Eveything was fuzzy except for the blue door and the upbeat music. He turned the knob and it opened, letting the words of the happy music filter out. He walked inside. He was back in that tiny colorful apartment.

He heard her singing in the other room.

Badly.

You've got the music in you
Don't let go
You've got the music in you
One dance left
This world is gonna pull through
Don't give up
You've got a reason to live
Can't forget
We only get what we give

She must have been cleaning, judging by the spray bottle of electric blue fluid that was currently serving as a microphone. Her other hand was spinning a dirty cloth over her head. She was wearing a cute set of patterned cotton pj's and gyrating her hips with the music.

She wasn't facing him, and must not have heard him enter over the music and her terribly off-key singing.

He had perfect pitch of course, but he was never this joyful. She looked young and happy and completely free as she belted out the upbeat lyrics.

She swung around in a flaring twirl and stopped when she saw him standing there.

His face felt tight. It took him a moment to realize he was smiling.

Not his usual sardonic smile, but a real smile.

For a moment he was baffled. Why was this girl singing and dancing around in her pj's something that made him smile?

The answer came swiftly.

Because it was her.

Seeing she was caught red-handed, she tried to make her hold on the bottle and rag seem nonchalant.

"Lex. I was..."

"Cleaning?" he volunteered.

She knew she was well and truly caught. Instead of looking shamefaced, she smiled and held up the rag and cleaning fluid. "Yup. Cleaning."

"I didn't realize that cleaning involved so much dance. I'll have to keep a better eye on the maids," he drawled as he slowly walked through the bedroom doorway.

She nodded with finality. "Yup. Only way to do it. Every Disney movie ever made taught us that."

"Can't say I've ever seen many. My father thinks all that love and sharing makes one weak."

She just shook her head.

His face was still quirked in a smile. "Though the interpretive dance was definitely something to see."

"What? You dance."

"Ballroom only. It was a skill my father deemed essential if I was to mingle with the other power players."

"But you go to clubs all the time..."

"Only to be seen. Not to dance."

She just shook her head again. "Then I'm afraid I have nothing further to offer."

She blew a piece of blonde hair from her face where it had fallen over one eye. Her pj's were modest, but couldn't hide the shapely young body inside. Her face was flushed with her dancing and joy.

She looked stunningly beautiful.

His smile turned feral. He found himself stalking towards her. "I wouldn't say that."

Reaching her, he seized her wrist and pulled her to him. "You can just keep on... dancing."

He took her lips with his and kissed her intently, fully, deeply. His hands began wandering over her body through the soft old cotton of her pj's.

He heard a thump and guessed it was the cleaning fluid dropping from her grasp. His guess was confirmed a second later when he felt her grip the lapels of his jacket in her now-free hands.

Most of his visions jumped right to the sex. It was nice to have one that took the time to explore her mouth.

His lips shaped around hers, feeling the soft give. Her lips were dry and full, but inside her mouth he knew there was moist heat. He traced the seam of her mouth with his tongue, seeking entry into the moist warmth. Her lips parted and he delved inside with teasing flicks.

She moaned in the back of her throat and pressed her body insistently against his. He felt her pushing at the coat he wore, and allowed her to slide it off him.

He continued to tease her mouth with alternating exploratory kisses and quick delves of his tongue. He wouldn't rush today. For once he would have her at his leisure. His hands roamed and fitted themselves over all the intriguing curves and dips of her body, but he left her clothes in place, taunting them both.

She seemed unable to share his unusual restraint. She was working her way down the buttons of his shirt, her hands surprisingly nimble. He remembered her struggling with his crisp shirts.

She must have more practice at this point.

Once all the tricky little buttons were all open, she pushed aside the open front to expose the bare skin of his smooth chest. Her hands flattened themselves against the smooth, lean muscle. She broke the kiss and watched with rapt interest as her hands moved up and over his shoulders, pushing his shirt back as they went.

