Voyeur

by a campbell

Clark/Lex, Helen, NC-17

Takes place between "Accelerate" and "The Calling".

Thanks to fajrdrako for the beta, and to fleegull for the info on the undeveloped storyline involving Helen’s brother.

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Helen stirred, sat up in bed, pulling the medical journal, bent and half crushed, from beneath her. She smoothed crumpled pages with a muttered hiss of irritation, hoping the creases would come out if she laid the magazine flat for a while with a book on top of it. Rose-orange light from the sunset beyond the garden lit the exposed section of white bedspread at the foot of the bed, brightening her bare feet with one last splash of color before the glow faded.

She never fell asleep in the evenings this way. Proof positive that she was exhausted. The double shifts at the hospital were catching up with her, so much so that she’d found a sub for this evening. What a luxury to come home early for once—to get off work when ordinary people did, while it was still light.

Leading a double life was tiring, too, the constant dissembling, the endless pretending, and trying to stay one step ahead of Lex and his father. Of not one genius opponent, but two.

The nap had helped. She felt better, refreshed, and untangled herself from the white lace nightgown that was twisted around her legs and hips. She lay back and took a deep breath, then yawned and snuggled into the soft quilt beneath her. She turned lazily to glance out the window. Fresh, damp spring air drifted into the room with chattering birdsong as the sun sank beyond the manor gardens.

Helen smiled, letting her eyes drop closed again. Things were pretty good right now. She'd rebounded from the rejection after the Great Migration, when a big chunk of her patients switched caregivers when she and Lex began dating. So what if she'd lost another slew after she moved into the mansion, and would no doubt lose a few more when the engagement was announced? It didn't much matter, with a fiancé wealthy as Midas who adored her, besides. She’d have no need to practice again if things weren't right. Everything was going to be fine.

Everything was set up to perfection. Her father was in Metropolis and she was here. (Mental note: keep at least three hours distance between them at all times). Small town, sure, but she felt quite one of the larger fish in the pond. The bruises and cuts from Paul’s attack were almost entirely healed, though inner scars might take longer. In a couple of months, she and Lex would be married, and when they were, she’d never look back.

She’d believed in medicine once. And in the value of her profession. But then had come Brad’s accident, and she’d only been going through the motions since, riding the wave of her early success after her heart had stopped. Her only brother, her best friend, dead at sixteen, or as good as dead, and Lex Luthor was to blame.

She’d planned her revenge-—okay, perhaps not as thoroughly as she should have. He’d tripped her up on a few technicalities, thrown some unexpected curves. So what? she’d still been able to snag his heart. The debacle with Paul, devastating as it had been, had worked to her advantage, reeling Lex in irrevocably. She had him.

And the best part? She could detest Lex and still find the arrangement agreeable. Make it work for her, and fool him into believing it was working for him, too. Lex: pleasant, challenging company, attractive, not to mention great in bed. At one time, it would have taken very little to make her fall in love with him. But it wouldn’t happen. She’d quit caring about anyone but herself a long time ago.

Still, there was something about him. Helen stretched, and stood, regarded herself in the standing oval mirror near the bed, ran a hand through her hair and let dark curls cascade through her fingers. She turned this way and that, letting her full lips curve into a languid smile and her gaze go dark and mysterious. She reached to the lace-trimmed ribbon at the neck of her gown, untied it slowly, let it fall open, baring her breasts. Just practicing, so she could try the technique on Lex when he got home.

In spite of her resolve, she missed Lex tonight. Spring air never failed to stir her blood.

She wondered idly how he would like the new white nightgown, one of several garments she had bought on a modest boutique spree that afternoon on the way home from work. Wearing it, she hardly looked the businesslike physician, but rather more the heroine of a 19th-century novel: Victorian, romantic, bedecked with lace. Lex would appreciate the contrast between her innocent, virginal attire and the experienced, sensuous woman inside. She didn't mind; the lightweight gown was far more comfortable than any filmy negligee she had ever owned. She imagined the contrast between the cool cotton and the warmth of Lex's hand as it wandered under the material, over her belly, down to her mound to finger moist curls of hair, caress and tweak, stretch her open to ready her as he whispered in her ear. His other arm would circle around her, hand reaching up to cup her breast and thumb the nipple through the soft fabric.

She felt her cheeks go warm and her thighs dampen at the rapid progress of her thoughts. Turning this way and that, she raised her arms, cupped a breast in each hand. Trembled as she imagined Lex’s mouth on one, then the other, and exhaled on a long sigh.

