Summary: What Lex does in his secret room.

Warnings: Rated R. Spoilers for Visitor.

"Your obsession?" Helen sounds uncertain

Lex is not sure why that's so satisfying. Why he gets such a thrill out of pushing the envelope with the women he dates. Clark is very special to me. He'd said that just yesterday. I don't know why the girls at his school aren't more interested in him. A remark from last week. With Victoria, he'd once gone so far as to ask, Don't you think Clark is attractive?

Lex supposes these asides might seem perfectly meaningless if you didn't know him. Maybe that's even what he's been trying to prove. That none of these women really do. Know him at all.

Or maybe it's just that this is the closest he's ever going to get to actually telling someone. I want to fuck Clark so badly it hurts. Some people have true confessions. Lex has these cat-and-mouse games he plays with the girlfriends who are screwing him over.

Helen takes a tentative step into the room. She stares at the twisted wreck of the Porsche. Lex can only imagine how that must seem to her, a gruesome reminder ensconced as if it is a precious treasure. But when Lex looks at it, there is nothing like death, only the fresh earth beneath him, the sky curving overhead like endless possibility, a taste in his mouth so wholesome and sweet he still dreams about it.

"What do you do in here?" Helen asks.


"It's, um-- very modern."

Space-age surfaces have the advantage of quick clean up, and pondering can get messy.

Lex only smiles.

Helen shifts her weight. It makes her nervous to be here, and maybe Lex shouldn't be such a sadistic bastard. The real game is with himself after all, not with her, and if Helen doesn't actually turn out to be on his father's payroll, he may have to feel bad about this somewhere down the line.

He's pretty sure, though, that's not a serious concern.

"I, uh-- There's something I need to--" She gestures in the direction of the door. "But thanks. For showing me."

"No problem."

He smiles like an attentive boyfriend while she flees the room. He can just imagine the look on her face as he closes the door behind her and turns the lock.

He moves to stand in front of the picture of Clark, who looks down at him with an unknowable expression, like a riddle, a challenge, like the only thing that will ever truly be worth having. It's ridiculous, Lex knows, to think that gaining Clark's secret will be anything like having Clark himself. But he suspects it's the closest he's ever going to get, and even he has to make do sometimes.

Lex cheers himself up by remembering Helen's shocked expression. After today, the door will stay locked, and Clark will be all his once more. Helen won't ask about it. She won't even come to this part of the house again, he feels certain.

And that will make it so much better. The problem with secret obsessions is that there's nobody to appreciate the greedy pleasure you're hording all to yourself. But now Helen knows, and every time Lex comes here, locks the door, immerses himself in Clark, it will be a little more vivid, a little more like the real thing.

He smiles up at the picture and decides to start enjoying the benefits now. Helen can wait. And when it comes to pondering the beautiful mystery that is Clark Kent, Lex has learned, there's no time quite like the present.


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