FLASHBACK – 1 YEAR AGO – LUTHORCORP GALA
The grand ballroom of the Luthor mansion shimmered with opulence, its vast expanse transformed into a cathedral of wealth and ambition. Crystal chandeliers, each a masterpiece of cascading prisms, hung from the vaulted ceiling, refracting golden light into a thousand tiny rainbows that danced across the polished black-and-white marble floor. The air was heavy with the delicate clink of champagne flutes, the low hum of calculated small talk, and the faint, elegant strains of a string quartet tucked discreetly in a corner, their bows gliding over strings to produce a melody that wove seamlessly through the crowd. Towering windows lined the far wall, framed by rich burgundy velvet drapes that parted just enough to reveal glimpses of the manicured gardens beyond, their sculpted hedges and blooming roses bathed in the ethereal silver glow of a full moon. The room thrummed with the energy of Metropolis's elite—men in impeccably tailored tuxedos, their cufflinks glinting with understated wealth, and women in glittering gowns of silk and sequins, their laughter sharp and practiced, all orbiting the unspoken promise of power and prestige.
Beth sat alone at a small, round table draped in pristine white linen, tucked into a shadowed corner of the ballroom where the light was softer, less intrusive. Her fingers, slender and unadorned save for a glossy black manicure, traced the rim of an untouched glass of sparkling water, the bubbles catching the chandelier's glow in fleeting bursts. Her gown, a deep emerald silk borrowed from her father's colleague's daughter, clung to her frame with an understated elegance that felt both foreign and exhilarating. The fitted bodice hugged her curves, accentuating her full bust and narrow waist, before flaring into a soft, flowing skirt that grazed her ankles, the fabric shimmering subtly with every movement, catching the light in a way that made her feel like she was wearing a piece of the night sky. Her dark hair, thick and slightly wavy, was swept into a loose updo, with a few rebellious strands curling against the nape of her neck, tickling her skin in a way that grounded her amidst the extravagance. Her only adornment was a pair of simple silver hoop earrings, their modest gleam a quiet rebellion against the ostentatious jewelry around her. Her black strappy heels, slightly scuffed at the toes from years of use, pinched her feet mercilessly, a constant reminder of how out of place she felt in this sea of excess. She shifted in her velvet-upholstered chair, her hazel eyes—flecked with gold and framed by long, dark lashes—scanning the room with a mix of boredom and quiet defiance, her lips pressed into a faint, unimpressed line. The corporate climbers around her, with their forced smiles and calculated gestures, held no appeal. Her father, a mid-level LuthorCorp accountant with a penchant for dreaming beyond his station, had insisted she attend as his plus-one, claiming it would be "good for networking." Beth would rather have been curled up in her Smallville bedroom, lost in a novel or binge-watching a sci-fi series, far from the suffocating pretense of this glittering cage.
Across the room, Lex Luthor stood near a towering floral arrangement, its crimson roses and creamy lilies spilling over a crystal vase, their cloying sweetness mingling with the crisp notes of champagne in the air. He cradled a glass of deep red Bordeaux, the liquid catching the chandelier's light like liquid rubies as he tilted it absently, his long fingers wrapped around the delicate stem. His tailored black suit, a masterpiece of Italian craftsmanship, molded to his lean, athletic frame with precision, the single-breasted jacket left unbuttoned to reveal a pristine white dress shirt that gleamed against the muted glow of the room. His silk tie, the color of polished gunmetal, was knotted with meticulous care, its subtle sheen catching the light as he moved. His bald head, smooth and gleaming faintly under the chandeliers, was a stark contrast to the sharp intensity of his ice-blue eyes, which scanned the room with a mix of boredom and predatory calculation. A faint stubble shadowed his jaw, lending a rugged edge to his otherwise polished appearance, and his lips, full and curved with a perpetual hint of a smirk, hinted at a man who was both amused and exhausted by the world around him. The gala was just another obligation in an endless parade of LuthorCorp duties, a stage for sycophants and opportunists to vie for his attention. He was bored—bone-deep bored—his mind drifting to the quiet solitude of his penthouse office, where he could lose himself in strategy and innovation, far from the shallow chatter of Metropolis's elite. That is, until his gaze landed on Beth.
She was a striking anomaly in the sea of artifice. No fawning, no preening, no desperate need to be noticed. Her emerald gown, though simpler than the sequined and bejeweled dresses around her, hugged her curves in a way that was effortlessly captivating, the deep green fabric complementing the warm, golden undertones of her skin. Her posture, slightly slouched as she toyed with her glass, screamed disinterest, and the way her fingers danced along the rim suggested she'd rather be anywhere but here. Her face, free of the heavy makeup that plastered the other women, was striking in its natural beauty—high cheekbones, a scattering of faint freckles across her nose, and lips that were full and softly pink, parted slightly as she sighed. Lex's lips twitched into a faint smirk, a spark of curiosity igniting in his chest. She caught his attention, and that difference was a challenge he couldn't resist. He smoothly traded his empty glass for a fresh one, the crystal clinking softly as it met the tray, he crossed the room, his polished black oxfords silent against the marble floor, his movements smooth and unhurried, like a predator stalking prey he knew wouldn't escape.
He slid into the velvet-upholstered chair beside her, the fabric whispering against his suit as he settled in, one arm resting casually on the table as he studied her with a gaze that was both assessing and intrigued. The faint scent of his cologne—sandalwood and cedar, sharp and masculine—drifted toward her, mingling with the floral notes in the air.
"You don't seem to be having much fun," Lex said, his voice smooth and low, with a hint of dry humor. He leaned back slightly, one arm resting on the table as he studied her.
Beth glanced up, startled by the sudden company. Her eyes met his—cool, assessing, and unnervingly direct, like twin shards of ice that saw straight through her. The man beside her was young, no older than his late twenties, his bald head and sharp features striking in a way that made her breath catch. His tuxedo screamed wealth, the fabric tailored so perfectly it seemed to move with him like a second skin, but his relaxed posture suggested he didn't need to prove it. The faint stubble on his jaw caught the light, and his lips, curved in a faint smirk, hinted at a confidence that was both alluring and dangerous. "Well, I'm not," she admitted, her voice carrying a Smallville drawl she hadn't bothered to hide. She sighed, rolling her eyes as she gestured vaguely at the glittering crowd, her fingers brushing the air with a dismissive flick. "This whole thing is so… boring."
Lex chuckled at her bluntness, the sound low and rich, vibrating in the space between them. Her lack of pretense was a breath of fresh air in a room full of people desperate to curry his favor. He took a sip of his wine, the glass catching the light as he tilted it, his eyes never leaving her. "Boring, huh?" he said, his tone teasing. "I take it you're not a fan of these fancy gala events."
"You're right… damn, what I wouldn't do to be at home watching a good movie while eating some junk food," Beth admitted, her tone laced with boredom, propping her chin in her hand, her elbow resting on the table. Her fingers toyed with a loose strand of hair, the motion absentminded but drawing his attention to the delicate curve of her wrist.
Lex raised an eyebrow, amused by her candor. Junk food and movies in a place like this? Her unpretentiousness was almost endearing, a stark contrast to the polished facades around them. "Junk food and movies? You'd rather be indulging in that than mingling with the wealthy elite?" he teased, a smirk tugging at his lips, his eyes glinting with a playful challenge.
Beth smirked back, leaning forward and crossing her arms on the table, the movement causing her gown to shift slightly, revealing a hint of cleavage that made Lex's gaze flicker for a moment. "Listen, man, I'd rather get fucking run over by Batman's Batmobile than spend one more goddamn minute talking to some slimy, rich asshole." She let out a sharp laugh, pulling her hand from her face, her nails catching the light with a glossy sheen. "I swear to Christ, if one more prick brings up some pointless, overhyped Luthor tech bullshit, I'm gonna cut my own ears off." She leaned closer, her smirk widening, her eyes locking onto his with a boldness that surprised even her. "You don't look like you're having a blast either. First time at one of these soul-sucking events? Oh, shit, my bad—I didn't even ask. What's your name?"
Lex's smirk widened at her tirade, his fingers tightening slightly around his wine glass. Her candid disdain for the event and its attendees was a revelation, a spark of fire in a room full of smoke and mirrors. She didn't know who he was, didn't care, and that ignorance was intoxicating. "This is far from my first ball, but you're right. I'd rather be anywhere but here right now," he said, chuckling, his voice smooth as velvet. He paused, considering how to play this, enjoying the game of anonymity. "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours," he countered, raising an eyebrow teasingly, his lips curving into a smile that was equal parts charm and challenge.
