Hopelessly Devoted, Chapter 1

Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11

Clark/Chloe
Season 4, during "Devoted"
Rating: Adult. If you're under eighteen, please go elsewhere now.
17,000 words
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and DC Comics, not to me.

Everyone needs someplace they can be alone.

My place is a loft in a barn. I keep all my books and personal stuff in my loft. I do most of my homework up there, and I spend a lot of my time there. Sometimes I even fall asleep on the couch and spend the night out there.

My parents are pretty cool, and they don’t worry when friends come to visit me there, although if I have a girl over my mom usually comes up the stairs at some point to offer pie, which is Mom Code for, “I just wanted to make sure nothing’s going on between the two of you.”

But aside from my friends dropping in every so often, and Mom sometimes sneaking up to check on me and make sure my virtue remains intact, my loft is my own personal space, and it’s usually a good place to be alone.

Tonight it wasn't.

I'd had a long day of classes at Smallville High, and after school I'd had football practice. It was dark by the time I got home to the farm. I walked up the stairs to my loft… and stopped dead. My best friend Chloe Sullivan was sitting on the couch, wearing my brand new football jersey.

And not much else.

Her legs were bare, and judging from the way her, um, torso moved when she did, I thought she might just be bare underneath the jersey, too. My cheeks flamed, and I stood frozen, staring at her blankly.

“Uh,” I said at last. “Chloe. What’s up?”

She smiled at me. Chloe has a pretty smile. In fact she’s a very pretty girl. But for some reason my gaze dropped from her smile, right back down to her legs. I’ve never really noticed her legs before, and it made me really uncomfortable that I was noticing them now. Because this whole situation was just a little weird.

Okay, it was more than just a little weird. It was downright bizarre.

Chloe shrugged, and that made her breasts bounce and ripple in a very interesting way under the jersey. I was pretty damn sure she wasn't wearing a bra, and that totally freaked me out. Although not necessarily in a bad way.

"Hey, Clark," she said. “I just wanted to… talk."

There was a funny note in her voice that said that talking wasn’t really what she had in mind. I stood there, my mind going around in aimless circles like a hamster wheel, trying to figure out exactly what to do.

I stared at her, and then all of a sudden my x-ray vision activated. It was an accident, I swear. I never use it to check out girls that way. But I kind of wanted to confirm whether or not she was wearing anything at all under my jersey.

She wasn’t.

I blinked and looked away, feeling my skin heat up. I wasn’t sure if it was a blush of embarrassment, or something else entirely. But either way, I figured I’d better get Chloe out of my loft soon, before I did something I was going to regret.

Or worse yet, before I did something and didn’t regret it at all.

Chloe patted the couch next to her. I walked slowly over to the couch and sat down, as far away from her as possible. Maybe I don’t know much about girls, but I do know that when one invades your personal space dressed in nothing but your football jersey, she probably isn’t there to ask for calculus notes.

“So,” she said, smiling at me. “Remember that conversation about priorities we had this morning? I’ve been thinking about mine, and I think maybe they’re a little screwed up. Who needs the Torch? Especially if you’re not going to be there.”

That speech was enough to let me know that something wasn't right. From Chloe, the words Who needs the Torch? were pretty much like a Catholic priest saying, So who needs God anyway? A warning light started to blink in my mind, and a line from a goofy old TV show my dad loved flashed through my brain. Danger, danger, Will Robinson!

“Uh… right,” I said at last, trying to figure out exactly what was going on here. Beyond the obvious, I mean. “But that doesn’t explain why you’re here wearing nothing but…” My stupid x-ray vision activated again, and I stared at her helplessly for a second, then looked away, feeling my cheeks heat again. “My football jersey.”

She moved closer, smiling. I tried to back away and discovered I was up against the arm of the couch.

“I want to make you my number one priority,” she said softly. “I’d do anything for you, Clark. Things that Lana would never do.” She reached out and put a hand on my chest. “Things to relieve your stress.”

The irony was that I hadn’t been feeling a lot of stress till I found her here. I’d been pretty darn relaxed. All of a sudden, though, I wasn’t feeling relaxed. At all.

The feel of her hand against my chest brought back memories of the time we’d made out almost two years ago. She’d had an alien parasite that fed on adrenaline which had made her act wildly out of character, and at the same time my friend Pete Ross had stuck a little chunk of red kryptonite in my pocket. Red K made me crazy, and the result was that Chloe and I had engaged in a serious makeout session. Kissing, touching, licking, rubbing... well, you get the picture.

