "
"For Christ's sake, Hudson! I've been shot!" I point out incredulously. "I plan on getting so drunk that I pass the fuck out and can wake up forgetting this night ever happened."
Jaw setting, she nods once, as if arguing something in her mind. "I'm not going to talk to you when you're like this. You need to see a doctor and – "
"Don't." I grab her by the arm and pull her close. "Don't do it, Hudson. Don't write this off like nothing happened – "
"I wasn't – "
"Tell me where the hell you went."
"I... "Her gaze drifts over my shoulder to Toby, as if she doesn't want to speak in front of him. I grip her arm harder until her attention returns to me. "When the gun shot went off, I wanted to see who was shooting at you. So I... I followed him."
It's even more preposterous than I expected. I'd been expecting something like she got scared and ran for cover or something. She got lost on the way to the penthouse. I stare at her as if she's lost her mind, or maybe I've lost mine. Stepping back, I reach for the bottle, realize it's empty and simply turn back to her.
I can't help but ask blandly, "Did you catch him?"
There's a flash of something in her eyes, almost an affirmative before she shakes her head. "Uh... no. He got away."
"Did you get a good look at him?"
She drops her gaze and worries her lower lip, and everything I've guessed must be true.
"It was Tony DiRiso, wasn't it?"
"How did you know?" Her gaze shoots up to mine, eyes searching.
I shrug. "Call it a gut instinct." I take a step toward her. "What did you do, Hudson?"
"I – " Hudson cuts herself off, glances over my shoulder again at Toby, like maybe he'll get her out of this. I move my head, catch her gaze, glare at her. A few tears spill over onto her cheeks with her confession, "I ran into that woman in the restroom last night. She said her name was Franky... " Her voice trails off as she looks away again, almost as if in shame.
"Hudson... ?" I wait.
"I – I gave her all of the money that I had," she admits in a rush. "I told her to use it to get out of town. I helped her get out of the building without being seen. I... " A deep breath. "I gave her my name. I told her to come to Smallville if she needed, that my family could help her – "
"Mother of fuck!" I look for something to break, but there's nothing in reach. I round on Hudson. "Do you have any idea what you have done -- ?!"
"I was just trying to help!" She defends, the color of defiance glowing on her cheeks.
"Help? Is this helping, Hudson?"
Whirling around unsteadily, I snatch up the remote and hit the play button.
"In tonight's top story, the body of a woman was found in the Missouri River today by a couple of dock workers. Authorities identified the woman as Francesca Cimino, a twenty-seven year old exotic dancer – "
I press pause on the player and turn back to Hudson, her complexion pale as she stares wide-eyed at the frozen image on the screen – a high school picture of 'Franky'. I twist the knife deeper.
"Did you help that woman, Hudson? Did you help me tonight by pissing Tony off? And what the hell do you think happens if he got your family's name and location out of Francesca before he murdered her?"
"I... I... "She stumbles over her words as if she is actually choking on them, before she finally breaks down into tears. "I thought I was helping – I didn't know!"
"I warned you, dammit!"
Hudson cries like she does everything else – be it laughter or anger – she just let's loose, loudly, unattractively. It's one of the reasons I'm drawn to her, I think. I always know where I stand. She can't seem to lie when it comes to her emotions, what she's feeling.
It's one of the only things she doesn't lie about.
But I hate it when women cry, especially since so many use it as a combat technique against men. Just when they think they're losing the battle, the waterworks begin and all is forgotten. I've seen intelligent men give up entire empires to women who cry quite beautifully and effectively. And then, when a shiny new diamond is placed on the woman's hand or hanging on a thin gold chain from her neck, she dabs at her eyes, reapplies her makeup and goes shopping.
And people say I'm a bad person.
Hudson's tears are something else, though. She doesn't do it often, and when she does, I know they're real. I can feel them deep inside of me. They always hurt, they rip me apart inside, and maybe that's why I hate them most of all. I can't stand knowing that she's in pain. Especially when I'm partially at fault. Unable to just stand there, I reach out and pull her into my arms, letting her cry against me.
"Shhhh," I whisper against her temple, my hand stroking her hair. "Don't cry, Angel. You didn't know. You couldn't know what would happen."
She clings to me, and cries, and I'm torn between shame for yelling at her, and shame for feeling contrite when she so obviously deserves my anger. Hudson should have listened; we both know it. She shouldn't have interfered, but she'll never understand that.
And I never should have invited her into my world.
"I don't understand," she whispers into my torn and bloodied shirt. "Why do people do such things to one another? And why does no one ever to tell them to stop? Why doesn't someone stop them?"
"You can't save the world, Angel," I reply, kissing the top of her head. "You have to look out for yourself and those you love."
"But what about those who can't look out for themselves?" She lifts her head, eyes bright with tears, cheeks stained. "We have to do something, Lex. I need to go to the police and tell them about her fight with Tony."
She's so fucking naïve.
I brush her tears away and hold her face between my hands. "And what will that do, Hudson? Do you know how futile such an act would be? You have no proof. And a good number of the Metropolis police work for the Pagliuca family." Shaking my head, I tell her, "In the grand scheme of things, this entire case will be swept under the carpet and forgotten. Francesca likely had no family, or if she did, they won't care what happened to her. To the police, to the public at large, she was nobody."
"What makes it so a person doesn't count?" She demands, anger replacing her sorrow. "What is it, Lex? What specific thing makes someone lesser than you or me?"
"I never said anything did, Angel," I reply calmly, fighting the overwhelming urge to pick up the table and throw it at something. "I'm trying to explain why the police won't do anything, why you can't expect them to. Why it's important in the real world to look out for yourself."
Hudson grows silent, staring at me for a long moment before turning away. I reach out to her, touch her shoulder, wish that I could explain how much she and her family mean to me. I couldn't stand the thought of any of them being hurt, and by getting mixed up in this entire mess, she's put all of us in danger. I'm going to have to take care of it, obviously. Call in a few favors that my father might have hanging over the Pagliuca's. He might even have something on DiRiso. It'll likely be expensive, but the plant is making enough that I should be able to take care of it.
It's the only thing I can do.
The one thing that surprises me is that Tony didn't harm Hudson. If she went after him, if she got close enough to see him, certainly he had to have seen her as well. Why didn't he try to take a shot at her again? I'm almost positive the shot that got me had originally been aimed at her, but Hudson ducked. So why did he just let her go?
"Hudson, how did you get away from Tony? Why didn't he try shooting you again?"
She turns and looks at me, and it's there again. The telltale sign of her lies. "I... I guess I frightened him off, or something."
Tony DiRiso doesn't get frightened. Especially by a young woman.
I have the most absurd desire to laugh. Maybe it's the alcohol. Maybe it's adrenaline. Maybe it's simply the force of the realization that the girl in front of me – the one that I love, the one I was planning on telling how much I love her – knows damn well that she didn't frighten a man with a gun off, and she isn't saying a goddamn thing. She's just standing there, looking innocent, looking scared and angry, crystal teardrops on her cheeks, and not saying a fucking word.
And it's the first time I've ever hated her. It's the first time I've ever wanted to throw something at her, to wrap my hands around her pretty neck and choke the truth from her.
Instead, I do nothing. At the forefront of every emotion is my love for her, my desperate need to hope that she's making this decision to lie to me for some grand reason. I want to believe she's doing it because she loves me, and she doesn't want to hurt me with knowledge that she feels might do so. I hope that she's doing it to protect me, to protect us. Silently, I give her the benefit of the doubt because there is little else I can do.
I don't know when it began to happen. But it's all falling apart.
Carousel
If shame had a face I think it would kind of look like mine
If it had a home would it be my eyes
Would you believe if I said I'm tired of this
Well here we go one more time
Sick Cycle Carousel - Lifehouse
It's far too bright for a funeral.
I remember the day of my mother's funeral being the same way. There hadn't been a cloud in the sky and the sun had been so bright, I spent most of the service squinting at the light reflecting off of her white casket. I remember hearing one of my mother's friends saying how God must have been happy to have an angel like her back in Heaven with Him. But I was old enough by then to understand that things like God and Santa Claus and big, happy families didn't actually exist. So the idea of my mother sitting on some fluffy white cloud, next to a God who shouldn't have taken her away from her family in the first place, was ludicrous.
Unfortunately, Hudson doesn't seem very receptive to comforting words or thoughts, either. For the most part, throughout the service for Rianne this morning, she has remained away from family and friends, staring blankly at the simple casket covered in bright and cheerful flowers. I'd offered only once to pay for the funeral – the responding glares I received from all three Kents caused me to refrain from making the offer twice. She hadn't been with them long, but I know that Rianne will always be considered a part of the family, the sibling that Hudson has never had, the youngest daughter. I find myself both jealous and pleased that Rianne had the chance, at least for a short time, to know what it was like to be a member of the Kent family.
As the minister finishes his short prayer, the crowd around us slowly begins to disperse. Chloe and Pete stop beside Hudson, both giving her a hug before they head toward the parking lot. I continue to hang back, watching her closely as a few more friends from school offer their condolences and move on. The tense set of my Angel's shoulders tell me that, just a few hours into the day, Hudson is already weary, and she needs to be cared for. I wish she didn't have to go through this. She isn't all that innocent any more, in no small part thanks to me, but that doesn't mean I wish to see her suffer. Ever. I've told her in the past that she needs to grow up, but now I find myself regretting those words.
She's not the girl I fell in love with over a year ago on the riverbank.
"Mr. and Mrs. Kent," I call out as the couple begins to move past me, just to my right. "May I speak with you a moment?"
"What is it, Lex?" Martha asks, turning her soft gaze to me, offering a half-smile as she walks up the incline toward me.
Slipping my hands into my coat pockets, I move to meet them, pondering the correct way to broach my question. While their anger at me and Hudson regarding the silence over the change in our relationship has calmed somewhat, I know my presence in their lives still isn't wholly accepted. And it's not like I can blame them. If Hudson were my daughter, I never would have let someone like me near her, as a friend or otherwise. But the Kents are good people, they want Hudson to be happy, and they give people chances. They've certainly given me more than I deserve. Unfortunately, they've never allowed me to make it up to them. I still have hope that someday that chance will be offered.
"I think you would both agree that Hudson needs something to get her mind off of what has happened," I begin, measuring the shifting frown in Jonathan's eyes before turning my gaze back to Martha.
Her eyes widen slightly in curiosity. "What did you have in mind, Lex?" She asks, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.
The action is very Hudson-like, so much that I find myself wondering if the adoption wasn't just some joke. Hudson takes after many traits from both the Kents, and sometimes I can't believe they aren't truly blood-related.
"I'd like to take her to Metropolis with me for the weekend," I tell them. "Just to get her to relax, have a good time – "
"Absolutely not."
Only years of training help me to repress the sigh I feel rise to the surface at Jonathan's immediate refusal. Ignoring the negation I know is coming, I press forward with my proposal. "Mr. Kent, I know that you have your... misgivings regarding our relationship, and I understand where they come from. But please, try to think of Hudson right now – "
Jonathan's frown quickly turns into a glare. "I'm always thinking of my daughter first, Lex, and how dare you imply that I wouldn't. Furthermore – "
"Mr. Kent, I didn't mean to imply anything." My gaze quickly shifts to Martha, who I know has always been more understanding where my relationship with Hudson is concerned. Sometimes, I think she knows more about my feelings for her daughter than I do.
"I'm simply saying that what we normally might consider good for Hudson might not be such in this case. You know that she has a tendency to mope, to shutter herself off from the rest of the world and wallow in her own pain. I'm sure you're as used to her doing that as I am."
Martha nods. "She blames herself for not being able to help Rianne sooner. Nothing we say seems to help."
"And the longer she dwells on it, the worse it'll get," I point out. "Look, I just want to get her mind off of it, take her Christmas shopping, let her see the lights and the city and spend – "
"Spend money on her," Jonathan comments. "Did you ever think money isn't the solution to everything, Lex? Especially where Hudson is concerned."
This time I'm unable to hold back the quick flash of anger that surfaces at Jonathan's accusation. The comparison to my father, to his unique form of 'love', cuts too quick to the core. "I was going to say 'spend time with her', Mr. Kent. As much as I do enjoy spoiling Hudson, and as much as I think she deserves every penny I get the chance to spend on her, I also know that those things mean nothing to her. I would have hoped that, by now, you would have seen that."
Martha sighs, glancing between both of us before finally telling her husband, "Jonathan, why don't you go start the car?"
"Dammit, Martha. I'm not – "
"Jonathan." Her tone is quiet but steely. I've been up against that tone before.
It's moments like this that cause my respect for the woman to grow in leaps and bounds. Someday, when Hudson is older and more confident, she will display this same strength, and I can't help but find myself looking forward to it. My god, she'll be magnificent.
"Don't make a scene," she continues her voice suddenly gentle. Another trick Hudson has obviously gleaned from the woman who raised her. "This has been a rough week for all of us. Go on. I'll be there in a moment with H.C."
Jonathan looks ready to argue before he seems to finally resign himself to letting his wife have her way. His gaze drifts over to me for a moment, as if he wishes to say something further, before he turns and makes his way toward the parking lot. The thought again occurs to me, as it has so many times before – it doesn't matter what I do, Jonathan Kent will never accept me for anything other than my last name. The sins of the father are indeed visited upon the children, and apparently I'm meant to suffer that the rest of my life. I try not to be bitter.
With a shake of her head, Martha brings her attention back to me. "After what happened with Rianne... " She trails off and drops her gaze to the ground as if considering her words carefully. "It makes a parent cling even more tightly to their child out of fear. Sometimes, the world is so cruel." Martha looks over at the casket, where Hudson continues to hover, Lana standing beside her. "We just want to shelter her from it all. And at moments like this, we realize that we can't."
"Mrs. Kent, believe me, I understand," I tell her as I wait for her gaze to return to mine. "If I could, I would hide Hudson away in the mansion and never let anyone hurt her ever again."
Martha smiles a little at that, shaking her head.
I rush to reassure her, "But I know she's better than that. I know she deserves more. Mrs. Kent, please. Let me help. Just this once."
"I'll talk to Jonathan," she replies with a nod. "You'll be by to get her soon?"
"Yes. In an hour."
Martha gives me a slight smile before reaching out to touch my arm, squeezing it once. "Thank you, Lex." She turns to head toward the truck, glancing over her shoulder to call out, "H.C., honey? Your father and I are waiting in the truck."
I watch Martha Kent walk away before moving down the small slope where Hudson still stands beside the casket. Lana passes by me, flashing a small smile that I return before focusing my gaze on my Angel. Dressed all in black, a long wool coat wrapped tightly around her, the teenage girl who has saved my life time and time again – be it with breath or a smile – suddenly appears entirely too old for her age. Her delicate brow is knit together in a deep frown, the expression on her face one that I personally know all too well. It asks a simple question: Why? A simple question that really has no answer. Part of me wants to tell her that, just to get it through her head there is no use in asking a question that can never be answered. But, in my heart, I know it's better to allow her to realize that on her own. It's part of growing up. Knowing that the world around you is a horrible place to be, and understanding there is nothing you can do but live your life.
I stop beside her, saying nothing, slipping my arm around her waist and pulling her close. For the past few days, Hudson has been less than receptive to gestures of comfort, but this time she doesn't resist, simply tucks her head against my neck and sighs, her breath warming my skin. I kiss the top of her head, press my nose into her hair for a moment, smelling the mixture of apples and the crisp air of the morning. The top of her head is warm from the sun, drawing in its rays like a solar panel, and I imagine wrapping myself in the strands, snuggling down in its warmth like a blanket.
"I suppose this is where I'm supposed to say something like 'At least she isn't in pain anymore' or something stupid like that?" Hudson asks, voice muffled against my coat.
I pull her closer. "You don't have to say anything, Angel." Resting my chin on top of her head, I look out over the graveyard, toward the herd of cattle in the pasture beyond the trees. "No one expects that."
"It's unfair," she whispers, voice almost too soft. "Why couldn't they save her? What – why do things like this happen?"
Because life is unfair and cruel and it takes away mothers and babies and children and leaves people like my father in their place, I want to reply.
Instead, I say nothing.
Touching her chin, I tip her head back and kiss away the tear that falls down her cheek. Hudson closes her eyes against the sun behind me, and the light touches the tears that glistened on her lashes, bathing her skin in gold. For a long moment, I can only stare, my fingers reverently brushing against her face. So beautiful. And mine. What was stopping me from whisking her away to the mansion, locking her behind doors, calling in mercenaries to keep the world at bay? It could only be the two of us, forever.
"I'd better go. Mom and dad are waiting."
I snap from my reverie to find her bright green eyes watching me. Brushing a finger gently over her eyes, first one, then the other, I wipe the lingering tears away. "Go home. I'll be there in an hour to pick you up."
Hudson searches my face quietly before asking, "Pick me up? Where are we going?"
"Metropolis. For the weekend."
She makes a face, pursing her lips, a stubborn glint, reminiscent of her father, appearing in her eyes. "I don't feel like going anywhere. I just want... I want to be alone."
I hold tightly to her arm as she attempts to pull away. "Sorry, Greta," I mock. "But I'm not going to let you spend the weekend hiding out in your room, blaming yourself for things you have no control over."
Hudson tugs at my hold, flashing a quick glare. "What do you know?"
"I know you, Hudson Kent." I take hold of her other arm and pull her back to me, wrapping a secure hold once more around her waist as I meet her angry eyes. "What can you do here that you can't do in the city, Hudson?"
"I don't feel like being social, Lex." She lifts her chin defiantly, compressing her lips in a tight line.
I want to kiss her. My reactions to her never seem to make any sense.
"Fine. You don't have to be. If all you want to do is lie in the bed in the penthouse and huddle under the sheets crying, you can do that. And I'll be there to hold you. But, if you want to get out and take your mind off of things, we can do that, too. I'm not asking you to ignore your grief, Angel. I simply don't want you to wallow in it."
"You won't make me go out if I don't want to?" Hudson asks, sniffling once.
"No." I shake my head, caressing the side of her neck with my thumb. "We'll just stay in and order out for Chinese if you want."
"And... my parents are okay with this?"
I glance over my shoulder toward the parking lot where the familiar red truck is waiting beside the curb. "Well, I don't know about 'okay'." I turn back to her. "But they are allowing you to go."
Hudson wrinkles her nose in thought. "I guess it would be kind of stupid of me to say no, then. Huh?"
"Kind of." I smile.
Hudson nods a little and takes a deep breath. "Okay. An hour, then." She lifts her gaze to mine. "What should I pack?"
I grin. I can't help it. "Nothing except your toothbrush." And maybe I'll pick her up some naughty lingerie. Edible undies. The possibilities are endless.
Rolling her eyes, Hudson snorts. It's unattractive, unappealing and adorable. How does she do that? "Gotcha. Footy pajamas and overalls."
"Brat."
"Dork."
"Prude."
"Fiend."
My grin continues at our play. "Yeah. I am."
Smiling, Hudson leans her forehead against my chest. "Thank you for being here, Lex."
"There's no where else I'd rather be." I kiss the top of her head, then set her away from me. "Now go on. Your parents are waiting. I'll see you soon."
Nodding, Hudson turns and her gaze sweeps over the casket again. Reaching out, she touches it, lifting one of the white gerbera daisies into her hand. "I hope she isn't afraid of the dark. I hope... She doesn't belong in the ground, Lex."
"She won't be." I step forward and lay my hand over Hudson's heart. "She's here... And I, for one, can't think of a better place to be."
When I get back to the mansion, Dodd gives me a message that my father will be in Chicago until Wednesday. I'm tempted to call off the trip to Metropolis and just spend the next few days in Smallville, basking in the solitude of the mansion. But I've already promised Hudson, and I know it will do her a bit of good to spend some time away from the well-meaning concern of her parents.
After informing Dodd of my plans, I make my way to the study to gather some paperwork and my laptop together to take with me. There's plenty to do at the Plant, and being away for a few days isn't going to help matters. Sometimes I find myself wondering if my father isn't right, and I'm not ready for this. It's hard not to bitter toward those other twenty-two year olds who are responsible for nothing beyond what bar they're attending that night and the name of the chick they fucked the night before. I'm better than them, I'm meant for greater things than they are, but sometimes I can't help but wonder what my life would be like if it were simpler. If I weren't Lex Luthor.
Stopping at my desk, I scoop a few files into my briefcase and come across one of my Warrior Angel comics. When Hudson unexpectedly showed up with Rianne on my doorstep, I made a point of gathering my collection together to show her. The first time she'd come to Smallville, we hadn't really hit it off. I think I was a little jealous of Hudson's attention to her, and Rianne was very protective of Hudson, almost as if their roles were somehow reversed. It was something I came to understand very quickly – it's difficult to not want to protect her. I haven't met a friend of Hudson's yet that didn't attempt, in some way, to look out for her. Being a child of ten hadn't changed that for Rianne.
This time, though, Rianne and I seemed to reach a silent truce...
"How is the little one?"