Beth caught the flirtatious edge in his tone and felt a thrill ripple through her, her pulse quickening. The event was dull, but this—this was fun. She'd never been flirted with before, not like this, and the attention from this sharp, handsome stranger made her feel alive, reckless. "Since you insist," she said sarcastically, her voice dripping with mock exasperation, "Elizabeth." Her eyes scanned his face, lingering on the sharp line of his jaw, the way his suit jacket hugged his shoulders, enhancing his lean, masculine presence. She sipped her water through a thin black straw, the cool liquid soothing her suddenly dry throat. "I show you mine, now you show me yours," she said provocatively, her tone playful and humorous, her lips curving into a teasing smile as she waited for his name.
Lex laughed, a low, genuine sound that rumbled in his chest, her wit and unapologetic demeanor cutting through the monotony of the evening. "Elizabeth, huh?" he said, his gaze roaming her figure with unabashed appreciation. She wasn't a stick-thin model obsessed with appearances; her curves were lush, real, a damn good look in that emerald gown. "Lovely name." His eyes sparkled with amusement at her sassiness, his interest deepening with every word she spoke. He swirled his wine, the liquid catching the light as he leaned closer, his gaze flickering over her before meeting her eyes. "Alexander," he said simply, his tone cool, deliberately withholding his last name to see if she'd catch on.
Beth smiled, a genuine warmth softening her features as she extended her hand, her freshly done black manicure gleaming under the chandelier's light. Her nails, long and claw-like, were striking in their elegance, a bold contrast to her otherwise simple appearance. "Well, nice to meet you, Alexander," she said, locking eyes with him, her gaze steady before she glanced away, sipping her water through the straw with the other hand, the motion slow and deliberate.
Lex admired her manicure, the black polish and sharp nail shape somehow making her fingers even more alluring, a subtle edge to her softness. He set his glass down with a soft clink, grasping her hand, his touch firm yet gentle, his skin warm against hers. He shook it once, his eyes never leaving hers, enjoying the spark of their little game. "Pleasure is all mine," he said, his voice low and smooth, carrying a hint of something more.
He lingered, his hand still holding hers, the contact sending a faint current through her skin before he let go. Leaning back, his eyes roamed her face, his interest blatant, a slow smile curving his lips. "So, Elizabeth," he said, his voice smooth and low, "you're not from around here, are you? You don't have that 'Metropolis City Girl' vibe about you."
Beth gently released his hand, placing hers back on her glass, her fingers brushing the cool surface. "Well, that's a polite way to say I don't look like a rich model girl," she said with a smile, her eyes drifting to the crowd's tedious, wealthy chatter, their voices a monotonous drone against the quartet's melody. "You're right, I'm from a small town called Smallville… doubt you've heard of it, it's pretty rural."
Lex followed her gaze, noting the other women—model-thin, draped in designer dresses heavy with sequins and diamonds, their faces caked with makeup that hid any trace of authenticity. Beth's natural beauty, her curves accentuated by the simple elegance of her gown, was a breath of fresh air. He liked it—her realness, her lack of artifice. He chuckled at her mention of Smallville, the sound low and warm. "Smallville, huh? Home of corn fields and cattle," he said, his tone teasing but not mocking.
"Oh, so you know it… have you ever been there?" Beth asked, her eyebrows lifting in surprise, her voice tinged with curiosity.
Her shock that he knew Smallville piqued his interest, a spark of amusement flickering in his chest. Most people barely acknowledged the sleepy Kansas town, much less recognized it. He leaned an elbow on the table, his smirk widening as he turned more fully toward her, sensing this conversation had just taken an interesting turn. "Once or twice," he said nonchalantly, though in truth, LuthorCorp's countless projects and experimental facilities stationed there had required his frequent presence—covert trips that had shaped much of his empire's future. He picked up his wine glass and took a slow sip, the deep red warming his throat as he studied her over the rim, noting the flicker of curiosity and surprise that danced in her eyes.
"Hm, I see… you have… someone you know there, that's why you visited? Maybe someone special?" Beth asked, feigning innocence, though her tone gave her away. There was a sly curve to her lips and a teasing light in her eyes that didn't quite match the casual lilt of her words. She leaned slightly forward, clearly fishing—not just for information, but for something else. Her playful insinuation hovered in the air, unmistakable, bold.
Lex smirked at her act, recognizing the game she was playing. Her not-so-subtle question pulled a quiet chuckle from his chest. He appreciated her boldness—most women danced around topics like that, hiding behind false modesty. But not her. She was direct, disarming, and it intrigued him. He mirrored her lean, bringing himself a fraction closer across the small distance between them, his voice dropping to a low, velvety tone. "No girlfriend, sweetheart. Just an… old friend."
Beth watched him closely, his nearness, his teasing voice, and that casually dropped "sweetheart" sending a shiver down her spine that she tried to hide behind a slow, composed movement. She lifted her glass and traced the rim with her fingertip, the motion unhurried, deliberately sensual. Her eyes never left his. "That's interesting…" she said with a soft smile, her voice hushed but laced with intent. "I was born in Smallville, so maybe I know him."
Lex watched her finger on the glass, the gesture oddly captivating, her black nails gleaming under the light like obsidian. There was a certain elegance to the way she moved—slow, controlled, sensual. He found himself momentarily entranced, the image of her fingers stirring thoughts that weren't entirely appropriate for the venue. He sipped his wine again, slower this time, savoring both the taste and the moment, his eyes never leaving hers. His smirk deepened. "Oh, you probably do know him," he teased, a glint of mischief flickering in his gaze. "He's quite… hard to forget."
"Well… maybe he is…" Beth replied with a light shrug, her tone dismissive, clearly uninterested in the so-called mystery man. Her attention was fully on Alexander now—intentionally so. She leaned in ever so slightly, the neckline of her dress shifting with the motion. "So… if you're here, you must work with some huge company. What do you do?"
Lex smiled at her calculated lack of curiosity—it was deliberate, and he liked that. She wasn't chasing a name. She was chasing him. "You're quite perceptive, aren't you?" he mused, bringing the wine glass to his lips again. The oaky richness filled his mouth, grounding him as he debated how much to reveal. "I own a little company," he said lightly, vague on purpose, savoring the anonymity she granted him in a world where everyone usually knew his name before he walked into a room.
Beth smiled as her phone buzzed against the table with a subtle rattle. She reached for it, fingers brushing her clutch—a small, black leather accessory that had clearly been well-used but well-kept. She glanced at the screen briefly, then looked back up at him. "Oh, cool… you look smart," she said honestly, her gaze softening, a sincere warmth flickering in her expression that briefly cut through the flirtation.
Lex's smirk widened at the compliment. It wasn't overdone. It wasn't coy. It was simple and direct—exactly the kind of praise that hit the right nerve. He noticed the small flurry of notifications lighting up her screen and lifted a brow, his tone laced with amusement. "Popular tonight, huh?"
Beth laughed, a bright, melodic sound that cut clean through the soft drone of dinner conversation around them. She tapped out a quick message, her fingers flying effortlessly, then turned the phone toward him. "My friend's always sending me stupid stuff," she said, amused, as she showed him a video of a seal awkwardly honking into a clarinet, its big eyes wide and clueless. "Damn, that's good."
Lex chuckled, genuinely entertained despite himself. The ridiculous video felt oddly refreshing amid the carefully composed elegance of the evening. He glanced over at the live musicians nearby—their expressions robotic, the music uninspired. "Damn, that's better than half the music they're playing here," he quipped, arching a brow toward the stage. "Maybe they should hire that seal instead."
Beth laughed again, nodding in agreement, the motion sending a strand of hair falling across her cheek. She tucked it behind her ear with lazy ease, her smile lingering. "That would definitely make the night better… too bad I don't think Luthor has the taste for it. He seems like the boring type, don't you think?"
Lex chuckled at her bluntness, that glint of mischief flashing in his eyes again. No hesitation. No filter. She was either brave or foolish—but either way, it was thrilling. "Oh, he's the epitome of stiff, uptight, and boring," he replied, not missing a beat. His tone was sharp, laced with dry humor, every word laced with mockery. "The man has zero sense of fun. I wouldn't be surprised if he was born in a three-piece suit."
