Lana Lang rose silently from her bed. Her head was still swimming from the previous day's… activities. There was something about Lex that always had that effect on her. He stayed with her, his presence, long after they would part. His smell- of fine scotch and musk and mahogany. She always had that feeling that she was being followed, or watched after she stumbled her way back into reality. It was never intruding, or offensive. She just felt like someone knew what she was up to. It was almost protective to her, almost romantic. Sometimes, when she felt that feeling creeping slowly into her, she'd start doing things she wouldn't usually do. Sexy things. She'd spend a whole day in her dorm in the skimpiest underwear she could find, doing all sorts of different things that suddenly seemed so much sexier when she had barely anything on: Cleaning, leaning over to watch popcorn pop in her microwave. Some days, she'd "forget" to bring a towel with her to the showers, so she'd just slip a t-shirt over her soaked body and make a mad dash for her room. Other days, she'd carry the shirt with her. The dorm was all-girls, so she never felt too exposed. Though, the looks she got from a girl down the hall made her feel dirty and wrong, and, sometimes, if she still had that smell stuck somewhere in her nose -his smell- she'd feel a little naughty, and give the girl with the wandering eye a sexy little wink. She was never brave enough to see her reaction. Lex Luthor opened up a whole new part of Lana that she never quite knew she had before. She liked to think of it as Lana Lang, the adult. Sure, she had sex for the first time with Clark, and she and Whitney had come a little short of doing the "deed" before he left for overseas. Truth be told, he came a little short, or, rather, a little soon. But with Lex, things were different. Lex wasn't her boyfriend off to parts unknown over-seas, or the boy she'd been torn in existential angst over for years on end. The boy with the puppy dog eyes and shaggy mane to match.
That's how she thought of Clark now, as a lost puppy who didn't know where he was or what he wanted. Lana Lang had learned very quickly that she had taken that big step into adulthood, that she had that moment-she could still remember it- where she realized she was an adult now much sooner than Clark had. Lana found herself trying desperately too keep, from both Clark and herself, the growing feelings that she was his elder, that soon she'd have to start "matronizing" him, have to start being the adult in the relationship, the responsible one with a clear view of the real world and real life and real context that wasn't obstructed by cloud shapes and daydreams of big adventures and new conquests. More and more, she desperately tried to cling to those childhood feelings of puppy-love, ironically enough. She kept trying to hold on to that fantasy of the squad captain and star quarterback walking hand-in-hand down their high school hallways. Her innocence, her childhood, everything that her relationship with Clark had been: naive, innocent, cuddle-love was slipping through her hands like grains of sand.
Then she felt the sharp sting of reality slap her square on the mouth. While Lana had been desperately trying to hold on to her innocence post-high school, Clark was quickly ridding himself of his. For him, this was just a new adventure, a new setting for the same old story. He wasn't leaving anything behind or losing anything by growing up and moving out- he was gaining everything. Freedom of choice, Freedom to live as he wanted- just plain Freedom. As Lana grasped desperately at her childhood to try and keep her childhood sweetheart, Clark was ridding himself of both. Looking back ,she could see the signs so clearly.
The way he made passionate, if sloppy, love to her that one magical night then never touched her again. How he avoided intimacy altogether. It was as if being with her, even in this most adult of natures, was like staying with the last remnant of his now-over childhood, in his mind. Clark was so unprepared for life that, when he finally met it face-to-face, he didn't know what to do with it, so he ran for it at full-speed ahead. Lana couldn't help but wonder how many girls Clark had slept with before she caught him wit the blonde in his barn. 5? 10, even? If he wasn't sleeping with her, he had to be in a bed somewhere-in someone else's bed. He was far too inexperienced, still too naïve she though- rather, almost knew- to go to himself for a release of that pent-up tension. And why should he? He had a girlfriend who was perfectly willing and ready on more than one occasion to make love to him, hell, even to just down-right, flat-out fuck him in a few cases. It just didn't make sense until she saw that other girl. And then, it made all too much sense. She had let the beast out of its cage. After years of being pent up and held back, Clark Kent got what he always wanted, and then wanted more, wanted different, wanted better. He couldn't control himself, she surmised, and so he let loose.