I glanced over my shoulder toward Dodd at his question. "She seems fairly shaken up." I ran a hand over my face a moment, eyes still stinging from the past few hours I'd spent going over records from City Hall. "I can't make any sense of why Hudson would bring her here."
My cook shrugs as he pours the steaming hot cocoa into a mug. "Miss Kent trusts you. She knows that if anyone has the answers for what to do, it would be you. You would have been angry if she hadn't come to you."
"Maybe." I turned my gaze toward the hall.
I wasn't worried so much for myself as I was for Hudson. She had a track record for jumping into situations without thinking them through first. Usually I derived some satisfaction from being able to point that out to her, to say 'I told you so' and explain to her what she should have done in each circumstance. But this time there was something about the entire matter that left me uneasy, not the least of which was how she got Rianne out of the hospital in the first place. Normally, just picking a minor up from their bed and walking down the hall and out the doors with them wasn't exactly tolerated. So how had she pulled it off? There no money involved for bribes, no contacts to sign the right paperwork, no –
"Marshmallows or whipped cream?"
I turned my head to frown at Dodd. "What?"
"Would the little one prefer marshmallows or whipped cream?"
"How the hell should I know?" I snapped.
Grunting, Dodd turned back to the counter and grabbed the can of whipped cream. "I will give her whipped cream. It is Miss Kent's favorite."
"Fine. Whatever." I moved over to the counter and grabbed the mug, slowing only when I realized the hot beverage threatened to spill over the sides. "I don't know why I didn't just have you bring this to us," I muttered, heading toward the hall.
"Because then you wouldn't have had an outlet to rant and rave to," Dodd called after me.
Ignoring him, I moved down the hallway and back into the study where Rianne and Hudson sat huddled on the couch beside the fire, talking softly to one another. The girl was wrapped in one of my blankets, beneath which she still wore a hospital gown and slippers. Her dark blonde hair was falling out of the haphazard braids, strands matted and tangled around her neck. She glanced up at my entry, blue eyes round and large with mixture of curiosity and intensity. I tried not to falter in my step at her gaze, even as my memories turned to that moment in the limousine when she'd plucked the name of Julian from my mind. Afterwards, I'd reasoned that Hudson must have told Rianne about Julian, but even now I can't help but wonder if there was something more going on there.
"Here you go, Rianne," I said with a slight smile as I handed her the mug of hot cocoa and took a seat on the chair across from her and Hudson. "How you doing?"
"Okay," she replied, returning my smile. "Thanks to Hudson."
Obviously uncomfortable with the praise, Hudson shifted in her seat toward Rianne, asking, "Rianne, do you have any idea how we can get a hold of your aunt?"
The girl took a sip of the cocoa, licking at the whipped cream on her upper lip. I think she moved to... Arizona."
"How could she just leave you?" Hudson demanded, a frown flashing over her perfect features. It took every ounce of my willpower not to lean over and kiss the furrow away from her forehead.
"A couple months ago, I started getting nosebleeds and headaches," Rianne explained simply. "She took me to all kinds of doctors, but no one seemed to know what the problem was. The bills were becoming too much for her to handle..." She shrugged. "Then Dr. Garner showed up and offered to pay for my care."
I considered her words for a long moment, wondering what kind of doctor showed up with such a display of altruism to take care of a sick child. And why would her aunt just run off and leave her in his care?
"Rianne, what were they treating you for?"
She glanced up at my question, pausing for only the briefest of moments as she seemed to consider her reply. "They... they were treating me— "
"They were holding her for observation," Hudson finished for her quickly.
My gaze shot up at Hudson's words, a sharp stab of disappointment shooting through me. Why was it that every time I believed we were beyond the lies and deception, Hudson insisted on throwing something else into the mix? The lie was so obvious as to be laughable. Even Rianne was staring up at Hudson in surprise before hurriedly returning her attention to the cup of cocoa in her hands. A brief flash of guilt seem to move across the girl's face before she spent the next few moments quietly licking at the whipped cream.
Why are you lying to me? I felt like throwing something as I sat there, staring at Hudson until she dropped her gaze. I continued to watch her as she leaned down to tug at a shoelace, dried mud from the edge of her tennis shoes flaking on to the rug beneath them. She was avoiding my gaze, causing my frustration to mount.
I gave a small smile to Rianne before asking, "Hudson, can I talk to you for a moment?"
Not waiting for a reply, I climbed to my feet and started toward the far side of the room and the hallway beyond. Behind me, I heard Rianne's voice.
"Hudson?"
"Yeah?"
A significant pause. "Never mind." Her voice sounded sad.
"Get some rest, okay?" Hudson suggested before I heard her footsteps following me across the room.
Sighing inwardly, I waited in the hall for her to join me, pacing near the wall as she walked out, her gaze drifting back inside for just a moment before she flashed me a grateful smile. Sometimes, she's completely clueless.
"I appreciate you taking Rianne in," she told me, reaching out for my hand. "If I took her home, my parents would've freaked."
"Yeah, kidnapping has that effect on people," I replied in frustration. Turning to her, I asked, "Hudson, why did you break her out if they were only keeping her for observation?"
She seemed to pale a little at the accusation and the question. Worrying her lower lip, she dropped her gaze. "Look, I didn't have a choice. They were treating her like a lab rat. It was terrible."
If I grabbed her and shook her, would it actually knock any sense in to her? I clenched my jaw and looked into the study where Rianne was quietly drinking her cocoa and watching us. Our gazes met, and again I couldn't help but think that there was something going on there that I hadn't quite grasped yet.
Looking away, I replied, "Hudson, you abducted a minor. They'll trace her to you, and then to me. We're both in a serious amount of trouble here."
While I had no fear of the law, I wanted to be certain that Hudson knew what the consequences of her actions could be. There was a reason her parents would have 'freaked' if she'd shown up on their doorstep with Rianne, but I didn't know if she actually took the time to consider that. With Hudson it was always act first on emotion, then react against the consequences. I'm certain if she ever actually plotted out her response before taking it.
"I shouldn't have involved you," came the reply, including both the pout and the immature tone. "I'll find some place else to hide her."
It would have served her right if I had just let her go. Instead, I reached out to grab her arm as she started to move away, pulling her back to me.
"Rianne's staying here," I told her. "At least for tonight. Tomorrow I'll talk to my lawyers in Metropolis and see what our options are."
Even though they were used to hearing outlandish requests from both me and my father, I couldn't wait to see their expressions when I told them I was involved in the kidnapping of a minor. And I wanted them to make it all right. It could be done, it was just going to take a lot of loopholes, contacts and money to get it all done. I don't mind using any of my resources when it comes to making certain my Angel is happy, but for once I wished that she would be honest with me as to why I was being asked to do so.
"I'm sorry." She sighed and leaned her head against my shoulder, fingers curling against my chest. "I didn't think this through. I saw her hooked up to those wires... I had to do something."
"So you staged a one-woman prison break?" I asked incredulously, ignoring the desire to press her again as to the real reason Rianne had been there, hooked up to wires. Instead, I wrapped his arms around her and laid my head against hers. "How did you manage to get her out without anybody stopping you?"
If I couldn't get the answer to one question...
"Just lucky, I guess."
I closed my eyes and silently counted to ten. One day, she would run out of excuses. "You're the luckiest person I've ever met," I commented wryly. "Let's hope it doesn't run out before tomorrow."
Sighing, Hudson hugged me a little tighter before pulling back. "I'd better get home. I'll be by tomorrow to check on Rianne." She leaned up and brushed her lips over mine in a soft kiss. "Thank you, again."
Nodding, I stared at her silently for a long moment, willing her to trust me with the truth before I turned and headed back to the study to see to my guest...
"... packed."
Snapping from my thoughts, I turn to see Dodd standing in the doorway, watching me with a barely tolerant expression. Sometimes I wonder why I just don't fire him. "What?"
"You're packed. I took the liberty of including dinner clothes, so that you could take Miss Kent out – "
"She may not wish to go 'out', Dodd. Ever think of that?" I remark, turning back to filling my briefcase.
"As well as work clothes in case duty calls," he continues, ignoring me. "I still think that I should be allowed to drive you."
"What? Afraid I don't know how to use the turn signals without your instruction?" He's really getting on my nerves.
Dodd flashes me a look. He's perturbed. Good. "No. But things happen in the city. I should be there. It's why you hired me – aside from making certain your eggs are cooked properly."
It's on the tip of my tongue to say that Hudson's there, she'll protect me. I depend on her entirely too much. It's pathetic. Weak. Especially when I don't know the exact reason as to why I depend on her, trust her. Maybe because she's always been there. She hasn't let me down yet.
"Nothing's going to happen." I snap my briefcase shut and turn to glare at him. "Anything else... dad?"
Dodd returns my expression. "I've killed for less, you know." He pauses. "Your bag is in the hall."
There are times I understand why Hudson sticks her tongue out at him. I wish I were free enough to do the same.
On the drive to the Kent farm, I call the office and tell them that I'll be at the penthouse for the weekend, and to call me if anything happens with the weekend shift. There's a big order to be filled by Monday, and if anything goes wrong, it could spell certain doom for Lexcorp. Gabe assures me that everything is on schedule and there shouldn't be any reason to contact me. Still, I know I'll be calling in the morning just to ease my mind.
Pulling up the gravel drive, I toss my phone into the glove compartment, slip off my driving gloves and climb out of the car, pausing to stare up at the yellow farmhouse as the door slides shut quietly behind me. I start across the yard toward the back door, tucking my hands into the pockets of my coat. It's a warm December day and I find myself wondering if maybe I shouldn't have grabbed a lighter coat for comfort's sake.
It's strange how a place as foreign to me as the Kent farm has quickly become much more of a home to me than any other. I love to hear the sounds of Jonathan Kent working in the barn or the old tractor sputtering in the pasture. The air is filled with scents – manure, hay, farm animals, flowers, vegetables and fruits. As you near the house, those smells are mixed with that of Martha's cooking, varieties of baked goods and home- cooked meals that would make Wolfgang Puck green with envy. I love it here. I think I'll always love it here. And sometimes I wish that I could express that love so the Kents understood how much both they, and their home, means to me.
"Are you sure about this, Martha?"
Jonathan's voice carries out the screen door as I begin up the steps. Martha's reply brings me to a pause just as I lift my hand to knock.
"There's not much we can hold them back from doing, if they want to do it, Jonathan."
Jonathan snorts in reply, like it's the last thing he wants to hear. It probably is.
I shouldn't be listening. There's this societal taboo about eavesdropping that every person is raised with. Everyone that isn't a part of the Luthor family, that is. I've even schooled Hudson on the finer points of the fact that there is no such thing as too much information. Out of respect for the Kents, I should walk away, go back to the car, slam the door extra hard or honk or something to alert them to my presence. Unfortunately, childhood teachings have a way of sticking with you. Instead of doing the right thing, I move to the side of the door, out of sight, and continue to listen.
"I didn't mean... that. Unfortunately, the horse is already out of the barn, so to speak."
Silence is followed by the sound of running water, and Martha rolling down out onto the counter. Cautiously, I peer through the corner of the screen door to catch Martha smirking.
Apparently Jonathan must see it as well because he remarks suddenly, "I don't think it's funny."
"No. It isn't funny, Jonathan. But what are we going to do? Push her away by refusing to allow her to see him? Ruin any chance that we still have to guide her? She loves him. And you have to admit that Lex has been nothing but good to her."
"I don't have to admit anything," he grunts, and I see him crossing the kitchen to the refrigerator. Quickly I duck back against the wall as he continues, "What I'm saying is, two days constantly in his company – well, that's a long time to go and hope that she doesn't let something slip. That he doesn't see more than he should."
Something slip? I furrow my brow at the words, the suspicions I've always harbored regarding Hudson surfacing once again. Not even counting the accident at the bridge, there have been too many close-calls, too many unexplained situations, too many lies. How can I not wonder, not be curious? I've asked questions that Hudson has blatantly avoided.
And now it seems that my suspicions have been confirmed. She is hiding something. Her parents are hiding something.
Martha sighs. "And what do you think would happen if he did, Jonathan? Would the ground open up and all the demons of Hell ascend into the world? Would Lex suddenly grow horns and flame Hudson over a pit of meteor rocks?"
I raise an eyebrow at her mention of the meteor rocks. Once I began to understand their strange effects on many of those who come into contact with them, I suspected that they had something to do with Hudson's secrets. I doubt that Martha's use of them in her remark is simply coincidental.
"I can't believe you can joke about this!" Jonathan snaps.
"I'm not. I worry about Hudson's safety the same as you do. I have nightmares about it. My god, Jonathan! She's my daughter, too. But that doesn't mean I can't have a little faith in her and her judgment...
"Yes, I know who Lex's father is. Yes, I know about the kind of people he associates with. Yes, I know he's done some questionable things in the past regarding this family. But I also know how much good he's done, how much he cares about our daughter and how happy he makes her. I'm not going to begrudge Hudson the minor normalcy she can have in her life from a relationship with him just because I want to keep her safe."
I find a smile at Martha's defense of me. It quickly disappears, though, with Jonathan's following remark:
"I can't imagine referring to any relationship with a Luthor as 'normal'."
"One of these days, Jonathan, you're going to regret having lumped Lex in the same category as his father."
"Well, I hope you're right, Martha. I'd like to be shown that they're not the same person --"
"Mom!" Hudson's voice rings out and I hear her scrambling down the stairs. "I can't find my bathing suit!"
"Bathing suit?" Jonathan asks. "It's early December. Why the heck would you need a bathing suit?"
"Oh, Lex has a hot tub in his penthouse."
Great. Why don't you tell them my sheets are black and I have a secret room with shackles on the wall as well, Hudson? I love her, but sometimes she doesn't think. She just says whatever she wants to, and more than once I've seen that behavior come back to bite her in the ass. And me. It's the folly of youth to speak before thinking, but Hudson seems to have a particular knack for it. I blame it on her unwavering ability to always look at the world through rose-colored glasses. She could never truly imagine someone using the things she says or does against her. And god, I hope that no one ever does.
"I think it's in the laundry room, honey," Martha tells her. "I hung it up after washing it in September and left it for the summer."
"Thanks, mom!"
There's a momentary banging of pots and pans, and then the distinct sound of Hudson's quick steps up the stairs.
"H.C.?" Jonathan calls out. "I want to speak with you a moment."
Here it comes. The inevitable moment when Jonathan changes his mind, tells Hudson she can't come with me to Metropolis. She'll likely argue with him – Hudson's grown prone to arguing in the past few months with anyone who impedes on her plans – but then she'll give in because she always does. And these are her parents, whose opinions and requests hold a lot more sway with her than I think she'll ever admit to me.
There's a slight pause and then, "Uh... Lex will be here any minute."
"You have time," her father replies.
Sighing loudly, I can hear her stomping down the steps with all of the enthusiasm of any teenager waiting to be told what they don't want to hear. I smile a little, thinking of my own rebellious years against my father, forced to live under the same roof as him, forever determined to rage against any dictate he handed me. Things haven't really changed. I'm even stuck living under the same roof as him again. Funny how some things tend to go full circle.
"I want you to be careful, H.C.," Jonathan begins.
I lean around the corner again to see him hold up a hand for silence when Hudson starts to reply.
"Now, listen. I know you trust Lex. I know how much you care about him. But that doesn't change the fact that you're going to the city, a relatively unknown place for you, and a million things can happen. You're going to be there for forty-eight hours, and you very well know how much can go wrong in that amount of time."
"Dad – "
"H.C., this isn't about Lex and the fact that he's a Luthor. It's about being careful, knowing when the time is right. You might be ready to tell Lex everything, but your mother and I aren't."
Hudson rolls her eyes and releases a long-suffering sigh. "Dad, I'm not going to tell Lex anything this weekend, okay? That's like, the last thing I want to deal with right now. Lex wants to get my mind off of things and I want someone I can talk to about Rianne. Is that so wrong?"
I lean back against the wall, out of sight once more. What is it that she isn't going to tell me? And why not? Don't I have a goddamn right to know? Fuck. I close my eyes, and tell myself it's all worth it, and that one day she will tell me, and right now she's just used to abiding by her parents' wishes. She's still a child. She still lives under their roof. I love her and I want to be with her, and once she asked me to give her time.
It's all a bunch of fucking bullshit.
"No." Jonathan shakes his head and gives his daughter a smile. "I just worry about you, honey. You've been through a lot lately."
"I'm fine, Dad. After all, I've got you and mom looking out for me."
Except that she should trust me to look out for her, too.
There's another moment of silence, and the sound of Hudson's feet on the stairs.
I feel cold. I try not to think about it. This weekend getaway was for Hudson, to help ease the pain of Rianne's death, to give us some time together. Maybe it will make everything better. Maybe it will give me the chance to convince Hudson to open up. I've told her so much. So much more than I've ever told anyone. It's only fair that she reciprocate.
Shaking the disappointment and anger from my mind, I quietly move down the steps, then turn and jog back up them, certain to make enough noise to announce my arrival. I rap against doorframe with my fist, forcing a polite smile as Jonathan appears before me, pulling the door open.
Behind him, Martha calls out, "Hudson! Lex is here!"
"Mr. Kent."
"Lex." Jonathan returns his nod of greeting, but doesn't exactly move out of the way to allow me to step into the house. He nods his head toward the Ferrari parked in the driveway. "I hope you plan on driving that thing responsibly with my daughter in there."
I slip off my sunglasses and tuck them into my coat pocket, taking the moment to carefully tamp down the quick flash of anger that surfaces at Jonathan's assumption I would purposely do anything to harm Hudson. "I would never do anything to put Hudson in danger, Mr. Kent."
"I'm entrusting my little girl to your care, Lex. For two days. But don't think for a moment that means I'm happy about this. My wife believes that H.C. needs to get her mind off of things, and I agree. But I'd give my right arm to have another option."
As usual, I have to give Jonathan credit for at least being honest with me. I flash a quick smile that I don't feel. "I understand that, Mr. Kent. All I can do is assure you that Hudson's best interests are all I care about, and that she'll be safe with me. You're free to call whenever you wish."
"Trust me. We will – "
"Lex!"
Hudson appears at the door, still wearing the clothes she wore to the funeral but her face is slightly flushed, eyes more animated. She's smiling and I can't help but wonder if she remembers the conversation she just had with her parents regarding her secret, or if she has easily pushed it from her mind?
"Ready to go, Angel?" I ask, returning her smile because there's a part of me that can't deny her anything.
She smells good, the Giorgio perfume I gifted her with a month ago wafting over me as she leans out the door for a quick kiss. Jonathan's lips are pursing together in displeasure but the look disappears quickly as Hudson pulls back to grab her bag behind her.
"Give me a hug," Martha instructs her daughter, hugging her tightly and kissing her cheek. "Enjoy yourself. Relax. Try to forget about everything for awhile, okay?"
"I'll put this in the car," I tell her, taking the bag from her hand and nodding at her parents once before I turn and head down the porch steps toward the car. I can feel Jonathan watching me, likely still wondering if he should call this trip off. And maybe he should because now I know. Or, at least, I know enough that no lie that falls from Hudson's lips will ever convince me otherwise.
After slipping her bag into the trunk of the car beside mine, I glance up to see Hudson still saying goodbye to her parents. She hugs both, and steps back to leave, only to have her mother reach out and fix the collar on her coat before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Another quick kiss and a promise to be good, and then Hudson is moving quickly down the stairs and across the yard, leather boots crunching against the gravel with her quick steps. I meet her at the passenger side door, holding it open so that she can slip inside. She brushes against me, creating an overwhelming urge within me to throw her against the hood of the car and fuck her until she tells me everything. But then she's waving to her parents again and telling them she loves them, and the desire just as quickly fades away.
I close the door behind her and walk around to the driver's side, glancing up to see the Kents still standing on the back porch, Jonathan still disapproving, Martha nervous. At one time, I would have been proud of causing such distress in the parents of someone I dated.
Now, I just feel ashamed.
The drive is silent as we head out of Smallville and onto I-70 toward Metropolis. Hudson stares out the window beside her at the passing scenery, the browns and grays of the approaching winter a stark contrast against the bright blue of the sky. Occasionally she chews on her lower lip or fidgets in her seat, but her usual animation and talkativeness is missing.
And it is missed.
I have no desire to force her into conversation, nor do I wish for her to abandon her grief over the loss of her friend. But seeing her like this is painful. She has never been the type to withdraw or dwell on sorrow. That's more my behavior, and I hate to think that I am influencing her in adopting that conduct.
"Hey."
She glances over at me in question.
I wave a hand toward the CD player. "You're free to put anything on that you'd like to hear. The case is behind your seat."
Hudson shrugs. "No. This is okay."
If I hadn't known before that this behavior was out of character, I did now. Hudson and I do not agree on music. She never bypasses the opportunity to replace anything in my player with either Shania Twain or a Disney soundtrack. Her taste in music is so eclectic as to be frightening. And here she sits, telling me that "Chopin is quite all right, thank you very much. Have you been to the gallery lately?" instead of "Jiminy Cricket, Lex! Must you be both arrogant and boring? This stuff will put you to sleep!" We don't have similar taste, but I'd give anything for her to reach over and slip 'The Lion King' into the CD player right now. At least then I would know it mattered to her.
