Title: Breaking Chloe Sullivan

Summary: Her strength is intriguing him, her fire captivating him, but can she survive his interest? Lex decides it's time to find out, what exactly will it take to break Chloe Sullivan?

Shipping: Chlark Chlex mostly Chlark

Major Characters: Chloe Clark Lex

Author's Note: I'm thinking things are really going to start going a lot faster, a lot is going to be happening, so pay attention, I hope you like it.

Reviews: Thank you, the few of you who reviewed! Please keep reading.

Previously:

Chloe

And Chloe couldn't help by smile at his playful smirk. Don't fall into this game again Chloe. But she wanted to. It would be so easy, comforting in its familiarity. She felt her body responding to his, curving into him, and she felt very familiar shivers run up her spine as he whispered her name in her ear. Don't give in Chloe. You came here for a reason. She latched onto that thought, onto the thing that had brought her back to him in the first place… The P.O. Box had been registered under a false name, but she had been expecting that. Records were kept, of when packages arrived and when they were picked up, she had simply hacked her way into those records. A delivery was made on the 16th of every month, and picked up the next day like clockwork. Tomorrow was the 16th. She was going to find out who was picking up these packages.

Clark

Clark walked into the bar with determination in his step and written all over his face. He was not leaving here without answers. He'd turn the place upside down if he had to, he had to find something out about what had happened to Chloe here… He sat there for a minute, deciding he needed to start looking into Lex a bit deeper. Then Clark left, leaving a tip and money for his unfinished beer on the bar, and it wasn't until after he started flying back to Metropolis that he realized how much he had liked it when Greg had called Chloe "his girl."

Lex

He wanted to ask her to wait, ask her to stay. Ask her anything really, if it would make her spend a few more minutes with him, here in his office. He wanted to tell her not to go looking, because there were things he couldn't let her find out, he wanted to tell her how dangerous all of this was, wanted to warn her. He wanted to tell her that he'd missed her, that he wanted her to come back to him. He went and sat back at his desk, taking a deep breath and shoving all of it into a box, because he didn't have time for this. He was on the verge of a major breakthrough with project Hercules, a project he'd been working on for almost eleven years now, and he was not going to let Chloe become a distraction.

Ch. 19 Feel and Forget

Chloe had her coffee in her hand, sipping it absentmindedly, it was her third cup so far this morning. She was sitting in the coffee shop across the street from the post office. Last night she'd looked at the times when her mystery man had picked up his packages and all of them had been either around eight in the morning or three in the afternoon. The post office opened at seven thirty but to be safe she'd gotten here at seven, she hadn't wanted her lead to see her and bolt.

Her fingers drummed the surface of the table and again she looked at her watch. She was restless and the caffeine wasn't helping the situation, her entire body vibrated with nervous energy. It was almost quarter past eight and he still hadn't shown. What if he doesn't come? The thought penetrated her heart like an ice missile, and for a second it could have stopped from the shock of it, but as quickly as it came Chloe pushed the thought out of her head. She'd linked the dates of the packages with corresponding withdrawals from different LuthorCorp owned companies. $5,000 a month. It was a lot of money. He would come.

As she sat there waiting, Chloe thought about what she would say to this man, what she would ask him, what she would accuse him of. Truly, she didn't know much. All she knew of the project was the name, Hercules, and the fact that this man's P.O. Box address was in the file. She didn't even know this man's name, or if it was even a man at all.

Inevitably, when she began to think, thoughts of Lex and Clark pushed and shoved their way into her mind, forcing her against her will to turn them around and around in her head, like old laundry on the spin cycle for the billionth time. But lately, she would always choose to focus on Lex. It was sad really, and on some level she admitted that to herself, but thinking of Clark was more painful than thinking of Lex. With Lex there was never the question of acceptance, never the doubts in the back of her mind that she wasn't good enough for him.

With Lex there was just the feel of his hands, pulling her closer. The feel of his body pressing against hers. The feel of his mouth on her skin. There was his need, his desire. There wasn't rejection or the fear of rejection. She didn't have to worry about him looking at her like she was beneath him, like she had done something wrong, brushing the feel of her off of him because she was dirty. Lex would never give her one of Clark's self-righteous lectures that always made her feel like she was an inch tall.

Chloe ran a hand through her hair, taking a deep breath. You are so messed up Sullivan. She laughed at herself softly, and that was when she saw him. He was nondescript, in a gray business suit, indistinguishable from half of the population of Metropolis, but she knew it was him. Reporter's instinct maybe, or victim – God a victim, I'm thinking about myself like a victim – a victim's intuition.