He quickly released his hold on her body to undo the buttons at his cuffs before his hands could become trapped. She might enjoy having him at a disadvantage, but he wasn't willing to give up his freedom of motion.

He timed it well, releasing the second cuff just as the shirt was moving down his arms. It dropped to the floor with a soft plop.

He reached around and planted his hands on her hips, driving her backward towards the bed.

"Oh, not the bed, Lex. It doesn't have any sheets down."

"What?" He looked around her and saw that she was right. The bed was completely stripped. All the bedding was in a heap near their feet.

"I was going to take it down to the wash..."

"Well, we aren't planning on sleeping, so we don't need sheets." He began pressing her backward again.

"No, Lex, I..."

He pressed his lips down on hers hard. He had a plan. Nothing as petty as proper bedding was going to throw it off. He pressed her back, even as she resisted.

Suddenly the world went topsy turvy. He found an awkward "Oof!" springing from his lips as he collapsed onto the pile of bedding.

"What the -" He looked up at her. She was grinning triumphantly. "Did you just...trip me?" he asked incredulously.

"Yup." She was beaming down at him.

He tried not to be irritated that she had, quite literally, outmaneuvered him. "I'm impressed. Not many people can do that to me." He tried to look composed, as if he wanted to be on the floor on top of a mound of dirty bedding.

Still smiling at her victory, she dropped to her knees in front of where he was sprawled on the pile of sheets and blankets. He found his irritation slipping away at her obvious delight. He felt his treacherous lips quirking into a smile against his will. He adjusted his position so he was more reclining than tumbled.

Still smiling, she removed first one of his shoes, then the other. He had no idea why, but he found that extremely erotic. Maybe because it seemed so... intimate.

No. Don't be foolish. It's just shoes.

Next she peeled off his socks, and catching his eye, jauntily threw them over her shoulder.

He had no idea why, but he laughed.

Why was that funny? Why did I laugh...then or now?

It was Her. She somehow managed to pull him into the joke with her.

Her smile was very different when she began sliding her hands up his slacks covered legs. One of her hands pressed firmly into each of his legs as her hands made their ascent. He keep his own hands quiet at his sides, watching her. He found himself fascinated by the sparkling fires in her eyes as they held his. As she moved up, she had to lean forward on her knees over him. She was short and he wasn't, so she ran out of arm before he ran out of leg.

She really was short, wasn't she?

He filed that away as another clue. He hasn't quite realized it before. She was so consuming in his thoughts, that he hadn't picked up that her physical stature was quite petite.

She scooted forward on her knees, between his open legs. Her hands now resumed their journey up his thighs to the bulge in the front of his designer slacks. He watched intently to see what she would do. She began chewing her bottom lip unconsciously. To him, it was as clear a signal of her arousal as the hard bulge in his pants was for him. Her hands became softer as they reached the tops of his legs and skirted around the tenting material.

Everything about her bespoke her lust. For him. Not his money. Now what he could do for her. Not even for the orgasms he could bring her. She wanted him. She wanted his body with hers. The hairless freak, but she wanted him.

How... extraordinary.

Holding his eyes, she continued ghosting her hands up his chest. As she moved across his abs, a shivery, tickley feeling ran up his spine and he found his back arched. His motion had the fortunate affect of pressing his tenting crotch into the warm suppleness of her chest.

She really did have the most wonderful breasts. He should be seeing them about now.

Lifting his hands from his sides, he moved them to her waist, where the bottom of her pj top rested. He began dragging up the soft material. She paused long enough in her tactile exploration of his chest to allow him to pull the top off over her head.

Once the top was gone, she continued to explore his stomach and chest with searching hands, and when her head came down...with her warm tongue. She ran her tongue from the line of his slacks up to his navel, trailing moist fire. Her movements caused her now-bare breasts to shift and move across his still-covered, but ready, groin.