Watching as she turns her gaze back out the window, I suppress a sigh and focus on driving for the moment. As usual, the turnpike is virtually empty, the road smooth and open before me. Unfortunately, it is also completely flat and straight, free of the sharp curves that make driving a Ferrari a blessed experience. With no challenge ahead of me, I'm left with either my own thoughts – and I'm really tired of focusing on business, and the corrupt politicians in Smallville – or convincing Hudson to talk to me. Denied of one challenge, I decide to focus on another.
"Have you decided what to get your parents for Christmas?"
There's a moment's pause before I notice her dark head shake briefly out of the corner of my eye. "No. Well, sort of. I mean, I know what they want but I haven't narrowed it down yet."
"Do you know what you're getting me for Christmas?" I press, giving her a quick, hopeful look. Not that I care, or want anything, really. Well, maybe Hudson wrapped in a big red bow. And nothing else.
A soft smile appears. That's better. "Nice try. I thought you didn't like Christmas?" She shifts in her seat, facing me.
"A lot can change in a year," I reply, shrugging lightly. "Maybe I just didn't believe in Christmas before."
"Now you're starting to sound like a children's book." Hudson sighs and immediately her eyes become downcast again, fingers picking lightly at the hem of her dark plaid skirt.
Lifting my hand from the gear shift, I lay it over hers, feeling the warmth of her skin through my driving glove. "We can do some shopping for your parents if you'd like while we're in the city?" I offer quietly, squeezing her hand.
She doesn't answer. Silence fills the car, broken only by the low drone of the Sonata in G minor coming through the speakers at the softest setting. Hudson's fingers loop through mine, the pad of her thumb playing over the nail of my index finger. I can't help but smile inwardly at the tender, intimate touch. Sometimes I'm so comfortable with Hudson that it feels as if I'm were merely an extension of her. I've found myself wondering if I could ever feel this way with anyone else, just before I stop myself, realizing I don't want to think about that. I've never felt this before and I want to hold onto it, especially when all of the people and past events in my life have seemed so transitory.
Even with the lies between us, I'm closer to Hudson than I've ever been with anyone.
"What do you think happens when we die?"
Taken aback by the question, I glance over at Hudson quickly, noting the desperate light in her eyes as she waits for an answer. I feel as if this might be the most important question I've ever been asked. My mouth compresses into a tight line, gaze returning to the road ahead of me, as I consider my reply.
"Lex... "
"Do you want the accepted answer? Or the truth?"
"I want to know what you believe."
I let go of her hand, gripping the steering wheel with both of mine. "Nothing," I answer. "You die. End of story. Your loved ones mourn you and the grass grows up around you and maybe it feeds a few cows. Life moves on and most of us are forgotten."
Silence. Kind of like the end of eternity. Or the beginning.
I steal a quick look at Hudson to find her expression thoughtful. "Does that upset you?"
She lifts her gaze to mine, and shakes her head. "No. It's... kind of comforting, actually. I hate the thought of Rianne being somewhere, wishing that she could be here. Crying because she knows her death caused me pain. Longing to make it better when she knows she can't. I wouldn't want that for her. I guess the idea of an afterlife is cruel, when you think about it."
"For some it represents hope... for something better. It gives them a reason to go on." Noticing a police car on the other side of the road, I quickly downshift, slowing slightly. "It's why I've always tried to live for today. There's not much point in worrying about the future when you aren't going to be a part of it."
Taking a deep breath, Hudson turns to look out the window again, her brow knitting into a deep frown. I wait patiently, sensing that there is more she wants to say.
Finally, "I saw... there was this... dream." She turns back to me, eyes intent. "I was in a graveyard, surrounded by tombstones. All of the people I love were there. It was dark and raining and the graves just stretched on and on, endlessly."
It sounds so typically teenager that I find myself anticipating her to pull out a slip of paper, the dream turned into a clever little poem, dark and tragic. Feeling the tug of a grin on my lips, I turn to make a comment about it to Hudson, only to hold back when I catch the sincerity in her eyes, echoing the seriousness of her words. She looks twenty years older suddenly, and my heart aches for her.
Swallowing, I glance back to the road. "We all have fears of losing the people we love, Hudson. Of being left behind, alone. After my mother died, I had similar dreams, especially when Pamela left. Everyone I loved was gone, and living with my father was the same as being alone." I purse my lips in thought. "Maybe I've grown immune to the idea."
"That's what I fear."
Her whisper is so soft, I almost miss it. For a moment, I think she is talking about me. "What?"
"Not caring. Becoming immune. Having it happen to me so often that eventually it just... doesn't matter anymore."
I frown. "Sweetie, that's not going to happen to you. Ever. For one, you're not going to be left alone. We're all here and we're going to remain here. And second, even if you do lose people that you love, you're going to go on loving and go on caring. It isn't in you not to."
"But it's in you."
It's almost a question. "We're different, Hudson. You and I. We were raised differently, we've had different experiences. We view the world differently."
She nods but I can tell by the set of her shoulders that she doesn't agree with me.
I let it go, and concentrate on the feel of the car beneath me. I try to focus on the sound of the music but keep coming back to Hudson's dream. As usual, it feels like there is something I'm missing, but I can't figure out what. And now I know for a certainty that if I ask, the question will remain unanswered. There is something personal in the dream, something she is only willing to share to a point, and that hurts. With the earlier confirmation that Hudson doesn't tell me everything, that there is a secret part of her life she has never invited me in to, this is like a second blow to my heart. Her secrets seem to always hover there between us, a yawning cavern that threatens to pull me in and swallow me up. They have time and time again. I try to ignore them, but so often Hudson seems to flaunt them in front of me, shouting without speaking that I will never truly be a part of her life.
In the end, it all comes down to the realization that she doesn't trust me. I refuse to believe that it is because of my name – it seems so petty. And that isn't Hudson to me. But, she has been raised by Jonathan Kent, and certainly she considers his words regarding us Luthors. There are only so many times you can be told something, and not begin to believe it.
"You weren't there, you know."
Pulling from my thoughts, I glance over at Hudson quizzically. "What?"
"In my... in the graveyard. You weren't there." She's staring at me hard now, as if she looked at me intently enough, she would discover the answers to the universe.
I flash her a smile, reaching out to touch her, my hand laying over her thigh. "That's because I'll never leave you, Angel. I'll always be a part of your life, a part of your future."
Hudson makes a noise in the back of her throat, brow furrowing. "Is that it?" She continues to watch me. "What if... what if it means that what I feel for you really isn't love? How do I know?"
Heart constricting at the question – no matter how innocent it was meant to be – I grip the wheel a little tighter, shifting back into fifth as the Ferrari flies over the blacktop.
"It's up to you to know your own feelings, Hudson. I can't tell you whether your love for me is real."
My tone remains even, unconcerned. But inside I can feel something breaking apart. Maybe it's just a simple reminder – nothing lasts forever.
Still, I can't stop myself from remarking, somewhat bitterly, "Perhaps if it is this easy to doubt your feelings for me, you never believed them in the first place."
"No." She replies quick enough to lessen the tension in my shoulders. "It's not that. It.. I was just... thinking out loud."
She turns away again and inwardly I admit to my confusion. What I thought was a conversation about Rianne's death is quickly becoming something I don't understand at all. Then again, Hudson is something I don't understand, no matter how hard I try. I could probably tally the hours I've spent pondering the mystery of her, and come up with weeks of my life that I will never get back. All of my theories, all of my hunches, all of the non-answers just pile together into a heaping mound of frustration. Hudson doesn't want to share her secrets with me. Not this weekend. Maybe never.
And now I can't help but wonder if that has anything to do with her doubts regarding me, regarding us.
"Hudson?" A tilt of her head tells me I have her attention. "Why don't you trust me?"
Now I have her full attention. She is looking at me, blinking with those damnable innocent, lying eyes. "I... I do trust you, Lex."
"Then why do you lie to me? Why do you tell me half-truths?"
"I don't – "
"When I asked why Rianne was in Summerholt, she started to tell me. But you interrupted, said they were holding her for observation." I hold up a finger. "That was one, Hudson. One out of so many I've lost count. The only conclusion I can come to is that you don't trust me. I want to know why. I'm not even asking you to share your secrets with me, Hudson. To tell me the truth. I just want to know why I'm not worthy of it?"
Her mouth falls open slightly as she stares at me, guilt written in fluorescent pink colors all over her face. "Lex, I... I do trust you."
I sigh. We will go in circles again. There will be no answers. Perhaps there will never be an answer. "No. You don't."
Chin lifting in a slightly defiant gesture, Hudson counters, "The same can be said of you. You don't tell me everything, Lex. I've asked questions – questions about your past, about your relationship with your father, even about Lexcorp. There are plenty of answers you've never given me."
I grow silent, unable to deny the charge, however different it might seem to me.
Check mate. Or stale mate. However one sees fit to label it. This discussion is over.
There is little conversation between us the rest of the drive to Metropolis. We stop once at a McDonalds along the turnpike when Hudson mentions her hunger. She gets two double-cheeseburgers and fries, saying little more than thank you when I hand over the food. I get an eggnog milkshake for myself, which I've admitted to no one but Hudson are actually very good. In fact, I have a slight obsession with them.
When we pull up to Luthorcorp Towers II, the bellman, Tom, meets us at the car to carry in our bags. I move over to the passenger door, taking Hudson's hand in mine, leading her into the lobby and over to the private elevator that will take us straight to the penthouse. The low-heels of her boots click across the marble floor, echoing through the corridor, the only sound between us. I notice her looking in the mirrors of the far wall and I catch her eyes, flashing her a smile. She seems to force one in return, then squeezes my hand as if in apology. I don't understand what's going on between us, but now isn't really time to talk about it as Tom walks up behind us.
The elevator takes us to the 76th floor, opening directly into the penthouse. The heavy scent of disinfectant is in the air, signaling that the cleaning service has been here earlier today. I wait as Hudson exits the elevator, her gaze sweeping over the main room.
"Mr. Luthor, is there anything else I can do for you?"
"That's all for now. Thanks, Tom."
I slip him a fifty and hold the doors as he steps inside the elevator. Turning away as it returns him to the lobby, I find Hudson looking at me, her bag in her hands.
"So, ummm, where to?"
Picking up my own bag, I nod down the hall. "Follow me," I tell her as I start toward the spiral staircase.
The penthouse was built to be as lavish as everything else my father owns. Three stories with five bedrooms, six baths, kitchen, formal dining room, living room, study, a Jacuzzi on the balcony, which also contains an elaborate garden. It's decorated as sparingly as his office, extremely modern and a far cry from the rustic warmth that I've grown used to in the mansion. I used to love staying here as a teenager, filling the place with hundreds of people I didn't know, delighting in the destruction of its furniture and pristine white carpeting. Now, I don't feel as comfortable here. I feel like I'm on display, that I'm just another Luthor prop to be admired and envied. Untouchable in my ivory tower.
"This definitely isn't anything like the other apartments I've seen in the city," Hudson comments behind me, awe evident in her voice.
I shrug. "Well, it's a penthouse, not an apartment."
"Semantics," she replies with a light laugh. "It's really nice, though."
"Glad you like it."
This polite conversation is setting me on edge. I need a drink.
Leading her into the master bedroom, I set my bag on the chair beside the dresser and wave a hand toward the closet. "You're welcome to hang up anything you need. The dressers are mostly empty as well." I remove my jacket and toss it onto the bed before tugging a few of the buttons open on my shirt.
Hudson looks uncomfortable. She sets her bag down and smoothes her hands over her skirt and looks at me with a slight smile. I want to make this better but I wasn't the one who questioned what was happening between us. I didn't question my feelings for her. It doesn't matter that I haven't actually admitted to my feelings for her – the fact is, she has and it hurt like hell to sit there and listen to her take them back. Maybe she shouldn't have said anything in the first place.
Damn, I can't let this get to me. "I'm going to go down and have a drink. When you get settled in, I'll show you around."
"Okay." Hudson chews on her lower lip a moment, then picks up her bag and heads into the closet.
Running my hand over my scalp, I let out a breath and head back down to the first floor.
After pouring myself a glass of scotch, I step out onto the balcony and stare out across the city. My city. The place I never thought I'd leave. And yet, I've come to love Smallville, its people, its culture. I can't imagine moving back to the hectic life of Metropolis, surrounding myself with all of those people who tried to convince me they were my friends, who used me for my connections, my money, the drugs I could get for them, the parties I could take them to. I've learned that having people use me for who I am only encourages my behavior to act on the Luthor arrogance. When you realize you can have any woman you want (or man), when you understand that there's no such thing as too high a price, when it finally sinks it that there are no limits, your world becomes a much more dangerous place. I'm not afraid of it – I never have been. I've drank and partied and spent to every excess imaginable. I've lived a lifetime of lives that most can't begin to imagine.
And what do I have to show for it?
My father's scorn, bad press, scores of enemies, the loss of those who might have truly been my friends. It's odd how blurred the lines between friendship and animosity become when the question of power comes into play.
Since she refused my first gift to her, I've always believed that Hudson was the one person in my life who was there, not for what I could do for her, but because she wanted to be.
Now... I just don't know anymore.
"Well, all situated."
I take a sip of my scotch and turn to look at Hudson as she joins me on the balcony. She flashes her gaze to me a moment then quickly looks away, taking a few steps toward the railing. She's wearing blue sweatpants and a pullover shirt that's far too big for her. I think it must have once belonged to her father and I frown at the thought that even here I can't get away from Jonathan Kent's presence. Sometimes trying to outrun him is like trying to outrun my own father.
"Wow. We're... uh... really high up." Hudson steps back, wrapping her arms around her waist.
If the tension between us doesn't end, we won't make it through the weekend.
I lean against the column behind me and continue to watch her. "You won't fall, Hudson."
She glances back at me, a smile hovering over her lips. "If I did, would you catch me?"
"And lose an unfinished glass of twelve-year old scotch?" I ask in disbelief. "You're not that cute."
Her smile broadens and she walks over to me, placing her hands on my waist, gaze intent on mine. "I am, too. Else I wouldn't be here."
I don't respond. I don't know if I can. Part of me wants to agree, tell her she's right. The other part just wants to scream at her, beg her to make it better. Unfortunately, it appears that Hudson senses that side of me because the smile fades away from her face, and her eyes cloud over. And now's the moment that will dictate if the weekend will go well, or end here.
"I'm sorry," she says softly, simply. "Those things I said in the car... "
She sighs and shakes her head, dark hair falling like curtains over her face. I imagine it's hiding her shame. I hope she feels shame. I want her to feel something, dammit. I don't want this to be a lie. Not again. Not this time.
"I don't know why I said them." Hudson lifts her head and her hair falls away, like clouds parting allowing the sun to shine through. Her eyes are alight with it. "I've never doubted what I feel for you, Lex. Maybe I was just wondering if I could. Or something like that."
She touches my face, too warm fingers against my flesh. I fight the urge to move into that touch.
"From the moment I first looked at you, wet and shivering on the riverbank, I knew I wanted to be a part of your life. And here I am. And there's nowhere else I'd rather be."
Her tone is earnest, she's smiling like she knows all of the answers. It makes me want to believe that this is only a momentary obstacle between us. That when she's ready, she'll tell me everything and not even the opinions of her parents will stop her from sharing her life with me. I want her to believe in me but more than that, I want to be able to believe in us.
She lays her head against my shoulder and wraps her arms around me. I remain still, holding the scotch in my hand.
"I love you," she whispers against my shirt. "You believe me, don't you?"
I don't know anymore. "Do you believe you?"
"Yes," she answers without hesitation.
It has to be enough. I kiss the top of her head and rest my cheek against it. "Then so do I."
We remain silent for the next few minutes. I shift slightly against her, moving so that I can set my glass on the ledge of the planter. Placing both arms around her, I pull Hudson closer to my body, pleased when she angles her head back to receive my kiss. Sometimes it's better like this; no words needed. No lies left unspoken. In silence, I can let her know how I feel, without committing myself to those emotions. If I'd told her, if she knew the truth, then her words in the car would have made me a fool. And I won't be laughed at, not even by Hudson Kent.
"I thought you were going to give me a tour?" She whispers against my mouth, breath warm, smelling faintly of peppermint.
She must have freshened up when she changed her clothes. Even her hair is softer, recently brushed. My fingers curl into it and I hold her head still a moment as my lips move over her right cheek. Hudson sighs softly, hands dropping over my ass, cupping it, pulling me in. I smile as she rubs against me, causing a rising fire in my groin. I nip at her earlobe.
"Why don't I show you the bedroom?"
She laughs breathlessly as my tongue slips around the contour of her ear. "I've seen the bedroom."
"Then I'll show you one of the other bedrooms."
Before she can speak another word, I claim her mouth again, pushing my tongue past her lips to taste her. She makes a sound in the back of her throat that I realize I've been craving to hear all day. Her tongue touches mine and we fence with one another before I grasp her hips and pull her with me back into the penthouse. She stumbles slightly against me, laughs, never breaks contact with my mouth, hands already tugging my shirt out from the waistband of my pants. I've had my share of experienced women, the ones who've done everything, and if they haven't tried it yet, they're more than willing to do so. They're slightly jaded, almost bored with the activity, looking to you to spice it up, comparing you to every other person they've slept with. While I've never failed to impress my lovers, I've discovered I have a specific kink for enthusiastic farm girls who are just beginning to unlock the secrets of sex and their own sexuality. Let every other man in the world have the experienced women, the ones who'll sleep with anything that has a light pulse. It's Hudson's inexperience, her desire to learn, her slight fears of the unknown, that make my blood boil. Maybe I'm a letch, maybe I just like debauching little girls who have daddys with big guns.
Or maybe Hudson's cast a spell on me.
"You're doing it again."
I blink, pulling away my mouth away from her neck, wondering how I got there. My shirt's hanging open and her fingers are almost tickling my ribs as she splays her hands against my skin.
Hudson rolls her eyes. "Thinking, Lex. I'm tweaking your nipples and you're probably pondering the theory of relativity or something."
I choose not to respond to that. Instead, I tug her sweatshirt over her head and toss it to the floor. "Better?"
Biting her lip, she grabs me by the collar of my shirt and pulls me down for another kiss. I wince slightly when she nips at my upper lip, her playfulness getting the better of her. The pain goes straight to my cock and causes me to almost rip her bra off of her. One of us trips on the first stair and we fall against them, tangled limbs, hands grabbing, pulling at clothes too desperately not to tear something. She rolls us over, pinning me beneath her, stairs digging into my back. I'm missing a shoe, my shirt is hanging off of one arm and Hudson is wearing entirely too many clothes.
She pulls away from my mouth, taking a quick breath as she angles upwards, and I take the opportunity to admire her breasts, palms skimming over them, cupping them, teasing the nipples into tight buds. Hudson squirms against me, whimpers softly, then leans down for another kiss as she straddles my hips.
Too. Many. Clothes.
Hooking my thumbs in the waistband of her sweats, I tug them down over her hips, fingers brushing against her cotton panties. I slip my hand between us, pressing into the soft fabric where she's warmest, the material damp to my touch.
I want to slide inside of her this instant but she hasn't removed my fucking pants yet!
She's playing with me, I can see it. Every time she lifts her head, and glances quickly into my eyes before leaning back down to press her lips to my skin, I see it. A smirk.
Little tease. Time for some payback.
I push the crotch of her panties aside, teasing a finger along the cleft of her wet folds. Hudson groans softly, moves against my finger for more. Taking momentary pity on her, I slip inside, continuing to the swollen button of flesh. When my finger brushes over it, she bucks against me, teeth grazing my collar bone. I flick my fingertip back and forth over it, and she becomes more vocal, whimpers and groans muffled against my chest and neck, as she swivels her hips into my touch.
Smirking slightly, I pull my hand away and lay it over her ass. She stills. I count to three.
"Hey!" She lifts her head up, flashing me a frown. "What's that all about? Tease!"
"Pot. Kettle."
A smile flickers across her face and she groans in frustration. "Just for that – we'll both be deprived!"
Springing off of me, she scrambles up the steps. I roll over and grab her ankle as her foot moves past my head. I tug, and she loses her balance, falling to the landing with a surprised laugh. Crawling up the steps after her, I kick off my last shoe, shrug out of my shirt, straddle her legs to lean in for another kiss as I quickly pull at her panties. Her hands move over the front of my slacks, palm pressing against my erection, fingers curling around me through the material. I breathe into her mouth, thrust against her hand once.
"Do you have anything?" She whispers, barely breathing as her lips slant over mine.
"Back pocket."
Hudson reaches around, slips her hand into the pocket, withdraws the Trojan. I move away from her mouth, tongue trailing against the dewy skin of her breasts, latching onto a nipple where I suckle as I hear her tear into the condom packet with her teeth. She's gotten quite adapt at it.