The red sun had dipped below the horizon, and, though it was still light outside, evening clouds had moved in. Helen opened the window, closed her eyes, and breathed deep lungfuls of the moist, cold twilight air. Longed for Lex to be home soon, to feel his arms around her, know the warmth of his kiss. He loved so few others, had so many defenses in place. He'd asked her to breach the walls he'd built around himself, and knowing she had done so went straight to her heart.

What heart she had left.

She turned from the window and surveyed the room, thinking how agreeable life in the mansion was, even though she'd pretended not to want to move in when Lex asked her. More than agreeable: luxurious. Take this room, for example. Hadn't she yearned for a bedroom with a fireplace since she was an impressionable adolescent? The luxurious high rise she'd grown up in hadn't had any such thing. Well, the fireplace wasn't in the bedroom, exactly, but in the adjoining parlor. They’d often left the door open during the previous weeks, coals smoldering as they slept, and as the seasons turned from winter to spring. It may have been frivolous, but she’d ordered a fire made up in there as soon as she arrived home that evening, so it would be warm and welcoming in the parlor when Lex came back. And hadn’t she always wanted one of those parlors, too? Now she had both. And she could enjoy them when they were here in Smallville and relish travelling the world the rest of the time.

Being Mrs. Lex Luthor would have its advantages, whether love, hate, or both were involved. Their life together would be….well, not dull, whatever else it might be.

She’d see to that.

In the main room outside, a door creaked open and closed. Lex, she thought, and her heart gave a small jump of excitement. Back earlier than she'd expected. And right when she was in the mood to give him a proper welcome home.

She swung slim legs over the side of the bed, and paused. Scuffling, whispering, coming from the outer room. Her heart executed a little flip of dismay at the sound, and she frowned.

Lex wasn’t alone.

She listened, detected the breathless tenor of a male voice, fresher, younger than Lex’s crisp, velvet one. Helen’s lips thinned. Ah, yes. Lex sometimes helped the Kent boy with school assignments, treated him like a cherished younger brother. Coddled him, really, unusually generous with time he didn't have. Tonight, though, the guys sounded like they were goofing off. Helen strained her ears with a ghost of an indulgent smile. Well, she'd let them roughhouse for a moment or two, and then intervene and send Clark off home. There were things more important than a teenager's homework. Like some nice, leisurely lovemaking with her fiancé.

“Clark, I could swear I hear your mother calling you for supper...so, run along, now." Helen imagined herself saying. She chuckled, low and sleek, then listened.

Thought she heard her name in there somewhere.

Stop...Helen. More rustling, and a bump against furniture. A thump and a curse, muffled, in Clark’s soft voice. Then Lex’s, in a murmur, smooth and quiet. Helen held her breath, straining to hear as she tiptoed over to the slatted door that separated the bedroom from the parlor. One of the slats was just a little loose, and she lifted it gingerly. She ducked her head and peered out.

She wasn’t sure what kept her from opening it.

Clark wasn’t wearing his regular flannel and denim jeans. Both of them were dressed in black. Lex was close to Clark, who leaned against the outer door, looking down at him with unusual intensity and murmuring something. Try as she might, Helen couldn’t make out what he was saying.

Lex turned slowly away from Clark so he was facing in her direction. She tensed, but he came no closer, and at least now she could hear. "She's at the hospital for another few hours. At least. Thank goodness." He ambled to the carafe with that swaying gait of his and poured himself a scotch, as he always did when he got home. Usually he poured one for her, first.

Thank goodness?

"I checked her schedule this morning just to make sure. She’s on call until 11. You know how conscientious she is."

There was just a touch of contempt in his tone, and Helen’s smile faded as her eyes narrowed into slits. She’d always thought he admired her professional dedication.

When she looked out again, Lex had returned to Clark’s side. Clark hadn’t moved from his place by the door. And something about the expressions on their faces seemed to raise every hair on Helen’s scalp. She pressed one hand to her mouth.

Somehow she knew what was going to happen next.

That Lex would make a breathless sound, and touch, smoothing his hand over Clark's chest in slow circles, bending in to nip at his lips, trace them with his tongue. Clark’s eyes darkened as Helen watched, she could almost feel the tension drain from his body as a slow, stunning smile spread over his face. She couldn’t see Lex’s face but she could imagine the power of that grin up close. It was devastating enough from a distance.

