What the World Could Be, Chapter 4

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.

Clark’s skin was on fire, and when her hand brushed over his bare skin a sheet of flame tore through his body, burning every nerve. It felt so incredibly good that it was very nearly painful. He gritted his teeth, trying to get himself to the point where he could answer her question coherently.

“I'm not sure,” he responded at last, his eyes still shut tightly.

“Clark,” she said again, sounding worried. He felt the bed move slightly as she pulled her hand back and tried to roll away from him. He tightened his arms around her, desperate to keep her near him. He couldn't stand to let her get away.

“Don’t stop,” he whispered.

“Don’t stop what? Clark, all I did was touch your arm.”

“So do it again,” he said in a low, husky voice. His eyes opened, and he stared at her, trying to wordlessly convey the stark need that had wracked him at the light brush of her fingers.

He wasn’t really sure what was going on here. He’d never reacted to a woman so desperately, except when he’d been on red K last week. But he knew he wasn’t on drugs now, and he needed her touch just as badly as he’d needed it then. Maybe worse.

“Touch my arm," he said softly, aware that he was almost pleading but not really caring all that much. "Touch me wherever you want. Just touch me.”

“Clark, I really think you’re having some kind of delayed reaction to the drug.”

“Maybe I am,” he admitted, drawing a deep, shuddering breath in an attempt to get himself under control. It didn’t help much, because the memory of her touch kept rolling around in his brain, totally obscuring all other thoughts. “My skin feels kind of, I don’t know, sensitized.”

Sensitized was the best word his befuddled brain could come up with, but it wasn’t at all adequate to describe the sensation. His nerve endings had practically sizzled beneath the brush of her fingers, and his skin felt like it was going to scorch right off him if she didn’t touch him again.

And he didn’t want her to touch him just on his arm—he wanted her hands all over him, everywhere. He needed to feel her skin against his so badly he thought he might not survive it if she didn’t touch him again. And again.

“Look, Clark,” she murmured, and he recognized the Voice of Reason. Chloe could be very logical, even about things like passion. “I know you're kind of... worked up right now, but I really don’t want to take advantage of you...”

He wasn’t in much of a mood to listen to reason, and he didn’t particularly want to hear the rest of that little speech. So he rolled over abruptly, pinning her beneath him, and brushed his lips lightly against her earlobe.

Her voice trailed off. He felt a quiver run through her, heard a little whimper deep in her throat, and the fire immediately rushed through him again, pulling a soft, resonant groan from his chest. Nothing in his life had ever felt as good as Chloe’s soft body pressed beneath his, and his instincts told him she really didn’t mind being there.

Her conscience wanted to do the right thing… but her body just wanted to do him.

Which was perfectly okay, as far as he was concerned.

“Please," he said against her ear, his voice a hoarse whisper. "I'm begging you, Chlo. Please... go ahead and take advantage of me.”

*****

Chloe felt the situation spiraling out of her control rapidly, but oddly enough, she didn’t much care. Yeah, maybe Clark was having some sort of reaction to last week's drug trip, but he obviously needed her, and she didn't have the strength or the desire to say no to him. Especially not when he begged for her to touch him.

Clark brushed kisses over her ear, her neck, her cheek, and his hands stroked her hair and her cheeks. Despite his obvious physical desperation, his hands touched her with gentle affection, and his lips caressed her softly, as if she was very precious to him.

She moved against him restlessly, trying to tell him without words that he could be a little less gentle, and he seemed to take the hint. His hips pressed against hers more urgently, and he nudged her legs apart with a solid thigh. She gave a soft moan as his muscled thigh rode up between her legs, pressing against her exactly where she wanted it, exactly where she ached for him.

Having all that gorgeous male on top of her was more than a girl could be expected to resist, and her hands started to wander almost involuntarily. She slid her hands up under his t-shirt and caressed the taut muscles of his back, exploring the ridges of his muscles and bones, so hard and smooth they felt like carved marble overlaid with warm satin skin. He arched his head back, his eyes tightly shut and his jaw clenched, and gave another one of those agonized groans.

It occurred to her that the other residents of the dorm could probably hear his deep voice through the paper-thin walls, but she shrugged the thought off, unconcerned. Big deal. I have an incredibly beautiful guy in my room, and I’m making out with him. Yeah, that’s probably going to shock the hell out of everyone. Not.

She kissed his throat, and he opened his eyes and looked down at her with such stark need that her insides melted. Although to be perfectly honest, her insides had pretty much turned to mush a while ago. The truth was that the idea of Clark begging her to touch him was definitely up there on her top ten list of fantasies. And Clark sprawled on top of her, raining kisses over her exposed skin, was definitely on the hit parade, too.

Although it occurred to her the experience would be even better if there were fewer clothes in the way.She tugged at the hem of his t-shirt, dragging it toward his shoulders, but wasn’t sure how to get it over his head. Clark noticed her dilemma and took care of it. He levered himself up, yanked the shirt off so quickly it was nothing more than a red blur, and flung it to the floor.

“Okay,” she said in his ear, laughing softly. “That’s one problem solved.”

