Infringement - Chapter 2

Title:    Infringement

Series:    Infected

Rating:    T

Author:    SilverSnikle

Character:    Clark

Timeline:   Around 6 months afer Clark Luthor's Seventeenth Birthday

Warnings:   Luthor-verse

Disclaimer:   Borrowed characters and some dialogue... No affiliation to CW/WB, DC

Summary:   My take on Clark Luthor's descent into darkness. This story focuses on his relationship with Chloe Sullivan.

< Chapter 1

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infringe
1.	( tr ) to violate or break (a law, an agreement, etc)
2.	( intr; foll by  on or  upon ) to encroach or trespass

Chloe sat on the soft leather sofa with her feet curled up under her, the short skirt not quite reaching mid-thigh. The same question flashed through her mind on repeat. What was she doing here? Granted, this is where she had wanted to end up; at least a very small part had intended that. Oh, who was she kidding? Why else would she have hi-jacked Lois's closet and sneaked into a club? But she was fast realizing that fantasizing about a situation and having that fantasy become a reality were two very different concepts. The process of meeting him at the club, dancing endlessly, and then rushing off back to his place had all happened so quickly that she hadn't had time to think. Now that she did, she had no idea what she was doing.

Clark walked back into the room holding two glasses and offered Chloe one as he sat, the far side of the couch succumbing to his weight. She took the drink and stared silently at the clear liquid it held. Internally she argued that she should drink, if only to loosen up a little. Something about this tall, dark haired god stiffened her muscles. Then there was the fact that she could barely think, let alone make coherent conversation. Chloe was a woman of action, she was a pro at improvisation. The feeling of insecurity was foreign. But she'd had a few drinks back at the club, and though she was no longer feeling the effects of those, she still hesitated.

"It's just water." He smiled at her, and she couldn't help but wish it were just a tad more challenging. Water? Really? She had thought him to be the epitome of a particular Brittany Spears song. He was certainly doing a number on her assumptions that he fit the bill of womanizer. Then again, did she really want him treating her the way she had expected; like just another floozy? Or even trying to play her into thinking she was different? She took a sip from her glass, and sure enough- "I do have something a little more, adventurous." The lilt in his voice made her heart flutter. He was smoothly slipping into the character that she had been expecting.

"No. Water is great." With his settling in to his role, she made a last minute decision. If anything were to happen tonight, she wanted it to be on her terms. Besides, she really wanted to remember every detail. Since the few drinks she'd had back at the club were wearing off, water was good. Water was perfect.

...

Clark sat his glass on the coffee table and twisted around to face Chloe. There was no repudiating that she was certainly something to be desired. He let the corner of his lips rise as his eyes slid over her. Yes, definitely agreeable to the eyes, and other parts of his anatomy. He couldn’t stop himself from entertaining thoughts of her in his large bed, not that he would deprive himself of such creative visions. Neither would he attempt to deprive himself of assuaging those curiosities.

He'd wanted something to happen when he had begun frequenting Oliver's favorite club, but this was far better than anything he himself could have planned. Taking home blondes night after night in front of Lois had apparently not made her jealous. She was apparently a bit slower than he had initially given her credit for. He had, after all, stared her down as he exited with each girl wrapped around him. Lois had, however, noticed. Though she had misinterpreted his actions, she had sent him the one opportunity - or girl, that was sure to manifest jealousy.

"Let's not play games." He leaned forward, artfully placing a large hand next to her shoulder on the back of the couch. With his head tilted forward, their faces inches apart, he opened his mouth to continue speaking. He found his words were cut off by Chloe's lips pressed against his. They were soft, warm, and inviting.

He quickly recovered from the initial shock and kissed her back, smiling against her. She seemed to know what she wanted, and wasn't in the mood for games either. Who was he to argue or deny her anything? Especially if he wanted the same things. He mentally reminded himself to thank Lois later for sending him Chloe. The kissing alone was well worth the long con.

Clark was used to being the aggressor. Most girls, though most would never openly admit it, loved being dominated. If he were honest, which he rarely was (even with himself), he didn't mind being pushed around so much either. So when Chloe pushed at his shoulders and climbed into his lap, he simply let himself fall back and held on to her hips. She sent a chill through him, running her hands down his still clothed chest, letting them rest on his abs. He naturally slid a hand up and around the back of her shoulder to pull her closer. Just before letting go of coherent thoughts he decided maybe a gift basket would be a better 'thank you' to Lois than simply voicing the words.

...

Chloe was not innocent; she really wasn't. She'd had her handful of interested guys throughout the years. Once, when she'd first gotten the internship at The Planet, she'd met the sweetest boy, Jimmy. After a work party one night they'd gotten a little physical, and when things had started to escalate, she had let them. Thanks to that experience, she knew 'sweet' wasn't exactly what she was wanting.

