The Bitter Glass (Bitter Symphony Remix)

Original Story: The Bitter Glass, by alee



 

Lana Lang stepped out of the elevator into the raised marble foyer of the penthouse. Three steps down led into a large living room with beautiful plate glass windows and a panoramic view of Metropolis. A dining room was visible through open, grand French doors, the dark wood table set for an intimate dinner. Hallways led deeper into the penthouse. A gently winding staircase ascended to the second floor bedrooms.

Lionel Luthor, dressed in a full suit, met Lana as she entered. “Good evening, my dear,” he said, taking her wrap. “I hope you had a pleasant trip from Smallville.”

“It was fine.” Lana set her clutch on a small table and accepted Lionel’s arm in escort. She walked smoothly on her heels across the plus carpeting, the scattered diamonds in her airy, navy dress caught the dim light and sparkled. They entered the dining room. Lionel held the chair for her.

“How was your day?” he asked politely.

Lana shrugged lightly. “The same as usual. I was tied up for a while, but Clark helped me out.”

Lionel’s gaze grew sharp and shrewd. “Oh? What did our Mr. Kent assist you with?”




Clark Kent came to her rescue yet again. Feigning unconsciousness, Lana was sitting on the floor of a garage, tied to a support beam. Devon, the latest mutant to kidnap her, could shoot laser beams from his eyes.

Clark was impervious to the laser beams. Lana wasn’t surprised.

Devon shot Clark, singeing his clothes but otherwise not harming him. The bright red beams bounced off Clark’s body, striking elsewhere in the garage. One rebounded beam hit perilously close to Lana, scorching her pink sweater. Watching beneath her eyelashes, she saw Clark crush a metal support beam with his bare hands and throw it at Devon. Devon tried to split it apart, but the rapid-fire beams created smaller chunks of metal that hit his face and eyes at high speed.

Devon screamed and crumpled to the ground with his hands covering his bloody face. “My eyes! My eyes!”

Clark ignored Devon and hurried over to Lana. Lana stirred, as if she’d just returned to consciousness. She blinked open her eyes, feigning dazedness. “What happened? Where’s Devon?”

Devon’s continued cries of pain answered both questions. A brief look of guilt passed over Clark’s face. “Devon can’t hurt you anymore,” Clark said, releasing her bonds with extreme ease. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Lana said. Worry creased her brow and she touched his chest over one of the scorch marks. “But you’re hurt.”

“I’m okay.” Clark pulled her hand away subtly, before she could feel the smooth skin she knew she’d find beneath the shirt. He was getting better at that move. “Never underestimate the protective power of flannel.”

He smiled as he lied to her face once again. Lana pretended it didn’t hurt. “You’re lucky Devon didn’t cut you in half.”

“Yeah. Devon must be a poor shot.” Clark helped her to her feet, curving a protective arm around her. She leaned into his partial embrace. She wanted him to tell her, wanted him to open up about his abilities and share his deeper secrets with her. She wanted to accept the love he wore on his sleeve and spend the future in his arms.

But Clark would never tell her, would never need her as she needed him to, would never put her first above everything. The wistful longing that sparked with every rescue died inside her once more.

Clark led her out of the garage into the bitter cold.




Dinner was filet mignon, steamed vegetables, and scalloped potatoes. They spoke of unimportant things over the meal, though Lionel’s full attention was focused on Lana, hoping for another bit of information about Clark to fall from her lips. He wouldn’t get any more tonight. The reference to the scorched flannel shirt would keep him happy for now.

Later, Lana allowed herself to be swept away by passion. Lionel waited barely a moment to take her in his arms after their proprietary meal. His kisses tasted of wine and pepper. His beard tickled her neck and bare shoulders. His hands cupped her breasts and she sighed in familiar pleasure.

The bedroom draperies were open, the nighttime vista beautiful through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The silky sheets tangled beneath them on the bed. Her reward for a new piece of Clark’s secret glittered around her neck in the ambient light.

Lana smiled at the ceiling and spread her legs wider. As long as Lionel kept his eyes turned to her, she’d continue feeding him vague hints about Clark. Her needs came first, after all.


End


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