What the World Could Be, Chapter 13

Clark/Chloe
Season 5, following my story "Saving Me," which followed "Void"
Rating: Adult. If you're under eighteen, please go elsewhere now.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the WB and DC Comics, not to me.

Chloe’s knees were so weak she could barely stand up. In fact, if Clark’s arms hadn’t been wrapped around her, she was pretty sure she would have collapsed to the grass. The way he was brushing his lips over her skin was so overpowering that she wasn’t sure she could survive it. And the way he was touching her… wow.

She wasn’t sure when the awkward, stammering boy she'd always known had disappeared, to be replaced by this confident, assertive man who knew precisely how to touch a woman, but she certainly wasn’t complaining about it.

Her only complaint was that she desperately wanted to touch him, too. For the first time she was beginning to understand how hard it must have been for him to sit back and let her touch him this morning, without any sort of reciprocation. Because as much as she liked feeling him caress her, kiss her, nibble on her… she still wanted very badly to respond in kind.

She remembered the way his back had felt under her hands this morning, the muscles bunching and rippling underneath sweat-slick skin, and she had to ball her hands into fists to stop herself from reaching back and caressing him.

His mouth was everywhere, moving from the nape of her neck down her spine. His teeth raked gently along her ribs, and his tongue darted out, tasting her skin. He apparently liked what he tasted, because he gave a low murmur of appreciation. He went to his knees and kissed the small of her back, his big hands sliding up and down her thighs. Then he straightened up again, kissing the slope of her shoulder while his hands cupped her breasts, the thumbs brushing lightly over her nipples until they ached.

Sweat broke out on her skin, and she leaned her head back against his shoulder and didn’t even try to smother the desperate noises that came out of her mouth. She wasn’t sure she could have stopped herself from moaning if they’d been on a street in the middle of Metropolis, with a thousand people looking on, instead of in an empty field.

She’d never yearned for anything as badly as she yearned for Clark right now. She wanted to turn around and strip all his clothes off, wanted to touch him everywhere, wanted to drag him to the grass and let him fill the emptiness inside of her. But she remembered the anxiety in his eyes, his obvious fear that he'd hurt her, and she managed to restrain herself. She knew that Clark was right, that he could in fact hurt her if he lost control. It was better to let him set the pace, no matter how desperately she wanted him.

Once his hands and lips had explored every inch of her exposed flesh, he apparently felt the need to move on, because he fumbled at her shorts and unfastened them. She kicked off her sandals, and he shoved her shorts off hurriedly, along with her underwear. He groaned softly and pulled her against him, her naked ass pressed firmly against the front of his jeans, his face in her hair, his arms wrapped around her like he'd never let her go.

She felt the cool brush of evening wind over her skin, and the chilly air made her very aware this wasn't a dream, or a fantasy. She was actually standing stark naked in the middle of a field, while Clark Kent ran his hands and mouth over her in the most intimate ways imaginable.

It was an improvement on her usual Saturday night, for sure.

*****

Clark moved back from her just enough to shrug off his jacket and yank off his t-shirt, then he pulled her back against him, feeling the warmth of his skin against his chest. Fire immediately rushed through him, and he moved his hands slightly away from her, balling them into fists.

“There,” she said, patting his clenched fists softly. “See? You’re learning to control yourself.”

“Not… really,” he answered through gritted teeth.

“Sure you are. You’re learning when you can touch me and when you can’t. It’s just like anything else, Clark. Control will come to you, with time and practice.”

“Practice… might help,” he managed. “Lots and lots of practice.”

She laughed breathlessly, squeezing his hand. “I definitely think we should plan on that.”

He hoped she was right about learning to control his strength when he was fired up, because trying to make love to her without touching her was rapidly pushing him into insanity. Although the fact that she was totally naked, and pressed right up against him, was enough to drive him crazy, too.

He moved against her slightly, reveling in the warmth of her bare skin, and his erection brushed against one of the rounded cheeks of her bare ass. Even through his jeans it felt like heaven, and a deep groan rolled out of his chest.

She moved her hips a little, rubbing against him deliberately, and he heard Kryptonian words pour from his mouth, along with some other noises that were much less coherent, and pretty damn loud. Thank God there was no one around for miles, because he suspected his voice might just carry that far.

She continued to move against him, very slowly and gently, and suddenly he was so close to the edge that his entire body shook with need. He struggled mentally for English words and finally came up with some. “Stop,” he whispered. “Please.”

Her body was pressed tightly against his, all the way down, and she slid one leg between his, making their contact that much closer. He could hear the rush of her blood pounding through her veins, could smell the sweet scent of her skin, and suddenly he wasn’t sure he could stand to wait long enough to get his jeans off.

But he wanted more than anything to be inside her. He remembered making love to her this morning, how hot she’d felt, how incredibly intimate it had been, and a long shudder of longing racked him.