She ran straight into Lex's arms. In Lex, Lana could meet face-to-face with another adult, who knew the rules of the game and how best to play. He could be the teacher now, and her the student. She'd never have to feel like Lex was a burden to her, and she was sure she was a burden Lex was more than willing to take on. Even when she was with Clark, back in High School, she could see the way he looked at her. She could feel his eyes on her, even when he wasn't there. She would almost-hope, even then, that he watched her as she would bathe, or swim, or sleep wearing just the covers when the summer heat overcame the AC in her room. She would feel dirty and wrong and naughty when she did these things- these things that had been perfectly ok before. But, over time, she became more daring, more adventurous. She got a little thrill out of meeting here yes with his when she could tell he had certain parts of her on his mind. She was secretly daring herself to go that step further, but not too far. Clark was safe then. But Lex, he was dangerous. If Clark felt like home to Lana, Lex felt like a tropical vacation.
And every day by his side had been a vacation. In the privacy of his presence, Lana had gave the part of her that always had felt dirty and wrong and so very intrigued when she thought of things, or didn't wear others, have it's proper hearing ,it's proper exposure. She made habits of keeping little things with her, and not remembering to wear or bring others along. He had been supportive the entire time. And why not? Lana was sure she was putting on quite a show. She couldn't remember how many times after the break up with Clark Lex would hold her as she cried, or place his hand on her shoulder and squeeze it gently. When he didn't feel that familiar strap underneath her shirt, she'd reply, trying to be nonchalant, "I'm not wearing anything strapless." She could always count on his keen intellect to add two and two together. After a while that was shorter than she would have first thought, she let him make a habit out of seeing what else she wasn't wearing.
It was intoxicating, this new-found level of freedom and release. Free of Clark, she could finally let go of her own childish ways and begin to play catch-up on what she had been missing: for starters a man who knew what "foreplay" meant. After a few "accidents" on her part, Lex had begun to acclimate himself to seeing her wear next to nothing, or much much closer to it, as she sat in his leather office chair. She would get a very real thrill out of seeing the video file she'd e-mailed him on his desktop, and on his iTunes Library. She wondered how many people had caught Lex watching he on his iPod. Though, she was sure, the number was very few if any. Still, the idea was so intoxicatingly erotic. That phrase seemed to describe everything that was Lex Luthor in her mind: Intoxicatingly erotic.
There was a safety and an exhilaration about keeping all of this from the outside world. To the outside world, she was still Lana Lang, still the little girl on the cover of all those magazines who cried over her parents at night and wore little fairy dresses and had tea parties. But when it was just Lex and Lana, or just Lana and the few lucky strangers to catch her between bathroom and dorm, or through her window, she was a much bigger girl now, with much bigger aims and wants and desires, and needs. The only costume she wore with was a French maid outfit once, and that didn't last long.
But then there were other times with Lex: times when he scared her with how adult he was. Times when she wondered if she was just like Clark, trying to put on a charade of adulthood, still hiding behind the walls of her naivety. She would overhear him talking with his researchers about the ship, or with his teams looking for Fine. Times when she would lie naked in his bed while he stayed up with his computer screen, researching continuously while talking to everyone: doing everything and anything but her. There would be moments when she feared that Lex would cheat on her, just like Clark did, but with Fine and the ship and the two women she knew she didn't stand a chance against: Mystery and Knowledge. She would see Lex so consumed by his work that even his love for her sizzled and burned on the back-burner.
But then he would come in, and would kiss her in that way that said everything: that the whole time he was thinking of her. That al of this was so that they, together, could discover the truth for themselves and themselves alone. He was doing it all for her, he would say without words. And, sometimes minutes and other times seconds later, when his eyes met hers and their lips crashed against each other and he into her, all of those fears and doubts and second-thoughts would be washed away by the way their hips moved in unison in undulating waves.
