The Puppet Master

by Christie

In some ways, Lex is nothing like Lana expected him to be in bed. But in other ways, nothing surprises her at all and he is everything she has ever imagined a lover to be.

He isn't gentle exactly, at least not to the point she'd call him tender. He is charming without crossing over into sweet, attentive while constantly maintaining the upper hand. There are as many things about Lex that Lana doesn't like as there are that she does, and double that of the in between stuff she hasn't yet made up her mind about.

The strangest part of it, though, is that she always thinks about this kind of stuff when his cock is buried deep inside of her. She knows it's inappropriate and tries to work it out at various other times during the day, but the experience is so surreal that her mind rejects it on all rational levels. So it happens that his fingers are pinching her nipples or his tongue is traveling below her belly button when her mind finally clicks on and says what the hell am I doing fucking Lex Luthor?

Not that it's ever enough to stop her, or God forbid, turn her off. Because his fingers are long and cool and thick, and his tongue is expert and his cock is...well, pumping in and out of her in strokes so long her eyeballs almost roll out of her head.

So, she can think it, but she isn't gonna stop.

Lex likes to do it in his limo. Right before a business meeting so he can walk in feeling relaxed and confident and downright majestic. He had taken advantage of her fear and fascination one day not long before she graduated from Smallville High, and by the end of that week, Lana had found herself in the back office of the Talon with Lex's fingers in her panties.

It hasn't really slowed down since, and sometimes it seems the only time Lana can relax is when they are fucking -- like her life is just this big dose of uppers and Lex is the only sobriety she has.

Although somehow she knows that is backwards.

Nothing has really come clear for months until a not-so-extraordinary Tuesday, of which Lana has spent a good portion on her knees sucking Lex off. It takes a lot longer this time because he is drinking, and somewhere in the sex haze of her mind Lana figures out that this meeting must be with his father because that's the only kind of meeting Lex attempts to intoxicate himself for.

At first she's too soft, then she's too rough and his hands are like vice grips on her head. But she keeps going because damned if anyone gives up in front of Lex Luthor. When she finally has him pumping his hips in time with her mouth and his fingers stroking languidly through her hair, he stops.

Which bums her out, truth be told, because if she gives him a good blow job he usually rewards her by rubbing her clit the rest of the way to Metropolis while he makes business calls.

But on this not-so-extraordinary Tuesday he stops, tells her breathlessly to get up off the floor. Which Lex never says.

"I want to be inside you."

Which he also never says.

But Lana can only wonder about it silently, because months of training has her sitting back on the seat and spreading her legs while Lex rolls a condom on. She tries to watch his face but it shows nothing more than it usually shows, which is nothing, except for the occasional grimace of a man who has been hard way too long and needs like hell to ejaculate.

Not that Lana is an expert or anything, because she's seen that look exactly twice in her life; now on Lex and back in her junior year of high school when she'd finally lost her virginity to Clark.

God, fucking Clark had been so much better and so much worse than this.

Lana assumes Lex will climb onto her as he usually does and they'll do it in the awkward space of the limo's back seat, Lana's head bumping the edge of the door or the mini bar or something as she dimly wonders if the driver gets a hard-on listening to them.

But this time Lex shakes his head and says, "you sit on my lap," while he positions himself like a king on a throne and waits to be straddled. Lana shrugs and hikes up her skirt, wishing she'd worn a button down top so perhaps her breasts will get some attention since they'll be right there in Lex's face and all.

But Lex shakes his head again as she starts to straddle him and tells her no, face the other way.

And the not-so-extraordinary Tuesday becomes weird.

Weird because Lana turns around and lowers herself onto Lex while facing an empty row of seats and the dark glass partition that separates them from the driver. Weird because she can see herself in the partition's reflection, waist up looking fully clothed and respectable, save for the bouncing and groaning. Weird because Lex's hand stays on her hips, the puppet master controlling everything, and she has nothing to look at or hold onto so she just lets him move her over his cock as he pleases. Weird because it doesn't feel good, and she doesn't throw herself around and pretend, and he doesn't ask or seem to care.