Tucked as she was between his legs, she was somewhat trapped. As she continued to work her way up his body, she realized this. She began to alter her position. "Close your legs, Lex."

His turn for a power play. He smiled. "No."

"No?"

"You dropped me like this. If you want me to alter your poor placement, I deserve something in return."

She looked at him suspiciously. "I already took off my top."

"Mine went first," he pointed out logically.

"Ah, I see." She smiled with a fascinating mixture of humor and wickedness. Leaning back on her heels, she hooked her thumbs over the waistband of her pj bottoms and began pushing them down her hips.

His body gave an appreciative twitch inside his boxer briefs.

When her pj bottoms hit her knees, she leaned forward onto all fours to shift them down and then kicked them away.

She looked at him significantly. He smiled and obediently closed his legs so she could straddle the outside.

Naked Chloe straddling him was something to be appreciated. Today her short hair was in messy, wavy chunks, making her look slightly rakish. Her beautiful breasts with were on display for him. Her small waist and wonderfully flaring hips had him fighting not to grab.

But it was apparent she had something in mind, and he was curious.

She moved forward on her knees until she was above his still-covered crotch. Holding his eyes, she let herself rest back on her heels over him, so she was directly over his manhood. If his clothes weren't in the way, he would be buried inside her. Seeing the wicked gleam in her gaze, he pulsed his hips up.

She gasped.

He smiled. Two could play her game and he had infinitely more experience.

He thought at that point she might shift back so she could undo his blocking slacks and boxer-briefs, but she didn't. Instead she began crawling up his body.

Was she..?

When she was straddling his chest, she looked down at him. "You said I should 'just keep on dancing.' Want to make me dance, Lex?"

In reply, he grasped her hips hard and dragged her up to his mouth. She squeaked as she tumbled over his shoulders, her hands hitting the bedding above his head.

She may have laid out the game, but he was an expert player. While she was still trying to regain her balance, he had her just where he wanted her. He expertly applied one slow, long, lick. She froze for a moment, before he heard a deep moan issue from her mouth. He repeated the move. Chloe stopped trying to find a new position, holding still on all fours with him between her legs, ministering to her. Chloe pressed her hips down onto him, panting and issuing sharp noises of pleasure as he worked. He wished he could see her breasts move with her, but they were above his vision with her on all fours.

"Sit up. I want to watch you."

Pressing her knees more firmly into the bedding on either side of his head, she sat up. He now had a view straight up her body from the heated core of her, across her stomach, to her wonderful breasts, up the column of her throat to her face with its heavy-lidded green gaze.

He held still for a moment taking her in.

"You gonna move, Luthor, or what?"

He let his tongue answer her. She gasped in surprise and pleasure. He kept his eyes open as she moved on him, so he could watch her breasts bounce and her head thrown back as she cried out. He sensed she was nearing the edge. Time to push her over. He changed his motions to a chaotic flicking, twisting, and pulsing in no specific direction.

She let out a single sharp cry at the complex, warring sensations, riding him in frantic rhythm. He felt her legs tighten around his head, and the limited air he was allowing himself smelled of her, as he mercilessly worked her.

He felt when her her body locked, then shuddered as she screamed out her release.

He loved watching her dance.

Only after she had collapsed forward back onto all fours did he release her with a pop.

She lifted off of him and made as if to snuggle against him.

Oh no. Not a chance.

Holding her eyes, he very deliberately reached down and he undid his belt slowly, significantly, letting the buckle clink. He watched the sleepy satisfaction fade from her eyes to be replaced by a new lust. She shifted down his body and watched as he undid the button and fly of his slacks, but did not touch him. He paused, waiting for her to take over, but she didn't move, just flicked her eyes up to his and back down again.

Lifting his hips he pushed the slacks down as best he could, but could only get them to his thighs. He gave up and moved to the waistband of his boxer-briefs and carefully pulled them down. His straining manhood sprang out and he released a sigh of relief. Lifting his hips again, he slid down the boxers to catch with the slacks around his thighs.