Now she could run her hands over his back unimpeded, and she did. He made soft noises in his throat, encouraging her to continue, practically begging her to continue. She could feel him quiver with every touch of her hands, could feel the growing desperation in his kisses as he continued to run his lips over her shoulders and neck.

And then his lips encountered the top edge of her lacy nightgown. Apparently he felt it was in his way, because he reached down with one hand and casually ripped it in two.

“Hey!” Chloe yelped indignantly. “That was my favorite nightgown, damn it!”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he muttered against her skin, and then his lips were moving lower, across the now-exposed skin of her breast, and she decided she didn’t really care all that much about the stupid nightgown after all.

She could feel him beginning to shake violently as their bodies moved together, could feel him shuddering as her hands explored him. Her fingers trailed down his bare back, along the indentation of his spine, then slid down over his jeans, stroking over the tight curves of his rear.

Suddenly his fist clenched in her hair, hard. She yowled with startled pain.

“Clark!”

His head jerked up, and he stared at her, looking appalled. “I’m sorry,” he said unsteadily. “I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t be touching you.”

“It’s okay,” she said, although she was pretty sure there were probably more than a few strands of her hair dangling from his fingers. “You didn’t mean to.”

“That’s…” He swallowed, obviously trying to get a grip on himself. “That’s beside the point, Chlo. I don’t seem to have really good control of myself right now. I could… I could really hurt you.”

“I don’t believe you’d ever hurt me,” she said softly.

“Never,” he answered, “on purpose. But look, Chlo.” He lifted his hand, and she saw that it was trembling. "I can't... I can't control my hands."

“It’s okay,” she told him. “You won’t hurt me. I trust you not to hurt me, Clark.”

He looked dubious, but she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him back down to her, brushing her lips over his. She felt him resist for a second, but then he melted into the kiss.

She wanted to be closer to him, so she let her tongue glide across his lips. A low growl pulsed in his throat, and he opened his lips and let his tongue meet hers. Their mouths clung together in a hot, wet kiss, a sensation of incredible closeness that hinted at intimacies yet to come.

She pushed at his shoulders, and he took the hint and rolled over, somehow managing to stay on the bed. She settled on top of him, her thighs on either side of his, so that his erection was nestled right up against her. His hands rested on her ass, and he tugged gently on her, urging her to move. She slid slowly against him, and he cried out, his hands digging into her flesh, hard.

She yelped again. “Ow!”

His eyes snapped open, his hands dropped away from her, and he looked up at her, wide-eyed. “Did I hurt you, Chlo?”

“Um…” She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder to make certain her butt was still attached. “Fortunately I’m well-padded there. But yeah, that kind of hurt, Clark.” Actually it had been painful enough that she was pretty sure she’d have bruises, but she decided it was better not to say so. Clark had always been paranoid about hurting girls during sex, and she didn’t want to totally freak him out.

He looked horrified. “If I’d been holding you somewhere else, I could have broken a bone.”

“Uh… yeah.” She sighed. “Clark, I think you’re right and I’m wrong. You shouldn’t be touching me right now. You’re too keyed up.”

He shut his eyes. “You better get off me, then,” he said at last, sounding like being noble was going to kill him.

“Don’t be stupid, Clark. We don't have to stop. Just don’t touch me.”

His eyes popped open, and he blinked at her. “Huh?”

“Your hands, Clark. Keep them away from me.”

“Uh… I’m not sure I can.”

“Sure you can. Grab the headboard.”

Still looking a little baffled at the notion, he reached over his head. The headboard was made of metal, and he wrapped his hands around two of the metal slats.

“Okay,” she said. “Now you can’t hurt me. Right?”

He swallowed. “I hope not.”

“Trust me, Clark. It’ll be fine.” She ran a finger down his chest, and he immediately stiffened under her touch. Every muscle in his body flexed, and the bed’s headboard instantly shattered in his hands. Looking sheepish, he tossed the two pieces of metal aside. They hit the industrial tile with a clang.

“Oh-kay,” Chloe said with a sigh. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and speculate that bondage never really got popular on Krypton.”

She saw a flicker of amusement on his face. “You could be right.”

“How about the pillow?” she said. “What if you hold on to the pillow?”

“You think the pillow is going to tolerate that kind of treatment better than metal did?”

She envisioned him ripping her pillow into shreds. “Uh, I guess not. Okay, let’s do this. Just put your hands together over your head.”

He lifted his eyebrows.

“You can’t break your own bones, can you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“So put your hands together. And no matter what I do… keep them there.”

He lifted his arms again and entwined his fingers over his head. She ran a hand down his chest again, seeing his hands clench together as his body went rigid, watching the muscles in his arms bulge and strain, seeing the veins stand out under the skin. He uttered another groan.

“Does that feel good?” she asked softly.

“It feels great,” he answered, his eyes shut. “But Chloe, how am I supposed to make love to you if I can’t touch you?”

“Maybe you can touch me later, when you’ve calmed down a bit. But right now, I’m just going to touch you. Okay?”

“But Chlo—“

She let her hand slide down his abs, and he writhed suddenly, gasping.

“Do you have a problem with that, Kent?”

“No,” he said hoarsely, his eyes still closed. “I don’t have a problem with that.”

Read Chapter 5 here.