She watched him look around before he pulled open the door and went inside. And then Chloe was up and moving, she left money on the table and was out the door and on her way across the street before she had fully processed what her plan of attack was. She should have known what she was going to do before this, but no matter how many scenarios she had attempted to go through Chloe couldn't come up with an ending to this confrontation. So when she reached the door her hand stretched out but she froze, uncertain of what to do next. But the decision was made for her when the door opened and he walked out, practically running into her.

"Oh I'm sorry I-" he started, and then his eyes widened and he turned away from her, hurrying in the direction of his car.

Chloe snapped into gear, following him. "Hey, hey! What's your name?"

"I'm sorry I don't know you Miss!" He yelled it back, over his shoulder, but not turning to look at her.

"I just need to ask you a couple questions!" The man climbed into his car slammed the door in her face, driving off before she could even say who she was or what she was after. Chloe looked at his license plate, repeating it to herself under her breath as she pulled out her notepad and wrote it down. It was only after she had put the notepad back in her purse that Chloe stopped and realized what the look had been on his face when he'd seen hers.

Recognition. He had recognized her.

She felt so good beneath him. Her body small and warm, her skin soft, her legs wrapped around him, her arms clinging to him. Lex kissed her slowly, deeply, until she was moaning softly into his mouth. That was all there was when he was with Chloe, just… Chloe. Just Chloe and him. It just always felt so right. This was how it should be, how it was meant to be. He'd waited so long for Chloe to belong to him, and it had taken so much planning, and so many hours, so much work, but in the end he'd gotten what he wanted, he'd gotten Chloe, along with the bonus surprise she'd come with.

But all thoughts of anything but her were driven from his mind when she started to squirm underneath him. He pulled away from her, just looking at her for a moment. Her dark hair spread over his white rug, her black dress shirt unbuttoned and pushed away to reveal her pale, soft, tender stomach. Her breasts full in her black bra, her chest heaving up and down as she labored for the breath he'd stolen from her. Her arms stretched out, her shirt off one delicate shoulder, her fingers feeling the carpet. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, her mouth open, and her eyes… God her eyes. Dark with desire and need. Captivated with him, wanting him.

She was just waiting. Waiting for him.

So, slowly, he helped her out of her clothes. He helped her sit up so he could slide her shirt all the way off, he reached behind her back to unhook her bra, slipped that off her arms. He didn't let himself look yet, stayed focused on her eyes as she unbuttoned his shirt and took it off, focused on the feel of her fingers on his skin. Then he reached for her belt buckle, undid it, unbuttoned and unzipped her dress pants, pulled them down off her legs, running his fingers over them as he did. He reached back up for her panties, taking them off. She reached for his belt, helped him out of his pants and boxer briefs. It was agonizing for her hands to be that close to him, and Lex gritted his teeth, determined to maintain control.

When she was fully naked underneath him, Lex finally allowed himself to look at her. And he marveled at how pure she looked, an angel, soft and inviting, just waiting for him to find his home inside her. He kissed her again, desire burning like a match beneath his control. She reached for him, taking him into her hand and stroking him in that way of hers that always made him lose it. Her body rose up to meet his, and when their skin met, Lex never wanted to leave. He felt his control fracture as she pressed into him, moving beneath him, her body begging him. He felt it shatter as she quickened her stroke.

"Lex," she breathed, her sweet voice washing over him, into him, it was the most intoxicating drug he'd ever experienced. Her voice, her eyes, the feel of her skin. She ran through his veins, thickening his blood. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to succumb.

Lex pinched the bridge of his nose, ran a hand over his scalp, rubbing his skin. He closed his eyes and she was there, painted on the insides of his eyelids in vivid color. But when he opened them, trying to escape, she was there too. He was completely and totally hooked, a junkie in his own right, consumed by thoughts of his next fix the minute she walked out the door.

He shifted in his leather chair, deciding after only a second to get up and cross the room and pour himself a glass of brandy. It was impossible. This very room, this entire mansion was filled with memories of her. His fingers itched to pick of the phone and dial her number, just hear her voice, anything.

Pull yourself together Lex!

Swallowing the rest of the brandy, Lex felt the familiar way it burned down his throat, and he poured himself another glass. He went back to his desk, sitting down and opening his laptop, accessing his secure files. Tomorrow they would be ready to begin the next stage of testing, and Lex was uncharacteristically excited, he'd been pouring over the previous test results all day.