Finally Chloe moved, holding his eyes, she reached out a hand and wrapped it firmly around his hard member. He gasped. He had been waiting for that for what felt like forever. Leaning forward, she loosened her grip enough that she could give him a single long, wet lick.

She was using his own moves against him. He would have laughed if he wasn't so awash in lust.

His head dropped back onto the bedding. She repeated the move. He looked down at the exceedingly erotic sight of her green eyes holding his as her mouth moved. His head dropped back. If he kept watching, he would go much too soon, and he wanted this to go on forever.

His hands gripped the bedding below him as he fought to restrain his hips. He desperately wanted to thrust, but he knew that most women didn't appreciate that. So he fought to hold still while Chloe pulled and sucked and drove him mad. He felt pressure build behind his eyes and knew he was getting close. He grabbed her hair, halting her movements. Oh God, he had looked at her again. She was there with mouth full of him...but he wanted to be inside her.

"Chloe, stop."

Seeing she understood, he released his grip on her hair. She dragged her mouth off him with a wet pop. He switched his grip to one of her wrists and tugged upward. Again, she understood perfectly and he released his grip on her. She climbed across him, straddling his hips. With a mind of its own, his body was seeking her. As she slowly slid down onto him, he heard his own groan echoed by her.

She began moving on him. He let his head drop back again to the bedding and closed his eyes, concentrating on the exquisite feel of her on him. After a a few moments though, her motions became ragged. He expected she was tiring.

I should exercise her like this more.

"Move your legs, so your feet are flat on the floor. You'll have better leverage," he advised.

Looking at him questioningly, she complied. She was now crouched over him, with him buried inside. Experimentally, she lifted up, pressing her feet into the floor and let gravity carry her back down. Deeper, harder, than before.

"Holy crap!" she exclaimed at the altered sensation.

He smiled wickedly. Sex was his forte, and he loved bringing it to her.

She closed her eyes to focus on the sensations. He kept his open, watching her face. Slowly at first, then with increased speed she lifted and fell onto him. Catching her rhythm he raised his hips to meet her as she crashed down onto him. He may have told her how, but now it was all her. It was her directing their coupling with her movements, and him rising to match. Up and down, up and down, her body grasping and pulling at him. Demanding more and more. Her body held tight, pressing on him. He could feel each time he dragged across her sent a new cry from her, her mouth opening on a wordless sound of pleasure.

Her eyes were scrunched tight and her mouth panting as he felt the pressure building in her.

"Lex..." she gasped as she hovered on the edge. He felt the pressure between his own eyes as he lifted his hips higher and higher to meet hers. Her body was pulling, dragging, pressing on his, demanding. She needed more from him. He had to give it to her. He was unable to do otherwise. With her next movement, he twisted his hips just slightly. That did it. The tension in her snapped and sent rippling shudders through her entire body, especially where it met his. Her teeth were bared, her eyes scrunched tight, her neck a corded column as she threw her head back and screamed as her body went mad. She looked like a wild animal, something dangerous and unreasoning. Her body riding his in frantic, sloppy bounces as she exploded over and over. He tried to hold back, but watching her was so overpowering, that he found himself falling over the blinding precipice with her. They crashed together over and over as each pulse set the other off. She was screaming and sobbing his name as her body shuddered beyond her control, and he gritted his back teeth together so hard he thought they might crack as he poured into her.


Returning to himself partly, Lex knew there had been something different, something wrong about the encounter he just witnessed. He wasn't entirely sure what it was, but his senses were flashing danger signals at a rate that should indicate imminent nuclear meltdown.

Was it the strange way he had focused on her? Usually the women he bedded were just vehicles for his own lust. Getting them off just part of the sport of sex. But this was different. His completion had been tied to hers. Watching her lose herself to the orgasm he gave her had been intrinsic to his own release.