"Oh, damn, that sounds a little personal, Alexander," Beth teased, dragging out his name deliberately, her voice dipping lower, rich with provocation. The way she said it wasn't casual—it was a dare. "Have you ever met him?"
Lex smirked, pulse quickening at the way she said his name. It wasn't just a question anymore—it was a spark, daring him to play along, to flirt back harder. "Oh, I've met him, sweetheart," he said, locking eyes with her, his tone slow and deliberate. "I've met him plenty of times, unfortunately."
Beth grimaced at the mention of his dad, letting out a light laugh as she reached for her water, the cool liquid soothing her throat and giving her a moment to shift gears. A waiter appeared beside their table, his black vest starched and spotless, the tray in his hands stacked with elegantly gleaming wine glasses. He stood silently, expectantly, right beside Alexander—too close, too formal. Beth frowned slightly, her brow knitting in mild confusion as she glanced at the server, then back at Lex. Maybe the guy was waiting for him to say something or grab a drink
Lex chuckled at her expression, enjoying her candid reaction to anything related to his father. She didn't even know the full story, but her instinct was already aligned with his. The waiter's intrusion grated on him; he despised interruptions, especially when the company was this good. "Can I help you?" he asked, his voice cool and edged with restrained irritation, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he shifted in his seat.
"Oh, sir, Lu—" the waiter began, only to be cut off mid-sentence. Alexander moved with a fluid grace, snatching one of the glasses from the tray with practiced ease. Before the man could embarrass him—or worse, reveal anything—he intervened with a polite but commanding tone. Without missing a beat, he handed the glass to Beth himself, his fingers brushing hers briefly. "Thanks… you can go now," he said with a smile that dismissed without insult. She accepted the glass with a confidence she didn't entirely feel. It was her first time drinking wine, and the sharp, fruity tang hit her tongue with a surprising punch. She sipped lightly, hoping Lex wouldn't notice her uncertainty.
Lex threw a sharp glance at the waiter to silence him before he could say his last name, then turned his full attention back to Beth, handing her the glass as if it were a shared secret. He noticed her hesitation—the slight pause before she tasted it, the way her lips parted with a mix of curiosity and caution. Intriguing. His smirk returned, and he leaned in slightly, eyes glinting. "Careful there, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and amused. "You don't drink alcohol?"
Beth took another sip, this time with more certainty, the warmth spreading faintly through her chest. She met his gaze, lips curved into a playful smirk, enjoying the small rebellion. She wasn't supposed to be drinking—not legally, at least—but tonight felt different. She felt different. "Not much… sometimes," she replied smoothly, masking the flutter of nerves beneath her calm tone. "I've never really been a drinker, you know?"
Lex studied her carefully, his gaze drifting from her wine-kissed lips to the spark in her eyes. She was lying, or at least not telling the whole truth—but the way she held herself, unafraid and self-assured, was captivating. "Is that so?" he said, lips curling into a knowing smile. "So you're what, a good girl then? Not into the whole drinking and partying thing? No wild nights out?"
The words *good girl* hit her like a spark to dry kindling. A jolt of warmth rushed through her, blooming across her chest and settling low in her belly. She shifted subtly in her seat, pulse quickening, the velvet of the chair suddenly feeling warmer against her back. The way he said it—low, teasing, deliberate—sent a shiver up her spine. She raised an eyebrow, masking the flush creeping up her neck with another slow sip of wine. "I suppose you could say that," she said lightly, teasing him. "I'm more of a homebody, you know? I prefer a good book or a movie over crowded clubs and loud music. Call me boring."
Lex let out a short, genuine laugh, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. That answer—simple, honest—was not what most women in these circles gave. She wasn't trying to impress him with some rehearsed image. She was just… being herself. "Boring, huh?" he echoed, his gaze drifting over her again—her poised elegance, the way the dress hugged her body, how her hair shimmered under the lights. "That's not a word I'd use. More like… refreshing."
Beth blinked, her heart skipping a beat. She hadn't expected that answer—had prepared for a polite chuckle or maybe a playful jab. But refreshing? That word lingered. The way he looked at her when he said it made her stomach flutter. "You think so?" she asked, keeping her voice neutral, though her pulse betrayed her. "Most people my age would find a girl who'd rather stay in and read instead of partying pretty damn boring."
Lex leaned in as though about to share a secret, his expression growing sly, almost conspiratorial. There was something about her that stirred him—a quiet confidence wrapped in innocence. He took a slow sip, letting the wine coat his tongue before speaking again, his tone low and rich. "Oh, trust me, there's nothing boring about a woman who prefers books to parties... and you're an adult—you can do whatever you want," he said, voice velvet-smooth. "In fact, I've always found those quiet, intelligent women to be the most… intriguing. They're not afraid to explore their minds, and they always have a certain… creativity in other areas as well."
Beth nearly choked, a soft cough slipping out as her cheeks flushed a gentle pink. His words, smooth and seductive, hit her like a surge of static—unexpected but electrifying. The warmth of the wine mixed with something else now, a growing awareness of how intently he was watching her. Trying to keep her cool, she took a calming sip, her voice only slightly shaky. "Is that so?" she said, feigning nonchalance. "Sounds like you have a thing for nerds…"
Lex gave a soft, low laugh, his eyes narrowing with playful intent as he leaned back, every inch focused on her. She was effortlessly captivating—a tantalizing blend of shy innocence and bold confidence that drew him in like a slow-burning flame. "Guilty as charged," he confessed, his voice husky with amusement. "I've always had a thing for brains." His gaze drifted over her face, lingering on every subtle twitch of her lips, every shallow breath, the gentle flush coloring her cheeks. "There's just something so hot about a girl who knows her stuff, even if it's hard to find."
"So you're saying it's difficult to find a girl with a brain? That's not very charming to say, Alexander," Beth teased back, her smirk playing like a secret promise, the light challenge sparking heat between them.
Lex raised a brow, his smirk deepening as his fingers tightened just a fraction around his wine glass, the slow swirl matching the simmering tension in the air. She was quietly fearless, and it thrilled him in ways he hadn't expected. "Oh, don't get me wrong, I never said anything about having trouble finding a girl with a brain," he said smoothly, voice dropping an octave, thick with meaning. His eyes roamed her deliberately, drinking in the curve of her neck, the soft shadows dancing there. "I'm just saying that most of the women I've met are…" He let the word hang, his gaze sharpening as it returned to her. "Lacking." "Except you, apparently."
Beth held his gaze without flinching, a slow smile curling at the edges of h
She smiled without breaking eye contact, letting her back relax fully into the plush chair. "Hm… maybe you're looking in the wrong places," she murmured, her voice soft but laced with a playful challenge.
Her gaze drifted around the room just as a waiter appeared, carrying an elegant tray of unfamiliar gourmet appetizers. Beth loved food, and the subtle hunger stirring inside her made her fingers reach out without hesitation. She grabbed two of the delicate bites, popping one into her mouth as she let her eyes wander toward the classical band playing softly nearby.
He watched as she leaned back in her chair, that small, smug smile playing on her lips tightening his grip on the glass. She couldn't be more than nineteen, yet her confidence and assertiveness made him want to push her buttons even more. As she shamelessly popped one of the snacks into her mouth, he caught himself admiring the effortless way she ate—something he'd never admit aloud, but he'd always found a certain irresistible charm in a woman who enjoyed her food without hesitation.
"Oh, is that so?" he replied playfully, resting a hand gently on the back of her chair. "And where do you suggest I should be looking, then?"
Beth chewed slowly, savoring the sweet and savory burst of flavor, then swallowed, leaning back slightly, her voice laced with sarcasm and heat. "Well, for starters, maybe stop looking in places where people are paid to pretend they want you," she said, scanning the glittering room with disdain, her eyes catching on a woman in a garish red gown laughing too loudly at a man's joke. "These galas, these parties… they're just playgrounds for the rich and insecure. Everyone here is faking something." She rolled her eyes, gesturing lazily with her free hand, the motion causing her gown to shift, revealing a sliver of smooth thigh. She turned toward him with purpose, her confidence shifting the air, a palpable heat radiating from her. Slowly, she crossed her legs, letting her dress slide up just enough to catch his eye, the fabric whispering against her skin. Her gaze traveled over his body, lingering on the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his lips, before meeting his eyes with bold intensity. "And honestly," she said, her voice lower, more intimate, a husky edge to it, "I don't think you need to keep looking… because maybe you've already found what you really need tonight."