The problem was, Chloe didn’t remember any of it. But I sure as hell did. I’d done my best to forget it, but the hottest makeout session of your life isn’t something that’s likely to ever leave your memory. It was pretty much burned into my brain for all eternity.

I’d never kissed another girl like that, never had my hands all over her body, or hers all over mine, like that, and those images tended to pop into my mind and make me restless around bedtime, making it really hard for me to get to sleep without…

Um. Well. Never mind. The point is, her hand against my chest was bringing back some seriously hot memories. I probably should have grabbed her hand and tried to fend her off, but I was having a hard time making my body do anything I wanted it to. It seemed to have an agenda all its own.

Things to relieve your stress. Those words rolled around in my mind, and I had to admit they sounded kind of, well, interesting. “Uh… like what?”

Her smile grew wider and sexier, and she slid her hand down my chest. It felt good, and I leaned my head back a little. “Chloe…”

But then her hand kept going, and brushed over the front of my jeans. Electricity sizzled through me like lightning, in a bolt of pleasure that felt incredibly good, and I jumped violently, shocked. “Chloe!”

Part of me—okay, the part she’d just touched—wanted her to keep doing what she was doing, but I couldn’t forget that the last time she’d touched me that way, she’d been under some sort of weird alien influence. Yeah, she seemed okay, but this whole thing was very unChloe somehow. I had the distinct impression something was wrong here.

Exerting every bit of willpower I possessed, I grabbed her hand, pulled it away from me, and looked at her closely. “Chloe,” I said, fighting my own hands, which wanted to yank hers back against me so she could touch me some more. “Are you feeling okay?”

She laughed softly. “I’ve never felt happier, Clark.” She moved over me suddenly, settling into my lap, her bare thighs on either side of mine. I got a really good look at the way her breasts moved under the shirt, and hastily glanced up, deciding it was probably safer to look at her face.

“Uh…” I said, because that was the only word I could seem to utter. My brain wasn't working right. I guess all the blood had rushed to parts further south.

“Clark,” she said softly, moving her body against mine. “Don’t you see? I’m devoted to you. I love you, Clark.”

And she leaned forward and kissed me.

Her fingers pressed against my shoulders, and her body felt really warm and soft. My hands wanted to wrap around her hips and pull her closer, but I vetoed that, because I didn’t think it was such a great idea. In fact, I was pretty damn sure it wasn’t a good idea.

Then her hands slid up and brushed across my cheeks, very softly, and it felt good, so good that I started to get really nervous, because I felt like I was totally losing control of the situation, and that didn't bother me as much as it should. I thought about pushing her off, but I was pretty sure my body wasn’t going to cooperate, so I simply moved my hands as far away from her as I could get. I had this feeling that once I touched her, I wasn't going to stop.

She kissed me for a long moment, her lips as soft and warm as her body, and I tried really, really hard not to respond. I’m not sure how well I succeeded. But eventually she lifted her head and looked at me, her eyes soft.“What’s wrong, Clark?”

I stared at her for a minute, breathing hard, struggling to string some coherent words together in a sentence. “Chloe,” I said at last, gently, “I don’t know what’s going on here, but you don’t love me.”

“Yes. I do.” She ran her fingers through my hair, and a shiver went through me despite myself. I remembered her touching me that way when I was on the red K, and it had felt really good.

“Okay,” I said, trying really hard to be responsible. Being responsible sucks. “Maybe you do. But I don’t love you, Chloe.”

She gave me a mysterious, Mona Lisa smile.

“By the end of tonight, you will, Clark.”

She moved even closer to me, so that our bodies were pressed right up against each other, and I knew it was obvious I had a, shall we say, physical response to her nearness. A big one.

She moved against me slightly, and I had to grind my teeth together to hold back a groan.

I knew I should make her go. I'm a lot stronger than she is, and Chloe can't make me do anything I don't want to do. But the truth was, deep down... I didn't want her to leave. I wanted her to stay. On top of me. Or under me. Or whatever.

Not that I really believed she could make me fall in love with her in a night. But all of a sudden, I discovered I didn't mind letting her try.

Read Chapter 2 here.