Part of her was surprised and more than a little disappointed that Clark wasn't being more aggressive. Though, he seemed plenty excited, so she figured she was doing fine. It wasn't as if he were just laying back, letting her do all the work. He was just letting her lead. She wondered if he just played the tough guy role in public. She realized his submission was only serving to turn her on more. She was reminded of how different he'd been during their initial meeting.

He had seemed almost sweet, and Chloe had honestly been shocked by his demeanor. He hadn't treated her with disdain as she had expected. He'd tried to make her more comfortable. Then later in the night he had grabbed her and dragged her out onto the balcony, a small cake in his free hand. He was almost a different person on the balcony. There had been nothing sweet about the way he'd stared at her lips when he had fed her a bite of that cake. Lois showing up at that moment had been pure torture. Chloe was certain he'd been about to kiss her, and now she knew exactly what she'd missed out on. She needed to tell Lois all was forgiven for her initial bad timing.

Chloe had tried to forget about that 'almost' experience, knowing for certain he had, and focus on school and her articles. But she had started to feel lonely, for the first time in ... ever. When it became a possibility that maybe he hadn't forgotten, that he was focusing his attention on only blondes at the clubs, she'd relented. So far, that had been the best decision of her life.

...

As Clark hefted the jaunty blonde onto his hips and carried her down the hall to his room, he was having trouble remembering why he liked a certain brunette so much. Of course, he'd had quite a few blondes (and brunettes) in his bed recently, but this one was something else. She stirred something inside him that both terrified and intrigued him. He decided it had to be a shared family trait and stopped attempting to think clearly. By the time he had laid her gently back onto his comforter and stretched out over her, Clark was no longer concerned with anything outside of the disposal of all clothing.

...
Chloe pulled the sheet tight, tucking it under her chin and snuggling into the warmth behind her. Her eyes shot open, and she lifted her head to look around the unfamiliar room. As a large arm encircled her waist and pulled her tight against a hard warmth, she relaxed, her memory flooding with the previous night.

After they, herself in particular, were worn out she had fully expect Clark to make some tepid excuse and push her unceremoniously out his front door. Instead, he'd dragged her into his shower and then back to his bed. Falling asleep must have happened immediately, because she couldn't remember lying there. She smiled when Clark pressed his face into her hair and mumbled incoherently.

This was a first. Waking up in a strange bed with a man, both of them naked, wasn't something Chloe had any experience in. His even, steady breaths in her hair let her know he was still soundly sleeping. His muscles quivered as he tightened his arm around her again. She decided to snuggle further into his hold and let herself drift back to sleep; it was Saturday after all. And she was still tired. She could worry about it all later.

...

Clark could smell vanilla, and citrus. He smiled and wrapped a leg around the small warm body in his arms. And then he stiffened. Waking up to warm bodies, other than his own, in his bed after sun up was not something he let happen. He slid his eyes open and studied the mess of golden curls on his pillow. He rolled his eyes at himself and gently removed his limbs from her body. He didn't want to wake her yet. He needed to think.

Outside his room he shut the door gently and made his way down the hall to his guest bath, thankful again that his father had supplied him his own loft for school. After relieving himself, he rested on the arm of his couch for a moment to gather his thoughts. Lately, he lived life like a game of chess, always planning his next three moves. This wasn't exactly an exception. Life had simply done something he had not anticipated. The end-game remained the same: attain Lois's affections. Either convince her Oliver was not the man for her, or make them both suffer. Chloe was the perfect pawn. He decidedly ignored the pang of guilt that sliced through his abdomen; he could not afford emotion. This was strategy, nothing else. It was nothing personal against the angelic body he had defiled.

He did not care about this - Chloe; he would not allow himself to care about her, he could not. Distractions were also something he could not afford. Therefore, the decision to run down the street to his favorite bakery for coffee and bagels to serve her in bed was not impulsive. No matter what fleeting, obscure predilection he may have been experiencing, his actions were simply to reassure the illusion.

He used his inhuman speed to quickly acquire bagels and two coffees. Not knowing how she would prefer her coffee, he also filled a bag with flavored creamers and sugar while he let himself ponder over this woman. There was certainly an attraction between himself and Chloe, that fact could not be denied. His desire to be near her, to touch her surprised even himself. In the past, girls he brought home were tossed out once he felt fulfilled. Last night, in a moment of contentment, he had not given her the option to leave.

The memory of running water, their bodies pressed together, and her mouth against his made his pulse quicken. Clark tried to remember the last time he had flashed back to being with a partner after the fact. All he could come up with was more of last night. It was as if their union had erased his memory of every other encounter. That obviously wasn't actually the case. If he focused he could remember pressing up against a bright blue-eyed blonde in his hallway last weekend. But as he pushed to remember more details, her face would blur into that of the woman still softly snoring in his bed. He wasn't even aware of the ridiculous smile plastered on his face until a barista sweeping off the patio commented that he must have had a good night. The young man winked at Clark and Clark simply tipped his head with a laugh.