Lex was taken off guard, his breath catching slightly. He wasn't used to women, especially one so young, speaking to him like this, unafraid, unyielding. His jaw tightened as her eyes roamed his body, lingering on his mouth, the gaze feeling like a caress. Her confidence, the way she crossed her legs, the dress riding up her thighs—it was deliberate, and it set his blood on fire. He was supposed to be in control, but she was throwing him off balance, and it was starting to frustrate him, even as it thrilled him. "And what do you think I need… exactly?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant, his voice betraying a slight edge of desire.
The silence between them was unbearable, not awkward but charged, pulsing like electricity arcing through the air. Beth didn't respond with words. Instead, she uncrossed her legs slowly, purposefully, the fabric of her gown shifting against her thighs with a soft rustle, the movement drawing his eyes like a magnet. Her lips parted as she reached for her wine glass, her fingers brushing the stem with deliberate intent, her black nails gleaming in the low light. She took the last sip—slow, sensual, the motion of her throat as she swallowed enough to spark his imagination. Turning her face to him, she caught his gaze, blinking once, slowly, seductively, her voice low and breathy, almost too intimate: "I think you can figure that out." Without waiting for his reaction, Beth rose from her chair with choreographed grace—smooth, calculated, yet natural, her gown flowing around her like liquid emerald. She turned her back to him, walking toward the darker part of the house, her hips moving in a subtle, inviting rhythm, the fabric of her dress swaying with each step. The hallway ahead was quiet, shadowed, its walls lined with dark wood paneling and gilded frames, leading to a series of closed doors—perhaps a bathroom, maybe a bedroom. She didn't care which. She dropped the bait, and he knew it, her heart thudding with a mix of thrill and fear. This confident provocation was new, like wearing someone else's skin, the wine loosening her inhibitions and fueling her daring. But had it worked? Would he follow?
Beth bit her lip, her teeth grazing the soft flesh as she wove through the crowd, her heels clicking softly on the marble floor, her pulse racing. Had she made a fool of herself? Would he follow for what she'd hinted at? Her hands trembled slightly, tucked into the folds of her gown as she moved, the fabric cool against her overheated skin.
Lex couldn't tear his eyes from her, her every move hypnotizing, a siren's call he couldn't resist. The sway of her hips as she walked—she was doing it on purpose, and it drove him wild. He should've been angry; he didn't like feeling played, but his tightening pants betrayed how much he enjoyed it, the fabric straining against his growing arousal. She'd flipped the script effortlessly, making him question who was the hunter and who was the prey. His mind raced, torn between restraint and desire. Was he really about to follow her? Did she expect him to chase her into the shadows? And why did that thought excite him so much? He watched her approach the darker hallway, her silhouette framed by the soft glow of a sconce, imagining what she planned, what she expected. Taking a deep breath, he muttered, "Fuck it," the words barely audible, a surrender to the pull she exerted.
Lex set his wine glass down, the crystal clinking sharply on the table, the sound swallowed by the hum of the gala. His eyes locked on her retreating figure, he rose and strode after her with single-minded purpose, his movements fluid, predatory, his polished shoes silent against the marble. He should've been pissed, but her boldness, her refusal to let him take control, drove him wild. He was determined to find out her plan and regain the upper hand.
Beth's heart pounded as she slipped into the shadowed hallway, the gala's chatter fading to a distant murmur, replaced by the quiet hum of her own breathing. The dim light from wall sconces cast long, soft shadows across the dark wood paneling, the air cooler here, charged with anticipation. Her heels clicked softly on the polished hardwood floor, each step amplifying her nerves, the sound echoing faintly in the narrow corridor. She couldn't believe she'd been so bold—flirting with Alexander- a man she never talked before, teasing him, practically daring him to follow. The wine had loosened her inhibitions, giving her a courage she didn't know she possessed, but now, alone in this quiet corridor, doubt crept in like a cold draft. Had she misread him? Was she just a naive girl playing a game way out of her league? Her fingers grazed the wall, the smooth, cool surface grounding her as she approached a heavy oak door, its brass handle gleaming faintly in the low light—maybe a bathroom, maybe something else. Her breath hitched, her pulse hammering in her throat, as she heard footsteps behind her, deliberate and unhurried.
Lex moved with purpose, his polished shoes silent against the marble, his eyes fixed on Beth's retreating figure, her emerald gown a beacon in the dim light. Her dress hugged her curves in a way that made his pulse race, the subtle sway of her hips a deliberate taunt that set his blood on fire. Her boldness was intoxicating, stirring something primal in him, a hunger he couldn't suppress. He didn't know her age, didn't know she was untouched, a virgin who'd never even kissed anyone. All he knew was the fire in her eyes, the way she'd flipped his control and left him chasing. He wasn't angry—hell, he was thrilled—but he was determined to take back the reins.
As Beth reached for the door handle, her fingers trembling slightly, she felt a strong hand grip her waist from behind, firm and commanding, the warmth of his touch searing through the thin silk of her gown. Before she could react, Lex spun her around, her back pressing against the cool, smooth wall with a soft thud, the impact sending a jolt through her body. Her breath caught, her eyes wide as she looked up at him, his face inches from hers, his sharp features illuminated by the faint glow of a sconce. His hand stayed on her waist, fingers digging slightly into the fabric, the heat of his touch burning through to her skin, making her heart race. His other hand braced against the wall beside her head, caging her in, his arm a solid barrier that felt both protective and possessive. The air between them crackled, heavy with unspoken desire, the faint scent of his cologne—sandalwood and cedar—mingling with the lingering sweetness of wine on his breath.
"Going somewhere, Elizabeth?" Lex's voice was low, a dangerous edge to it, his ice-blue eyes dark and intense as they locked onto hers, pinning her in place. His smirk was gone, replaced by a hungry, predatory look that sent a shiver down her spine, her skin prickling with a mix of fear and excitement. He leaned closer, his breath warm against her cheek, the faint stubble on his jaw brushing her skin, sending goosebumps cascading down her arms. "You don't get to tease me like that and walk away."
Beth's heart raced, her body pressed between the cool wall and his solid frame, the hard planes of his chest brushing against her through his suit. She'd never been this close to a man before, never felt the weight of someone's gaze like this, like she was prey and prize all at once. Her inexperience screamed at her to pull back, to admit she was in over her head, but the wine and her newfound boldness kept her rooted, her body humming with a heat she didn't understand. She tilted her chin up, meeting his gaze with a defiance she barely felt, her lips trembling slightly. "Who said I was walking away?" she whispered, her voice trembling but laced with bravado, her breath mingling with his in the charged space between them. "Maybe I wanted you to follow."
Lex's eyes narrowed, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest, the sound vibrating against her skin as he pressed closer, his thigh brushing against hers, pinning her more firmly against the wall. The contact sent a jolt through her, her body reacting instinctively, a flush creeping up her neck, warming her cheeks. "Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, his lips hovering just above hers, close enough that she could feel the heat of them, the promise of a kiss that made her pulse hammer. "You have no idea what you're playing with."
Beth's breath hitched, her lips parting as she tried to hold her ground, her body trembling under the intensity of his gaze. She'd never been kissed, never even flirted like this, but the way he looked at her—like she was the only thing in the world—made her feel powerful, reckless. Her hands, trembling slightly, found his chest, her fingers curling into the crisp fabric of his suit, the smooth texture grounding her as her heart pounded. "Maybe I want to find out," she said, her voice soft but daring, her eyes flicking to his mouth, lingering on the curve of his lips before meeting his gaze again, a challenge in her stare.
Lex's grip on her waist tightened, his fingers sliding lower, tracing the curve of her hip with deliberate intent, the movement slow and possessive, sending a spark of heat through her core. The sensation made her pulse hammer in her throat, her body reacting in ways she didn't understand, a flush spreading across her chest. He could feel her trembling, the slight catch in her breath, and it drove him wild, the thought of unraveling her completely. She was bold, but there was an innocence in her reactions that made him want to push further, to see how far she'd go. "Careful what you wish for," he said, his voice a low growl as he closed the distance, his lips brushing hers—not quite a kiss, but a tease, testing her resolve, the faint contact sending a shockwave through her.