Over ten years he'd been working on this project, and in two months, on Christmas Eve, it would be eleven. Chloe had been the key, was the key. Without her he'd never have come up with the design for Project Hercules in the first place.

He'd thanked his father for that, four years ago, on his deathbed, when he had finally succumbed to his liver disease, thanked him for the Luthor instinct his father had always told him about. How a Luthor could smell opportunity a mile away, sense when something was important and when something wasn't.

Lex figured that was why he'd taken such an interest in Chloe in the first place, why he'd been enthralled with her from the very beginning. Because of the infamous Luthor instinct.

Whatever the reason, his curiosity had paid off, and now he was on the verge of a major breakthrough. He wouldn't allow thoughts of Chloe to bring him down, not now, not when he was about to accomplish so much. So, as he had for so long, Lex took all of his emotions, all of his feelings, anything and everything that he thought would weaken him, all of it connected to Chloe, and he shoved it in a safe, locked and stowed away in the deepest corner of his heart.

Clark was waiting for Chloe when she got home, sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the wall. He was tired. He was exhausted. He could feel it in the way his body sank into the cushions of Chloe's leather couch, the weariness seeping into his bones.

Last night it had been one in the morning when he left the bar, and on his way to the hotel he was staying at, until he figured things out between him and Lana, he'd heard a bank robbery in progress. That was easy enough to handle, no big deal, and then, just as he was settling into bed, he'd heard the screams of people caught in a burning building across the city. Burning buildings, with a lot of people, and the structural integrity of the building in question, took a bit more time for him to deal with than a bank robbery.

He'd barely gotten an hour of sleep last night and then when he'd gone into the office he'd found out Chloe had called in, said she was working on something and wouldn't be coming in today. Clark had immediately told Perry he was going to check on her, his worry levels, already floating around anxious when it came to Chloe, had elevated almost to panic.

Then she hadn't been here. He'd paced for almost half an hour, debating about what he should do. It was possible she'd made up with whoever she was seeing, had spent the night there, and had then decided to just play hooky from work. This thought brought an irrational pang of anger and jealousy to his gut, while his head began to pound from the voice yelling at him about feeling those emotions.

Finally he'd called her, consciously preventing himself from crushing the phone as he listened to it ring. She'd picked up, avoiding his questions about where she was but saying she'd be back in half an hour, and also telling him he didn't need to wait.

Yeah. Right.

So here he was, waiting, and thinking. Thinking and waiting. He was thinking about what she could have been doing, what she wouldn't have wanted to tell him. His mind kept circling back to whatever guy it was that had sent her those flowers. Clark you need to stop.

But he couldn't He just couldn't. He could see it in his mind, this faceless man, with Chloe. She was smiling and laughing and happy. In his head he saw them holding hands, he saw them kissing, and it must have been because he was so tired, but he could not stop himself from picturing them together. Together together.

Clark saw this guy, in his mind he automatically called him a jerk, although surely he didn't deserve that name, and Clark wouldn't know if he did, kissing Chloe's neck. He saw him unbuttoning Chloe's shirt, running his hands over her stomach, around to her back, pulling her flush against his own body. He saw him picking her up and carrying her to bed, covering her body with his, running his hands over her skin, kissing her mouth.

Why are you torturing yourself?

Because that's what it was. It was akin to physical pain, this feeling he got when he pictured them together. Like a knife in his stomach, slowly pushing deeper the farther Clark's imagining went. But he couldn't stop it, it was like his mind was intent on making him face this, making him confront what was going on instead of avoiding it, making excuses.

Clark swung his legs over, kicking his shoes off, stretching out on Chloe's couch, and closing his eyes, attempting to get rid of this vision he saw of this jerk and Chloe together. But all that did was intensify it.

And then suddenly everything changed.

It wasn't some faceless man kissing Chloe anymore, it was a very familiar face, one he knew by heart, because he saw it in the mirror every day. Clark imagined himself moving his lips with hers, slipping his tongue in between them to taste her. He could feel her skin beneath his hands, feel her body moving beneath his, warm and perfectly fitted together with his.

"Clark," she said softly, smiling up at him. And she was his Chloe again, the girl who had kissed him in his loft the first day she met him, the girl he'd always gone to when he wanted to talk, the girl who could always make him smile, the girl who'd shared his bed after her father's funeral. He could still feel her body there, curled up safely in his arms.