Even now, as he saw it replay in his head, it wasn't his own orgasm, blinding as it was, that he focused on. It was hers. Watching her completely and utterly give herself over to the pleasure of him had... done something to him.

He had never witnessed anything so raw and powerful in his life.

Either of them.

And it was because of him. Because he had... given up control.

No.

No, that can't be right. He would never do that. Not now. Not then. But as he continued watching the memory, uneasiness gripped low in his belly.

She carefully lifted herself from him after a time, and he felt an echo of loss at leaving her body.

Giggling, she finally acted to remove the crumpled slacks and boxer briefs from around his thighs. Then he watched as she curled against him on the pile of bedding on the floor.

He kept waiting for the vision to end, but they just lay there. She curled against him with one small hand resting on his bare chest. His arm around her shoulders, idly playing with a stand of silky, disheveled hair. They were talking, but he couldn't make out the words.

Why did he feel intrusive watching this?

He never had any qualms about privacy. Every single building he owned had surveillance equipment. Unbeknownst to them, many of the homes of his allies and rivals had the same. And for a handful of very special individuals... their own eyes were his spies.

So why was he so conflicted by this memory? Why did he feel like he should turn away? Even more disturbing... why did he long for this to be him?

Not memory him. Now him.

The sex was over, so why did he still... want?

That unease in his belly was turning into a cold lump when the voices suddenly became clear.


"I have something for you," he whispered into her ear.

She sat up angrily, pulling at the sheets under them to try to cover herself. He didn't move, keeping the sheets pinned down by his sprawled body.

"Damn it, Lex! What the hell is wrong with you? Stop trying to buy me. Just. Stop. Buying. Me. Stuff. I already told you-"

He put his hand over her mouth, stopping the torrent of words.

Her eyes over his hand were shocked. She couldn't believe that he had physically stopped her words.

He smiled at the victory. "If you would get off your high horse for a moment, you might like to know that wasn't my intention."

Her mouth flapped.

She was at a loss for words. How unexpectedly wonderful.

"I saw this at the stall of a vendor outside The Planet and it just..."

He suddenly realized the flaw in his plan. Yes, he had proven her wrong. He could get something without it being a way for him to buy her, but that left him open. It gave away critical knowledge that he thought of her even when she wasn't around. Letting her know she had that power could give her an edge. Seeing her curious look, he weighed the risk and reward. She would know that she was in his thoughts, but she would also know that he could catch her unawares. That would keep her off balance.

Then there was the way she was looking at him now. Curious, excited.

$50k in designer jewelry and not once had she looked so eager.

Frustrating woman.

Reaching for his jacket where it was tossed on the floor, he pulled the crumpled butterfly patterned paper bag from his pocket and handed it to her.

She looked at it curiously from all sides before raising an eyebrow at him.

He knew what that look meant instantly. She was surprised by the lack of designer logo and heavy stock bag. Surprised and...interested.

With a lot of crinkling, she pulled out the plain white box. She flashed a look at him again, but was much too curious by now to pay him any more attention.

He felt suddenly nervous.

That was ridiculous. He hadn't been nervous with a woman since...ever.

What if she didn't like it? What if he had tipped his hand for nothing?

She popped the top of the box and gasped with shock and delight. Her eyes were wide with wonder as she took the clip off the small piece of batting in the box. Unaware of her nakedness, she stood, letting the bag and the pieces of the cheap box fall as she held the clip to the light.

The sunlight shone through the red and sparkling teal of the butterfly wings. She held the hair clip like she expected it to take flight.

"Oh, Lex...it's..." She tilted the clip in the light, making the wings flash.

She looked radiant in her joy.

"Beautiful." Looking up at her from where he still reclined on the piled sheets, he wasn't sure if he was completing her sentence about the clip or speaking of her.

He really didn't care.

It was a victory.

Oddly, that didn't seem to matter much either right now. The words started from him before he realized, painful as they were.