Beth's knees weakened, the almost-kiss igniting a fire in her veins, her body trembling with the intensity of it. She'd never felt anything like this—the heat of his body, the way his touch made her skin burn, the way his breath mingled with hers. Her hands tightened on his chest, her nails digging into the fabric, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer. She wanted to be the confident girl she'd pretended to be, but her inexperience was a secret she guarded fiercely, a vulnerability she couldn't let him see. Swallowing hard, she tilted her head, her lips grazing his in return, a tentative challenge, the contact sending a shiver through her. "I'm not scared," she whispered, her voice trembling with need, though her heart was pounding so loud she was sure he could hear it, a wild rhythm echoing in the quiet hallway.
Lex's control snapped at her words, the soft brush of her lips igniting something feral in him, a hunger he couldn't contain. He pressed himself closer, his body flush against hers, the hard lines of his frame pinning her to the wall, the heat of him overwhelming. His hand slid from her hip to the small of her back, pulling her hips toward his, letting her feel the hard evidence of his arousal pressing through his trousers, a bold declaration of his desire. "You should be," he said, his voice rough, almost a warning, before he claimed her mouth in a searing kiss, his lips moving against hers with a confidence that overwhelmed her senses.
The kiss was intense, hungry, his lips demanding as they coaxed hers open, his tongue teasing the seam of her lips, seeking entrance. Beth froze for a moment, her inexperience screaming—this was no gentle first kiss, no tentative exploration. His mouth was commanding, a force she couldn't resist, and when she gasped softly, he took advantage, deepening the kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth with a slow, deliberate intensity. His hand slid up her back, tangling in her hair, the loose strands slipping through his fingers as he tilted her head for better access, his grip firm but not painful. Her body reacted before her mind could catch up, a soft moan escaping her as she melted into him, her hands clutching his suit like a lifeline, the fabric bunching under her fingers.
Beth's head spun, the taste of wine and him flooding her senses, a heady mix that made her dizzy. She didn't know what she was doing, her lips moving clumsily against his, trying to match his intensity, her inexperience betraying her in the slight hesitation of her movements. But the sensation was overwhelming—his tongue exploring her mouth, the press of his body, the way his fingers tightened in her hair, sending sparks of heat through her. Her skin felt too tight, her body alive with a fire she'd never known, a pulsing ache settling low in her belly. She was a virgin, untouched, but the way he kissed her made her feel like she could burn the world down, like she was someone else entirely.
Lex groaned softly into the kiss, the sound vibrating against her lips, a low, primal sound that sent a shiver through her. Her inexperience was subtle, but he caught it—the slight hesitation, the way her movements were eager but unpracticed. It only fueled his desire, the thought of being able to unravel her, to touch her, to claim her. He pulled back just enough to look at her, his forehead resting against hers, his breath heavy, ragged, his eyes dark with need. Her lips were swollen, glistening from their kiss, her cheeks flushed a soft pink, and her eyes—God, those eyes—were wide and dazed, but burning with want, the gold flecks catching the dim light. "Fuck, Elizabeth," he muttered, his voice rough with need, the words raw and unfiltered. "You're gonna be the death of me."
Beth's chest heaved, her lips tingling from the kiss, her body pressed so close to his she could feel every hard line of him, the heat of his arousal thick and unmistakable against her hip through his trousers. Her pulse was wild, her skin buzzing. She didn't trust her voice, so she only looked at him, breath shallow, eyes locked on his. "Then maybe you should stop," she whispered, her voice unsteady but teasing, testing him, her lips curving into a faint, reckless smile.
Lex's eyes darkened further, something primal flickering behind them. He let out a low, breathless laugh, almost a growl, and his hand slid down her thigh again—slow, firm, possessive—gripping her flesh just above the curve of her knee and pulling her leg tighter around his waist. The silk of her gown bunched beneath his fingers as her bare skin met the heat of his body. He leaned in, his lips grazing her jaw, then her ear, his breath hot against her skin. "Oh, sweetheart…" he murmured, voice thick with hunger, "death has never been so fucking tempting."
Beth's head tipped back against the wall, her eyes fluttering closed as his lips moved over her skin, each kiss a spark that ignited her nerves. She was out of her depth, drowning in sensation, but she didn't want it to stop. Her hands slid up to his shoulders, her nails digging into the fabric of his suit as she arched into him, her body responding instinctively. "Alexander," she whispered, her voice trembling with need, the name slipping out like a plea.
Lex growled softly at the sound of his name, a low, primal rumble that vibrated in his throat, his control fraying like a taut wire snapping under pressure. His body was a furnace, radiating heat through the crisp fabric of his tailored black suit, the Italian wool clinging to his lean, athletic frame with a precision that accentuated every line of his broad shoulders and narrow waist. The single-breasted jacket, left unbuttoned, revealed a pristine white dress shirt that glowed faintly under the dim light, its smooth cotton stretched taut across his chest, hinting at the defined muscles beneath. His silk tie, a deep gunmetal gray, shimmered subtly, the knot perfectly symmetrical, a testament to his meticulous nature. His bald head gleamed faintly, catching the faint moonlight filtering through the study's high window, and his ice-blue eyes burned with a raw, unbridled hunger that made Beth's breath catch. His lips, full and slightly parted, were still flushed from their kiss, and the faint stubble along his jaw added a rugged edge to his otherwise polished appearance, the coarse texture grazing her skin with every movement. He wanted to take her right there, against the cool, dark-paneled wall of the corridor, the rich mahogany polished to a mirror-like sheen, its surface reflecting slivers of moonlight that danced across the room. But some part of him—buried under the haze of lust—knew the hallway wasn't private enough, its echoing marble floors and gilded sconces too exposed to the prying eyes of the gala's guests. With a ragged breath, he forced himself to pull back, his eyes dark and intense, his hand still gripping her thigh through the thin silk of her emerald gown, the fabric warm and slightly damp from the heat of their bodies.
"Come with me," he said, his voice low and commanding, leaving no room for argument. He stepped back, taking her hand, his grip firm but not bruising, his long fingers enveloping hers with a possessive warmth that sent a shiver through her. The calluses on his palm, subtle but present, hinted at a man who wasn't entirely confined to boardrooms, a detail that grounded his polished exterior in something raw and real. He led her toward a nearby door, his polished black oxfords silent against the plush burgundy rug that muffled their steps, the rug's intricate patterns weaving a tapestry of crimson and gold beneath their feet.
Beth followed, her legs unsteady, her black strappy heels—slightly scuffed at the toes from years of use—catching faintly on the rug's thick pile, forcing her to focus on each step to keep from stumbling. Her mind was a whirlwind of nerves and desire, a chaotic storm of adrenaline and uncertainty that made her chest tighten. Her emerald gown clung to her curves, the silk bodice molding to her full bust and narrow waist, the fabric shimmering with every movement, catching the faint light like a dark jewel. The flowing skirt grazed her ankles, the hem whispering against her skin, cool and smooth, a stark contrast to the heat flooding her body. Her dark hair, swept into a loose updo, was starting to unravel, tendrils curling against the nape of her neck, tickling her overheated skin. Her hazel eyes, flecked with gold, were wide with a mix of exhilaration and fear, reflecting the dim light as she glanced at Lex's broad back, his suit jacket taut across his shoulders. She didn't know what she was walking into, didn't know if she was ready, but the way he looked at her—his piercing gaze, the way his touch ignited her skin—made her want to find out. Her heart pounded, a wild rhythm echoing in her ears, her breath uneven as she clutched his hand, her glossy black manicure gleaming faintly, the sharp tips of her nails pressing into his skin.
The door to the study clicked shut behind them, the lock turning with a quiet thunk as Lex secured it, the sound sharp and final in the stillness of the room. The study was a sanctuary of opulence and secrecy, its high ceiling adorned with intricate crown molding, the walls lined with dark mahogany panels that gleamed under the soft glow of a single high window. Moonlight filtered through the leaded glass, casting Beth's silhouette in soft, shadowed lines across the polished hardwood floor, its rich walnut grain barely visible in the dimness. A massive oak desk dominated one end of the room, its surface cluttered with leather-bound ledgers and a crystal decanter filled with amber liquid, its facets catching the moonlight in fleeting glints. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the walls, their shelves heavy with tomes of law, finance, and philosophy, the air thick with the musty scent of old paper and polished leather. A single leather armchair sat in the corner, its deep burgundy upholstery worn but luxurious, and a Persian rug in muted tones of crimson and navy stretched across the floor, its intricate patterns softening the room's austere elegance. Beth's heart raced, the reality of being alone with him in a stranger's mansion—Luthor's mansion—hitting her like a wave. Her pulse thrummed in her throat, her skin prickling as the cool air brushed against her exposed shoulders, the silk of her gown offering little warmth against the room's chill.