Lex is coming when the driver announces their arrival at LuthorCorp over the intercom. Lana hears it though she isn't sure Lex does, but when the car stops he is finished and guiding her off of him.

Lana only has to pull her skirt down and she is composed. Lex throws the condom in the trash, cleans himself off with his golf towel and has his pants zipped, shirt tucked, belt buckled, before he looks at her.

He sounds more relaxed when he tells the driver to take Lana to his apartment and return for him at seven. He looks more relaxed when he smiles languidly, though Lana never really considers Lex's after-sex smile a smile at all; more like a grin. A Cheshire-cat, shit-eating grin.

"I'll see you tonight," he says softly, and kisses her on the forehead. Lana thinks he sounds almost like a boyfriend, except she knows better.

She watches him step onto the sidewalk, and watches everyone in the vicinity stand just a little bit taller because Lex Luthor has entered their orbit. She understands why they do that, but she wishes they wouldn't.

At Lex's apartment, Lana takes a shower and dresses in a huge, soft bathrobe. She tries not to be mad. And mostly she isn't, except the part of her that is. Somewhere deep down she hopes Lionel Luthor is doing something dastardly to ruin LexCorp. Mostly, though, she doesn't care.

She eats some strawberries she finds in the refrigerator and opens a bottle of champagne. She flips through the papers on his desk only because she knows he wouldn't want her to.

After an hour of finding nothing particularly interesting, Lana entertains the notion of getting dressed and calling a cab. She is not, after all, Lex Luthor's whore.

But deep down she knows she kind of is and instead settles down on the couch with a glass of champagne (third? fourth?) and the television remote. Because he's Lex Luthor he has 700 channels, and Lana flips by every single one of them. She stops on a porn channel, fascinated by the noises this woman is making as she gets fucked in the ass. It's sort of like Morse code; a pattern completely discernable of two short 'ohs' and one long 'oooh' before starting the process over again. There is no way, Lana thinks, this guy she's doing it with doesn't know she's totally full of crap.

Lana is kind of sad when she realizes that the guy probably doesn't give a shit, and she turns the channel. She finds "Thelma & Louise" on TBS and watches until the Brad Pitt part is over. Then she flips again. Somewhere in the massive apartment, a grandfather clock chimes five times. Lex is due back in a little over two hours and Lana wonders what the hell she's waiting for.

Is she there because Lex told the driver to take her there? What exactly is she expecting when he gets home? Flowers? Dinner? Fantastic, mind-blowing sex to make up for the debacle that was the limo ride over?

The latter is possible. The two formers are just figments of Lana's imagination. Well, dinner is possible but only if Lex gets hungry, and even then he'll order in. Lana gets up and realizes she's a little wobbly from the champagne. She corks the bottle and walks over to the bathroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She looks the same; same pretty face, same shiny hair, same slender and (she always thought) curveless body.

But she isn't the same. She knows that inherently. She isn't any better than a hooker; actually, she's worse because at least they get paid and see seems to get nothing out of this arrangement with Lex except the occasional orgasm. She isn't even sure what she wants from Lex; it's difficult to imagine a relationship with him and sometimes he is such a bastard she can't imagine how crazy she'd have to be to even want one.

She definitely wants something more than he's giving her, and deep down she knows what it is. She wants control back. She has the lips he likes wrapped around his cock, she has the vagina he likes to sheathe himself in, so why the hell should she feel like those aren't hers anymore?

It's amazing, Lana thinks, that something so simple, something you knew all along, can just come tumbling into your consciousness and act like the world's most effective pep-talk. She feels good with the champagne buzzing between her ears and a plan formulating in her mind. She smiles at herself and heads back toward Lex's desk. She finds some cash where he once told her he hides it: in Genesis, Chapter 26 of the Holy Bible. She's not sure it's significant, and doesn't really care. She takes the whole stack of bills and begins flipping through the phone book.