Back in his kitchen, he arranged it all on a tray, previously part of the decor, and walked carefully back down his hallway. If he wanted this new plan to work, he needed Chloe to believe he had fallen for her, and hard. He had not - of course - and would not. He definitely wasn't smiling a genuine smile as he pushed the bedroom door open with his shoulder and saw her eyes still closed, her breaths even. He could not afford sincerity, it was all a show.

Even when he sat the tray on the bedside table, sitting carefully on his bed next to her, and reached out to move back a blonde ringlet from her face, it was not impromptu nor admiration- no. It was a simply a calculated move. And that tight feeling in his chest, well, he'd heard his father complain of heartburn, maybe Kryptonians could get a version of that.

She moved, pressing her cheek into the palm of his hand, and he pulled away. It was time to wake her. With a gentle hand on her shoulder he shook her carefully. She made an attempt to roll over away from him, but he held her.

“Morning, Sleepy.” His voice was quiet, and deep, but her eyes fluttered open. She smiled up at him, almost shyly, and closed her eyes again. “I brought you bagels, and coffee.”

At the mention of coffee she opened her eyes again, this time wide, and her smile brightened. Clark's lips didn't turn up at the corners as a response to her electric smile, but he couldn't deny the feeling of pride at causing said smile. He helped her into a sitting position before handing her the coffee and accompanying bag of randomness.

“I wasn't sure how you like yours, so I grabbed a bit of everything.” He grabbed the tray and placed it between them. Distance was a good thing.

...

“You didn't have to do all this. I could have grabbed something on my way home.” She immediately regretted that last sentence. She made it sound as if she wanted to go home, even preferred it. Here he'd done the absolute sweetest thing possible, and she'd acted as if she'd wanted none of it. “I mean, I'm sure you have plans for the day. I wouldn't want to get in your way.” She blinked and stared into the darkness of her coffee. She blamed her idiocy on the lack of caffeine in her system. She typically excelled in all things lingual.

“Actually. I don't have anything specific planned today.” She watched as he spread cream cheese onto half of his cinnamon bagel and took a bite. His mouth was mesmerizing as he chewed. Her eyes dropped lower as he swallowed. His voice brought her eyes back up to meet his. “I usually keep my schedules pretty open on Saturdays. You?”

Chloe looked back down at her coffee; this whole situation was simply surreal. She had heard all the stories about Clark Luthor in the gossip magazines and through supposed first-hand experiences. None of them had mentioned anything about breakfast in bed, or chit-chat, or even sleeping over. She felt herself frown at her answer. “Yeah, I guess my Saturdays are pretty boring.” 'Boring' was an understatement, and it sounded ridiculously lame. Shouldn't she be trying to present herself as something desirable? Instead, so far she had insulted him and admitted to being a bore.

“I have a few ideas for how we could spend the day, if you want to hear them.” She picked up the other bagel as he spoke and used his knife to gather some cream cheese. She nodded when he didn't immediately continue. “We could watch old movies, I have unlimited access to all movie channels. We could have an encore of last night's performance.” He raised an eyebrow, complete with the lascivious look she'd craved the night before. She smiled and took a bite to keep from laughing like a hyena, she didn't think that would come off as attractive. Her nerves were fried, she hoped the carbs would help calm them down. “I could take you somewhere for the day. Anywhere in a - say, two hour flight radius?”

Chloe swallowed the bite she'd been chewing and thought about all this. Her response shocked her. “Why?” Well, that wasn't exactly what she had planned to say. She tried again. “I mean, why are you being so- I'm not even sure what word to use here.” So much for fixing it. She decided against speaking anymore.

“Romantic? Sweet? Caring? Charming?” He took a sip of his coffee and placed it back on the bedside table. “I guess you haven't heard about me being those things.” She nodded, mentally rolling her eyes at herself. Why did she have to question everything? The journalist inside her needed to learn when to hide in the shadows. Why couldn't she just choose one of his crazily wonderful plans for the day and get on with it? He started to speak again and she stopped the mental monologue.“Well, it's true I don't usually.” He paused for a breath, “Care, that is.” He shrugged and she spat her last sip of coffee out over the bed with a choked laugh.

“I'm so sorry.” Her eyes were frantic and she grabbed for the napkins to blot up the mess. For some reason his blunt admission had hit her as absolutely hilarious. She desperately needed to get that coffee into her system and finish her bagel. She needed to be able to think clearly. Was that his game? Admit to being a pompous ass? Or was something making him feel at ease enough to speak openly? Either way, if she kept this up he'd be pushing her out the front door in record time. He would be done with her and her insanity.

She took a risk and glanced over at him, as she blotted at the coffee. His eyes were wide, his bagel almost touching his parted lips, frozen. He shook his head, blinked, and suddenly they both erupted into rolling laughter.


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