Helen stifled a gasp that was half fascination, one hand going to her mouth. "My God," she whispered. This was more than friendship.

"She’s not important," Lex was saying, hands gliding down, resting on Clark’s black-clad hips to hold him steady "We are. Trust me, Clark. Just relax. Give yourself over.

"Give yourself to me."

And Clark did, placing both of those big hands on each side of Lex’s face and bending down to kiss, open-mouthed. Lex appeared small and slight in his embrace as he lifted his face to meet Clark’s lips.

Blank emptiness was quickly succeeded by the beginnings of anger. Apparently Lex was less besotted with her than she’d assumed. Okay, fine. She narrowed her eyes and looked through the slat again, then dropped her gaze to the floor as she tried mentally to regroup. An old-time saying flickered through her memory, that eavesdroppers seldom hear good of themselves. She paid no heed. It wasn't as though she had much choice. She was stuck here in the bedroom unless she wanted to jump out the window.

Should she go back to bed and pretend to be asleep? Pull one of those expensive pillows over her head?

Squinting, she peered again through the slats. Tried to focus and concentrate. Clark was wearing a black shirt and dress pants. His hair was long and wavy. His mother would probably have said he needed a haircut, but to Helen he looked even more handsome than usual.

Lex seemed to think so, too. He was letting one hand trail gently down Clark's chest while trying to unfasten the top button of his shirt with the other. Clark pushed his hand carefully away, moistened his lips with his tongue and undid the button himself, his eyes burning bright as he gazed down at Lex.

Helen didn’t realize how hard she was leaning against the slatted door until it gave a little creak. She jumped back in alarm.

"Lex." She could hear Clark’s voice, tight whisper, low and tense. She looked out again, if they were approaching, she’d just yank the door open before they touched it and act surprised to see them. But they both stood still, Clark placing one of his strong hands over Lex's wandering fingers to still them. Helen, squinting, could see him scanning the room, intense, fearful and suspicious. "I could have sworn I heard someone." Clark gave a half-embarrassed chuckle.

"Not a chance," Lex murmured easily. "The staff have all gone home. But, just to reassure you..." With an indulgent smile, Lex opened the hall door and peered outside, looking first to the right, then the left. His bald head looked oddly vulnerable from the back, and as always he seemed slim and slight beside Clark. "No one. You're edgy tonight. Relax. Nothing to worry about. But, just to be sure..." He flipped the lock on the door and stepped back, scanning Clark from dark curls to the toes of his sneakers. Helen would have to have been blind not to see the hunger in his gaze, or the way Clark’s face flushed before he moistened his full lips with the tip of his tongue, still looking troubled. A shadow of concern passed over Lex's face as he moved closer.

"Okay, now?" Lex soothed, his hands running up and down both Clark's arms. Clark smiled and nodded, and the way Lex's eyes darkened then made Helen catch her breath as she watched.

Clark spoke again, and, God, how young he sounded, and looked. "Lex, we’ve been close for a long time. Almost two years. But you’re with Helen, now. It’s not right for us to keep--".

"Maybe not," Lex broke in. "But, right or not, here we are."

Lex took Clark’s hand, fingered it for a moment before lifting it to his lips. He gave him one of those small, secret smiles, and bestowed a light kiss on his knuckles.

And Clark smiled at Lex, flash of white teeth, big, beautiful, big grin that seemed to warm the entire room and threatened to melt even Helen’s fortified heart. But she rallied her defenses at once.

It was all coming clear now. Making sense. At first she'd accepted Lex's assurance that he and the Kent boy were just good friends. Tried to ignore the way Lex's tone would go warm and quiet when he mentioned Clark's name, as he did so often, the aura of secret knowledge that he seemed to possess. She'd known gradually, certainly by the time Lex had shown her the chamber on third floor that there was more to it. Lex had seemed a different person in there. Not that she scared easily, but he’d almost frightened her. He’d certainly disturbed her. And, worse, he'd seemed to know what she would think of the whole setup and not to care.

That the obsession was sexual didn't surprise her in the least. Not combined with her memory of that room. This was confirmation, the last piece of the puzzle falling into place. She’d believed him the night he proposed. Even if he hadn’t actually said, "I love you," he’d sworn it had been she who’d saved him and not Clark. So of course she’d believed she was first in his heart, and been so proud of keeping her own sacrosanct. Well, surprise, surprise. And big deal.