Lex enters the apartment at exactly fifteen minutes past seven o'clock. Lana's already packed up her Chinese food remains and stored them in the refrigerator, and put the rest of the money back into the bible. She had seriously contemplated slipping it into her purse. Not to steal from Lex, per se, but to get a little something back for her time this afternoon. But that was just depressing in its own right.

He takes off his coat, watch, shoes and tie before even acknowledging she's there. Lana smiles genially at him, because she isn't really sure what else she's supposed to do. It's not like she hasn't been in this exact situation before; she knows what will come next and she's okay with it. But it doesn't make it any more comfortable or familiar.

She asks him how his meeting went, and he says fine as he always does. Even if he were to return raging drunk and piss poor, he'd tell her his meetings went fine. There isn't anything else she needs to know, and truth be told, she is quite sure she enjoys being in the dark about these things. It's not like they are in a committed relationship by any means.

Lex flips the television to CNBC and asks Lana to join him on the couch. Asks, which is a new one to her. Lana smiles, real this time, and does, slipping her legs underneath her and curling into the crook of his arm that he's left open for her. Now this does feel like a real relationship type thing, and it's nice in a bizarre way. Lana tries not to think about it too much. These kinds of thoughts are reserved for during sex only, she reminds herself.

They sit in silence for a long time, Lex only moving to pick up his phone on the occasion that it rings (three times in an hour and a half) and never speaking for very long when it does. Lana finds CNBC more boring than Smallville's monthly town meeting and the champagne in her system, comfortably dulled by the Chinese food, is making her very sluggish. She figures she'll close her eyes for just a minute, but not sleep because sleeping is just not something she and Lex often do around each other.

Resting in between bouts of sex, sure. Sleeping, no.

Intentions and plans don't always come to fruition, and Lana wakes when she feels a teasing wetness on her right nipple. She has no idea how long she's been out, but CNBC is still on, not that it means anything in terms of how long at a stretch Lex can watch this fucking channel. She wonders why he doesn't watch one of his other 700 channels. He gets porn for Gods sake and don't men dig that stuff?

It really doesn't matter, though, because there are tiny little shivers radiating through her body as Lex sucks on her breast. Her robe either came open or was pried open, she supposes it doesn't matter because his hand is snaking between them and beginning to tease the flesh at the juncture of her legs and this, she has to admit, is a really nice way to wake up.

Every attention Lex is paying her is gentle and sweet and everything this afternoon was not. Lana closes her eyes again and lets her shoulders relax bonelessly into the couch. She moans a little to keep him doing what he is doing, and decides Lex can definitely redeem himself if he just continues the path he's chosen for tonight.

She sighs as he parts her legs with his hand, takes a moment to remove his rings before slipping a thick finger inside of her. Lana squeals and Lex laughs a little, kissing his way down from her breasts to her navel and spending some time there as he pumps his finger in and out. Lana moves her hips in time with his hand, feeling the pent up energy she hadn't been able to release earlier come rushing back. It pools at her groin and sits there, waiting to be let go.

"God, Lex..." she groans, and it spurs him to move his mouth lower until his tongue dips between the folds of her sex and draws her clit out. Lana seriously thinks she's going to come in record time. She spreads her legs as far as she can get them on the confines of the sofa and grips the back of Lex's head with her fingers to keep him exactly where he is.

Lex slips a second finger inside of her and bites her clit softly. Lana comes so suddenly it surprises even herself, and she lets out a yelp as her body arches up of its own volition. She isn't sure she's ever had an orgasm without build up; if anyone had asked her up until ten seconds ago she'd have thought there had to be build up. But there wasn't, and she feels light headed as she seems to float back down to the sofa. Her entire body feels sore from how tightly she is clenching every muscle she has. Slowly, Lex pulls away, and even more slowly, Lana relaxes.