"Clark?" He opened his eyes to see Chloe standing over him. For just a moment the dream softened her edges, like an angel's glow, surrounding her. And Clark, happily residing in his sleepy haze, smiled up at her, forgetting everything that had happened, forgetting the past ten years, forgetting that anything had happened, forgetting that there was this darker, hidden, secret side to her that he knew nothing about.

And then he blinked.

"Chloe?" Clark sat up and rubbed his eyes, not entirely sure if he was ready to wake up and lose that picture of her he'd seen in his head. And at the same time he was trying to get rid of this feeling that he was crawling out of his skin with the want to pull her down to him.

"Oh don't get up on my account," she said, flopping down on the couch next to him. The sudden nearness of her body was a shock to his system in the half-awake state that he was in, and he had to work at controlling his purely physical response to her warmth.

He half turned towards her, and opened his mouth, trying to say something but failing as a yawn practically broke his jaw. Chloe laughed at him, "Tired Clark?"

"Yeah," he said helplessly, breaking into another yawn.

Chloe laughed at him again, but he had no energy to fight back. "But then again," she said, "I can't really say anything." She leaned against him, her head on his shoulder. "All I want is a nap."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Clark said.

And then he wrapped his arm around her, and pulled her down with him, so they were both stretched out on the couch. It was a tight fit, with her almost completely on top of him, which was, of course, fine with Clark.

It was so natural. To be with her, like this. He hadn't even really thought about it, thought about putting his arm around her body, pulling her closer, lying down with her on the couch. It was just reflex. It felt right, just right to be here with Chloe. She felt good in his arms.

So Clark allowed himself to forget again. Just for a moment. And he just felt her in his arms, allowed himself to relish in her warmth. He let himself forget everything else, all the secrets and the guilt and the pain. Clark let himself just be, just be with her, if only for a little while.

Chloe woke up feeling safe. It was weird in a way, because it wasn't a familiar way of waking up, it wasn't something she was used to, and at the same time she still recognized it. It wasn't a place she went often but it was a place she'd been before, a place she'd like to stay. It was like coming home.

She was in her living room, on her couch, in Clark's arms. Her head was resting on his chest, her entire body moving up and down with every breath he took. Even when he was sleeping he made her feel so small. Chloe moved her fingers over the fabric of his shirt, realizing he was still in his work clothes, a button up shirt and dress slacks. He was wearing a belt for Pete's sake. Chloe herself was dressed like she'd been going into the office, a skirt and a sweater. She was starting to get a little warm from its heat combined with Clark's.

Chloe lifted her head slightly, looking at Clark's sleeping face, his expression was so peaceful. She realized that she didn't want to get up, didn't want to leave his arms, didn't want to go do research and have to face her secrets.

Not right now. Not yet.

But Clark was half falling off the couch, and Chloe herself had no room either. An idea came to her suddenly and she acted on it before she could talk herself out of it. Because it was entirely a bad idea.

"Clark," she said softly, rising up a bit and looking him in the face. "Clark?" Chloe reached up and put a hand to his face, smiling as he opened his eyes. "Hey."

"Hey," Clark said sleepily, not really looking or sounding awake yet.

"Come with me." Chloe awkwardly climbed off of him and took his hand, pulling him up off the couch and leading him down the hallway to her bedroom. He didn't resist, but Chloe didn't dare look at his face, she didn't want to see his expression if it would stop her from doing what she was doing right now. Chloe what are you doing? What she wanted, she was doing what she wanted, without thinking about consequences.

When they got to her bedroom, Chloe let go of his hand, leaving him on the opposite side of the bed as she grabbed her sweats and tank top off the messed up covers. She looked at him then. He was awake now, but maybe not fully, because he was simply looking at her, waiting. She spun her finger in a circle, motioning him to turn around. Quickly, she took off her work clothes and slipped into her comfortable clothes.

Then she walked to him, reaching up to his shoulders and turning him around gently. She couldn't look him in the eye as she pulled on his shirt, untucking it, and started to unbutton it. When his hands joined hers, Chloe left him to it, and climbed into bed, curling up under the covers, facing away from him.

Clark lifted the covers and hesitated only a moment before climbing in and folding his body around her, slipping his arm underneath her head so it was tucked up against him, and wrapping his other arm around her stomach. She pulled his arm tighter, feeling so safe and warm that she was already beginning to slip back into sleep.

Chloe just listened to him breathe, felt him breathe. Felt his body, strong and secure, around her own. And she forgot everything else.