Moments later, she's tugging at my pants, and I reach down to help her, though I have no intention of withdrawing my attention from her breasts. I make my way to the other orb, tongue tracing the outline of her areola before sucking the taut flesh into my mouth, teeth grazing her skin slightly. Hudson gasps, arches off the landing against me, and then her hand is around my cock, caressing, stroking, pulling me toward her. I'm tempted to just bury myself deep inside of her and to hell with safe sex.
"Lex." Her voice is filled with impatience. "You have to sit up. I can't get it on."
"Well, why the hell not?" I tease, leaning up to my knees.
Shaking her head, Hudson sits up with me, finally gets the condom on and then I attack her mouth again, forcing her back down to the carpet. Her legs fall apart, cradling me between them and then her warmth is drawing me in, encompassing me, pulling me deeper. I sink into her and she moans into my mouth, hands cupping the back of my head, hips arching to meet my thrusts. Every time this gets better, each moment we learn to anticipate the other more, and for the life of me I can't explain why the wrongness of sex with an Angel makes everything so very right.
"You... never... gave me... a tour," Hudson comments, gasping between words as I rock into her.
Now that she's grown more comfortable with sex, with me, I've discovered that Hudson enjoys conversing during the act. In fact, sometimes she doesn't fucking shut up. It's at times annoying, almost always amusing and the last thing I ever expected out of her.
Grasping her hips, I lean up slightly, angling more deeply into her. We're slowly moving across the carpet. Her head is only inches from the wall.
"Well, Hudson," I reply as her whimpers grow in pitch. "This is the landing."
"Unh!" She grabs hold of my ears and pulls me down, latching on to my bottom lip and biting none too gently. "Bastard. You're not cute."
When she releases me, I lean back again, intensifying the force of my thrusts. Her head hits the wall and she laughs, reaching up with her hands to push away, back onto me. Fuck, that's incredible.
Once my senses collect enough to reply, I tell her, "I'm fucking adorable."
Hudson grins up at me, arches her back and presses hard into my next thrust. "How sweet!" She gasps. "Calling me adorable."
Brat.
Intent on making her shut up, at least when it comes to the conversation, I grasp her right calve, lifting it upwards, providing me more room to move inside of her. I hear her nails scratch against the paint on the wall. Reaching between us, I lay my thumb against her clit, rubbing in time to our movements. I can feel her inner muscles closing around me, just barely beyond the point of actual pain. She's close now, words traded for soft cries, groans, the occasional curse or whisper of my name. I close my eyes, speed up, familiar burn pooling in my lower back. And then Hudson's crying out, muscles contracting around my cock, my balls tighten, release, and everything I am seems to flow out of me in short, quick bursts. I collapse on top of her, just barely better than drooling against her breast as her arms wrap loosely over my back, fingers trailing through the perspiration on my skin. I don't see how she has the energy to make even that minor a movement.
"I think I scratched the paint on your wall, Lex," she comments after a few minutes of silence.
I just want to lay here and listen to the beating of her heart. "Mmph." I grunt in reply.
"See? There's some under my nails."
I think she's waving her nails in front of my face but my eyes are closed. I'm comfortable. I could sleep here. "Mmm."
"Lex."
"..."
She sighs deeply, my head rising with the movement of her chest, and it's the last thing I notice before I drift off to sleep.
"Thirty-two."
"Hmmm?"
"You have thirty-two freckles," Hudson announces. "From here to here." She draws a line from shoulder blade to shoulder blade across my back, as if connecting the dots.
I grunt in reply. The freckles that mar my skin across my back and shoulders are a grim reminder of the very red hair I no longer have. I try to forget their existence. Hudson loves them. Kisses them, traces them with her fingers. Once she even took an ink pen to them while I was sleeping. I didn't speak to her for two days. She thought I over-reacted. I told her she needed a better hobby than playing connect-the-dots on my body.
Sighing, Hudson leans her chin on my shoulder, peering down at the laptop open in front of me. After a quick nap on the stairs, we finally made our way to the bedroom where I pulled out my laptop to send out a few emails. Currently, the screen in front of me is filled with numbers and figures that all lead back to various bank accounts around the world.
She huffs in my ear. "What're you doing?"
"Work. Not all of us get to live off of our parents, you know."
"Oh, like this is your penthouse," she snorts, nuzzling her nose against the back of my ear. "At least I know we don't have to pay your father for the damage to the wall. And the stains on the carpet."
"He's done worse."
"I really don't want to hear about your father's sex life, Lex."
I smirk as I hear her sigh again. Apparently realizing I'm busy, she lays back against the pillows, picking at the sheet that lay partially over her body. I sneak a quick peek at her out of the corner of my eye, noting the way the rays of sun peering through the curtains color her legs in golden tendrils of light. Her toenails are painted bright red. I don't think I've ever seen her with painted toenails before, but it looks nice.
"What's so important anyway?" Hudson's voice indicates a pout. She's tugging at the sheet bit by bit, exposing more of my hip.
"The future," I reply, snatching the sheet back. "Acquisitions that need to be made in order to secure Lexcorp's hold in the business world."
"Oh, is that all?" Pulling her leg up, she pushes her foot against my thigh, poking at me with her toe. "Don't you ever get sick of work and business and stuff?"
I shrug, having never really thought about it much. I've known all my life that one day Luthorcorp would be mine. Business seems as natural to me as breathing lately. Still, I've learned that an occasional break isn't a bad thing.
"Sometimes." I glance at her briefly. "But then, you're always good for a distraction when I need it."
"Is that all I am? A distraction?"
I fight the urge to roll my eyes and instead, ignore her, returning to my work.
Growing silent again, Hudson burrows under the sheet. A few moments pass and I reach out to touch her knee, rubbing my fingers over her skin absently as I glance through the latest Lexcorp stock report.
"Lex?" Her voice interrupts the numbers going through my mind.
"Hmmm?"
"Do you... well, do you like to get... blow jobs?"
I glance over my shoulder to find her face flaming with the question. Hesitantly she raises her eyes to mine, and I can't help but smirk.
"Interesting question."
Hudson gives a little shrug, dropping her gaze to the mattress where she begins drawing circles with her finger against the sheet. "And?"
"Depends on who's giving it," I reply, unable to keep from smiling.
"What do you mean?"
"You're really serious about this, aren't you?"
When Hudson doesn't reply, I set the laptop aside on the nightstand and lean back against the headboard, watching her silently for a long moment. Finally, I begin, "Very well. It all depends on the technique. Some women tend to look at it as a circus trick."
Hudson makes a face in confusion.
Smiling, I explain, "They want to impress me by showing how far they can shove it down their throats. They might as well just use a sword or swallow fire." I pause, staring at Hudson as she opens her mouth and shoves her finger into it. "What're you doing?"
"Trying to see how far I can go – "
I reach out and smack her hand away, catching her fingers in mine and holding them. "Then there are those who are just doing it because they think I want it. They don't really want my dick in their mouth, they secretly find it disgusting, but they do it anyway. There's no fun in that. I might as well be making love to someone who hates sex."
Hudson's eyes cross at my words. "Who would hate sex?"
"Trust me. They're out there." I bring her fingers to my lips and kiss them. "Why are you asking all of this, Angel?"
She looks away, returning her attention to the sheet, smoothing the edge with her fingers. She wiggles her toes and sighs. "Well, I've... I've been curious for awhile because... well, you know, you do that to me and I thought – "
"I do what?" I can't help but ask in amusement.
Hudson shoots me a look. "You know... that."
Raising my eyebrows, I shake my head in mock innocence, though my mind is whirling with questions.
"Crap. You aren't actually going to make me say it, are you?"
"Humor me."
She snorts indelicately. "All I ever do is humor you."
I grin. "Say it... "
Pursing her lips, Hudson seems to mentally recall through every description she's heard, but she can't seem to decide on one that she is actually brave enough to voice in front of me. Her face slowly turns various shades of red as I continue to watch her. She's so beautiful when she blushes. I don't think she knows that I love that about her. I hope she never stops blushing.
Leaning over to her, wanting to play a little bit, I press my nose against her ear and whisper, "Say it... "
"Can I describe it?"
"Only if you do it in detail."
"Well, hell." It seems that option is even worse.
I grin against her ear. "Cunninglus," I whisper.
Her eyes widen and her face turns a deeper shade of crimson.
"Eat out."
"Lex!"
"Wet-velveting, carpet munching, muff diving, mustache ride, lick-out, pearl diving, chawing box, tipping the velvet –"
Squealing in embarrassment, Hudson throws herself face down into one of the pillows, giggling uproariously as I continue the torment, leaning in over her, speaking each syllable with a particular enthusiasm I rarely feel. Moments later I break off to laugh with her, body draped half over her back, breath brushing over her neck with each chuckle. She sighs and turns her head, glancing up at me where my cheek rests against her ear. She's thinking about something, I can see it. Sometimes she gets this dreamy look in her expression, and I know she's thinking about me. It's not conceit on my part. I've seen her get that same gaze in her eyes when she speaks my name.
"You get embarrassed entirely too easily, Angel," I comment softly, stroking my fingertips against her cheek. "You don't have to with me, you know. Especially not here, when it's just the two of us. We know each other far too intimately for that."
"I know."
She rolls over beneath me, reaching up to trail her fingers along my jaw line. I love it when she touches me like this, though I don't allow it often. It's so personal, it has so much... feeling behind it, and I'd probably go mad if I had to open myself up to that kind of emotion every moment of every day. Sometimes it upsets her when I pull away, but I think she's learning.
"I'm getting better, though," she brags. "I can say... penis now with barely a hesitation."
Chuckling at her hesitance, I kiss her lips. "You're adorable."
"Because I can say... penis?"
"Because you're proud of the fact that you can say penis."
"And I have you to thank for that," she tells me with a grin, her fingers tracing the shape of my face. "I think about your... penis quite a bit."
I feel an eyebrow raise in amusement, wondering if she sits around and discusses me cock with Chloe and Lana. Fuck. I'll never be able to face either of them again. "You do, do you?"
"Mmhmm." Her grin broadens and she leans up to kiss my chin. "Which is why I wanted to know if you would like me to... "
"To?"
"Must we start that again?"
"Angel, you said blow job quite easily earlier," I remind her.
Hudson shrugs. "Well, that's because it wasn't in reference to me." She shifts slightly beneath me, a grin appearing as her thigh brushes against my erection that's been there since this conversation began. "Hmmm. I do believe you aren't totally opposed to the idea."
"Not totally," I agree. I bend my neck and kiss the edge of her collar bone. "But, I don't want you to feel as if you have to, Hudson. I don't want you to be uncomfortable."
"Oh, I'm not! I mean, I want to. I love touching you, so I don't see how doing anything more would be any worse." She takes a deep breath, shuddering slightly as my lips move over the top of her right breast. "I just... I want to do it right. Will you – would you talk me through it, Lex?"
I lift my head and laugh lightly. "I don't think you need instruction, Angel. Just go with your instinct."
There was a time, not too long ago, when she accosted me in my study, and proceeded to do exactly what she is afraid of doing now. She hadn't required any instruction then – in fact, I believe she had every intention of teaching me what blow jobs were all about. So I have to admit I'm a bit confused by this change in behavior. She excused her behavior then by saying she was angry. Apparently anger makes Hudson less inhibited. If I actually believed that, I would spend my days making her as angry as hell.
Pushing it from my mind, I sit up, pulling her with me, and kiss her lightly. "Remember, enthusiasm is the most important component."
"Enthusiasm." Hudson nods and smiles. "Just... tell me if I do anything wrong, okay?"
"You won't do anything wrong, Angel."
I chuckle again as she pushes me back against the headboard, scooting her way down the mattress. I lean back, reaching out to touch her cheek as she smiles at me again then turns her attention to the sheet, sliding it down my hips.
Stretching out, Hudson lays her head against my stomach and reaches out with her fingers, running the tips down my cock, smiling when it twitches against her familiar touch. She wraps her hand around the shaft, her petal soft lips kissing my abdomen as she inches closer to her goal. Personally, I think she is taking entirely too long, and I must make a noise to that effect because Hudson glances up at me, a smile hovering over her lips. Finally, she returns her attention to her work, hand slowly beginning to stroke me. I breathe in sharply at the contact.
If there is one thing Hudson has perfected in our time together, it's her skill at giving hand jobs. She's taken the time to learn just where to touch and how to touch and how long to touch to send me over the edge. She alternates between a soft caress and a strong stroke, finger tips trailing along the shaft, palm brushing over the tip, then back to the beginning again. I can only anticipate that she'll be just as expertly skilled with her mouth.
I watch as her nose nuzzles my groin, tongue darting out to trace along the base of my cock. Another sharp breath and I close my eyes, losing myself in the feeling of warm hands, warm tongue, warmer breath along my skin. Both hands are pressed against my thighs now and I feel her move between them, lips placing whisper-soft kisses against my skin, up, up, never quite touching but always near. The strands of her silky hair tickle my skin as she moves over me and I peer an eye open to see it laid out like a dark mantle across my hips.
Hudson glances up at me, expression filled with trepidation. I give her a slight smile and touch her cheek. "Take your time, Angel. No hurry."
She nods, and delicately wraps her fingers around the shaft as her tongue tentatively flicks out across the head. Apparently deciding that nothing about me is going to kill her, she grows a little braver, soft, feather- like kisses, occasional explorations with her tongue here and there. I'm so used to women just shoving it down their throats, and this almost-loving exploration, while different, is extremely sexy in its own right.
She giggles suddenly, the tone a little frustrated, as she shifts slightly to the right, and then back again, head tilting. "You'd think hair wouldn't be an issue here."
I smile and reach out to move her hair back from her face, gathering it into one hand behind her neck and holding it there. "Better?"
The relief on her face is apparent as she beams at me. "Is this okay? Am I doing it right?"
"Everything you're doing is fine, Angel."
"Do you... are you enjoying it?"
I just smile.
Accepting my lack of response for the approval it's meant to be, Hudson dips her head back against me once more, tongue flattening against the head a few times before her lips slowly descend over it. I suck in a low breath as the heat of her mouth engulfs me, tensing slightly as her upper teeth brush against my skin. I'm sure she knows enough not to bite down, and while the light sensation is extremely pleasing, it's not something I want to experience on a deeper level. But to warn her of it now would only halt the progress she's made and, for the moment, I don't want Hudson to feel as if she's doing anything wrong. Her technique is sloppy – if you can label a first blow job with anything like 'technique' - and the lack of skill is obvious, but so is the enthusiasm, her actual desire to taste and touch and explore. I attempt to ignore the fact that my hands are shaking, that I want to tug on the hair I'm holding and thrust my cock deep into her throat.
There's a fairly loud slurping noise, and luckily I refrain from grinning because Hudson's gaze darts up to me, embarrassed and slightly horrified. I touch her neck with my free hand, the backs of my knuckles caressing her skin in assurance.
"It's okay, Angel. You're doing great."
Her expression is doubtful at first, but finally her gaze drops down once more and her attention focuses fully on what she's doing. There's another slight graze of her teeth and my hand tightens reflexively against her hair. Her hand begins moving over the length of my cock, haltingly, completely out of time with the motions of her mouth, and yet somehow, it's still perfect. I moan slightly at the friction and Hudson looks up at me, a trace of a smile in her gaze, expression relaxing as she becomes more comfortable with what she's doing. Sighing deeply, I lay my head back and loose myself in the feeling of touch – my fingers threading through her silky hair with the same smooth glide of her mouth, hand closing over the warm skin of her shoulder even as the deeper heat of her tongue swirls over me.
"That's it, baby," I whisper. "Fuck... that's perfect."
By porn industry standards, it's far from the best blow job ever given. But when compared with the dozens of men and women who've performed a similar service for me, Hudson's tentative touch and sloppy start rises to the top. Maybe it's because she's taken the time to notice what I like, or maybe, as trite as it might sound, it's the simple addition of love that's already building up the deep burn in my lower back. Then again, it is Hudson, and I've never seen her fail at something she set her mind to. Even as her tongue slides back and forth over the slit, causing me to moan and arch, pushing slightly up into her mouth, the understanding that she's doing this because she wants to, not because she's expecting anything out of it, hovers at the corners of my mind.
My reactions give her confidence, and Hudson's grip around me strengthens, her strokes finally beginning to time ever so slightly with her mouth. The swipes of her tongue are bolder and she attempts to take me deeper into my mouth, halting only when her gag reflex apparently protests. The fingers of her hand against my thigh flinch faintly, and her timing begins to slip once more.
"Shhhh... "I whisper brokenly, fingers of one hand curling around the back of her neck even as the other tightens in the strands of her hair. "Don't... stop, Angel. So good... feels so good... "
Holding her head, my hips begin thrusting very gently into her soft and hesitant suckle. I see her eyes widen only for a moment, before my own slip closed and I give over completely to feeling. Warm, velvety fingers, sultry mouth, tender strokes, silky tongue. Even the occasional slurping noise of her too wet mouth against my cock is fucking hot. I dig my heels into the mattress, my thrusts becoming erratic, rough, as everything in my body seems to tighten, white heat pooling in my groin, balls tightening.
"Fuck – " Normally not vocal, I find I care little about what I'm babbling at the moment, all thought lost in the realization that my cock is buried deep in my Angel's mouth. "Hudson -- !"
She jumps away, almost as if burned, as my release hits, the jet of warm liquid spattering over my stomach. I let out a deep breath, every muscle in my body melting as I feel Hudson crawling her way back up beside me, feeling her gaze locked on me in question. I just want to lay here, quietly, enjoying the post-coital sensation of floating, one of the greatest all-natural highs a being can experience. But I know that her confidence for doing this again is hanging in the balance. Opening my eyes, I find her watching me, worrying her lower lip, waiting. I smile.
"Was that... did I do good?" She asks nervously.
I loop my arm around her lightly. "You couldn't tell?" I grin.
I can feel her relax beneath my touch. A moment passes.
"A little warning would have been appreciated," she mutters.
"Well, as they say in the business world 'come at 'em when they least expect it'."
"Uhn!" She slaps my arm in indignation as I chuckle. "That wasn't funny – eewwww! It's in my hair!" She exclaims in horror as she touches the strands along the side of her face, her fingers sliding through the wet mess.
Gathering my energy to sit up, I pull her against me and kiss her lips. There's the faintest hint of me on her lips, attesting to the fact that she was caught off guard. I can't help but linger there a moment, lost in the idea of my taste mixing with hers. She's a little less Hudson suddenly, and a little more me. Mine.
"Come on," I whisper against her mouth. "Let's go shower."
"What's the rush?" She leans into me, her arms looping over my shoulders, deepening the kiss.
I want to just lay back in bed, pulling her with me, and not move until tomorrow. But there are things I want to show her, places to take her. As much as I desire to hide Hudson Kent away from the world, I know she deserves far better.
"Shopping, dinner." I pull back and give her a smile. "But first – shower. And maybe I'll even show you a little appreciation for your first successful blow job."
Grin splitting across her face, Hudson bounds out of bed toward the bathroom. "Well, what the hell are you waiting for??"
Indeed.
Hudson Clark Kent is the most beautiful being I've ever known. And I've dated my fair share of supermodels, actresses, singers – the most sought- after women in Metropolis. But Hudson is a step above them, and she only continues to grow more beautiful as time passes. I don't know what it is that draws me to her, that draws anyone to her who takes a moment to look past the jeans and t-shirts. Maybe it's her slightly slanted eyes, her flawless golden skin, or hair so thick and strong and full that you swear it couldn't possibly be real. It could be her mile-long legs, adorable ass or pert, round breasts that fit perfectly in the palm of my hands.
More than likely, it's her smile. When she flashes it – this enormous, gorgeous smile, all pearly teeth and glowing eyes – the sun just seems to shine right through her. It lights up the room, lights up everything around and her and never, not once, have I ever been able to withstand it's intensity. Some unseen force tugs at my lips, and the next thing I know, I'm grinning like some village idiot as well, and feeling ten times lighter. The power of her smile can make almost anything seem better.
And here now, at Saks, she's dazzled the store clerks. I can see it in their eyes. At first, it was only my name and the promise of my money that forced their attention on her. But Hudson won them over, either with furious blushing or polite manners, I'm not certain. More than likely, a few of the women are laughing at her naivety, carefully hiding their scorn from my observation. I don't mind as long as Hudson doesn't feel or see it. I understand that the world those women are used to, the one that I'm used to, is one where Hudson doesn't fit in. She's not versed in witty, mindless banter, she doesn't wear her pedigree like a charm around her neck – she probably doesn't know anything about her ancestors beyond the first person to build the farm she lives on. And that's the way it should be. Hudson is unique. She's a mystery. Both to herself, and to me.
"The red looks marvelous on you, dear!" One of the older ladies, Marianne, praises, standing behind Hudson in front of the mirror, peering around her shoulder. "As perfect as the black one!"
Hudson shifts slightly, tottering almost dangerously on the three-inch matching heels they slipped on her feet. She's an inch taller than me in the damn things.
"Which do you like?" Marianne presses.
She looks to me for guidance, and maybe that's what I love. Her gaze catches mine in the mirror, and she waits patiently for my verdict. If only she trusted me so deeply in every aspect of her life.