Helen’s confused anger faded as fascination took over. Her hand lifted to open the latch, but something stopped her. She had to hear what was going to happen. No, she wanted to see it.

Lex lifted his hands and ran slim fingers through Clark's dark locks, smoothed them, then closed his eyes and, with the slightest of grins, bowed his head to rest against Clark's chin. Almost as though he were worshipping him, was Helen’s disgruntled thought. Clark raised his hands to cup Lex’s head, held his face steady long enough to gaze into his eyes for a long moment, then bent to kiss him, hesitantly at first, then with more confidence. Helen could almost hear the click of teeth as their mouths met. Her breath caught in her throat as her heart picked up its beat in rapidly growing excitement. Because, God, the kiss was hot. All mouths, lips, spit and tongues. As though they were attempting to devour each other.

Break it up, said a voice inside. Call him on this. Mortify him. He deserves it, for God's sake.

But she did nothing. Her reaction was unexpected, a strange one and complex, at the notion of Lex, doing these things with a high school boy. Part of her was astonished, the other part said, I knew it. Curiosity and fascination were overcoming anger. Lex would go for anything if he wanted it enough. And the third element was the most surprising of all. Arousal. Her own.

Lex was standing close to Clark. Really close. Their voices were so low Helen could barely hear them. But she could feel her own breathing accelerate, slowly and rhythmically.

She sank slowly to the floor, squinting, peering out between the slats of the bedroom door. Clark was unfastening the buttons on Lex's shirt. Lex turned so he could slip it off, then took the shirt from Clark’s hands and tossed it on a nearby chair. Clark bent to kiss Lex's bare shoulder with full lips Helen was sure must be warm. Lex threw back his head with eyes closed, and the wet spot left on his skin glistened in the firelight.

She could feel heat rising in her cheeks and the dull thud of her heart. The confusing mixture of emotions coursed through her. She shouldn't be watching this. But neither could she draw her eyes away.

She knew how warm and soft Lex's breath must feel in Clark's ear, the delicious shiver that no doubt went skittering down Clark's spine when Lex mouthed his neck with open lips. She knew how focused Lex could be, how irresistible when determined. Focused Lex. She knew that when Lex slid his tongue into Clark's ear, the effect would be the same as it always was with her. The sound of his voice, that close, whispering in her ear, always made her wet. And despite Clark’s dark slacks, it was clear he was hard already.

Clark didn’t have a chance. He was young, too young, surely, to resist. She never could.

Lex pressed him back against the wall. With a restless moan, Clark’s eyes dropped shut, lips opening for another kiss. Helen’s distress morphed into a crazy urge to giggle as her eyes grew wide. Lex could do time for this, she thought, and what wonderful blackmail material. This, her first thought, was succeeded by another mercurial change: I should really go out there and stop this. Now. He’s so young…

But somehow she doubted that this was Clark's first time, or that he was an unwilling partner. He was enjoying it too much. Clark's platitude-spouting dad would probably say there was no point locking the barn door after the horse had been stolen.

Beautiful boy. If she were just a little younger...

She realized her mouth was hanging open, and she clamped it shut. She sat still, did nothing. Kept watching.

Watched Lex kissing Clark with far more passion than he ever kissed her. Come to think of it, since she'd moved in, he hadn't really approached her that often. She'd had to initiate things, spend longer coaxing him to hardness than should have been necessary, and then afterwards, he'd always fallen asleep immediately. "Long day, Helen,” he’d mumble as he dozed off. “I'm tired. Tomorrow night I’ll show you how great sex can be. Promise" A fairly common mantra lately. It was late, he was tired...he didn't seem tired now.

Well, no wonder, if this was the way he spent his evenings prior to her coming home.

Lex was moaning in a murmuring babble. Helen could only make out the occasional word, but something to the tune of Oh, God, Clark, I want you...Had Clark's slacks open, and scrabbled inside, and in a moment Clark was unzipped, and, as Lex drew back to admire, Helen found herself with a surprisingly good view.

She gnawed the inside of her lip, stared in fascination at Clark's cock, rising from the thatch of dark hair at his groin. Uncut: a rare thing in her experience, the head peeking moist and damp from the thin web of skin surrounding it. His parents must have been progressive. She envied Lex his proximity, for she'd like to taste, feel it for herself. Helen's tongue glided over her lips as one of her hands stole and fumbled between her thighs. She dipped her fingers into the moisture and rubbed them over her aching clit. The dampness was seeping into her gown, but she paid no attention.