"We shouldn't…" Beth's voice was rushed, laced with panic as she glanced at the locked door, its heavy oak frame and brass handle gleaming faintly in the moonlight. "You don't know where… someone could catch us. We'll get in trouble with Luthor." Her words tumbled out, her hands fidgeting nervously, fingers twisting the silk of her gown, the fabric bunching slightly under her grip. The boldness from moments ago frayed under the weight of her nerves, her small-town upbringing screaming that sneaking into a private room in the Luthor mansion was a reckless mistake. Her heels sank into the rug, the plush fibers cushioning her steps as she took a step back, her breath uneven, her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath the tight bodice of her gown. The silver hoop earrings she wore swayed slightly, catching the light, and her lips, still swollen from his kiss, trembled as she spoke.
Lex ignored her protests, closing the distance between them with a predator's grace, his movements fluid and deliberate, his polished shoes silent against the rug. His suit jacket shifted slightly as he moved, the fabric whispering against his shirt, the gunmetal tie catching a sliver of moonlight that highlighted its subtle sheen. He loomed over her, his broad shoulders blocking out the faint light, his presence overwhelming as her back hit the wall again, the cool, smooth mahogany grounding her racing thoughts. His hands found her waist, fingers splaying possessively over her hips, anchoring her in place through the thin silk of her gown, the warmth of his touch searing her skin. His ice-blue eyes, dark and intense, locked onto hers, a faint smirk playing on his lips, the curve of his mouth both teasing and dangerous. The faint stubble on his jaw caught the light, a rough contrast to the smooth planes of his face, and his cologne enveloped her, its sharp, masculine notes mingling with the study's musty air. "Don't worry," he murmured, his voice low and smooth, dripping with confidence. "Nobody comes in here."
Beth bit her lip, her teeth grazing the soft, pink flesh, her body trembling under his touch, torn between the thrill of his closeness and the fear of being caught. Her gown clung to her curves, the silk warm from her body heat, the bodice accentuating the swell of her breasts, the fabric straining slightly as her chest heaved. "You don't know that," she countered, her voice a shaky whisper as she turned her head toward the door, her hazel eyes wide with worry, the gold flecks catching the moonlight. Her hands twitched at her sides, her glossy black nails gleaming faintly as she pressed them against the wall, the cool wood a stark contrast to her overheated skin. "Alexander… we can't be here. It's not our home." Her words were soft but firm, her Smallville instincts screaming that sneaking into a room in someone else's mansion—especially a Luthor's—was a line they shouldn't cross. Her hair, now slightly more disheveled, spilled tendrils around her face, framing her high cheekbones and the faint freckles dusting her nose.
Lex's fingers flexed on her hips, feeling the tension in her body, the way her curves yielded under his grip, the silk of her gown sliding smoothly under his palms. Her resistance only made him want her more, her fear stoking the fire in his chest, a primal urge to claim her battling with his restraint. He leaned closer, his chest brushing against hers, the crisp cotton of his dress shirt grazing the silk of her bodice, sending a shiver through her. His breath was hot against her neck, stirring the loose strands of her hair, sending goosebumps cascading down her spine, her skin prickling under the onslaught of sensation. "You're still talking," he murmured, his lips grazing the sensitive skin just below her ear, the faint scratch of his stubble igniting sparks that raced through her veins. "Too much talk." His voice was a low growl, rich and commanding, vibrating against her skin, making her pulse hammer in her throat.
Beth gasped as he nipped her neck, the sharp sensation shooting straight through her, igniting a heat she didn't know how to handle. Her body betrayed her, arching slightly into him, her hips pressing closer, the silk of her gown whispering against his trousers. Her skin flushed, a warm pink spreading across her chest, visible above the low neckline of her dress, the fabric clinging to her curves like a second skin. His hips ground against hers, deliberate and slow, letting her feel the hard evidence of his arousal pressing through the fine wool of his suit, the fabric taut against his straining erection. The sensation made her head spin, her breath catching as a flush spread further, warming her cheeks, her lips parting in a soft, involuntary moan. She'd never felt anything like this—never been touched like this—and it was overwhelming, intoxicating, terrifying. Her hands, trembling, found his chest, her fingers curling into the smooth cotton of his shirt, the fabric cool under her touch, the hard planes of his muscles firm beneath.
A nervous laugh escaped her, high and breathy, and she bit her lip harder, trying to stifle another moan as his lips continued their assault on her neck, each kiss a spark that set her nerves alight. Her body was a riot of sensations—her skin tingling where his lips grazed, her thighs trembling with an unfamiliar ache, her heart pounding so loudly it seemed to echo in the quiet study. "Stop it," she said, her voice a mix of laughter and desperation, her hands sliding down to his chest, pressing lightly against the crisp fabric, a weak attempt to create space. His hands moved lower, gripping her ass with a boldness that made her gasp again, the silk of her gown bunching under his fingers, the fabric sliding up slightly to reveal the smooth curve of her thigh. Her body instinctively pressed closer, her hips tilting toward him, even as her mind screamed to slow down. With a surge of willpower, she pushed harder, her glossy black nails digging into his chest through his shirt, leaving faint creases in the fabric. "Alexander, stop."
Her words hit him like a jolt. Lex froze, his lips still hovering against her neck, the warmth of his breath lingering on her skin, his hands still gripping her body through the silk. Every instinct screamed to keep going, to ignore her, to chase the heat that had been building between them, his erection throbbing painfully against the confines of his trousers. But something in her voice—the tremor, the plea—cut through the haze of lust, piercing the fog of his desire. He can be a lot of things, bad things, but not this, to take what she wasn't ready to give. With a ragged breath, he forced himself to pull back, his hands dropping from her hips, though it took every ounce of self-control he had. His jaw clenched, his ice-blue eyes still dark with want, but he stepped back, giving her space, his polished shoes sinking slightly into the rug. The air between them crackled, heavy with unspoken desire, the scent of his cologne mingling with the faint sweetness of her perfume, a delicate floral note that clung to her skin.
Beth's chest heaved, her lips parted as she stared at him, her back still pressed against the cool mahogany wall, its smooth surface grounding her against the storm of sensations in her body. Her gown was slightly askew, the silk bodice clinging to her curves, the skirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of her thigh, pale and smooth in the moonlight. Her lips, swollen from his kiss, glistened faintly, and her cheeks were flushed a soft pink, the heat radiating from her skin. Her hazel eyes, wide and dazed, shimmered with a mix of fear and lingering desire, the gold flecks catching the dim light. She'd never been kissed like that, never been touched like that, and the sudden absence of his warmth left her feeling exposed, vulnerable, her body still humming with the unfamiliar ache he'd ignited. But his hesitation, the way he'd stopped when she asked, made her chest tighten with something new—trust, maybe, or something deeper she couldn't name. Her fingers trembled as she smoothed her gown, the silk cool against her overheated skin, her breath uneven as she tried to steady herself.
Lex ran a hand over his scalp, the smooth skin gleaming faintly in the moonlight, exhaling sharply as he tried to rein in his desire. His suit was slightly rumpled now, the crisp lines of his jacket creased where her hands had gripped him, the gunmetal tie askew from their closeness. His eyes never left her, taking in her flushed cheeks, her swollen lips, the way her dress clung to her lush curves, the silk shimmering like liquid emerald in the dim light. "Fuck, Elizabeth," he said, his voice low, strained, but softer now, less predatory, the words rough with the effort of holding back. "You make it really damn hard to be a gentleman." His lips twitched into a faint, crooked smile, a rare glimpse of vulnerability beneath his polished exterior, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.
Beth's breath was still unsteady, her body pressed against the wall, the cool mahogany a stark contrast to the heat radiating from her skin, her gown clinging to her curves like a second skin. The air in the dimly lit study felt charged, thick with the unspoken tension lingering between them, the scent of old books and leather mingling with the sharp notes of his cologne and the faint floral trace of her perfume. Her lips tingled from his kiss, her body still humming with the unfamiliar ache of desire, a pulsing heat low in her belly that made her thighs tremble. She looked up at him, her wide eyes searching his face, caught between the thrill of what had just happened and the panic of where they were—alone in a locked room in the Luthor mansion, a place that felt like a gilded cage. His words, rough yet laced with a begrudging respect, echoed in her mind, sending a flutter through her chest. She opened her mouth to respond, her mind scrambling for something witty to defuse the tension, her lips parting slightly, still swollen and glistening from their kiss.