"I prefer the red," I announce, and the sale's assistants around us jump into action instantly, gathering undergarments and accessories to match the dress.
Hudson takes a deep breath and brushes her hands over the red satin material. The short skirt shows a tantalizing amount of leg, and the bodice is but just above her midriff, bare across the sides and her back, a scalloped neckline around her breasts. I move up behind her, placing my hands on her sides, pressing my fingers into the warm flesh. She smiles a little at me in the mirror.
"What is it?" I ask against her ear. She smells like a department store, heavy perfume and expensive makeup.
"This dress... seems a little unpractical, Lex," she whispers, waving toward her reflection in the mirror. "I mean, I'll freeze in it tonight."
"It's not meant for wearing around a walk in the park, Angel," I reply in amusement, kissing the back of her ear. "You show it off inside. Outside, you wear a coat over it."
Glancing over my shoulder, I wave Roland, the store manager, over to us. He's carrying an ankle-length white mink. Taking it from him, I slip it over her shoulders, lifting her sable-colored hair out from beneath it to hang down her back.
"You wear it with this."
She's already shaking her head. "Lex, my parents would kill me! They'd kill you, too. I couldn't possibly wear this."
"Don't you like it?" I ask, my voice tinged with the offense I can't help but feel at her refusal.
"It's not about liking it," she huffs, the familiar obstinacy gleaming in her gaze. "Of course I like it. But it's not... practical!"
I shake my head and look away, muttering, "There you go again."
"What?"
"You sound more and more like your father every damn day."
"What's wrong with that?" She settles her hands on her hips and glares at me. Down at me. I don't like it one bit. "My father happens to be a very good man."
My gaze narrows. "And just what is that supposed to mean?"
Hudson sighs, is just short of rolling her eyes. "God, Lex. Not everything has a hidden meaning behind it, you know."
The clerks around us have grown silent. I hate being watched like this, knowing we'll be the subject of conversation for the next few days in this place. I'll be lucky if this little disagreement doesn't make the society columns. Hudson doesn't understand that. You'd think she would, considering how many times Chloe has written about situations going on in her life.
Setting my jaw, I snatch the coat off of her. "I don't want to discuss this here." I toss it back to the manager. "You can wear your own damn coat." Without another word, I turn and head toward the register.
I shouldn't be this angry. It's unreasonable, but that's the way I behave around Hudson. Everything I do and say is irrational when it comes to her, and I just don't know how to stop it anymore. I don't know if I can. Little things, like her refusal to accept my gifts to her. Big things, like her lies and secrets. Is it so wrong to want to be included in her life? Is it so wrong to want to give her the world? The dress, the accessories – they're not enough. She needs the coat and a car and a castle to match, dammit. And maybe, once I have her encased in that fantasy world that only I can create for her, maybe then she'll give me her secrets, she'll invite me into her life.
I pay for the items and walk outside, waiting on the sidewalk while boxes and bags are piled into the limousine. Hudson moves up beside me, heels clicking on the pavement. She's tense, I'm tense. She's wearing her black wool coat over the dress, and it doesn't match, and looks completely wrong, and that just makes me angrier. Fuck. This is stupid.
"I don't see what you're so upset about," Hudson whispers, arm brushing against mine as she shifts her feet.
"I don't expect you to understand," I snap, moving forward as Ross holds the door open to the limo.
"Where to, Mr. Luthor?" He asks as I climb in, not waiting for Hudson.
I want to say back to the penthouse, or Smallville even, and to hell with the weekend. But that would provide Hudson with an out that I'm not prepared to give her. Better to force her into my presence, my anger, let her stew in my silence. And maybe I'll just get angry enough to do something stupid.
"Le Petite Fleur," I announce, settling back against the seat.
Hudson scrambles in through the door with Ross' help, flashes me a curious look, and slips onto the seat beside me. The door shuts.
"You are seriously the moodiest person I've ever known."
"Hudson, the best thing for you to do right now is to shut the hell up."
I didn't mean to say that. Not to her. I flash an apologetic look but her head is turned, gaze focused out the window. I can't take it back, so we're left in an even colder silence. Sighing in frustration, I rub my hand over my scalp and wonder why it seems we just can't have a peaceful moment together anymore. There was a time when all of this seemed so easy, so right. And it's not that it seems wrong now, it's just... sometimes it feels like there's too much effort involved. Like we're forcing something that shouldn't be. As much as I want to blame Hudson for all of it, I know that I'm to blame as well.
My gaze returns to the back of Hudson's head. She's still focused on the scenery passing us by outside the window. Or avoiding my gaze, which is more likely. I watch the Christmas lights flickering on in the store fronts that we pass, the sun now fully set, the city awakening from it's daytime slumber. I wonder what Hudson thinks of this, the way the city comes alive at night, since in her world daylight is your friend.
Realizing my anger has faded, replaced with a poignant acceptance, I reach out and touch the back of her head, brushing my fingers through the soft strands. She starts a little at the touch, shoulders tensing. I continue to stroke her hair until she relaxes beneath my touch, and I curl my fingers into it, tugging her gently back to rest against me. Wrapping my arms around her, I kiss the top of her ear.
"Thank you for my gifts," she says quietly, fingers smoothing over her silk stockings.
"You're welcome," I whisper into her ear. I pause for a moment before adding, "You look stunning in that dress, you know. Beautiful."
She turns her head and tucks her face against my neck, her skin warm. "Thank you." Her words are muffled.
Smiling, I rub her arm and hold her a little tighter and am pleased that the evening isn't ruined. I hope that she'll forget about my little outburst. Normally, I'm focused on keeping my upset internalized but lately... I just can't seem to hold it back. Maybe things are getting too out of hand. Maybe I should just confront Hudson about everything once more, and see what happens.
Maybe I should just let it go and trust her.
The car stops outside the main doors to the Westin Metropolis, where the restaurant is located. I kiss Hudson's cheek and push her upright, fingers straying to her temple where I brush a strand of dark hair back. She offers me a smile and everything seems all right once more. When Ross opens the door, I help her out and lead her into the hotel.
"Wow. This place is pretty."
I stop just inside the doors, allowing Hudson a moment to take everything in. The Westin is the best hotel in Metropolis, or at least in my opinion. They've certainly put up with a lot of my shit in years past. Discretion is one of their greatest strengths, along with sheer class. The seven- story waterfall in the lobby is really the only adornment, the rest of the decoration left to soft lighting, lots of glass and stone, leather couches and chairs in the lounge.
"I thought you'd like it." I reach out for her hand and lead her toward the glass elevator that will take us to the top floor.
The elevator attendant nods at me as we pass through the doors. "Mr. Luthor."
Hudson glances over at me with a wry grin. "I'm not the first girl you've brought here, I take it?"
"No," I reply honestly. "But you're the only one that matters."
She smiles and gives me a quick kiss before the elevator starts upward. As we move out of the lobby, the view of the city immediately surrounds us and Hudson gasps, stepping into me hard and throwing her face against my shoulder.
Oops.
"Lex! You didn't warn me!"
I chuckle and glance over at the attendant who's looking at us with a raised brow. "She's afraid of heights," I explain.
"Ah." He nods. "Then I take it you won't be dining at a window seat."
Grinning, I shake my head just before Hudson's plants a fist in my belly. "Oof!"
"You bastard," she whines against my shoulder. "Why didn't you warn me?!"
"Because I thought this would be more fun." Another fist in the stomach. "I'm kidding, Angel. Honestly, I didn't even think about it. Don't worry. We're almost to the top."
Hudson swallows and lifts her head slowly as the elevator slows. She won't look towards the windows, focusing only on the doors. I tighten my arm around her in assurance and kiss her temple.
"Relax, Angel. It's all right."
She practically tosses me out of the way to get off the elevator first. Slipping the attendant a fifty, in the hope that he'll refrain from talking about Hudson's phobia to everyone he knows, I follow her into the restaurant. She's standing with the maitre d', who looks up to greet me as he slips her coat from her shoulders.
"Ah. Mr. Luthor. Good evening. Usual table?"
"No, thank you, Jean. I think we'd prefer something a little deeper into the restaurant, away from the windows. Maybe on the upper level?" I slip my arm around Hudson's waist and give her a smile.
"Certainly, sir. Right this way."
Hudson tsks at my side. "You come here entirely too much."
I shrug as we follow Jean through the restaurant, ignoring the flashes of recognition from the diners around us. "It's the most romantic restaurant in Metropolis."
"You mean, it's the best way to get laid," she whispers in my ear.
Well, yeah. That, too. "Hudson Kent, you are the only female I know that the way into your bed is through your stomach."
She elbows me in the ribs and I wince as we reach the table.
Holding her chair out for her, I kiss her bare shoulder, flashing her a return smile when she grins at me. Jean hands us our menus and I order a bottle of 1998 Corton [Cordon?] Charlemagne. Glancing across the table, I see Hudson squirming in her chair, frowning down at her menu. Her eyes flash over it quickly, then across the table to me.
"Something wrong, Angel?"
"There aren't any prices listed on the menu!" She whispers frantically. "How am I supposed to order?"
I almost laugh but I hold my amusement in for her sake, not wanting to upset her. "Angel, don't tell me your parents told you to order the cheapest thing on the menu?"
She huffs and I almost laugh again.
"The point is for me to know the prices, not you," I tell her. "I'm the one paying, after all."
"That kind of thinking is so outdated it's prehistoric."
I raise an eyebrow. "Oh. Were you planning on paying then? We can switch menus, if that's the case. I'll warn you though – that bottle of wine I just ordered is more than two months allowance for you."
Hudson makes a face at me, and I swear she's ready to kick me under the table. "You're such a show off, Lex. And you're not half as cute as you think you are."
"That's not what you were saying on the stairs this afternoon."
This time I see a flash of her tongue at me.
I don't smirk. I frown. "Behave. We're in public, Hudson." I want to jump across this table and devour her. Rip that tiny dress off of her and show her what she can really do with her tongue.
Huffing once more, she grows silent, hiding behind her menu. She's probably sticking her tongue out at me still.
Our server approaches, bearing the wine I've ordered. After giving it my approval, he pours two glasses for us as I ask Hudson what she would like for an appetizer. She shrugs in reply, before quickly adding anything except snails. I contemplate ordering the escargot just to eat it with relish in front of her, but decide that's a juvenile activity best left outside of the public eye. Instead, I order the crevette and fois gras, deciding that if she doesn't like either of those, than maybe we just shouldn't be together.
"My parents would kill you if they found out you're letting me have wine," Hudson comments as she fingers the stem of her wine glass. She grins, like this is the greatest secret we've ever shared. Unfortunately, it ranks at the top.
"I guess I enjoy living dangerously." I gesture toward her glass. "Try it."
She takes a sip and makes a face. Hesitantly, she tries it again, expression more accepting this time. "It's... an acquired taste, I guess."
"I probably should have started you with something sweeter," I reply, sipping at my own wine. "This might be too dry for you."
Hudson's expression is one of complete skepticism and I can't help but grin in return.
"If you want to order a Coke, I won't think any less of you."
She seems relieved. "Oh. Good." She glances over her shoulder then back to me. "Think they'd give me a cherry in it?"
Sometimes I forget how young she really is. "Two, even."
"Well then, this place just might be worthy of my patronage, after all," Hudson announces with a flourish, picking up her menu once more.
Shaking my head, I catch the eye of our server and order a Coke with extra cherries. Is it wrong of me to hope that no one I know is here tonight?
When her Coke is delivered, Hudson appears infinitely happier with her beverage of choice. She sucks half of it through the straw with more flourish than she applied to me earlier that day, and I can't help but feel a stir of jealousy toward the piece of plastic. She nibbles at a cherry and I sigh. I think my angel is tormenting me on purpose.
"Think of it this way, Lex," Hudson comments, setting her nearly empty glass away from her. "You get to save money on alcohol. I mean, you know I'm a sure thing, right?"
Did I create this monster? I shake my head again, not wishing to encourage her, even as I feel a smile tugging at my mouth. A comfortable silence falls over us as Hudson continues to glance over the menu, her attention finally turning to the windows, which are apparently situated far enough away from us not to send her squealing into my lap. I can only imagine the society pages having a field day with a story like that. I've already spied a few of the paparazzi snapping a picture or two of us shopping, and I have no doubt we'll be prominently featured in tomorrow morning's edition of the Inquisitor, among others.
After ordering our meals, I notice that Hudson's attention is focused over my shoulder. Curious what she is so raptly interested in, I turn slightly to follow her gaze only to see a couple taking their seats a few tables over from us. The woman is wearing a white mink, similar to the one I wanted to buy for Hudson. Her throat, ears and wrists are dripping in diamonds, glittering like her platinum blonde hair and the shimmering red gloss on her lips. My attention moves to the man she's with, and our eyes meet for the briefest of moments during which he gives me a quick nod. I turn back to Hudson.
"Stop staring," I admonish her gently.
"Who are they?"
"I don't know who the woman is, probably nobody. The man is Tony DiRisio."
She stares at me blankly.
Reaching out for my wine, I add, "The most powerful and dangerous hitman in Metropolis. He's a Captain in the Pagliuca family."
Her eyes widen and she leans forward. When she speaks, her voice is a fierce whisper, "You mean the mafia?"
I can't help but poke at her naivety. "No. A singing group."
Hudson looks like she wants to kill me. "Wait. How do you know who he is?"
"You mean besides the fact that he's been the subject of an article in the Daily Planet more than once?" I respond with a smirk. "My father's done business with Salvatore Pagliuca in the past."
"With the mafia?"
I can't help but feel that the Luthor name has fallen another few points in her esteem. Hopefully this is information she will keep to herself and not share with her parents. Even with the amount of headway I've made with the Kents, I seriously doubt her father would understand that my father's business associates, and my own, are two very separate and distinct groups.
"What would he need the mafia for?" Hudson queries, brow furrowed in thought.
I shrug, preferring to end this conversation. For one, I don't feel comfortable with her banding about the word 'mafia' with every other sentence, especially since Tony is seating not two tables away. Second, I've always had my suspicions as to my father's dealings with the Pagliuca family, and that's information I would rather keep Hudson innocent of. She's looking at me now, an expression of confusion, eyes filled with questions, and I wonder if I haven't already tinted those rose-colored glasses of hers just a little too much.
In an effort to distract her, I ask, "So have you thought about what you want to get your parents tomorrow? We can concentrate our shopping in the Plaza district or Westport. Your choice. Have you ever seen the Mayor's Christmas tree? It's down in the park, overlooking the ice rink."
Success! Her eyes light up with my words, proving once again that Hudson Kent is easily distracted by the discussion of Christmas. As our appetizers arrive, she begins listing the various items she's considered for her family and friends, hinting coyly that she already has my gift all picked out.
I've been invited over for dinner this year and while I've agreed to go, I can't help but feel the slightest trepidation at doing so. There's something so intimate about the way the Kent family spends their holidays, and I hate intruding on that. It doesn't matter if Hudson insists that I'm part of the family now, or Martha goes out of her way to make my favorite foods, or even that Jonathan spends the entire time being friendly and welcoming toward me. I still feel as if I'll always be peering through a window into a world I'll never really understand or feel a part of, no matter how strong the desire burns within me to do so. The problem is, I can't disappoint Hudson. And I especially won't do so on Christmas.
Hudson's animation slowly fades away, the joy of the coming holiday disappearing almost completely from her gaze. I reach out and lay my hand over hers, caressing her fingers.
"What is it, Angel?" I query softly, catching her gaze over the flicker of the candlelight.
"I was just thinking about Rianne." She worries her lower lip. "We talked about stringing popcorn together for the tree, and getting up Christmas morning to make breakfast for my parents." Her eyes meet mine and she searches my face for a moment. "I don't think there'll ever be a time when I can look at a comic book or hot air balloon and not think of her."
I squeeze her hand. "You're never going to forget about her, no. But the pain will lessen."
"Promise?"
I think about my mother, knowing the pain has only grown worse. I force a smile. "I promise."
Silence once more descends as our entrees are brought to the table and we concentrate on our meals. Hudson flashes me the occasional quick smile, apparently pleased with her food as she shoves bite after bite into her mouth seemingly without taking a breath. I raise an eyebrow at her, and she returns it with a rueful expression, eventually slowing her food intake to a reasonable pace. As the minutes pass, she begins paying even less attention to her food, causing me to wonder if she's suddenly developed a distaste for it when I realize her attention is focused over my shoulder. Frowning, I'm about to remind her to stop staring when I hear a woman's voice whisper fiercely behind me:
"I've had just about enough of this. I'm leaving."
"You're going to keep your ass in that chair," the unmistakable voice of Tony DiRisio replies. "Or you'll have two broken legs that won't get you anywhere."
"Ouch! You're hurting me!" She hisses.
Hudson blinks across from me, her expression darkening.
"Stop eavesdropping, Hudson. It isn't polite."
She brings her gaze to mine. "She sounds like she needs help."
I sigh and point with my fork toward her plate.
"...Stop saying those things, Tony," the blonde's voice picks up again. "Why can't you just leave me alone. Let me go!"
"Shut up!" Tony's whisper is angry, his temper obviously pushed past his limit. "One more fucking peep out of you and you'll never have to worry about what I have to say again."
Hudson's gaze narrows further and I can see her poised to jump out of her chair. Quickly, my hand moves across the table and I grab her wrist, holding her in place. "Don't."
"She doesn't want to be here with him. Can't you hear that, Lex?"
"Hudson," I whisper back. "It isn't any of our business. Did you even bother listening to me earlier? That man is not someone you intentionally pick a fight with."
"That doesn't make his behavior right," she replies, glaring at me slightly.
"I never said it did. But there are some people in this world that you can't protect. They either don't want your protection or there is nothing that you can do to protect them. Not without hurting yourself or the ones that you love."
She looks ready to argue for a moment, before her shoulders slump slightly and she returns her gaze to the table behind me. I wish she would stop staring. She's going to bring unwanted attention to both of us. I'm distracted when our server appears, asking if we're interested in having dessert. Hudson absently shakes her head and I wave him away, knowing that the young woman across from me is singularly focused, or she wouldn't have turned down the chance to feed her sweet tooth. I finish off the last of the bottle of wine as I watch her purposely avoid my gaze for the next few minutes.
"I'm going to use the restroom," she tells me suddenly, slipping her napkin onto the table and sliding out of her chair.
I get to my feet politely as she excuses herself, watching her carefully to make certain she actually heads toward the lobby and not to the table behind me. Once she's out of sight, I take my seat again, pay our bill and wonder what drives Hudson in her desire to look out for the underdog. All young people have some inherent belief in them that they're invincible, that they'll live forever. But Hudson seems almost driven by that belief, as if her supposed immortality would allow her to protect and save everyone around her. I've seen her do it with me time and time again, and lately I've begun to realize she does it with everyone.
"Ready to go?"
I glance up to see Hudson standing beside me, shifting from foot to foot, glancing around nervously. I frown. "What's the hurry?"
"I... I'm bored." She shrugs with the obvious lie.
Drawing in a deep breath, I consider denying her the chance to walk out of here without an explanation but, having no desire for another fight, I place my napkin on the table and get to my feet. Jean meets us with Hudson's coat and I slip it over her shoulders before taking her hand and leading her toward the elevator. We pass Tony, who is standing in the lobby, apparently waiting for his date to emerge from the restroom. We give each other a parting nod as Hudson and I move into the elevator, and head back down to the street.
"Where to now?"
Hudson seems more relaxed now that we're back in the limo. She cuddles up against me, fingers playing over the front of my shirt, picking at the buttons, occasionally slipping inside to touch my stomach. I'm tempted to go back to the penthouse and fuck her until the sun rises on Sunday. But there's something I want to show her. A little piece of myself that I hope might encourage her to share her own secrets with me.
"There's a place I want to show you."
"Oooh. That sounds all mysterious." Hudson grins up at me, the streetlights casting shadows across her face. "I like it when you're mysterious." She leans up for a kiss.
Her mood has done a complete one-eighty since the restaurant and I can't help but wonder at the reason for the change. It doesn't take long for her lips and hands to distract my thoughts, though, and all too soon I am engulfed in everything Hudson. Her fresh, earthy scent, the feather soft touches of her fingers against my cheek and neck, the honeyed flavor of her tongue brushing over mine. She makes me forget who I am, what I'm doing, years of teachings all drain away in a single moment, a solitary touch. Sometimes I think it's a special power she has, maybe that same secret her parents don't want her to share. Mostly, I'm certain I'm a fool, and people are laughing at me behind closed doors because this teenage girl sends my senses reeling. It's why I keep her at arm's length in public. I have to.
Capturing my lower lip between her teeth, Hudson pulls back, tugging it with her almost painfully before letting go. There's a thin thread of saliva still attaching us and I can't stop myself from swooping back in for another kiss, pushing her back against the seat as I plunder her mouth. My hands roam over the bare skin around her ribs, thumbs slipping beneath the edge of the bodice to brush against the underside of her breasts. Again, I consider just going back to the penthouse and to hell with opening up to her. Sex should be enough.
Right?
Fuck.