Clark opened his eyes slowly, almost unwillingly. He had no idea what time it was or how long he'd been asleep, but immediately he knew he was not alone in the bed he had been sleeping in. Before his eyes had completely focused he could feel her, in his arms, against his body, her legs entwined with his. Her breath was warm on the skin of his neck, her small frame was warm curled up inside his, the heat of her burned through his thin T-shirt.

Somehow she'd ended up facing him, her arms trapped against his chest, her delicate hands resting just below the collar of his shirt, just below where she would have been touching his skin. As his vision cleared, Clark took in the sight of Chloe's sleeping face, the soft skin of her neck and her arms.

He wanted to pull her closer. He wanted to trace the contours of her face with his fingers. He wanted to taste her lips, inviting and open.

He wanted to move his arm from beneath her head because he had lost the feeling in his fingers. Despite his powers he still retained some of the common human fallacies, some of which, like this one, he couldn't decide if he liked or disliked.

Chloe's breathing was deep and slow, calm, peaceful. If not for his arm and his poor fingers, he would simply close his eyes, breathe her in, and allow himself to fall back asleep. He didn't want to wake her up, she was finally sleeping, something he knew she hadn't been doing a lot lately, and he didn't want to ruin it. That's not the only reason Clark. He grudgingly admitted the fact to himself that he also didn't want to wake her up and chance that she would get up, leaving him. He didn't want to let her go.

But just the same, whether it was because of his arm or his subconscious fear of pushing things too far with Chloe and making her run away forever, Clark slowly began to extricate his arm from its entrapment beneath Chloe's head. He got it all the way out, gently placing her head back on the pillow and sliding his fingers out from underneath it.

His sigh of relief was already out when Chloe opened her eyes. Clark was immediately frozen, propped up on his elbow, looking down on Chloe, unable to break her gaze.

Clark saw her eyes, looking at him, and he could not figure out what they were saying, what she was feeling. He wasn't even sure what he was feeling. His heart was thudding in his chest, pounding hard, and maybe that was the reason why his breathing felt like it was constricted, shallow.

She was pulling him in.

Somehow, Chloe was pulling him into her, like a moth to flame. And fire it had to be, it raced across his nerve endings and he hadn't even touched her yet. It was a dangerous game to play, weighing the possibility of him exploding when his lips met hers or exploding from resisting the need to kiss her.

It seemed he was choosing to take the risk and do what every cell in his body wanted to do, because he was leaning in closer, his eyes dropping to her lips. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kiss Chloe. He placed a hand on her waist and the realization of what he was feeling smacked him across the face.

He wanted Chloe.

And maybe it was because of everything he'd been going through lately with Lana, all that stress combined with his secret and whatever Chloe was hiding from him. Maybe he was just horny, hadn't gotten any in a while. But for whatever reason, Clark wasn't stopping himself with all of his usual hesitations. He wasn't thinking about the fact that this could ruin their fragile friendship, he wasn't thinking about Lana, and he definitely wasn't thinking about the fact that Chloe was seeing someone else.

He was thinking about her lips and her body, so soft and small and inviting. In his head he saw images, snatches of scenes from his dreams. Him kissing Chloe, stretching his body out over hers, moving his mouth down her neck, his hands and his lips exploring places he had yet to see.

Clark looked at her, saw the way her breasts stretched the material of her tank top, saw the way the covers fell gracefully over her hips and butt. He knew he could easily use his x-ray vision to see what was underneath the fabric but he didn't want to, he wanted to take it off. All of it.

"Clark?" At the sound of her quiet voice, his eyes shot back to hers. They were looking at him with surprise, curiosity, maybe a little fear, and something else. Anticipation. Clark wondered if his thoughts were projected onto his face, if she could tell all of the things he was thinking about doing with her.

"Chloe," he rasped out, his breath getting caught in his throat.

And then he closed the distance between his lips and hers. At first there was only surprise, but then her mouth gave slightly, opened the smallest amount beneath his. And Clark lost it.

He pulled her underneath him, slipped his tongue into her mouth, half covered her with his body. His hands pushed her shirt up, molded themselves to her curves, and he felt her hands on his shoulders, fisting into his hair. God she tasted so good, she felt so good.

All the curiosity, the frustrated desire and the hidden want, came out in a desperate rush. He'd held it all back for so long, telling himself that it wasn't right, that he was just being a typical guy, that he was being ridiculous and crazy. But now he couldn't imagine what had been stopping him, why he had not held her like this, touched her like this, had her like this, every night of his life.