Before she could speak, a sharp knock echoed through the room, shattering the fragile bubble of their moment like glass. Her heart lurched, her body tensing as her wide eyes darted to the door, the heavy oak and brass handle suddenly ominous in the moonlight. "Oh, God," she whispered, panic flooding her voice, her breath catching in her throat. "Someone's here. I told you—we can't be here!" Her hands flew to her gown, smoothing it frantically, the silk rustling under her trembling fingers as she tried to erase the evidence of their heated exchange. Her heels sank deeper into the rug as she took a step toward the corner of the room, instinctively looking for a place to hide, her small-town instincts screaming that being caught in a locked room with a man in Luthor's mansion was a scandal she couldn't afford. Her hair, now more disheveled, spilled loose strands around her face, framing her flushed cheeks and wide eyes, her silver hoop earrings catching the light as they swayed.
Lex, by contrast, was utterly unfazed, his posture straightening as he adjusted his cufflinks with a casual flick, the silver glinting in the dim light. His suit jacket settled back into place, the creases smoothing out as he moved, his gunmetal tie gleaming faintly. His expression shifted from heated desire to cool indifference in an instant, the mask of Lex Luthor—impeccable, untouchable—sliding effortlessly into place, as if he hadn't just been pressed against her, kissing her with a hunger that had set her world ablaze. "Relax," he said, his voice calm, almost bored, as he glanced at the door, his ice-blue eyes glinting with a flicker of amusement, as if he was enjoying her panic just a little too much. His polished shoes sank slightly into the rug as he took a step toward the door, his movements unhurried, exuding a confidence that bordered on arrogance.
Another knock, sharper this time, followed by a voice that cut through the wood like a blade. "Alexander. Open the door. Now."
Beth's stomach dropped, her heart slamming against her ribs as the voice registered—cold, commanding, dripping with disdain. Lionel Luthor. Her wide eyes darted to Lex, her breath catching as she grabbed his arm instinctively, her glossy black nails digging into the fine wool of his suit jacket, leaving faint creases in the fabric. "That's Lionel Luthor," she hissed, her voice barely above a whisper, panic making it tremble. "Oh my God, we're dead. He's gonna kill us." She darted behind Lex, clutching the back of his jacket like a lifeline, her body pressed close to his, the warmth of his back seeping through the fabric, grounding her even as her heart raced. Her gown rustled softly, the silk clinging to her thighs as she tried to make herself invisible, her pulse hammering in her throat, her skin prickling with fear.
Lex didn't flinch, didn't even glance back at her. His expression remained cool, almost bored, as he strolled toward the door with the same effortless confidence he always carried, his polished shoes silent against the rug. His suit jacket shifted slightly, the fabric settling perfectly over his broad shoulders, the gunmetal tie catching a sliver of moonlight. "Stay there," he murmured over his shoulder, his voice low but firm, a hint of amusement in it, as if the prospect of facing Lionel Luthor was just another game to him. He didn't care who was on the other side—Lionel or God himself. Lex Luthor answered to no one.
He unlocked the door and opened it with a deliberate slowness, leaning casually against the frame, one hand resting lightly on the polished oak, his posture relaxed but radiating defiance. Lionel Luthor's imposing figure filled the doorway, his tailored charcoal suit impeccable, the fine wool molded to his tall, lean frame, the crisp white shirt and blood-red tie a stark contrast to his silver hair, swept back with precision. His sharp eyes, cold and calculating, swept over Lex, then flicked to the room behind him, narrowing as they landed on Beth, half-hidden behind Lex's broad shoulders. His expression was pure disdain, a sneer curling his lips, his angular features sharp and unforgiving, like a hawk sizing up its prey. The air around him seemed to crackle with authority, the scent of his expensive cologne—something sharp and citrusy—clashing with the study's musty air. "Alexander," he said, his voice low and venomous, "care to explain why you're skulking in my study with…" His gaze raked over Beth, taking in her flushed cheeks, her slightly disheveled gown, the silk clinging to her curves, and he scoffed, "What is this, a paid companion? Or just another one of your fleeting amusements? instead of doing your duty at the gala? Investors are waiting, and you're here playing with your latest distraction."
Beth's stomach dropped, her face flushing with a mix of embarrassment and indignation. Paid companion? The implication stung, and she instinctively tightened her grip on Lex's jacket, her nails digging into the fabric. She wanted to snap back, to defend herself, but the weight of Lionel's presence silenced her. This was Lionel Luthor, the man whose name was synonymous with power and intimidation, and she was just a small-town girl who'd stumbled into his world. Her earlier boldness felt like a distant memory, replaced by a cold dread that she'd crossed a line she couldn't uncross.
But then it hit her—Lionel's words, the way he spoke to Alexander with such familiarity, such contempt. Her mind raced, piecing it together. Alexander… Lionel… Her eyes widened in horror as the realization crashed over her like a tidal wave. Oh my God. He's Lex Luthor. The bald, charming man she'd been flirting with, kissing, teasing about rich assholes and Luthor tech—was Lex Luthor, Lionel's son. The same Luthor she'd been mocking all night, oblivious to his identity. Her stomach twisted, her earlier words echoing in her mind: "If one more prick brings up some pointless, overhyped Luthor tech bullshit, I'm gonna cut my own ears off."
Yes…
She'd said that to Lex Luthor's face.
Lex didn't react to Lionel's barb, his expression as smooth and unreadable as ever. He tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a faint, defiant smirk. "Father," he said, his voice dripping with casual defiance, "I didn't realize my presence was so urgently required. I thought you'd prefer I stay out of your way—less chance of me embarrassing you." His tone was sharp, laced with the undercurrent of their lifelong power struggle, but he remained utterly composed, his body language relaxed, as if being caught in a compromising position was just another Tuesday.
Lionel's eyes narrowed, his sneer deepening as he stepped into the room, his presence dominating the space. "Don't play coy with me, Alexander. You're wasting your time with this…" He gestured dismissively at Beth, his gaze cutting through her like she was nothing. "This girl, whoever she is, isn't worth your attention. You should be out there, securing deals, not hiding in here hiding with some harlot who thinks she can climb the social ladder by spreading her legs."
Beth's face flamed, her heart pounding with humiliation and anger, the heat searing her cheeks as she stood frozen behind Lex. Her gown felt too tight, the silk bodice constricting her chest, the fabric warm and slightly damp from her overheated skin. Her hands shook as she clutched Lex's jacket, her glossy black nails digging into the wool, her breath shallow and uneven. She wasn't an escort, wasn't a "harlot"—she was just Beth, a 17-year-old from Smallville who'd gotten in over her head, her scuffed heels and borrowed gown a testament to her out-of-place presence. Lionel's words stung, slicing through her like a knife, and the realization that Lex was Lex Luthor made her feel like the floor was crumbling beneath her. She'd insulted the Luthors, their world, their gala, all while flirting with the heir himself, her words dripping with sarcasm and disdain. And yet, even in her panic, a small part of her couldn't ignore the way Lex had stopped when she asked, the way he'd respected her boundaries despite the hunger in his eyes. It made her head spin, the contrast between his intensity and his restraint, and now this—facing his father, who clearly thought she was nothing more than a cheap fling.
Lex, sensing her distress, shifted slightly, angling his body to keep her shielded from Lionel's piercing gaze. His expression didn't waver, his composure impeccable, but there was a subtle tension in his shoulders, a quiet protectiveness in the way he positioned himself. "You're jumping to conclusions, as usual," Lex said, his voice calm but laced with steel. "Elizabeth is a guest, not a hired companion. And frankly, she's better company than the vultures you've invited tonight." His words were smooth, cutting, delivered with the precision of a man who'd spent his life navigating Lionel's cruelty.
Beth's eyes widened, her heart racing as she stood exposed under Lionel's piercing stare. She felt like a child caught breaking a rule, her earlier confidence crumbling under the weight of her realization. Lex Luthor. She'd been flirting with Lex Luthor, mocking his family, his world, to his face. Her stomach twisted with embarrassment, but Lex's defense of her—calling her better company than his father's elite guests—sparked a flicker of warmth in her chest, even as she stood frozen, unsure of what to say.