Lex was on his knees by now, had Clark’s cock in his fist, gently touched his lips to the tip and licked once, twice. Clark groaned, and pushed deep into his mouth. Lex’s lips widened and Helen trembled. Jealous she might be, should be, had a right to be, but watching Lex go down on Clark was nothing other than hot.

What a show. Lex, entirely intent on his task.

And Clark? Why, he looked like a Renaissance sculpture, mussed curls framing his face. Eyes squeezed shut in breathless, sweet agony, half-sliding down the door, That he kept squeaking breathy and throaty moans and whimpers was no surprise to Helen. She knew exactly how that mouth and tongue felt. Though Clark seemed to be enjoying it even more than she usually did. But he was a teenager, after all.

She kept moving her fingers, faster, circling She wanted to stay alert and watch till the end , but she couldn’t help it, she was going to—-

Luckily, her moan of pleasure was drowned by Clark's cry of ecstasy as he came. She slumped panting against the door, eyes squeezed shut, fighting a wave of embarrassment for watching and enjoying when she should have been furious. She was furious, she told herself sternly.

And she hadn’t even had to touch herself that much.

She peered out again to see Clark's face flushed deep with pleasure and satisfaction, as beautiful, in ecstasy as a Burne-Jones angel, or the painting of St. Sebastian she'd seen years ago as a vacationing student in Rome.

Helen blinked back hot tears. Damn Lex. Damn him.

Lex must have come at some point, or maybe he hadn't, she could care less. When she looked out again, he looked calm, as he always did after sex. Satisfied and just, well… besotted as he stroked Clark’s cheek.

"This is wrong, Lex," she heard Clark’s still-breathless voice. "You’re with Helen, now. We shouldn’t be…"

Helen felt an obscure flash of fury. God, couldn’t the boy ever just relax and get over the guilt? Must be a family trait. What would he say if she threw the door open and told him he should be home helping his pregnant mother instead of...

"Wrong?" was Lex’s bland comment "Maybe. But worth it." Lex leaned in and kissed Clark on the neck again. "Still, the way I feel about you, the way we feel about each other: how can it be wrong?" He drew back and turned to look over his shoulder, eerily, directly at the spot through which Helen had watched. Uneasily, she drew back a bit, though not so far that she couldn’t see his smile. Secret. Knowing.

Clark relaxed with a smile and wound an arm around Lex to draw him close.

Fantastic, Helen was thinking. This is just great. She sank back against the wall as the last traces of her high faded, resolutely refusing to yield to desolation, fighting the urge to indulge in self-pity.

Well, she couldn't wait for her turn. Wouldn't accept any excuse of fatigue tonight. She'd make Lex pay for this little fling with Clark.

Not that she could blame him. Clark was gorgeous. Her thoughts and emotions churned, wrestled with each other.

It wasn’t as though she cared about Lex anyway. Tonight must have been intended to drive that home. She’d come home early for a reason. It was fate.

And to remind her to muster her forces. Tonight was just a reminder not to indulge in illusions. Maybe after she and Lex were married, she'd sleep with Clark too. She could make him moan, please him the way Lex did, and better yet, get back at Lex by doing it. Better, as she could use more than her mouth. Though Lex’s mouth…was sufficient unto itself.

Maybe a threesome? Could be interesting. But no. It would be more fun, more…satisfying, wouldn’t it?… to sleep with Clark on her own. Two-time Lex the way he had two-timed her, why not? She imagined Clark dropping by to see Lex in the afternoon when Lex was in Metropolis, or something, and tempting him into bed: surely it wouldn’t be that hard. She knew Clark liked women, too; she’d seen that soft, needy expression when he looked at Lana Lang. He’d be shy but interested, maybe put up some resistance, but she’d seen already how little will power he had. He’d cave and surrender in no time if she put her all into it. She looked forward to feeling those full, open lips on her bare skin, wet tongue trailing around her navel, and that beautiful cock inside her.

Then when Lex got home, she’d go to bed with him, and he wouldn’t know that Clark had been in her arms just a few hours before.

She chuckled at the notion. She’d take him for whatever she could. Have both of them while she was at it. And all without placing her upcoming marriage in jeopardy. A tough balancing act, perhaps, but what a challenge.

She couldn’t wait.

She could do worse.

Because, if you can’t be great, why bother at all?

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Feedback is welcome at amoss53@yahoo.com

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