"Holy shit," she says, pushing just the barest of breaths off of her lips. Lex chuckles again and sits up, methodically unfastening each button of his shirt.

Lana can do nothing but lay there and watch, and hope the throbbing in her body subsides a little before Lex actually expects her to move. He doesn't seem to expect anything of her right now, perfectly content to undress himself and Lana is perfectly content to just watch.

No matter how much Lex may infuriate her with his arrogance (among other things), she cannot deny her attraction to him, and realizes that their relationship changing from one of tremulous friendship to one of almost pure sex is as much her doing as it is his. No longer can they sit for hours and pore over business reports, strategizing on how to remain the top coffee house in town. It takes 20 minutes before Lex has Lana bent over the desk in the back office, or before Lana is on her knees behind the counter.

It doesn't matter who initiates it, the other is always game, and only sometimes does Lana mourn for their other relationship, the one that bordered on a true friendship, the one where he could make her laugh and it would have nothing to do with an awkward sex position or post-orgasmic silliness.

She never really contemplates whether she wants both...things are just how they are and Lex has never made any bones about that. She is sure that if she said she wanted to stop having sex with him, he would acquiesce and keep his distance, but she knows now, more than ever, what a shrewd businessman Lex is and part of her wonders about her future with the Talon if she ever decides to stop.

The rational, independent girl inside of Lana knows that thoughts like this should make her get up and leave: run, don't walk, do not pass go, do not collect $200. But she loves having sex with Lex Luthor, and that is independence in its own right. A sort of 'fuck you' to the Smallville she grew up in and molded herself into the image they all expected.

Not that it's anyone's fault but hers. Another lesson quickly learned from the Master Luthor.

Lex slides Lana further down the sofa when he's completely undressed, and puts one of her legs up over the back of it. Lana trembles as she feels the cool air in the room whip over her swollen sex, but Lex quickly covers her with his body and pushes himself inside. Lana rises up to meet him, hips joining hips until he is in as far as he can go. He groans, and she figures it's the least she can do since she hasn't moved a centimeter since he gave her one of the most amazing orgasms of her life.

He doesn't look at her as they move together, he hardly ever does, and Lana watches his face freely as its expressions change nearly instantaneously. His eyes are closed, on occasion opening to look at her breasts as they bounce beneath him, but never, ever straying to her face or meeting her eyes. Lana lets her gaze flit over his shoulders and arms, muscles straining against smooth skin as he holds himself above her. He is truly beautiful, she thinks, despite his obvious and not so obvious flaws of personality.

And he's not that bad, she concedes, if you know what to expect, which she's getting better at but certainly not all the way there yet. The main lesson she's learned about what to expect from Lex Luthor is not to expect much when you want it, but extravagance bordering on pretentious when you don't.

That is a hard thing to get used to, because it's backwards really, and sometimes she figures Lex should turn himself around to go with the rest of the population, rather than expecting the rest of the population to turn themselves around and go with him.

He'll never do that, she knows, that's what makes him Lex and not any other rich, successful businessman both feared and revered in one of the largest cities in the United States.

Lana likes Lex's cock; it's long and smooth and always warm. She likes the way it feels inside of her, as if it was made to be in her and only her. She feels safe with it there, as crazy as the notion is. She lifts her legs and wraps them around Lex's back, crossing them at the ankle and pulling him in even deeper. He grinds out a word that might be 'God', or it might be 'fuck' or it might be anything in between and Lana doesn't care, she just likes that she makes him guttural.

Lana also likes this position because her clit presses against the flat of Lex's stomach when he thrusts in. She feels the build up this time, lets her own eyes fall closed as she concentrates on feeling him filling her; feeling every part of his skin where it touches her.

She senses when he becomes rigid and taut, hears the familiar long, low growl in his throat, knows he is going to come soon. Lana wants to tell him to hold on just a little longer, but no one tells Lex Luthor that. She wants to slip her own hand between them and rub her clit so she can come at the same time, but there's no humanly possible way.