Lionel's gaze lingered on Beth, his expression one of cold amusement, as if she were a curiosity to be dissected, a specimen under a microscope. His sharp eyes took in every detail—her flushed cheeks, her swollen lips, the faint creases in her gown, the silk clinging to her curves like a second skin. His sneer deepened, his silver hair catching the moonlight as he tilted his head, his blood-red tie a stark contrast to his pale, angular face. "Charming," he said dryly, his eyes returning to Lex, his voice dripping with condescension. "But your penchant for strays doesn't excuse you from your responsibilities. You should be out there, securing the future of LuthorCorp, not playing games in locked rooms." He paused, his voice dropping to a cutting whisper, each word sharp and deliberate. "Or have you forgotten who you are?"
Lex's smirk didn't falter, but his eyes darkened, a flash of something dangerous passing through them, a storm brewing beneath his polished exterior. His suit jacket shifted slightly as he straightened, the fabric settling perfectly over his broad shoulders, the gunmetal tie gleaming faintly. He stepped forward, closing the distance between himself and Lionel, his polished shoes sinking into the rug, his posture relaxed but radiating defiance, a quiet challenge in every line of his body. "I know exactly who I am," he said, his voice low, steady, carrying a weight that made Beth's skin prickle, her breath catching in her throat. "And I don't need your reminders." His ice-blue eyes locked onto Lionel's, unyielding, a silent battle of wills playing out in the dim light of the study. He stepped closer, his presence commanding, the air around him crackling with restrained power. "Now if you excuse us we were in the middle of a private conversation"
Lionel's lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowing, his angular features etched with cold fury. His charcoal suit was impeccable, the fine wool absorbing the moonlight, his blood-red tie a bold statement of dominance. But he didn't press further, his gaze flicking once more to Beth, a final, dismissive glance that made her stomach twist, her hands trembling as she clutched Lex's jacket. With a sharp turn, he walked away, his polished shoes echoing in the hallway, the sound fading into the distant hum of the gala, leaving the study heavy with silence.
The tension in the room didn't dissipate with his departure; it lingered, thick and electric, the air charged with the aftermath of their confrontation. Lex turned back to Beth, his expression unreadable, his ice-blue eyes softening slightly as they met hers. His suit was still slightly rumpled, the creases in his jacket a reminder of their earlier closeness, but his posture was relaxed, his lips curving into a faint, crooked smile. Beth's heart still raced, her body pressed against the wall, the cool mahogany grounding her as she tried to process everything—Lionel's words, Lex's identity, the way he'd defended her. Her gown clung to her curves, the silk warm and slightly damp, her lips still tingling from his kiss, her hazel eyes wide and searching as they locked onto his. The study's dim light cast soft shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw, the faint stubble that added a rugged edge to his polished appearance. Her hands, still trembling, smoothed her gown, the silk rustling softly, her breath uneven as she tried to find her voice, the weight of the moment pressing down on her like the heavy air of the room.
END FLASHBACK – NOW – CHLOE'S BASEMENT
Beth's voice trailed off, the memory of Lex's lips on hers, his hands gripping her hips, still burning in her mind. She opened her eyes, the basement's dim fairy lights snapping her back to the present. Her friends stared at her, mouths agape, the indie rock humming faintly in the background. The air was thick with shock, their wide eyes pinned on her like she'd just confessed to robbing a bank. Beth's cheeks flushed, her heart pounding as she realized how much she'd revealed—the flirting, the kissing, the way she'd almost lost herself in Lex Luthor's private study. Her black dress felt too tight, the lace trim catching the light as she shifted on the beanbag, suddenly hyper-aware of their gazes.
Chloe's pen was frozen mid-air, her notebook forgotten on her lap. "Holy shit, Beth," she breathed, her voice a mix of awe and disbelief. "You were this close to fucking Lex Luthor in his dad's study? Like, you were about to screw the billionaire bad boy of Metropolis, and you didn't even know it was him?" Her eyes were wide, her usual journalistic cool replaced by raw shock. "You were throwing shade at LuthorCorp to his face, calling their tech bullshit, and he was into it? That's… that's insane."
Pete let out a loud, incredulous laugh, slapping his knee. "No way, Harper! You, Miss Color-Coded Notes, were grinding up against Lex Luthor, ready to jump his bones in a locked room? And you had the balls to talk smack about his family while he was eye-fucking you?" He shook his head, grinning like he'd just heard the punchline to the world's best joke. "You're telling me you—small-town, bookworm Beth—had Lex Luthor panting after you like a puppy? I'm sorry, but that's some next-level shit."
But… oh my God, the way he stopped when you asked him to?" Lana paused, her breath catching, her smile blooming into something warm and seemingly proud. "That's huge. Lex Luthor, of all people, respecting your boundaries like that? He could've pushed, but he didn't. That says something, you know?"
Clark, silent until now, shifted uncomfortably in his pink dress, his broad shoulders tense, his jaw so tight it looked like it might crack. His blue eyes, usually warm and steady, were stormy, fixed on the floor as if he could burn a hole through it. His hands clenched into fists on his knees, the fabric of his ridiculous outfit straining against his frame. He hadn't said a word since Beth started, but the tension radiating off him was palpable, a quiet storm that made the room feel smaller. At Lana's comment, he finally snapped, his voice low and sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. "That's the bare minimum," he said, his tone edged with anger, his eyes flicking up to meet Beth's for the first time. "Stopping when she said no doesn't make him a hero, Lana. It's what he's supposed to do. He doesn't get a fucking medal for not being a creep."
The room fell into a stifling silence, Clark's words lingering like a bitter fog. Beth's heart clenched, her gaze locking onto his, desperately searching for the root of his rage. Was it Lex? The kiss? Or something darker, buried in the way Clark's eyes had always traced her, a mix of longing and judgment she could never quite unravel? Did he think she was a whore for what happened, for the way she'd navigated Lex's dangerous charm? The uncertainty gnawed at her, her stomach twisting into knots as she stood there, caught in the storm of his unspoken accusations.
Chloe broke the silence, leaning forward, her eyes glinting with curiosity. "Okay, but Beth, let's be real—you were this close to going all the way with him, weren't you? I mean, the way you described it—his hands on your body, pinning you to the wall, that kiss…" She whistled low, shaking her head. "You were ready to let Lex Luthor fuck you right there in that study, admit it."
Beth's face burned, her fingers digging into the beanbag as she shook her head, her voice shaky but firm. "No, I… I wasn't going to—I mean, I knew what I was doing, but I wasn't going to do that." Her words stumbled, the memory of Lex's body pressed against hers, the heat of his arousal, flooding back. She'd felt powerful, wanted, but the idea of actually sleeping with him? It terrified her virgin ass as much as it thrilled her. "I was caught up, okay? He was… intense, and I liked it, but I wasn't going to just… give it up like that."
Lana's voice slipped into the conversation, smooth and composed, her eyes brimming with what looked like gentle understanding. "Oh, come on, Chloe, you know Beth," she said, her tone polished yet carrying a subtle sting, as if her words were wrapped in silk but edged with judgment. "She's not some whore who'd throw herself at a guy she just met, no matter how slick or charming he is. Beth was a virgin—probably still is," she added, her lips curving into a teasing smile that somehow felt both warm and cutting, the kind of remark that only Lana could make sound polite. "You were incredible that night, Beth, don't get me wrong. You owned that room, had Lex Luthor eating out of your hand. But you? Sleeping with someone like him without a real connection, without dating first? No way. That's just not who you are, no matter how intense things got."
Beth's cheeks burned hotter, a dizzying mix of embarrassment and relief crashing through her as Lana's words sank in. Yes, Lana was right—she'd been bold, reckless even, dancing on the edge of danger with Lex Luthor, but she hadn't crossed that line, not then, not with him. Yet, beneath the surface, a deeper truth clawed its way up, raw and unrelenting. Her mind flashed to Clark—Clark. The memory of their kiss seared through her, his low, shuddering moan echoing in her ears, the heat of that massage when she'd felt him, hard and undeniable, pressed against her thigh. In that moment, she knew. She'd been ready then, her body alive with a certainty she couldn't ignore. But it wasn't just about when. It was about who.
And that who was Clark
only Clark. The realization hit her like a douse of ice water, her breath catching as the weight of it settled in her chest. She was utterly, irrevocably fucked. Her heart pounded, a storm of shock and dread swirling within her, because this truth wasn't just a fleeting thought—it was a revelation, heavy with unspoken consequences, tying her to him in ways she wasn't ready to face-
She wanted Clark Kent, her best friend, to be the one to take her virginity.