Chapter Text
The dim glow of the antique desk lamp cast long shadows across the opulent study of the Luthor mansion. The sprawling mansion stood perched on the outskirts of Smallville like a brooding sentinel.
It was well past midnight and the sprawling estate was silent save for the occasional creak of old wood settling in the chill Kansas night.
Martha Kent sat at the massive oak desk, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she compiled reports for LuthorCorp's latest acquisitions.
The weight of the world pressed on her shoulders. Jonathan currently lay in a coma at Smallville General, his medical bills mounting like a relentless tide.
Meanwhile the farm teetered on the edge of foreclosure and to make matters worse, Clark was missing. Her boy disappeared in a flash of light, vanished into the ether with that cryptic voice from the stars, Jor-El.
The uncertainty gnawed at her, but she pushed it down focusing on the task at hand.
Due to the mounting debts she had no choice but to return to Lionel Luthor's employ. He had offered her the position as his personal assistant with a sly smile, citing her "unparalleled organizational skills" from her days previously working for him.
But Martha knew there was more to it. Lionel wasn't the type to do favours without strings attached. Yet, in her desperation she had accepted. Now here she was, weeks into the role, working late into the night while he oversaw the empire from this remote stronghold.
Lex had attempted a hostile takeover of the company so Lionel retaliated. While Lex had slowly moved through the shadows, Lionel was busy manipulating evidence to implicate Lex. Now he was rotting in prison for the crimes his father had orchestrated. Lionel had emerged unscathed and healthier than ever, his liver transplant a distant memory he never mentioned.
The door to the study swung open with a soft whoosh and Lionel entered, carrying two crystal tumblers filled with amber liquid. His hair was impeccably styled, his tailored suit hugging his lean frame like a second skin. At 50, he exuded a predatory vitality, his eyes sharp and appraising as they settled on her.
"Martha," he purred, his voice a rich baritone that sent an unwelcome shiver down her spine. "Burning the midnight oil again? You work too hard. Here, take a break." He set one tumbler before her, the scotch swirling invitingly.
She looked up, forcing a polite smile. "Mr. Luthor, I just need to finish this quarterly summary. The board meeting is tomorrow."
"Lionel, please" he corrected gently, perching on the edge of the desk mere inches from her. His knee brushed against her thigh under the table, a fleeting contact that could have been accidental but she knew better.
Over the past weeks, these subtle touches had become a pattern: a hand lingering on her shoulder as he reviewed documents, a compliment on her blouse that strayed too close to admiration of the curve beneath, a shared glance across the room that held just a beat too long.
At first, she had dismissed it as his manipulative charm, the same he'd used to ensnare so many. But lately, in the quiet isolation of the farm, with Jonathan's absence a gaping void and Clark's fate a tormenting unknown, she felt a dangerous pull.
Lionel was powerful, commanding, everything her life lacked right now. Unfortunately it stirred something dormant within her, a heat she hadn't felt in years.
She took a sip of the scotch, the burn steadying her nerves. "Lionel, then. Thank you for the drink."
He smiled, a wolfish curve of his lips. "You've been invaluable, Martha. I don't know how I managed without you." His eyes traced the line of her neck, down to where her simple blouse gaped slightly at the collar. "Tell me, how is Jonathan faring? Any change?"
The question was laced with feigned concern, but it hit her like a punch. She shook her head, her voice tight. "No. The doctors say he’s stable, but the longer it goes on the less likely he is to awaken. I just don’t know what to do anymore, the bills are endless and then Clark..." Her words trailed off, tears pricking her eyes.
Lionel's hand covered hers on the desk, his touch warm and firm. "You're carrying too much alone. Let me help. I've already arranged for some of the best specialists to review his case." He leaned closer, his breath ghosting her ear. "As for Clark, we'll find him. I have resources you can't imagine."
She should pull away. She knew she should. But between the scotch warming her veins and the loneliness she lived with, his proximity ignited a spark she couldn't dismiss. For weeks before the coma her marriage had been strained. Jonathan's stubborn pride & the secrets about Clark weighing them down had slowly pushed them apart. Lionel's gaze held no judgment, only desire, raw and unapologetic.
Before she could think his fingers traced her jaw & tilted her face up to meet his. "You're beautiful, Martha. Strong. Let me show you how much I appreciate that."
Her breath hitched as he kissed her, slow and deliberate, his lips claiming hers with the confidence of a man who always got what he wanted. She resisted for a heartbeat then melted into it, her hands fisting in his shirt. The kiss deepened, tongues tangling in a dance of forbidden hunger. He pulled her to her feet, pressing her back against the desk, his body hard against hers.
Papers scattered as he swept them aside, lifting her onto the polished wood. His hands roamed her body before unbuttoning her blouse with practised ease, exposing the lace of her bra.
"I've wanted this since the day you walked back into my life," he murmured against her skin, his mouth trailing fire down her neck to her breasts. He teased a nipple through the fabric, eliciting a gasp from her.
Martha's mind screamed that this was wrong, a betrayal of her vows but her body betrayed her as she arched into his touch.
She tugged at his tie, loosening it before her fingers delved into his hair as he pushed her skirt up her thighs. His hand slipped between her legs, finding her already wet before he began stroking her through her panties with expert precision.
"Lionel," she moaned, the name a plea and a surrender.
He dropped to his knees, peeling her panties aside and buried his face between her thighs. His tongue was relentless, circling her clit, delving inside her with a rhythm that made her hips buck.
She gripped the desk edge, her world narrowing to the pleasure building like a storm. Weeks of tension & loneliness shattered as she came, crying out his name, her body shuddering.
He rose and wiped his mouth with a satisfied smirk before undid his belt. His cock sprang free, thick and rock hard. He positioned himself at her entrance and whispered "Tell me you want this, Martha."
She nodded, pulling him closer. "Yes... God, yes."
He thrust into her in one smooth motion, filling her completely. The desk creaked under their rhythm, his hips slamming against hers as he took her hard, his hands pinning her wrists out to her sides. She wrapped her legs around him, meeting each thrust. The friction sent sparks through her core. His mouth captured hers again, swallowing her moans as he drove deeper & deeper.
The release built in her, coiling tight and when it broke, she clenched around him, pulling him over the edge with her. He groaned, spilling inside her, his body tensing before collapsing against her.
They stayed like that, breaths mingling, the study reeking of sex and scotch. Lionel pulled back, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "This is just the beginning, Martha. Stay with me tonight."
She didn't say no. In the shadow of her crumbling life, this dark allure was a lifeline she couldn't refuse.