Instead, she uses the friction while it lasts in Lex's final frantic thrusts before he is empty and still inside of her. She releases her legs, feeling her own body protesting to the loss of him because there's more that it wants. Lana thinks if she was just brave enough to say something, he'd go down on her again or use his fingers to bring her to orgasm because damn, it wouldn't take much. But she's not brave enough and somehow in her mind that is Lex's fault.

Lex's fault for being Lex Luthor and not Clark or Whitney or hell, anyone she isn't afraid of. Lex's fault for making her want him. Lex's fault for taking what he knew she'd give him all those months before and refusing to let go. All. Lex's. Fault.

He gets up after a while, drops a kiss against her lips and walks to the bathroom. He doesn't say anything (not unusual) and when she hears the shower start, Lana pulls her robe tightly back around her and ties the belt. She feels her insides humming. She remains still. Flips on CNBC and tries watching it.

The shower runs on and Lana shifts and sighs. Her legs fall open of their own accord and she gives in, opening her robe and putting her fingers against her clit. She curses Lex Luthor as she comes.


Lana spends the night on the couch alone. Lex does rouse her at one point and asks her to come to bed, but Lana suspects it's an invitation for more sex, not a plea to be cuddled with and talk until sunrise. She shakes her head at him and turns over. He does, to his credit, cover her with a blanket.

Seven o'clock the next morning finds Lana dressing in her clothes from yesterday and walking to the deli down the street for orange juice and bagels. It isn't something Lex has asked her to do; she just thinks it's really important to get out of the apartment, even if it is for 20 minutes. If she doesn't, then all she'll have to show for a 24-hour stint in Metropolis are two long limo rides and a night in Lex's apartment.

While she's at the deli, she solidifies her plan to take back her dignity.

At ten after ten, they are in the limo. Lex's meeting is at 10:30 at the Plaza Hotel, roughly 15 minutes away. He kisses Lana gently, easing his tongue into her mouth as they pull out of the apartment parking garage. It usually starts like this, only now Lex is trying to be even nicer and gentler because he knows he doesn't have much time to get off. At least, this is Lana's theory. She has no idea if he actually puts that much thought into these kinds of things or if he just hopes for the best and deep down knows that his girl won't let him down.

It doesn't matter because today, Lana's more than willing to acquiesce. While he's kissing her, she puts her palm against the very expensive Armani pants he has on and rubs him into full erection. He groans and encourages her, using his own hands to squeeze and pinch her breasts.

Lana breaks away from his admittedly addicting kisses long enough to unbuckle his pants and slick her fingers over the underside of his cock. He leans his head against the back of the seat, pushing breath outward. Taking the length of him in her hand, she begins to jerk him off in the way he likes: long, languid strokes that begin at the head and end at the base of his cock. Her thumb travels over the slit and uses his precome to keep her fingers moist while he bucks against her in uneven movements.

Lana uses her free hand to pull Lex's arm toward her and looks at the time on his watch. Ten minutes is more than enough time, she just doesn't want it to be too much. Without ceremony, she lifts her bottom and places his hand under her skirt.

He gets the hint and slips his fingers inside her panties. He's moved his head up and is looking at her now, perhaps surprised at her boldness. Lana bites her lip as he teases the folds of her sex open and brushes over her clit. She manages a smile (close enough) and grinds against his hand.

Lex keeps rubbing at her, and Lana keeps rubbing at him, and she thinks this is going well. Except when he opens his mouth to push out a strangled breath and a command comes with it.

"Suck me," he says through clenched teeth.

Lana hesitates, because this is not part of the plan. She wants to come before him, and wonders if she puts her mouth anywhere near his cock if he'll stop fondling her altogether. Still, Lex is...Lex, and he told her to do something so she bends down and curls her lips around the head of his penis. He gasps, but keeps his fingers where they are. His thumb is working her clit so frantically, she thinks she'll come very soon, if she'd just stop worrying.