"I saw it and thought of you."

His chest was tight. The words were dragged from him, but the ones he held back were even more painful.


Suddenly he knew. He knew what he had been fighting against. He knew the cold lump in his belly was fear. He knew why he was so uneasy looking at the scene.

He had let himself become vulnerable, exposed. Vulnerability was anathema to Luthors, yet she had somehow managed to subvert his defenses leaving a gaping hole in his armor.

How had it happened?


He woke screaming, clutching his head.

"NO! Get out of my head! Get out! Out!"

"What? What happened?" Tonight's sleeping blonde popped her head up from the pillow next to him. Her hair was a tangled mop with pieces falling in her eyes. She blinked sleepy green eyes.

Green eyes. Blonde hair.

Like Chloe.

No!

No more!

He turned his coldest, hardest look on the blonde he had f-ed just hours before. The words came out from gritted teeth as he tried to rein in the pounding mix of emotions. "Get out. Now."

His tone caught her by surprise. "Lex? What is it? What happened?" She sat upright on the bed, loosely holding the sheet up across her breasts.

He leapt from the bed and spun around so he could plant his hands on the mattress and loom over her.

"Don't talk to me like you know me! We f-ed and now you are leaving. Collect your things and go. My driver will see you home." He spun away from where she now cowered on the bed.

"But I thought..."

He spun back to her, choosing one emotion to focus on - anger. "Oh? And what exactly is it that you thought?" he sneered. "That I'd buy you something? That I'd marry you? That I'd fall in love with you?"

She looked frightened now. Her grip on the sheet was now clenched, as if she thought to shield herself from him with the 800-thread-count Egyptian cotton.

He ripped it from her, tearing away her meager protection.

No weakness.

"Well guess what? I've been down that road in a failed life. Did you really think you'd be the exception? Some nobody I picked up in a club for an easy f-? Two screwdrivers and you were already sucking my d-."

Pulling the sheets completely free of the bed, he tossed them away with a flourish. "And seriously, who orders screwdrivers at a top shelf bar?"

The naked girl had leapt from the bed when he ripped off the sheet. She was frantically grabbing up her clothes and purse as he raged. He heard her sobbing and saw her shaking with fear and upset as she tried to collect everything while trying to keep her body as small and curled as possible.

This imitation had been exactly what he thought he needed...before. Now she just reminded him of...

NOT what he had lost.

He had lost nothing. Nothing.

Finally, the blonde must have gotten everything. Or she no longer cared about anything left behind, because she ran for the bedroom door. He had already forgotten her before the bedroom door closed.

He needed to stop this obsession with the blonde she-devil that haunted him. Focus on the life he had now, not visions of a past that was no longer his own.

He would stop chasing the visions. He would stop chasing her doppelgangers.

Those things made him weak. Made him vulnerable.

He didn't need Her.

He could make women fall in love with him in a matter of hours with his smiling seduction techniques. He could pretend to be all velvet and honey, but inside he was steel. Hard, impervious, and most of all, unmoved.

Even when he "made love" it was always just f-ing. His soft touches and softer words were just another layer in the game. A pretty dressing to sell the story. It wasn't about connection, not really. It was illusion, just part of the game.

Until now.

As he had yielded the words that let her know she was in his thoughts, other words had followed them in his mind. Words he couldn't possibly say.

He suddenly felt he couldn't breathe. His hand reached out and gripped one of the bed posts to steady himself. His heart felt tight and raw in his chest. His free hand formed into a claw and dug into his own skin over his heart, bruising, hurting, marking. He vaguely thought if he could control the pain in himself, he could somehow expel the frailty.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

He wasn't supposed to fall in love with her.

He wasn't supposed to fall in love with her...again.


Author's Note: I put in a little tribute moment to apeygirl's fantastic "Deep in the Bottle" here. Recognize it?

Also, the song is "You Get What You Give" by The New Radicals.