I sit up, pulling her with me, smoothing out her dress so that it's all back in place. She's looking at me as if I've just killed her best friend or something. Sighing, I lean in and kiss her gently. "You deserve better than a tussle in the back of a limo."
Surprisingly, Hudson laughs. "Lex, you could have sex with me in a broom closet. I wouldn't mind!"
I can't help but smile. I really have created a monster. "I'll keep that in mind for later. Right now, we're almost there."
I point out the window toward the parking lot we've just entered. Up ahead are the lights of the Metropolis Waterfront Carnival, its gates closed for the evening. Hudson wrinkles her nose as she takes in the sight before lifting her gaze up to me in question.
"A carnival? What's up, Doc?"
I pinch her nose. "You're not cute."
"No. I'm a sexy, sexy thang!" She thrusts out her chest and wiggles her hips a little suggestively, eliciting a laugh from me. "No, really. What're we doing at a carnival? That just doesn't seem very... Luthor-like."
Smiling, I push the door open as the car comes to a stop in front of the gates. "That's the point."
"Huh?" She takes my hand when I offer it, climbing out of the limousine to stand beside me, staring up at the cardboard medieval towers that bookend the gate. "Lex, have you lost your mind?"
"I'm standing outside a closed carnival after nine with a sixteen-year old. What do you think?"
Hudson rolls her eyes as I close her coat around her, making certain a few buttons are closed. "You warm enough?"
After she nods in affirmation, I tug her forward toward the side employee entrance. As promised, the door is open and I slip inside, smiling at her when she flashes me a curious look. We should be the only people on the grounds, except for the security guards who were strictly instructed to stay in the guard house unless called.
Threading our fingers together, I tuck my free hand into my coat pocket and lead her deep into the carnival. The carnival is fully lit up with lights, music playing, the rides turned on. The air is still filled with the scent of popcorn and cotton candy from earlier in the day, though a slight breeze from the river threatens to wipe it away. Beside me, Hudson is wide-eyed and silent, her gaze attempting to sweep over every little detail as we slowly make our way in and out of the booths around us.
"This is really kind of creepy," she comments in almost a whisper.
I smirk. "Why are we whispering?"
She waves a hand. "Creepy. There's no one here but us."
"Oh, there are others. They're just hiding out."
"And that's supposed to make it less creepy how?"
"Brat." I pull her close and kiss the top of her head. "I thought you would like this."
"Oh, it's cool. And unexpected. Just... creepy."
"We can leave," I offer, glancing away.
"No." Her fingers tighten around mine. "I like it. I mean, being alone with you like this. Well, quasi-alone." I turn back to see her flash me a smile. "It's kind of like one of those 'end of the world' movies, where it's just you and me and we can do whatever we want!"
I chuckle. "Except that it isn't the end of the world. Though we can do whatever we want."
"You mean we could go on a spree through one of the malls in the middle of the night and take whatever we want?" She looks shocked.
"I can arrange it." I shrug. If Hudson wants to live out any fantasies, I can certainly see to them. It's a perk of being ridiculously wealthy.
Hudson's eyes are even wider as she stares at me for a moment, and I can't help but wonder if this is the first time she's ever really understood how much money I have at my disposal. I look away, a little uncomfortable with it, remaining silent so that she's allowed to process this newfound information. I know it doesn't matter to her but I can't erase the fears that one day it might. One day, she'll begin asking for favors, and I'll grant them because I love her, because I can't say no. And eventually, I'll hate her for using me, and I'll hate myself even more for allowing it to happen.
"Oh!" Hudson breathes beside me. "Look at that carousel!"
I glance up at her exclamation at the antique carousel that is the pride of the Waterfront Carnival that looms before us. Dating back to the late 1800's, it's been fully restored, well-cared for and is the main attraction for all attendees of the carnival. Even those who come just for the roller coasters have to stop and take a moment to appreciate the beauty and grandeur of the structure. It's lit up tonight, bright white lights covering the domed top amid beveled mirrors and delicately painted animals in various carnival attire, all gaudy colors and overly ornate. The horses are the focal point – whites, bays, black and grays, posed in various gaits, some prancing, others tossing their heads, two half-rearing, each wearing painted-on tack that appears worthy of a King's ransom. Tigers, lions, zebras and ostriches complete the available seating.
"Want to ride it?" I ask Hudson as we draw near.
She glances around. "But, I don't see an operator."
I shrug and jump onto the platform, turning to hold my hand out to her. "It's not a magic carpet, but it's the best I can offer on short notice."
Hudson shakes her head with a grin, taking my hand and stepping onto the carousel beside me. "If I told the people of Smallville what a romantic you are, they would never believe me."
"That's a good thing. We wouldn't want it to get out."
She laughs as she moves past me, long fingers caressing the neck of a black horse. She turns slowly, admiring the animals around her, soft smile highlighted by the glow in her eyes. I could stare at her for hours. Sometimes I consider commissioning an artist to paint her, naked of course, either standing in the garden with the sunlight warming her skin or reclined on a carpet in front of the fireplace. Her parents would kill me, and I would never be allowed the opportunity to gaze at my naked painting of Hudson with impunity. Maybe when she's older...
"So, have you picked a mount?" I ask finally, as Hudson hovers near one of the white horses, its neck arched, legs lifted high in a prancing motion.
"Why is it the most harmless questions can sound so dirty out of your mouth?" Hudson glances at me over her shoulder, smirking.
I roll my eyes and move between the animals, making my way to the center of the carousel where the control room is located. "You, Hudson Clark Kent, live in the gutter."
"There's room for two!" She replies cheerily, hopping up onto the white horse.
Ignoring her remark, I open the small door, camouflaged as one of the eight full-length mirrors, and flip the necessary switches. The carousel lurches into motion, campy music filling the air as the lights begin dancing around us. Gently closing the door, I turn around to find Hudson watching me over the tops of the animals. I grin as she rises up, and back down, and up again, and back down again. She shakes her head, drawing my curiosity, and I duck under a few horse necks to make my way over to her.
"What?" I ask as I stand beside her, my hand settling on her thigh.
"I admit it, Lex. I'm completely stumped. How on earth do you know how to operate a carousel?"
I shrug. "It's not that difficult. This is an antique, Hudson. There's a power button and a stop button."
She crosses her eyes at me, a sign that she isn't taking me seriously at all. It's so cute that it forces me to lean forward to kiss her nose, but the horse ends up rising and I catch her chin instead. She laughs and catches me in a quick kiss on the way back down.
"Now, Alexander Joseph Luthor, are you going to tell me the truth about how you know the intricacies of running a carousel?"
Stepping back, I slip up onto the gray horse behind me, sitting so that I face Hudson, sideways in the hard wooden saddle. "You know how so many kids... well, they sometimes look at their family and they think to themselves, 'There's no way I came from them! I must be adopted!'?"
Her gaze searches my face for a moment before she nods.
"Well, it wasn't quite the same for me. I mean, I always knew that I was a Luthor. I couldn't look in the mirror and question my heritage because I couldn't escape it. It was always there, drilled into me from the cradle. I never questioned it... "
I trail off, gaze dropping to the slatted floor beneath us. There's a blob of bubblegum beneath Hudson's mount, a crushed piece of popcorn caught between the slats of wood. I'm reminded of the last time Hudson and I went to the movies together – I can't recall what we saw, only that we sat in the back row and made out the entire time. And my feet kept sticking to the floor.
"Lex?"
Glancing up at her inquiry, I smile. "Sorry. It's just... even if I knew what I was, it didn't mean that I wanted to accept it. 'Do not go gentle into that goodnight' or some such.
"Shortly after the meteor storm, I began studying places, groups that I could hide out with. Where I could erase my identity and become someone else, someone nobody knew. I could start all over, far away from the Luthor name, and write my own destiny, not the one my father had mapped out for me."
I run a hand over my head nervously, unable to look at Hudson as I continue to impart information I've never shared with another. "So I studied them all – the military, the mafia, carnies, cults – "
"Wait. Carnies?" Hudson interrupts, eyes blinking with amusement. "Lex, you wanted to run off and join the... carnival??"
I flash her a glare. "I didn't just want to. I did."
"What?" Her mouth is wide with humor now, lips twitching desperately for more expression. "You ran away and joined the carnival?"
"What's so unbelievable about that?" I retort, frowning.
She worries her lower lip a moment. "I don't know. You just... don't seem the type to run away, I guess."
I nod. "Well, I was ten at the time, so I wasn't exactly thinking clearly."
"Mmm. So what happened? Did your parents catch you?"
"Not immediately." I glance out over the carnival, remembering that first night that I spent away from the safety of home, from my parents and Pamela. I can't help but smile at how stupid I was. "I packed a couple changes of clothing, a few toiletries, a package of crackers, some peanut butter and a jar of caviar – "
"Caviar? No. Really – caviar?"
With a shrug, I reply, "My father used to say that you could convince anyone to give you what you wanted with well-thought strategy, and a good Beluga caviar. Since I figured I already had my strategy planned out, it wouldn't hurt to have the caviar along, too. Just in case."
Hudson looks like she can't decide if she wants to laugh or cry.
"Anyway," I turn away from her gaze and stare at the animals as they continue to move up and down around us. "I took a cab deep into the city. It wasn't until I got to the train station that I realized that would be one of the first places my father would have his people look. That, and the airport. So I decided I needed a less obvious method of transportation out of Metropolis.
"As I was wandering around the train yard, trying to think of something, I saw the train that a carnival was packed onto, heading off to their next engagement. It was 'Wild Bill's Carnival of Thrills' – "
"You're making that up."
"I am not!" I snap, flashing her a silencing look. "Do you want to hear about this or not?"
Hudson rolls her eyes. "I don't know if I'm ready to... but go ahead."
I'm tempted to just stop right there, except that I can see the sincere curiosity in her gaze. One would think I'd be used to her teasing after all of this time, but it's hard to get over the belief that not every joke made at your expense is meant to be hurtful. Especially when the past has always shown the opposite.
"Figuring my father would never think to look there," I continue. "I climbed up into one of the box cars, made myself comfortable in between what I thought were some props, and promptly fell asleep. I didn't know where I was or where I was going and, at the time, it really didn't matter so much. After the meteor shower... well, I'd never really had friends to begin with. Being bald only made it that much worse. And my mom... she always looked so sad after that whenever I was with her, like she blamed herself or something. My father – well, I don't think he knew what to do with me. I didn't fit into his strategic plan for family and future. So I thought it would be better all around if I just went away."
I feel something touch my hand, and glance down to see Hudson's fingers brushing over my skin. Without looking at her, I acknowledge the small offer of comfort by curling my fingers into hers, our hands clasped between the horses.
"So, you were in the box car...," Hudson prompts.
Nodding, I continue, "I woke up the next morning, only because I could feel that I was being stared at. When I opened my eyes, it was to find half a dozen midgets surrounding me – "
"Is this the part where you tell me they offered you some magical beans for your pet cow?"
"Hudson – hush," I reprimand her with a grin. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but this was how it happened.
"See, I fell asleep in the clown car. In fact, the entire box car was filled with all of the props the clowns used. We'd arrived at their next stop in Oklahoma City, and they were beginning to clear out the cars when they found me. They weren't very nice about it, either," I add, vividly remembering the eldest of the group grabbing me by the ear and yanking me out of the car.
"So, um, did they all clown-pile on top of you inside of the car?" Hudson asks with a grin.
She doesn't believe me. I sigh. "No. They took me to – "
"Their leader. Bozo the Magnificent."
"Christ, Hudson!"
She giggles, and then leans across the space between us and kisses my cheek. "I'm sorry. I'm just having fun. Go on. They took you where? To Wild Bill, the owner?"
I remain silent, refusing to continue to be made fun of. Hudson tugs on my hand and flashes me a contrite smile and big, saucer-shaped eyes, silently pleading for the rest of the story. Damn her and whatever ability she has to make me willfully humiliate myself.
"Only Wild Bill wasn't a Wild Bill at all, but Wild Bill's widow, Shirley." I cast a quick glance at Hudson, waiting for another retort but she just watches me innocently, waiting for the rest of the story.
Sighing, I tell her, "Shirley was this older lady, who'd been part of a carnival ever since she was born. Her parents worked with the animals. She was a tough woman who apparently wasn't afraid of the name Luthor, even though she recognized both it and me almost instantly. She sat me down in her tent and made me tell her everything – who I was, why I wanted to run away. I told her... "
I pause and look over at Hudson again, wondering just how much I should share. If I want this to work, if I want her to be honest with me, then I need to be honest with her. I need her to know I trust her.
"I told her that I was a freak, and therefore it figured that I would fit in with the other freaks of the carnival – "
"Lex – "
"She didn't seem to like that explanation. She lectured me about the lack of right I had to refer to anyone as a freak, including myself, and how little boys should be more concerned with collecting bugs and climbing trees than how others might characterize their outward appearance. I just figured she didn't understand, and that I would be sent home that night." I shrug. "Surprisingly, though, she didn't send me home. She set me up in a tent with her two sons, and a boy whose father was the elephant trainer, and she put me to work."
"You worked with the carnival?" Hudson stares at me, blinking. "But, what about your parents? Weren't they worried about you? Surely your dad was tearing up Metropolis looking for you!"
"Actually, Shirley called him the moment she realized who I was," I tell her with a slight grimace. "My father told her to keep me. That if I was insisting on behaving like a child, then I didn't fit in to any part of the Luthor dynasty. I know this because I heard Shirley recounting her conversation to Edwina, the snake girl."
"He just... left you there?"
"It was a lesson," I remark frankly. "There was no way my father was actually going to allow his own blood to be caught working in a carnival. Shirley was paid to keep quiet and retain me in only low-profile jobs. I figure there was a bonus for her in there somewhere if I was never injured, as well.
"A month into it, my mother appeared to take me home. I remember feeling awful for the worry I'd put her and Pamela through, and they were both so happy to see me, and so angry that I'd just left like that. I get the feeling my father never explained that he knew where I was all along – and that he wanted me to stay there until he was ready for me to come home."
"What did he do when you got back? Were you punished?"
I shake my head and purse my lips. "No. He never spoke a word about it. Pretended it never happened. A few years later I found out that Wild Bill's Carnival of Thrills had suddenly become one of the largest, wealthiest carnival's in the states. They stopped traveling and set up a permanent structure. All because my father paid them off to keep them quiet."
Hudson is silent and I refuse to look at her, wondering if she is ready to break out into laughter again. She drops my hand and I take the opportunity to slip off of the horse and move to stop the carousel. But then Hudson is standing in front of me, her gaze filled with... something. I don't know what to name it. But she's looking at me and smiling softly, and I can't help but lean into her touch as her hand cups my cheek.
"You amaze me," she whispers. "There is so much about you that just... takes my breath away."
I struggle with the desire to tell her she's full of shit. It's an automatic response. But I can't deny the expression on her face, or the gentle touch of her fingers over my skin. I kiss the pads of her fingertips as they brush against my lips. "I've never told anyone that story."
She sighs and leans against me, arms wrapping around my shoulders. I hold her, waiting for a confession, a truth, more than she's ever given. The carousel music has become absurdly annoying but I don't want to move, afraid that I'll break the spell.
"What about you?" I query softly. "Any deep, dark secrets you're ashamed to share?"
A long silence. I can feel her tensing in my arms. Then, "I did run away once."
The fight goes out of me. I don't know how much more of this I can take. "Did you?" I reply, tone blank.
Hudson laughs lightly, pulling back. "Yeah. I was six. And determined to find my biological parents." She cocks her head to the side thoughtfully, an expression of wistfulness on her face. "I wanted to know why they gave me up, why they didn't love me."
"Just because they gave you up for adoption doesn't necessarily mean they didn't love you, Hudson."
"I know. I... "She trails off and sighs, flashing a chagrined smile. "Dad found me. He took me home and I remember mom was so upset. She cried and held me and told me how angry she was that I ran away, even though she never stopped crying and kept kissing me. When I told them why I left, I remember my dad telling me that sometimes we get the opportunity to choose our own family. I never understood what he meant... until recently."
She takes my hand and squeezes it. "Maybe we've both been given that opportunity, Lex."
Would you choose to have a family that lied, Hudson? Would you?
Giving her a half smile, I move to the control panel and turn off the music.
When I wake up the next morning, Hudson is pressed against me like a second skin. Her face is pressed against my shoulder and I think she's drooling. It's either that or she fell asleep mid-kiss. I watch her for a few minutes silently, tempted to roll her over and wake her up with my tongue and another eager part of my body. Unfortunately, she appears dead to the world, in one of those deep sleeps where a nuclear explosion could go off, and she wouldn't notice. And it really isn't any fun to make love to an unresponsive partner. Not that I think she would be unresponsive for long but we have a big day ahead of us. Leaning over, I kiss her cheek softly before climbing out of bed and heading for the shower.
Showers are extremely quick for me. Once you take out the necessary washing of one's hair and shaving, there is very little left. In school, it always meant being the first one in line for breakfast each morning. In my adult life, it allows me to sleep a few minutes longer, or appear to a meeting that much earlier than anyone else. Hudson said she'd kill to never have to bother with washing and drying her hair again. I replied that I would kill her if she ever tried to get rid of it. She just laughed at me, but I don't think she realizes how much I envy the hair of everyone around me. Sometimes, when I happen to be in a store, I wander by the hair products and simply stare at the various gels and hair sprays and shampoos. Hudson uses an apple-scented shampoo by Suave. She says it's cheap and she likes the smell. I stocked all of the showers at the mansion, and here at the penthouse, with KMS because it smells like bubblegum and seems like her. She said if only they could combine the two, it would be a perfectly scented shampoo. Today I should buy her some apple bubblegum, just to see what it tastes like in her mouth.
Getting out of the shower, I wrap a towel around my hips and reenter the bedroom to find Hudson still dead to the world. She's moved in her sleep, diagonal across the bed, head firmly planted in the center of my pillow, sheets barely covering her well-shaped ass. There are many perfect aspects of Hudson's body, but I think it's her ass that I like best. I've even caught Pete checking it out. My bed sheets are obviously shameless in their attempt to destroy all of my enjoyment. Determined to rectify the situation, I move over and remove the last bit of obstruction from my view of her naked form.
Perfect.
"Leeexxxx – "
Well, nothing lasts forever.
I glance toward the pillow to see Hudson peering one eye open at me. "What're you doing?"
"Admiring the view."
"It's cold in here, and you're trying to make me freeze my ass off. Literally."
"Hudson," I drawl with a smile. "I would never do such a thing."
"Don't Luthors know how to use heaters?" She whines before reaching down for the edge of the covers.
"It isn't that cold in here," I point out, snatching the covers out of her reach and tossing them to the floor. "Tsk, tsk. You're very spoiled, Hudson Kent," I inform her as I kneel on the bed and crawl over her, sprawling across her body.
Instant squeals. "Lex, you're wet! And cold! Christ, you're like marble!"
"And you whine a lot." I nuzzle my nose against the back of her ear and then lick it. She giggles. "It's time to get up, Angel. We'll never make the game, and get the shopping in, if you don't get ready."
Sighing beneath me, Hudson struggles to roll over until we're facing each other. I find myself wondering why I left my damn towel on. "I don't think I want to go out today."
I regard her silently for a moment before remarking, "You've always wanted to go to a Shark's game. Sit in the owner's box. Look down on the common folk." I give her a smile.
"I know. And I still would like to. Just not today." Her fingers trail over my upper arms and she looks up at me from under her lashes and really, how would I deny her anything? "I want to stay in my sweats and just have you all to myself."
"I can't argue with that thinking," I reply, kissing the tip of her nose. "But what about shopping for your family?"
She shrugs. "I'll find things in Smallville. Lex, you told me if I didn't want to go out, you wouldn't – "
"I know," I interrupt with a forced smile. I made the promise that we could stay in if she wanted, but there is a part of me that selfishly wants to spoil her – take her places, buy her things. I can't really do that if we're stuck in the penthouse.
Unless...
I smile. "We'll stay in for the day," I agree, kissing her once more before sliding off of her to my feet. "And you'll still do your shopping and watch the game." I grab my phone off of the nightstand as I ask, "What is good football-watching food?"
"What're you doing?" She sits up, gathering the sheet around her to cover her nakedness.
Damn.
"Answer now or I order caviar."
Hudson makes an adorable face at me, confusion still evident in her eyes. "Umm, barbeque, of course. Ribs, sausages, KC strips, corn on the cob, big, fat heavily seasoned fries –"
"I get it," I laugh, dialing the number to the best caterer in town. "Anything that clogs the arteries."
"Something like that."
She flops back down on the bed, long limbs sprawled across the sheets. If I took her to business meetings like this, and laid her out on the conference tables, I'd be able to turn corporate takeovers into an art form. Rivals would be so lost examining her impossibly perfect legs that they'd forget what they were doing there. I could own the world, if I could only convince Hudson to marshal the parade.
Turning away from my angelic little devil on the bed so that I can remain focused, I order our lunch to be delivered later, and then place a call to the concierge for the Luthorcorp tower. I explain exactly what I need from him in intricate detail down to the exact shops and items that I want to see represented. By the time I hang up the phone, Hudson has the bedroom TV turned on, is flopped over on her belly, sheets tangled around her hips as her feet swing above her in no particular rhythm.