She seemed to understand his desperation, because she stopped moving. “Clark,” she whispered, her hand still wrapped around his.

The sound of her voice saying his name in that soft, affectionate tone pushed him that much closer to the edge of the cliff. He closed his eyes and fought back the ecstasy that threatened to swamp him, his breath coming in unsteady gasps, his body trembling hard.

At long last he felt like he could move again. He kicked off his shoes, grateful that he’d worn decent shoes instead of work boots, because they were easier to remove. He stepped back from her for a fraction of a second, went into superspeed, and got rid of the remainder of his clothes.

Dropping back into normal speed, he yanked her back against him, and she stiffened slightly in surprise, then giggled. “Having an alien for a boyfriend has some definite advantages,” she said, and turned in his arms.

“Chloe,” he protested softly.

“I’m going to touch you now,” she told him, looking up into his eyes. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Uh, I don’t…” Her hand slid across his shoulder, and whatever he’d been about to say suddenly turned to ash under the onslaught of the flame flaring to life within him. He closed his eyes and decided not to argue. He couldn't say anything she'd understand, anyway. His head was full of Kryptonian words right now.

Her hands roamed over his body, touching him the way he’d touched her, and her lips followed. Fire flared everywhere she touched, sweat beaded on his skin, and he felt his eyes burn furiously. He hadn’t felt this powerless over his heat vision since he was fifteen, and along with everything else, it made him feel a little off balance and out of control. Making love to a woman under the stars was so totally not him that he felt a little shellshocked.

Although it felt so right he wasn’t inclined to worry about it much.

Her hands and mouth explored him everywhere, and he heard Kryptonian coming from his lips again, along with a substantial quantity of wordless, animal noises. The way she touched him was so intimate, so carnal, that his legs went weak—a novel experience for someone who was never weak. All of a sudden he fell to his knees, wrapping his arms around her carefully and pulling her down with him.

“No more,” he gasped against her shoulder. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“That’s kind of the idea, Clark.”

He gritted his teeth, wondering if she had any idea how out of control he felt. He knew that feeling out of control wasn’t necessarily a bad thing for humans, at least at intimate moments. But he equated the sensation with the possibility of hurting other people, possibly even killing them, and it scared the hell out of him. He wished there was some way for him to have sex without the temporary loss of control.

But there obviously wasn’t, because Chloe had totally wiped out any self-control he’d ever possessed, just by touching him.Forcing himself to pay attention to what he was doing, he put a gentle finger under her chin, tilted up her face, and kissed her.

His kiss was aggressive, almost frantic, although he was careful not to kiss her too hard, conscious that he could knock out her teeth if he wasn’t cautious. She responded with the same desperation, digging her hands into his hair and holding tightly, pressing her body up against his eagerly.

He pushed her over into the grass, his hunger too great for him to be gentlemanly about it. Part of him was aware that a grassy field wasn’t the best surface to make love on, and that he really ought to look around for his jacket and place her gently on that, but that civilized notion was buried far below an onslaught of sexual need that pretty much demolished every sensible thought in his head.

He found himself on top of her, kissing her throat, letting his hands run over her. He did manage to keep enough sanity to make sure his touches were gentle and wouldn’t hurt her this time, which made him think that maybe Chloe was right. Maybe he just needed more practice at this sex stuff.

He really liked that idea, actually.

Suddenly she shoved at his shoulders. “Clark.”

He mumbled something against her throat, something that was intended to be “Please don’t make me stop now” but that came out oddly muddled. He thought he was probably confusing languages again. The plaintive tone of his response seemed to get through to her, though, because she kissed his cheek reassuringly.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “You’re not hurting me or anything. But I don’t want to get pregnant, okay?”

The words acted like a splash of cold water, clearing his brain a bit, and he lifted his head and looked down at her. “God, I’m stupid,” he said.

“Not stupid. Just a little carried away.” She smiled. “That’s a good thing.”

Fortunately his jeans weren’t far away. He reached out and grabbed them, then had to figure out where the hell he’d put his protection. He’d put the condoms in his wallet quite a while back, and he was damned if he could remember where they were. They seemed to have disappeared behind a few tattered twenties and numerous receipts from the Talon and the feed store.

No one was ever going to mistake him for a playboy, that much was for sure.

Irritated, he went into superspeed, found what he was looking for, and put one on. He dropped back out of superspeed, not quite sure what it might do to her if he made love to her superfast. The friction might really hurt her. Or, because it would probably take all of a tenth of a second, she just might not notice.

He kind of wanted her to notice when he made love to her.

“Okay,” he said, realizing he’d accomplished his mission so fast she probably wasn’t aware of it. “All taken care of.”

“So what are you waiting for?”

He gave a ragged laugh, leaned over her, and started to kiss her again.