Yesterday, though, had been different. Somewhere in the chaos, Lana found clarity. She woke up to the end of the world as she very well knew it, and all she could think about was Lex? People were dying, suffering, hurt. And yet, here she was, with all the capabilities in the world at her disposal, and what was she using them for? A long, hot, hot, sweaty shower with Lex Luthor that left her feeling less clean than when she started. Somewhere inside of her, closer to her than where Lex had been so many times in the past few days, both in body and in soul, Lana couldn't help but feel guilty, and wrong, and horrible, not naughty or bad or dirty. This new Lex was so full of power and influence, and just so full of everything it had amazed her at first, but now it scared her. It scared her very much.
She thought of running into Clark's arms, of running home. The home she had razed to the ground in what seemed like a lifetime ago. He had tried to come back to her, to save her, but she didn't let him. She needed him now, more than ever. She knew he'd find a way to make the horrible nightmares of hungry little children dancing in menacing little circles around towering infernos that disappeared into the sky stop. She knew that he could find a way to wash away all her thoughts of old men in tattered clothes with missing teeth that followed her like the reek of death she was too afraid to smell outside of the apartment in LuthorCorp Tower. She needed to find him, to find her sanity. She needed to see the part of her that would never have done something like this. As she slipped quietly out of the bed, and the pair of muscular arms around her that she almost couldn't say no to, she tried not to wake them. She was too afraid of the noise to take another shower, or the intended consequences. Her hair was a mess, and her eyes were still a little glazed over from the previous night's activities. Her lipstick had been smeared across her cheek, and she was too tired last night and in too much of a rush this morning to wipe it away. Quickly, she grabbed what she could- her bra had been ripped off, quite literally, yesterday. No need for that. She shimmied her way quietly into the little pearl g-string Lex had bought her at Victoria's Secret recently. It had been the most annoyingly sensual thing she'd ever felt before. Now. She realized, it would just be a hassle. The few strings of pearls that comprised the majority of the undergarment had a habit of slipping themselves in the wrong -previously, the exact right- place. Not to mention, they would become a bother to her own "pearl" as Lex had called it. Still, it was better than running around in a little jean skirt with absolutely nothing on underneath. The skirt in question was next, as Lana was glad she had decided on a pair of very low heels on her way over. Finally, after deciding that Lex's dress shirt was a better option than the shiny black strapless top he had ripped off her body along with strapless bra, she gathered her things, and, feeling almost remorseful, some of the money he had on hand in his wallet, and tiptoed quietly out the door.
She didn't catch his eyes following her on the way out, nor did she see the grin that always made her squirm.
Martha Kent woke with a start and a gasp. She was bitterly cold, surrounded by snow. There was a distinct smell of burning rubber and steel in the air as thick black smoke poured out over the white snow, melting it with sheer heat. She could hear the flames but not see them. Last she remembered, she was trying her hardest to breathe. Now, she could barely choke through the thick black clouds. As she moved onto her back, still gagging, she caught sight of a large black object to her right. She turned yet again, barely able to breathe, feeling a little light headed, and lost her breath for entirely different reasons. Before her was a large triangular shape. It looked like smooth polished stone. It was floating over the snow. Floating. She could barely believe her eyes.
"Hello, Senator." she didn't recognize the voice. It was refined, gentlemanly, even, but with so much malice behind it. It reminded her of Lex or Lionel Luthor, before he changed. "We've been waiting for you."
She was choking again, "We"
"Why yes, Martha Kent: your friend and I." With that, the familiar face of Lois Lane dropped down beside her, frozen solid with a look of sheer horror.
"Won't you please join us?" The last thing Martha saw were angled features, short cut brownish-blond hair, and menacingly blue eyes.
Somewhere, miles and miles and miles away, Clark Kent let out a silent, unseen scream as his planet, his family, his home vanished into the distance.