"You might want to get showered and dressed," I remark, opening the dresser for a pair of underwear.
"Why? I thought we were just laying around the house."
"We are. But that doesn't mean we're not going to have company."
"Hell."
I smile at her apparent annoyance, glancing over my shoulder as I dress to see her slip out of bed and stomp to the bathroom, sheet dragging along on the floor behind her. No one should be allowed to be gorgeous when they pout.
By the time Hudson is done with her shower and enters the living room dressed comfortably in grey sweats and a red and blue striped shirt, Max, concierge to the Luthorcorp Tower, has arrived with shops in tow. Watching Hudson for a moment as she settles on the couch, feet tucked beneath her while she looks at the half dozen strangers gathered in the room, I turn back to Max and nod in satisfaction.
"Well done, Max."
"Thank you, Mr. Luthor."
"What's going on?" Hudson inquires from her seat, leaning over the back of the couch to look up at me.
"Shopping," I explain, crossing over to her. I wave toward the group as they quickly begin shuffling around through the containers behind them. "I brought the stores to you."
She blinks up at me in apparent shock, then turns to regard the shop managers once more. "You mean they shoved their entire stores into those boxes?"
Chuckling, I sit on the arm of the couch beside her. "Nnnoooo. They brought only the items I thought you might be interested in for your parents and friends."
"Wow." She grins. "This is so... eccentric of you, Lex Luthor."
I shake my head. "Actually, my father began doing this for my mother when she became too ill to leave the house. He didn't want her to miss out on the simple joys of shopping and having new things, so he brought the stores to her. I remember once a week, climbing up onto the bed with her and watching as expensive clothes and jewelry were paraded out in front of her."
Smiling at the memory, I look down to find Hudson watching me, sympathy in her gaze. I kiss the tip of her nose. "If they don't have what you want, describe what you're looking for, and they'll find it."
"I feel like I'm in a movie," she comments with a sigh, though there is a sparkle in her eyes as she gazes at the group of people who stand at the ready to serve her. "It's kind of like Pretty Woman. Only you're not as skuzzy as Richard Gere."
Laughing, I lean in and whisper, "And you're no prostitute."
"Well, not at the moment..."
"Hudson Clark Kent –"
Giggling, she rolls her eyes at me and launches herself off of the couch and toward the store managers. I follow behind her, nodding silently to Mr. Sykes, the manager for Saks, to begin his presentation. He steps forward, offering his hand and introducing himself, then steps back to wave a hand toward his wares. The accompanying model displays a wildly colorful outfit that sends Hudson into pleased applause, commenting to me that it would be perfect for Chloe. When she asks the price, I sedately shake my head once more, pointing my thumb downwards toward Sykes. He barely flashes me a glance before giving Hudson a false number that is so ridiculously low it could easily beat a Walmart price. Frowning, she glances back at me as if expecting me to be holding a sign up with the price displayed.
"Is that really the cost, Lex?" She asks.
I shrug. "Do I look like I work in a department store?"
"Well, you dress like it."
"Be nice, Angel."
Making a face at me, Hudson returns her attention to Sykes. "It seems kind of cheap – the price, I mean. Considering the source and all."
"It's from our clearance section, Miss," Sykes replies without hesitation.
I'm going to have to give him a good tip.
Hudson still appears disbelieving but she shrugs and reaches out to touch the material of the skirt, lost in thought. Finally, she nods and moves on to the next item. I share a quick look with Sykes before focusing my attention back to Hudson as she continues with her 'shopping'. Surprisingly, she finishes everything up rather quickly, and when she disappears to the bedroom to get her purse for her spending money, I reach into my pocket and hand my credit card over to Max who quickly writes down the information. Slipping it back into my pocket just as Hudson reenters the room, I flash her an innocent smile as she is given a bill for an amount just under the cash I know she's carrying. If she ever discovers proof of my perfidy, I'm dead.
"That was relatively painless," she comments as she drops back onto the couch and looks up at me. "Now I get to go home and wrap everything."
"I could have Max – "
"Lex," she interrupts with one of those 'Don't you know anything??' tones. "Christmas is about the shopping and the wrapping and the scrambling to find the time to do it all. You've just eliminated one tradition for me, no need to eliminate the others."
I sit beside her, arm moving around the back of the couch. "But couldn't you spend that time doing more interesting things?"
"I take it you have something in mind?" She smirks at me as I lean in for a kiss.
"Oh, I could think of one thing... or two.. "
"Or a dozen," she adds before I cover her mouth with my own.
"Stop fidgeting."
Hudson glances up at me as if I couldn't possibly understand the position she is in. "But... I feel naked."
"You're the one that picked that dress out," I remind her. "Not me."
And I'm beyond pleased that she did. It shows all of her more perfect assets gorgeously – short skirt, scandalously low neckline (if it could even be considered a neckline), and absolutely no back whatsoever. Jonathan Kent would have a heart attack if he saw his daughter in the thing. I certainly wasn't going to say no when she picked it out, especially since I could tell she was purposely attempting to be rebellious. It's nice to see Hudson play the role of teenager; she doesn't do it very often.
"Besides," I tell her. "You still have your coat on. You won't be naked until we get inside."
"Swell."
She wiggles her shoulders beside me once more as we approach the Bouncer outside of Atlantis, the latest nightclub in Metropolis to take the much- coveted place that Club Zero's closing left open. The few dozen in line along the building glare at us as we approach, and the braver souls toss out a couple of bawdy comments toward me. It feels like forever since I was last in this type of atmosphere, even though it hasn't been two years.
"We're never going to get inside, you know," Hudson whispers confidently. "He'll take one look at me and realize I'm underage."
I barely refrain from rolling my eyes. When did I pick up that habit?? "Hudson, you could be in diapers. As long as you're with me, you'll get in."
"That's really sick, Luthor," she quips with a smirk.
Smart ass.
The Bouncer glances over at us as we near the door and gives me a slight nod. "Lex, it's been a while."
"That it has," I reply, slipping a fifty into his hand as we pass by and I escort Hudson through the door.
Atlantis prides itself on being classier than Club Zero, only it isn't. It's bigger and gaudier and the drinks are more expensive, though the clientele hasn't changed much. Its reputation, on the other hand, is fast becoming worse than that of my old haunt, and I have every intention of not allowing Hudson very far out of my sight. Her eyes are already far too wide, the combination of her beauty and innocence drawing stares from all around us, and I wonder if maybe this wasn't a good idea. I slip her coat from her shoulders and hand it to the girl behind the coat check station, taking the ticket she hands me in return.
Placing my hand against Hudson's back, I guide her through the crowd, attention focused on our surroundings as we move toward the largest of the three bars located in the club. Her skin is warm and I can't help but caress my fingers lower, hoping that those around us are watching, that they understand she belongs to me. We make it to the bar and Hudson slips up onto one of the stools as I lean in beside her to order our drinks, figuring she might enjoy a Cosmopolitan. Reminding myself I'm only going to let her have one. Then again, she's apparently so fascinated by her surroundings that I could hand her gasoline to drink, and she wouldn't notice the difference.
"This is awesome, Lex!" She practically squeals, dancing in her seat with barely contained excitement.
"Glad you like it. Just don't stray off."
I slip a bill across the bar to pay for our drinks, and then hand one to Hudson.
Clinking our glasses, I tell her, "Welcome to Wonderland, Alice."
"Does that make you the Mad Hatter?" She asks, taking a cautious sip of her drink. She blinks for a moment and takes another.
"You're in a feisty mood."
"The Sharks won. That makes me very happy. I still have hopes that they'll make it to the Superbowl."
I shake my head and turn my gaze toward the dance floor. "Won't happen. Hasn't happened in decades. My father laments over it all of the time. Luckily, the fans keep coming or he would have sold the team long ago."
"Well, with the way he keeps hiking the price up on tickets and parking, I don't see why he would want to sell. It's the only legal way he can steal from the public."
Chuckling, I lean in and give her a quick kiss. "This is why we're made for each other, Hudson Kent."
She beams over her glass at me as she takes another drink.
The afternoon spent watching the Shark's game had been a pleasant one. It began with sex on the couch, a minor bout of cuddling, and then the joy of watching Hudson stuff her face with barbeque from Arthur Bryant's. She got sauce all over the shirt she was wearing, so I made her take it off and we went back to cuddling on the couch in our underwear until the Sharks won. Apparently seeing her favorite football team win stokes Hudson's hormones into action, and she had me on the floor in minutes.
Not that I'm complaining. I just can't recall ever spending a day so... relaxed. I can't help but wonder if life with Hudson would always be like that, if such a thing is possible. Is that the way her parents act when they're alone together? Is that the way couples are supposed to behave?
"I want to dance."
Pulled from my thoughts at her words, I look over at Hudson and raise an eyebrow. "Is that so?" I take a sip of my drink but make no move to lead her to the dance floor.
Hudson frowns. "Oh, don't tell me you're one of those who is too full of himself to dance in public?"
"I simply choose not to look like one of the many idiots out there flailing around," I reply.
"They're not idiots. They're having fun and we're not." She slides down from the stool and places her hands on her hips as she looks at me. "Why on earth did you bring me here if you didn't plan on dancing?"
Shrugging, I look around. "I thought you'd like to see it." I pause and flash her a smile. "And, there are quite a few dark little places to hide out in... "
Hudson rolls her eyes. "You're like a machine, Lex. You'd think you've had enough sex today."
"There's no such thing!"
Huffing, Hudson glances out toward the dance floor longingly, affecting a pretty pout. Unable to withstand such behavior, I wave a hand toward the crowd.
"Nothing is stopping you from going out there, Angel," I comment, rubbing my hand over her over.
"Really?" She looks at me hopefully.
I nod. "Just stay close to the edge of the floor where I can see you, okay? And if anyone starts anything – "
She laughs. "Lex, I can take of myself, you know."
No, you can't.
She leans up to kiss me, then hurries away from the bar to the dance floor. Figuring this should be a pretty good show, I take a seat facing the crowd of dancers to watch. As Hudson situates herself amidst the others, I carefully seek out the gaze of each man near her, waiting until their eyes meet mine before moving on to the next. For the first time since we left Smallville, I find myself wishing I'd brought Dodd along. Then again, he might have cleared the entire floor before allowing Hudson out there.
Assured of her safety from roaming hands, I return my attention to Hudson, watching her closely as her body moves in rhythm to the beat. Hips grinding, breasts bouncing beneath the silk of her dress, hair tossing wildly around her face. Fuck, she's gorgeous tonight. I'm getting hard just watching her, and normally I can exhibit a little more control over myself in public. But not with Hudson, not now, not when she's out there tempting every man in the building, and so obviously showing off for me. No one's ever done that before. No woman I've ever dated has ever been innocent enough to stand in a crowd of others and think that no one is watching her but me, to so brazenly exhibit herself as if to say 'I'm yours to do with as you please'. It's reckless and dangerous and makes me want to throw her to the ground and fuck her through the dance floor.
"Now, if Lex Luthor had ever bothered watching me like that, I certainly wouldn't be wasting my time dancing."
Repressing the sigh that immediately springs to my lips, I turn to regard Celia Dawson, uptown socialite and ex-fuck buddy. "Hello, Celia."
"Lex," she purrs, fake eyelashes fluttering closed for a moment. "I was beginning to think we'd lost you to the Children of the Corn."
Cute. I shrug, my gaze returning to the dance floor. "I grew tired of the Metropolis nightlife."
"So I hear. You traded it in for cornfields and cows."
Celia takes the seat next to me, uninvited. Pulling a cigarette out of her purse, she hesitates a moment, apparently waiting for me to light it for her, before finally fishing out her lighter and doing it herself. Taking a long, slow drag, she brushes a strand of blonde hair from her face and leans closer.
"Rumor has it you're interests have turned to farmgirls." Laughing, she nods toward the dance floor. "And, seeing as how no one here recognizes your leggy companion, I'd be willing to bet she's more comfortable in jeans and cowboy boots than she is silk and leather."
Expression carefully blank, I finish my drink and set it on the bar. "Shouldn't you be busy trying to sucker some loser into a quick fuck and some expensive blow?"
She frowns, pulling away, the heavy scent of her perfume and cigarette lingering. "Well, one thing is certain, the sticks haven't done anything to improve that surly attitude of yours. Tell me, does your innocent little companion know that deep down inside you're an arrogant ass? Or are you still blinding her to your true self with flashy gifts and charm?"
It's one thing to share snappy banter with an ex-whatever. It's quite another when they decide to hit so close to home. That's one of my biggest fears – that Hudson might really look one day and see the ugly person that I am, hidden beneath the clothes and the smiles and things I try to do for her. I'm afraid she'll discover I'm not the Prince Charming she envisions, that I have a past far different from her own.
"Celia, is there a point to this little chat?" I ask, my voice bland, bored.
Shrugging, she flicks the ashes of her cigarette into the tray on the bar. "People are curious, Lex. This is the first we've seen of you – other than when your name was all over the society columns due to that two day marriage of yours. Whatever happened with that?"
"I'd say it's none of your business, Celia, but you have trouble grasping such a simple concept."
"I'm simply looking out for you, Lex," Celia replies, touching the sleeve of my jacket. Her eyes regard me imploringly. "Myself – the entire group, we all miss you."
"What group?"
I turn from Celia to see Hudson standing in front of us, dots of perspiration on her chest and face, eyes bright, hair mussed. Her color is a little flushed and her gaze narrows the longer she looks at Celia. I watch as her eyes drop to my arm where Celia is touching me, and I realize that Hudson is jealous. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes.
"Our group of friends, darling," Celia replies, flashing a false smile at Hudson. "The group of friends Lex abandoned when he sequestered himself out in Cowville."
"Smallville," Hudson corrects, watching Celia almost curiously. I wonder at her expression.
"Whatever," Celia flippantly remarks before turning back to me, ignoring Hudson. "As I was saying, Lex, love – "
"You're in my seat."
I quickly grab my refilled drink, taking a sip to stifle the laughter at Hudson's interruption. Celia swings around to gaze at her in surprise.
"Excuse me?"
"I said you're in my seat," Hudson tells her sweetly. "I didn't punch your lights out for touching my boyfriend, but don't push me."
"Boyfriend?" Celia repeats and looks at me, laughter bubbling out. "Oh, how very cute!"
"Look, lady – "
"Angel, why don't we have a dance?"
Getting to my feet, I take her hand and lead her away from Celia toward the dance floor. Hudson tugs on my hand all of the way there. Once hidden within the crowd, I turn to her, pulling her tight against me as we begin moving to the music.
"You slept with that woman, didn't you?" Hudson asks, glaring at me beneath the blue lights.
I smirk. "I wouldn't say I've slept with her, no."
"Sex, then. You had sex with her!"
"I've had sex with a lot of women, Hudson Kent. And when you come to Metropolis, it's likely that you'll run into one."
She purses her lips. "I don't like it. I don't like knowing they've touched you. I don't – "She cuts herself off and focuses her gaze on my shoulder.
No woman I've ever dated has ever displayed such an overt reaction to the attention I've received from other women. The jealousy, the blatant threat to Celia, the upset now. I used to think such cloying repugnant, but now I'm finding that I want it from Hudson, I crave it. She's as possessive of me as I am her. I don't want other men to even look at her, let alone talk to her, touch her. And while I have the satisfaction of knowing I'm the only man she's ever been with, she can't say the same about me.
"It's okay," I tell her, pulling her closer, one hand drifting down to cup her ass. I lick the shell of her ear before whispering, "She's not touching me now. You are."
Hudson makes a sound much like a whimper, and then her hips are grinding against me, my cock aching for closer contact. This is why dancing in public is a bad thing – there are many other things I'd rather be doing to her at this moment than dancing with her. But Hudson seems to enjoy the music, and she isn't stopping, her body swaying alternately against and away from mine, hands moving over my shoulders and chest, head dipping back, back arching, gorgeous neck vulnerably exposed. I follow it down, nipping at the hollow as her hands cover the back of my head, rubbing the extra-sensitive skin.
"Fuck, Hudson," I breathe against her throat, pulling her back up.
I'm not certain how much time passes. We move to the music together, stopping occasionally for a drink, lost in the smoke-clouded crowd, barely noticing the existence of others. Hudson teases me with her body and hands, and I give as good as I'm getting until it becomes a game to us. The alcohol and the music and the atmosphere seem to relax her, giving her more of the teenager aura, and less of the 'weight of the world on her shoulders' adult role that she apparently enjoys adopting. I wonder what my life would be like if Hudson were older, if we'd met a few years earlier. Where would we be today? Would we own the world together?
The music all sounds the same to me now. We're plastered together, barely moving to the beat, her hair damp against my cheek. The scent wafting off of her skin is intoxicating – sweet, fruity, musky, like she smells after sex. The smoke of cigarettes and marijuana, the tangy scent of alcohol, seem to repel away from her. It makes me want to lick her everywhere, cover my body in her skin.
"Nice."
I open my eyes to see a dark-haired man hovering behind Hudson, gaze roaming over her, roaming over me. As our eyes meet, I notice an invitation in his that I haven't seen in years. And there is no way in hell I'm exposing Hudson to it. I know myself well enough to realize I wouldn't handle anyone else touching her, especially in front of me, no matter how hot it might be. I flash him a frown and return my attention to her the shoulder just below my chin.
"What's going on?" I hear Hudson mumble lazily into my neck.
"Unwanted attention. Nothing to worry about."
"Oh."
We drift into companionable silence once more when I suddenly feel hands that aren't Hudson's move over my waist. My eyes shoot open to see the uninvited man back again, this time pressing himself against Hudson's back and touching me.
I lift my head and glare. "I suggest you find your party elsewhere."
He smiles. "You can't seriously mean to keep this hotness between the two of you? I've been watching you both, all over the dance floor. Everyone has. Don't think you can offer such an exhibition and not deliver on its promise."
"Fuck you," I reply neatly. "Back away. Now."
"Be cool, man," he retorts, removing his hands from my waist as one drifts over Hudson's ass.
Before I can react, she whirls around and slams her hand against his chest, pushing him away. I watch in stunned amazement as he flies back through the crowd, slamming into a table just off of the dance floor and sliding to the floor, dazed. Touching Hudson's arm, I turn her to me, about to ask how the hell she did that when someone grabs my shoulder.
"Hey, that was uncalled for, bitch," someone shouts at Hudson.
Staying between her and the latest trouble, I swing at the man in front of me. No one calls Hudson a bitch, least of all in front of me. My fist connects with his jaw just as Hudson calls out to me and I duck a blow coming toward me from the right. The missed attack lands on another dancer beside us, and then all hell breaks loose.
Grabbing hold of Hudson's hand, I pull her out of the crowd, hurrying toward the exit which we duck through just as a couple of the bouncers hurry inside, slamming the door shut behind them. Beside me, Hudson laughs as we break into a run down the sidewalk, the sounds of screams and breaking furniture echoing out from inside the nightclub. As I move toward the limousine, Hudson stops, pulling me to the side and deep into a dark alley beside the building. The next thing I know, I'm up against a wall, her hand cupping the front of my slacks, stroking my erection through the material, tongues locked in fierce combat with one another.
"What's this all about?" I pant against her mouth, nipping at her lower lip.
"I've been wanting to do this since I saw that skank with her hands all over you."
"She only had one hand on me, Hudson."
Her tongue grazes over my teeth and she pulls back, looking up at me with a teasing smirk. "Ever had sex in an alley?"
"Many times," I reply.
Smile fading from her face, Hudson begins to pull away.
I pull her back, spinning us around so that her back is pressed against the wall, my knee pressing between her legs, parting her thighs. "But never with you," I whisper into her ear, hand slipping up the skirt of her dress to push her panties aside. "And that's all that matters."
Whimpering softly, Hudson's hands work at the zipper of my slacks, freeing my cock from the slit in my briefs and soon I'm buried deep within her, wet heat surrounding me. Grabbing the back of her leg behind her knee, I hitch it up over my hip and thrust against her, pressing her hard into the wall of Atlantis. She gasps, leg clutching around my ass, pulling me in deeper. I cover her mouth with mine as I continue to thrust into her, hard, fast, needy. Hudson utters soft little cries into my mouth where they extinguish at the back of my throat and I speed up my assault, aching so badly for release.
Pulling away from her mouth, I bite at her neck none too gently before nudging the sleeve of her dress off her shoulder, exposing a pert, dark nipple. Bending my head, I catch it between my teeth, tugging slightly before suckling, drawing on it like a starving man. I barely hear the thump of Hudson's head against the wall behind her, fingers digging hard into my shoulder. I flinch slightly before shifting the angle of my hips and rocking into her deeper, faster.
"Oh god!" Hudson gasps. "Lex, please... "
I can't deny the excitement of taking her like this, the thrill of being discovered, the stained beauty of fucking my Angel up against a wall in a dirty alleyway, fully dressed. Just this once, I can take her out of that ivory tower and pretend she's just like the rest of us. Lifting my head, I reach up to curl my fingers into her hair, pulling her head back and to the side, staring down into her open gaze. She's the most glorious individual that I've ever met. Sometimes, I don't even believe she's human.
