Season 5, post "Fanatic"
Rating: Adult. If you are under eighteen, please go leave this page now.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the WB and DC comics, not to me.
Clark intends to push Chloe away from him, but for some reason his hands aren’t paying any attention to the signals coming from his brain. Which isn’t surprising, because his brain is totally confused and can’t quite figure out what the hell is going on here. His body, on the other hand, has a pretty good grasp of the situation.
And now his hands have a pretty good grasp on Chloe.
He has to force himself to loosen his hold on his arms a bit, lest he leave bruises, or hurt her even worse. He’s strong enough to snap her bones without any effort at all, which is why he’s been trying so hard to avoid the whole sex thing. The thought of injuring Chlo scares him, and it’s almost enough to make him pull back and try to regain control of the situation. But not quite enough, because her lips are right there, only inches away, parted and turned up to his, and he can hear her breath coming in unsteady pants.
Her mouth is so close that any normal male would feel compelled to kiss her.
He’s not exactly a normal male, but he’s normal enough in some ways, and pulling away from Chloe’s parted lips and glazed eyes isn’t something he’s capable of doing. Then again, he doesn’t want things to spiral out of control here, either, so he decides to compromise.
He lowers his head and brushes his lips across hers, very softly. They’re friends, after all. A light kiss on the lips is acceptable among friends, right?
But then he does it again, and again, unable to stop himself, and thinks maybe he’s pushing the boundaries of friendship just a bit too hard. Not unlike the way he checked her out with his x-ray vision while she was changing. He still feels guilty about that, kind of, even though he has a pretty good idea that she was aware of it and didn’t really mind all that much.
She doesn’t seem to mind the kissing thing, either, even though it’s probably totally inappropriate and she really ought to be slapping him about now. Slapping him seems to be the furthest thing from her mind, though, because she stands on tiptoe to allow him better access to her mouth.
She’s so small and feminine against him, and he’s never noticed that before, because Chloe is like a tornado when she swirls into a room, drawing every eye and commanding attention. But really, she’s a tiny little thing, so small and delicate that he could pull away from her easily if he wanted to. It’s just that he doesn’t want to, not really.
She smells like vanilla, sweet and at the same time exotic, and her fragrance is making him dizzy. He’s still kissing her, gently and softly, and thinks he probably ought to stop before things get totally out of hand. But before he can lift his head away, her tongue darts out, just like it did when she licked her lips earlier and somehow managed to fry his brain.
Only this time, her tongue licks his lips.
The gentle brush of her tongue against his lips is somehow sweet and sexy at the same time, so sweet it makes his heart melt, so sexy it makes the rest of him go rigid in a heartbeat. A sound halfway between a moan and a whimper rolls out of his throat, and anything that was left of his brain instantly goes on vacation.
He’s kind of shy about this kind of thing, uncomfortably aware of his own inexperience in sexual matters, but his instincts kick in, and his tongue slips out to meet hers.
Almost instantly their mouths are fused together, their tongues meeting eagerly in a distinctly sexual rhythm. Her hands lift, sliding up his back, then tangling in his hair so hard it would probably hurt if he were human. He sucks in a deep breath, not sure which he needs more desperately, oxygen or her vanilla scent.
He puts one arm around her waist, careful not to squeeze too hard, and lets the other hand slide up to her cheek. He cradles her face carefully in his hand, letting his thumb caress the soft skin there, feeling the silky strands of her hair beneath the tips of his fingers.
His eyes are stinging and itching like crazy, and he keeps his eyelids shut, afraid he’s going to set her on fire. Or possibly her dorm. He wishes he didn’t have to worry about setting girls on fire, but it’s part of who he is, so he needs to learn to deal with it.
He’s never made love to a girl when he had his abilities, so he’s not quite sure, but he’s fairly certain that his heat vision is going to kick in sooner or later, whether he wants it to or not. Mostly, his heat vision is a voluntary thing. But when girls are involved, it’s not something he can control.
Not that he’s going to make love to Chloe. No, of course not. Chloe is just a friend.
A friend who happens to have her tongue in his mouth right now.
A vague thought flickers through the remnants of his mind, a faint reminder that he’s actually dating someone else. He doesn’t bother to chase down the thought, just shoves it away impatiently and pulls Chloe against him harder.
Chloe's right. He doesn't possess a bit of self-control. At least not when it comes to her.
Her stomach is pressed up against his erection now, and it feels good, so damn good that he can hardly stand it. His instincts are clamoring for more, telling him to move his hips and rock against her, but his instincts are also warning him that his heat vision is about to cause trouble. He pulls his mouth away, blinking hard and gasping for breath.
“Chloe,” he whispers, and hardly recognizes his own voice. He sounds like he has laryngitis or something.