Seconds later, without really being aware of how it happened, he was sinking deeply into her, feeling her wrap her arms and legs around him. He let go of her, because he wasn’t quite sure of his ability to control his hands right now, and braced a hand on either side of her in the grass.

She was so hot and sweet he thought he’d explode instantly, but he pressed his face into her hair, fighting for control, and managed to restrain himself.

At last, having gotten at least momentary control of himself, he lifted his head and gazed into her eyes. She looked back at him with surprise.

“Your eyes are glowing a little, Clark.”

Alarmed, he quickly closed his lids. “Heat vision,” he said harshly. “It’s acting up a bit.”

“I guess I really make you hot,” she said with a chuckle.

“You could say that.” He bent his head and kissed her neck, a light, reverent kiss intended to convey everything he felt. “No one’s ever made me feel this way,” he whispered against her throat.

It was true. He’d never had difficulty containing his heat vision, not counting the first few days when he first developed the ability. Chloe was the only woman who’d ever made his eyes burn this badly.

Her laughter died away, and she wrapped her arms around his ribs more tightly and squeezed him hard, in a gesture of affection. He kissed her throat some more, then let his tongue slip out to taste her salty skin, and she tilted her head back, gasping.

Unable to hold himself back any longer, he pushed into her a little harder, feeling himself pulsing as his need grew to unendurable levels. A small, needy sound vibrated in her throat, a breathy little noise that he felt in his own chest. And then her voice rose to a higher pitch, and she clutched at his back as her body stiffened.

His heart pounded, his muscles all tensed, and he arched his head back and cried out as fire shot through him.

His time perception shifted again, and his climax seemed to go on forever, so intense, so exquisite that he could hardly stand it. He was vaguely aware of heat streaming from his eyes at the same time, and that only added to the unbearable pleasure. He couldn’t move, or even gasp for breath. He felt frozen in time, totally overwhelmed, unable to do anything except endure the ecstasy and try not to scream too loudly.

Eons later, the spasms of heat cooled, and he suddenly shifted back into normal time. He dropped his head to her shoulder, drew in a shuddering breath, and tried to regain some control of himself.

He was vaguely aware of her fingers stroking over his back, and he lifted his head and spoke in her ear, a little hesitantly.“Was that... okay?”

“Better than okay,” she whispered. “It was awesome.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“I kind of figured,” she said dryly. “What with you screaming your head off and everything.”

He could feel his cheeks turning red and was grateful for the darkness. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I guess I got a little carried away.”

“I wasn’t criticizing, Clark. It’s just that I get the feeling that for you, sex is a little better than it is for us ordinary humans."

"Maybe."

"It kind of figures, really. I mean, you have superstrength and superspeed. Why not supersex?”

Despite his total physical exhaustion, he found himself laughing. That was Chloe for you, he thought. She had the ability to make him laugh in almost any situation. She even had the ability to make him laugh at himself. For a guy who tended to take himself pretty seriously, that was something of an accomplishment.

Then he happened to glance up, and his laughter cut off abruptly. “Hell,” he said, and scrambled to his feet. He’d totally forgotten about the heat vision.

She sat up and began to put on her clothes, watching him as he bolted across the meadow to put out the grass fire he’d started. When there was nothing left but a scorched dark circle on the earth, he walked back to her and started yanking on his own clothes, looking at her ruefully.

“I’m sorry, Chlo. I know I’m kind of a pain to have around some ways.”

“You’re a bit of a challenge sometimes,” she admitted. “But I think I’ll keep you anyway.”

He pulled his t-shirt over his head and grinned. “Thanks. So glad to hear it.”

Her smile faded, and she looked at him more seriously. “I noticed you were able to touch me a little that time.”

“A little.” He still didn’t totally trust himself not to hurt her, but it was a start. “Maybe it’ll get easier with practice.”

“Maybe. If nothing else, practice sounds like a lot of fun.”

He felt his grin widen at the mention of practice. Nothing was totally settled between them yet, but at this moment, alone with the woman he loved underneath the stars, everything seemed pretty damn good. He was willing to let their relationship develop and grow at its own pace, because he knew from experience that forcing it too soon would only screw things up.

He and Chloe had been friends for a long time, and he was pretty sure she’d grow to trust in him eventually. Already she trusted him not to hurt her physically. Eventually, he was certain, she’d realize he wouldn’t hurt her emotionally either.

She had to. Because she was his now, and he wasn't letting her go.

“Sounds like a plan,” he agreed.

“In fact…” Fully clothed, she walked toward him, her hips swaying, and put her hands against his chest. “How about a little more practice now?”

"Chloe,” he reproved. “You really are trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

She smiled up at him sweetly. “Well, it’s not a bad way to go, really.”

“I guess not,” he said, and kissed her.

-The End-

Read the sequel, Here Without You, here.

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