"Does this feel good?" I whisper, kissing her temple and cheek, trailing my tongue over her lips. "Are you feeling it, Angel?"
"Yes," she pants, eyes drifting closed as I feel her begin to shudder against me.
The feeling goes straight to my groin, balls tightening, burning. "Open your eyes, Hudson."
She does so; she looks straight at me as our release sweeps over us both.
And for only a moment, there's honesty between us.
"I don't know where you put it all."
Hudson glances at me over the top of what's left of her double bacon cheeseburger with a sheepish grin. "I have a high metabolism."
"Apparently." I reach out with my napkin to dab at a bit of mustard on the corner of her mouth. "Too bad there's no way to bottle and sell it."
She gives me a strange look before hurriedly dropping her gaze and returning to her food. I wonder at it a moment as I take a quick bite of my cheeseburger, curious as to why a joke about her metabolism would set her on edge.
After sex in the alley behind Atlantis, we'd both worked up enough of an appetite to stop by Town Topic for burgers. The booths were all taken so we grabbed the last two seats up at the counter, enjoying the witty banter of the cook and waitress while the twelve-inch black and white television behind them drones on with the late night news. It's hard to sit here together, watching Hudson devour her burger and shake, and not remember the first time I brought her to the tiny diner. It seems like a million years ago that I took her to see 'Phantom of the Opera', a million years since I doubted we would ever be anything more than friends. Yet here we are, casting knowing looks at one another, sneaking the occasional touch, knees brushing against one another. I find myself thinking of the past and realize that, at the moment, nothing matters more than the two of us sitting here together now.
"Thank you," I tell her softly, my hand drifting down to settle against her thigh.
Hudson blinks at me, licking a bit of ketchup from her upper lip. "For what?" She places what's left of her burger on the cheap china plate in front of her, and lays a hand over mine.
Her gaze is too intent. I don't want to have to explain myself. Instead of replying, I lean in to kiss her, just a simple kiss, a barely-brush of our lips against one another. I catch the faintest flavor of mustard and ketchup on her mouth. When I pull back, she's smiling and I'm certain she understands. I would have never shared a day like this with anyone if Hudson had not come into my life. A weekend like this. There have only ever been three other people in my life who've known about my affinity for greasy burgers – two of them are dead now, and I've never cherished the idea of spending an evening on the town with Dodd. For all of our, at times, insurmountable problems, Hudson still has the ability to give me hope. Rare glimpses of a life not engulfed with ridicule and pain, where love is simply given and not asked for in return. I want to give her the same, I can only hope that what I have to offer is on par with what she deserves.
"You're a hopeless romantic, you know that?" She whispers as I pull away.
"Shhhh." I place my finger to my lips and give her a slight smile.
Shaking her head, hair falling over her shoulders, Hudson gives me the customary roll of her eyes before picking up a couple of fries. She never eats them just one at a time – usually half a dozen, all crammed together, smearing her fingers in grease – and then she's shoving them into her mouth, shiny bits of salt clinging to her lips. I reach out and brush them clean with the pad of my thumb before slipping the tip into my mouth and sucking the salt away. Hudson's eyes widen a little.
"Lex Luthor. I think that's the most salt I've ever seen you ingest."
"It's not my fault you have the diet of a future heart disease patient," I quip.
Hudson mumbles something about knowing good food when she smells it, then picks up her chocolate shake and sips about half of it through the straw with one breath. I raise an eyebrow, saying nothing. I keep waiting for her to let out a loud belch and wipe the sleeve of her dress across her mouth. Her dad did that once when I was over for dinner. Hudson laughed, and Martha turned twenty shades of red, and Jonathan simply shrugged. I knew he was likely doing it just to annoy me, or mark his territory in some strange fashion. It was like he was saying, 'This is my house and I'll do what I goddamn well please, Luthor or no Luthor.' I found it more amusing than anything, wondering what it was like to grow up with a dad who didn't mind being himself around his family, and probably gave Hudson a special lesson on how to belch her loudest when she was younger. I just hope it was worth his spending the night on the couch, because Martha looked seriously pissed off at the behavior.
"This has been nice."
I glance over at her with the comment, brow furrowing slightly. "What? The food?"
"No." Her face reddens and she flashes me a quick smile. "This whole weekend. Thank you, Lex, for convincing me to come with you. It's helped. I mean, I still think of Rianne when we get quiet or I see something I know she would like. But mostly, I don't feel so sad. And when I start to... well, you're here."
It's strange to think that I'm responsible for making someone feel better, feel happy. That's certainly not something that I'm used to hearing and I find myself waiting for the other shoe to drop. That moment will come when Hudson realizes I'm not the knight in shining armor that she's come to believe I am. Valor and heroism aren't associated with the Luthor name, and whatever armor I might be wearing is extremely tarnished. Growing silent, I return to my meal while Hudson scarfs down the rest of hers.
As I sit back to finish my cup of coffee, Hudson starts up a conversation with the waitress, Annie. She's maybe thirty-five, at best, but the lines around her eyes and the gray in her hair would cause a less observant person to judge her to be ten years older. It's evident in her slow, weary smile that she hasn't experienced an easy life, and while she gazes at Hudson with envy, there's a strange hint of joy as well. It's as if she recognizes that the animated girl in front of her has an entire lifetime ahead of her, and Annie wants her to live it to her fullest, to experience things she could only dream of. If this were Smallville, I wouldn't mind taking the time to get to know Annie better.
"It's getting late, Angel," I tell Hudson softly as I reach into my pocket to pay the check.
Hudson glances at the old analog clock on the wall with my words. "Oh! It is. I'm all hopped up on adrenaline and good food."
Grinning, I hand over my credit card to pay for the meager check, and as Annie walks away, I surreptitiously slide a hundred dollar bill under my plate. Hopefully she won't notice until we're gone. After all, I don't want to offend her.
"I saw that," Hudson whispers into my ear, breasts pressing into my arm as she leans against me.
"Shhhh." I put my finger to her lips and smile slightly. "You're seeing things, Hudson Kent."
She flashes one of her megawatt smiles and kisses my finger. "Of course I am."
Shaking my head, I take my card from Annie and sign the receipt, and Hudson waves her goodbyes as we move away from the counter to the exit. Pushing the door open, I wait as Hudson digs into her purse for a quarter and slips it into the slot of a bubble gum machine, fishing out an enormous red gumball. She bites into it and holds the second half out to me, while chewing away at the first.
"Want some?"
I raise an eyebrow at the offer and smirk. "I'd rather not."
"You don't know what you're missing," she replies, happily popping the second half into her mouth to join the first.
I watch her work hard at mashing the hard ball into some semblance of gum before I wave a hand out the door. "Are we leaving? Or do you plan on standing here all night massacring gumballs? You know, they haven't done anything to you."
She sticks her red-coated tongue out at me. "You're not cute."
"You keep telling me that." The door swings closed behind us and I follow her out. "And yet you keep coming back."
"Yeah, well... the sex is good."
"Hudson Kent. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" I grin, enjoying the sway of her hips in front of me as she heads for the limousine.
"Nope. It's reserved solely for you."
"I guess that makes me lucky."
"You have no idea."
Hudson glances over her shoulder at me, eyes dancing with amusement. I just want her to get in the damn car so I can have my way with her again. Sex in the alley, sex in the back of the limo. It'll be a night of firsts for her. She stops near the rear tire, bending over in front of me, and a hundred innuendos, remarks and hand gestures all fly through my mind at once.
"Oh! A penny!"
I open my mouth to reply that I can give her a billion pennies when a loud popping sound rings out across the parking lot, and a burning, searing pain rips through my shoulder.
"Lex!" Hudson screams.
Everything seems to be moving in slow motion.
"Fuck!" I cry out as I stumble back, my fall stopped by Ross.
Another shot is fired.
"Get in the limo!" My driver barks, shoving me forward, ignoring the fact that I'm bleeding all over my new Hugo Boss leather coat.
I hit the seat a little hard and roll to the floor, cursing again as excruciating pain echoes from my shoulder through my body. Another shot, this time from close by, most likely Ross' gun. I peer over my shoulder, looking for Hudson, realizing that she's not in the car with me.
"Hudson!" I call out, struggling to sit up – fighting against panic – to get back to the door where Ross' body is hovering, crouched, just low enough not to be seen over the roof of the car.
"Ross!" I shout. "Where's Hudson?"
Images of her lying on the asphalt, blood streaming from her body, flash before my eyes. And just what would I say to her parents? How would they ever forgive me if I let something happen to her? How would I ever forgive myself? I shouldn't have brought her to Metropolis, shouldn't have taken her to the club, had sex with her in the alley. Hell. I shouldn't have started dating her, truth be told. We never should have even been friends.
But I couldn't let her go.
I can't let her go.
Giving way to the panic filling me, I push against Ross, trying to get out of the car.
"Mr. Luthor, stay down!"
"Dammit, Ross! Where's Hudson? Where is she?"
He cranes around, searching, gun clenched in his hand. A frown forms. "She ran off –"
"What?" I stare up at him, dumbstruck.
Ross peers over the roof of the limousine once more as I sit in shocked silence, bleeding all over the car, holding my shoulder, wondering where the hell Smallville's town heroine thought she was going. What she thought she could do. It's one thing to stop an invisible teen from pummeling me in the mansion, or stop her own father from putting a bullet in my brain. But this is Metropolis and Hudson doesn't know the city, she doesn't know the dangers. She's relatively innocent to the cruelties humankind can create – at least as innocent as I've kept her, for all of my influence and apparent desperation to turn her into someone like me. Someone like Celia.
God, why didn't I leave her on her farm?
Slipping the gun back into his jacket, Ross glances around as sirens are heard by us in the distance.
"I need to get you to the hospital."
"No. Hudson – "I shake my head. "If she's out there, I can't take the chance of her being involved in an investigation."
I lean back against the seat and force myself to breathe, to think, to block out the pain. "Take me back to the penthouse. Call Toby. Have him meet us there."
The door slams shut and within seconds, the limousine hums to life and pulls out of the parking lot. Closing my eyes, I continue to breathe, refuse to think that Hudson may be hurt, may need me, may be in terrible danger. And I refuse to think of what caused her to run off like that in the first place.
The pain in my shoulder seems insignificant at the moment; I've suffered through worse. The torture during the two kidnappings when I was young, the accidental drug overdose, too many car accidents at ridiculous speeds, knife wounds, head wounds... Christ. It's a miracle I'm alive.
A miracle named Hudson Kent.
"Ow! Fuck, that hurt!"
"Well, if you haven't noticed, you've been shot," Toby drawls at me, completely unperturbed by the angry glare I've been flashing at him for the past forty-five minutes. "If you'd take one of the pills I offered you – "
"No," I state flatly, taking another swig of the scotch from the bottle in my hand. "The pain's dulling anyway."
At least from what it was. Toby was pleased to inform me the bullet had gone straight through, which meant he didn't have to dig it out. But that didn't make the subsequent cleaning and stitching any better. The hole is near the top of my shoulder, just to the right of my collar bone. A little to the left and it would have went right into my neck. A little down and it would have lodged in my chest. I guess I could call this one of my lucky nights.
"Don't see why you won't take the pills," Toby nags, just like somebody's mother. "That night – Club Zero – you were more than happy to take anything I offered you."
"That was different."
I just wanted to forget the events of that night. I wanted to block it from my mind and remain in a drug-induced haze for as long as I could. Not tonight. Tonight I need to be lucid, I need to be ready. If the cops get involved, if there were any witnesses, if anything should happen that I need to cover up, I need my head to be clear. My gaze strays once more toward the clock. It's going on three. She's been missing for over an hour.
Fuck.
Ross drove back to look for her, said the police were combing the area, but there was no sign of Hudson. I don't know where she is, but I'm beginning to piece together what happened.
Looking back up at the television that is now on mute, I frown at the news anchor who is currently discussing sports highlights from the day. The victory of the Sharks over the Bills, the recovery of the team's star quarterback from a concussion suffered on the field. The remote sits beside me, and at any moment I wish, I can hit the recorder and go back to the top story of the evening. Right now, it's the last thing I want to think about.
My phone beeps, the doorman's voice booming too loudly over the 2-way radio. "Mr. Luthor. She's here."
I close my eyes in relief. "Let her in."
Finishing off the scotch, I set the bottle heavily on the end table and get to my feet, ignoring Toby's protests as the room sways slightly. I wait it out, gaining my bearings in time to hear the door open quietly at the top of the landing. Looking up, I see Hudson slink her way inside, manner and appearance very much that of a cat burglar, like she isn't supposed to be here, or doesn't want to be caught.
I'm betting on the latter.
"Well, well, well. Look who decided to let me know that she was alive and well," I snarl, knowing that I'm drunk and wishing I could be much more so.
She jumps, as if not expecting me, eyes wide in the low light. Hurrying down the steps, she crosses over to me. "Lex, you should be at the hospital."
"I have Toby," I announce grandly, sweeping my good arm toward him. "Toby, this is Hudson. She didn't get shot."
Hudson winces beside me before nodding at the doctor who looks more like some bum I dragged in off of the street. I really don't feel like giving her an explanation. Not when I'm the one that she should be explaining to.
"Where the hell were you?" I demand, my words only slightly slurred. "One minute, I had a bullet going through me, bleeding all over my goddamned Hugo Boss, and the next thing I know, you're no where in sight! Do you have a fucking explanation for this one, Hudson? Because I would sure as hell like to hear it."
She blinks, as if she's never heard me cuss before or something. "Lex, you're drunk – "
"For Christ's sake, Hudson! I've been shot!" I point out incredulously. "I plan on getting so drunk that I pass the fuck out and can wake up forgetting this night ever happened."
Jaw setting, she nods once, as if arguing something in her mind. "I'm not going to talk to you when you're like this. You need to see a doctor and – "
"Don't." I grab her by the arm and pull her close. "Don't do it, Hudson. Don't write this off like nothing happened – "
"I wasn't – "
"Tell me where the hell you went."
"I... "Her gaze drifts over my shoulder to Toby, as if she doesn't want to speak in front of him. I grip her arm harder until her attention returns to me. "When the gun shot went off, I wanted to see who was shooting at you. So I... I followed him."
It's even more preposterous than I expected. I'd been expecting something like she got scared and ran for cover or something. She got lost on the way to the penthouse. I stare at her as if she's lost her mind, or maybe I've lost mine. Stepping back, I reach for the bottle, realize it's empty and simply turn back to her.
I can't help but ask blandly, "Did you catch him?"
There's a flash of something in her eyes, almost an affirmative before she shakes her head. "Uh... no. He got away."
"Did you get a good look at him?"
She drops her gaze and worries her lower lip, and everything I've guessed must be true.
"It was Tony DiRiso, wasn't it?"
"How did you know?" Her gaze shoots up to mine, eyes searching.
I shrug. "Call it a gut instinct." I take a step toward her. "What did you do, Hudson?"
"I – " Hudson cuts herself off, glances over my shoulder again at Toby, like maybe he'll get her out of this. I move my head, catch her gaze, glare at her. A few tears spill over onto her cheeks with her confession, "I ran into that woman in the restroom last night. She said her name was Franky... " Her voice trails off as she looks away again, almost as if in shame.
"Hudson... ?" I wait.
"I – I gave her all of the money that I had," she admits in a rush. "I told her to use it to get out of town. I helped her get out of the building without being seen. I... " A deep breath. "I gave her my name. I told her to come to Smallville if she needed, that my family could help her – "
"Mother of fuck!" I look for something to break, but there's nothing in reach. I round on Hudson. "Do you have any idea what you have done -- ?!"
"I was just trying to help!" She defends, the color of defiance glowing on her cheeks.
"Help? Is this helping, Hudson?"
Whirling around unsteadily, I snatch up the remote and hit the play button.
"In tonight's top story, the body of a woman was found in the Missouri River today by a couple of dock workers. Authorities identified the woman as Francesca Cimino, a twenty-seven year old exotic dancer – "
I press pause on the player and turn back to Hudson, her complexion pale as she stares wide-eyed at the frozen image on the screen – a high school picture of 'Franky'. I twist the knife deeper.
"Did you help that woman, Hudson? Did you help me tonight by pissing Tony off? And what the hell do you think happens if he got your family's name and location out of Francesca before he murdered her?"
"I... I... "She stumbles over her words as if she is actually choking on them, before she finally breaks down into tears. "I thought I was helping – I didn't know!"
"I warned you, dammit!"
Hudson cries like she does everything else – be it laughter or anger – she just let's loose, loudly, unattractively. It's one of the reasons I'm drawn to her, I think. I always know where I stand. She can't seem to lie when it comes to her emotions, what she's feeling.
It's one of the only things she doesn't lie about.
But I hate it when women cry, especially since so many use it as a combat technique against men. Just when they think they're losing the battle, the waterworks begin and all is forgotten. I've seen intelligent men give up entire empires to women who cry quite beautifully and effectively. And then, when a shiny new diamond is placed on the woman's hand or hanging on a thin gold chain from her neck, she dabs at her eyes, reapplies her makeup and goes shopping.
And people say I'm a bad person.
Hudson's tears are something else, though. She doesn't do it often, and when she does, I know they're real. I can feel them deep inside of me. They always hurt, they rip me apart inside, and maybe that's why I hate them most of all. I can't stand knowing that she's in pain. Especially when I'm partially at fault. Unable to just stand there, I reach out and pull her into my arms, letting her cry against me.
"Shhhh," I whisper against her temple, my hand stroking her hair. "Don't cry, Angel. You didn't know. You couldn't know what would happen."
She clings to me, and cries, and I'm torn between shame for yelling at her, and shame for feeling contrite when she so obviously deserves my anger. Hudson should have listened; we both know it. She shouldn't have interfered, but she'll never understand that.
And I never should have invited her into my world.
"I don't understand," she whispers into my torn and bloodied shirt. "Why do people do such things to one another? And why does no one ever to tell them to stop? Why doesn't someone stop them?"
"You can't save the world, Angel," I reply, kissing the top of her head. "You have to look out for yourself and those you love."
"But what about those who can't look out for themselves?" She lifts her head, eyes bright with tears, cheeks stained. "We have to do something, Lex. I need to go to the police and tell them about her fight with Tony."
She's so fucking naïve.
I brush her tears away and hold her face between my hands. "And what will that do, Hudson? Do you know how futile such an act would be? You have no proof. And a good number of the Metropolis police work for the Pagliuca family." Shaking my head, I tell her, "In the grand scheme of things, this entire case will be swept under the carpet and forgotten. Francesca likely had no family, or if she did, they won't care what happened to her. To the police, to the public at large, she was nobody."
"What makes it so a person doesn't count?" She demands, anger replacing her sorrow. "What is it, Lex? What specific thing makes someone lesser than you or me?"
"I never said anything did, Angel," I reply calmly, fighting the overwhelming urge to pick up the table and throw it at something. "I'm trying to explain why the police won't do anything, why you can't expect them to. Why it's important in the real world to look out for yourself."
Hudson grows silent, staring at me for a long moment before turning away. I reach out to her, touch her shoulder, wish that I could explain how much she and her family mean to me. I couldn't stand the thought of any of them being hurt, and by getting mixed up in this entire mess, she's put all of us in danger. I'm going to have to take care of it, obviously. Call in a few favors that my father might have hanging over the Pagliuca's. He might even have something on DiRiso. It'll likely be expensive, but the plant is making enough that I should be able to take care of it.
It's the only thing I can do.
The one thing that surprises me is that Tony didn't harm Hudson. If she went after him, if she got close enough to see him, certainly he had to have seen her as well. Why didn't he try to take a shot at her again? I'm almost positive the shot that got me had originally been aimed at her, but Hudson ducked. So why did he just let her go?
"Hudson, how did you get away from Tony? Why didn't he try shooting you again?"
She turns and looks at me, and it's there again. The telltale sign of her lies. "I... I guess I frightened him off, or something."
Tony DiRiso doesn't get frightened. Especially by a young woman.
I have the most absurd desire to laugh. Maybe it's the alcohol. Maybe it's adrenaline. Maybe it's simply the force of the realization that the girl in front of me – the one that I love, the one I was planning on telling how much I love her – knows damn well that she didn't frighten a man with a gun off, and she isn't saying a goddamn thing. She's just standing there, looking innocent, looking scared and angry, crystal teardrops on her cheeks, and not saying a fucking word.
And it's the first time I've ever hated her. It's the first time I've ever wanted to throw something at her, to wrap my hands around her pretty neck and choke the truth from her.
Instead, I do nothing. At the forefront of every emotion is my love for her, my desperate need to hope that she's making this decision to lie to me for some grand reason. I want to believe she's doing it because she loves me, and she doesn't want to hurt me with knowledge that she feels might do so. I hope that she's doing it to protect me, to protect us. Silently, I give her the benefit of the doubt because there is little else I can do.
I don't know when it began to happen. But it's all falling apart.