Clark kissed her furiously, he felt her body pushing up against his and he pulled her shirt over her head in a motion that was anything but smooth and wrought with want. He shifted his mouth to her neck, tasting her there, and he listened to her moan, felt her moving beneath him, felt her fingers digging into him. And he forgot about anything else when he felt her hands on his skin, when she began to take off his shirt. He grabbed at it, trying to help her, wishing their clothes would evaporate, wishing he could use his powers and rip them off in seconds, like he knew he could.

And just like that it all came rushing back to him. All the reasons he hadn't let this happen before, all the reasons he shouldn't be doing this now, they came back and they weighed him down, slowing his movements. It began with his secret, and ended with hers.

He pulled back, looked at her, her chest rising and falling, her mouth open and her eyes, dark and looking at him, wondering what he was doing. All he wanted was to kiss her again, feel her again, lose himself to her again. But now their secrets were filling the air between them and Clark couldn't break through them, not with all of his strength or any of his powers. They labored for air, their breathing was the only sound breaking through the heavy quiet that had descended upon them. Clark felt the weight of all of his lies and all of her lies crushing him.

"Chloe," he choked out, his voice strangled. She looked up at him, hovering over her, and reached up a hand, pushing the hair back from his face. His skin burned where her fingers touched him. "Chloe, I can't… we can't."

The disappointment and hurt that contorted her expression before she masked it felt like a hand was gripping his heart and squeezing. "Get off me Clark." Her voice was hard, brittle, like a piece of glass that might break.

He tried to pull her up, wrap his arms around her, hold her to him, he didn't want to let her go. But she pushed him away, her hands on his chest, "Clark! Stop it!" She was angry now.

"Chloe wait-"

"Clark! Let me go!" He released her and she scrambled out from underneath him, got to her feet.

"Chloe please just-"

"Get out of here Clark!" She was yelling now, standing up in only her bra and sweatpants, pointing a furious finger at the door.

Clark stood up, trying to go to her, but she backed away from him. He was standing there, in only his boxers, reaching for her but it was like she'd put up a wall, and he couldn't break through it. "Chloe I'm sorry, I never should have-"

"God damnit Clark! Damn you!" He watched her body tremble with rage and he tried to understand why she was so angry. All he had done was act on his passion, lose himself to it for a few moments, and when he had finally gained some control, that was when she became angry with him? If she was mad because he had stopped, why hadn't she simply pulled him back down to her, his control would have fractured, surely she knew that.

"Chloe why-"

"At least take responsibility for it Clark! Don't write it off as a mistake! Why do I have to be a mistake!"

That was it. She thought he viewed her as a mistake. She wasn't the mistake. It wasn't her. It wasn't this, it was everything else, everything else he should have done before this. It was all the lies he had told her, the things he was hiding. That was the mistake. Not her.

He had to make her understand. "No, Chloe no you've-"

"He never called me a mistake! He wasn't ashamed of wanting me!" Her eyes burned with fury and were fringed with desperation. She looked like she might break apart at any second, and Clark was frantically trying to figure out what he could do to stop that from happening.

"Chloe I'm not ashamed. You're wrong, Chloe you're-"

"Oh course I am Clark! I'm always wrong!" Her voice was thick with unshed tears. "He would never-"

"Stop!" Clark yelled at her, anger bursting out of him. "Stop talking about him Chloe! He he he he! He did this and I did that and he would never do this!" Clark was pissed now, and he wasn't sure if it was because of jealousy or because of something else, but he couldn't stop himself. He was sick of this other guy. He was just sick of him. And he was not going to be made to feel inferior by some guy he didn't even know. "What's so great about him?"

"Clark stop-"

"No Chloe! Tell me! I want to know! Why is he so much better than me! Why-"

"Lex never made me feel like I wasn't good enough!"

She screamed the words at him and then her eyes widened in horror at what she had said. But Clark barely took notice. Because for him the world had just stopped spinning, his heartbeat pounded in his ears but he couldn't feel his body anymore.

"Lex?" It fell off his tongue and dropped to the floor, he couldn't get rid of the horrible taste it had left on his tongue.

The name resounded in his head, drowning out every other thought and suddenly he could feel the rage and the betrayal, burning hot and bitter in his veins. She had been sleeping with Lex. His enemy. The very embodiment of evil and all that was wrong with this world.

And Chloe, his Chloe, had been sleeping with him.

Nothing else mattered anymore. His fury pounded harder with every passing second and Clark shook with the force of it, his fists clenching to keep himself from going to Lex and wringing his neck.

His voice trembled with anger and disbelief and betrayal.

"How could you?"

So? How'd you like it?