She opens her eyes, blinks, and looks around like she’d totally forgotten where they were. “You’re right,” she says softly, and her voice sounds steadier than his, though not much. “Lana could come back any minute.”
Lana is the last thing on his mind, and he rolls his eyes. “I have superhearing, Chlo, remember? She drove off a while ago.”
“Still,” Chloe says, looking like she’s trying to be responsible. But her eyes are brimming with sadness. “I guess you’re right. We ought to stop.”
“I didn’t say anything about stopping,” he answers, annoyed. He probably should have said something about stopping, but that’s beside the point. His moral compass seems to have gone totally astray right about the time he touched her, and stopping is the absolute last thing he wants to do. “I just… I just think we ought to go outside.”
She looks up at him curiously and evidently notices the way he’s blinking, the same way humans blink to get an eyelash out of their eye. Suddenly the sorrow fades from her eyes, and an impish grin curves her mouth. “Is your heat vision bothering you, Clark?”
“Well. Okay, then. Let’s go for a walk.”
They make it as far as the little pond at the center of campus before they start kissing again. It's pretty private there behind the bushes, although Clark doesn't really care much at this point. He sinks to the ground, pulling her down with him, onto his lap. She sits sideways, her hip pressing up against him in an intimate way that feels seriously good, and returns his kisses.
Before long she’s trailing kisses down his throat, and Clark hears another of those moaning sounds come out of his mouth. He’s almost embarrassed by how easy he is.
“Does that feel good?” she whispers.
“What else do you like?” She pulls up his t-shirt a bit and slides her hand across his ribs. He jumps, startled.
“Are you ticklish?” she says in surprise.
“Maybe a little.”
“But your skin is invulnerable,” she says, tracing along his ribcage. “I mean, bullets don’t even go in. How can you be ticklish? For that matter, how can you feel me touch you at all?”
Clark is having a hard time focusing enough to talk, but he does his best to answer. “I don’t think it’s actually my skin. Sort of a… a field my body generates. I can feel a light touch, but if something applies too much pressure…” He trails off as she pinches him, hard. It doesn’t hurt. In fact, he can barely feel it.
“Ow,” she says. “I see what you mean. I think I just broke my nail.”
“Not your fault, Clark. I guess this means I shouldn’t bite you, either. At least not if I want to keep my teeth.”
“Bite me?” he repeats, a little shocked at the notion.
She looks up at him. In the starlight, her eyes look dark and mysterious. “Didn’t Lana ever bite you? Nibble on your ear? Anything like that?”
He swallows. It sounds kind of… interesting. “Uh, no.”
“Hmmm,” she says thoughtfully, and then she’s pushing up his shirt. She studies his chest for a long moment, the obvious admiration in her eyes making him blush with self-conscious embarrassment. Then she leans forward and brushes a kiss over his nipple.
Lana never touched him there—no one’s ever touched him there before—and he can’t believe how good it feels. Shivers run through his body, and small sounds of helpless pleasure spill from his lips. It's never before occurred to him that he might like to be kissed there, but now he's decided he never wants her to stop.
She doesn't. She keeps kissing him there, alternating kisses with little licks of her tongue, until he can barely draw a breath.
He starts to sweat, something he almost never does, and he knows it’s because of the heat vision. His eyes are driving him crazy, and he clamps them shut, clenches his jaw, and grinds his teeth together to try to stave off the inevitable.
And then, very carefully, she takes his nipple between her teeth and applies the gentlest pressure imaginable.
Something inside of him breaks loose and shatters into a million pieces. He jerks his head to the side, feeling fire rush through him, and looks away from her as his heat vision activates. His body shudders, and he hears himself crying out hoarsely with the exquisite pleasure of it.
It’s not easy to explain exactly what it feels like. It’s not quite like an orgasm. In some ways it’s better, a fierce release that’s so hot and so intense that he has to fight himself not to clutch at her. He doesn’t want to hurt her, so he settles for curling his hands into fists behind her. The burst of heat goes on and on, and part of him worries that it’s never going to stop, and part of him doesn’t want it to stop, ever.
At last his heat vision cuts off, his cries fade into silence, and he turns back to her and drops his head onto her shoulder, breathing hard. She lifts her mouth from his chest and strokes his hair. “Wow, Clark,” she says, a smile in her voice. “That was pretty cool. And seriously hot.”
He pushes her off his lap, reluctantly, and goes to put out the fire he’s started in the grass. He feels a little self-conscious, because normal guys don't have to put out fires every time they make out with girls, and he takes a little longer to put it out than he really needs. Plus he's still trying to get the rest of his body under control. It doesn't seem inclined to cooperate.
When he finally turns around, Chloe is standing behind him, looking up at him expectantly. She flashes her bright Chloe grin at him.
“So," she says. "What else can you do?”
Read Chapter 3 here.