She bucks her hips a little and stops sucking on his cock long enough to grind out, "God Lex, that feels amazing." It's a preventative measure. Lex is a bastard sometimes, but not even he is a bastard enough to stop doing something a woman just told him feels amazing.

For a minute, with all of her games, Lana feels more like a whore than she did yesterday. But Lex pinches her clit with his thumb and forefinger and she forgets to breathe, much less think self-depreciating thoughts.

"Oh my God," she gasps.

Lex responds by pushing her head back down to his cock. Right. She almost forgot. He's got the meeting, he needs to get off. Asshole. Still, she opens her mouth and takes him inside.

Lana comes with an unintelligible moan while Lex is pistoning his hips enough to practically shove his cock down her throat. She pulls back a little, reeling from her orgasm, and wraps her hand around the base of him, squeezing a little.

"Lana--" he growls, and she thinks it may be a warning, though she figures it's probably better not to try to guess the intentions of a tone during sex. Instead, she speeds up her pace, using her hand to cover most of the length of him and only winding her tongue around the very tip.

She feels his fingers leave her and they join his other hand in her hair. Which sucks, because she doesn't want to smell herself in her hair. But there isn't much she can do, and she continues to tease him relentlessly, sucking hard and long until he's gasping, then pulling away and squeezing his base to keep him from coming.

This is taking too long, she thinks, and she wonders if Lex will soon abandon the idea of a blow job altogether and just throw her against the seat and slam himself inside. It's not like he hasn't done that before.

There must be an optimist in him somewhere, Lana realizes, or he's really enjoying this teasing game, because he keeps playing along, whispering a 'holy shit' when she brings her hand underneath her to cup his balls. She scrapes at the skin with her nails and hums around his erection until he's gripping handfuls of her hair almost painfully and muttering curse words and blasphemes over and over and over to no one in particular.

Lana thinks he might come soon. She is out of ideas to stop it, and wonders if she should alter her plan and just pull away at the last second so that he ruins his pants. Except that she knows he has another pair somewhere in the limo; he keeps an entire spare suit for emergencies (and, she suspects, situations exactly like this one). She is thrilled to hear the driver announce their arrival at the Plaza Hotel, even more thrilled at the look on Lex's face as she pulls abruptly away from him, takes his own hand and places it on his throbbing cock.

The driver pulls to a stop and Lana runs a hand through her hair. She takes a minute to savor the view, Lex holding his raging hard-on with a very surprised, very pissed expression on his face. Suddenly she is a little frightened but she's come too far to stop now and damn it, this is about taking back what's hers.

With a smile she leans over to open the limo door and hops out. Lex has gathered enough wherewithal to bark her name, and Lana thinks it's more of a bark and a growl combined, like she's just angered a very, very large and powerful bear. She bites her lip, but turns around anyway and leans in the door frame.

"Have a nice meeting, Lex," she says sweetly, before slamming it hard behind her.

She walks as quickly as she can away from the limo, not caring in which direction she is going but just needing to be far enough away before Lex composes himself. She feels a little wobbly in the legs, and wonders if it's more from fear or the orgasm or if it's equal parts both.

It doesn't matter, she figures, because she's finished something and started something all at the same time. She vaguely wonders what Lex's punishment will be, or if there will be one at all. Her original intention was to teach Lex a lesson. No matter what anyone might think, they cannot push Lana Lang around and get away with it. But Lex has often told her that he doesn't learn lessons very well, and she wonders if she's gotten herself in way over her head this time.

A block south of the Plaza she hails a cab and pushes all thoughts of Lex from her mind. She's taken the rest of the money from inside the bible after all, and she's about to do some serious shopping.

06 Feb 2003

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Christie

Return to Wild Coyote: The Smallville Het Archive