Rating: Adult. If you're under eighteen, please go elsewhere now.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the WB and DC Comics, not to me.
"Oh, God." Chloe collapsed against him, so limp that he thought she'd probably slide right to the floor if not for his arm locked around her waist. The music continued to pound in his ears, but he heard her heartbeat slow as her body relaxed. "I can't believe you did that."
"I'm going to do a lot more," he promised, hearing the husky note of arousal in his own voice.
She lifted her head, and all of a sudden she seemed to remember where she was, because her eyes went wide with shock. "I have to get going," she said, putting her hands on his chest and shoving at him. "Ollie's waiting for me. I was supposed to meet him at the restaurant fifteen minutes ago."
"You can't be serious." He looked down at her, feeling a sardonic sneer curl his mouth. "You're really planning on going to have dinner with one guy right after another guy gave you the best orgasm of your life?"
"You're pretty damn arrogant. It wasn't all that great." Even in the dim lighting he could see her cheeks flame. "Anyway, I didn't mean for that to happen, Clark."
"Kal." He ignored her futile shoving and held her against his chest. "You didn't mean for it to happen. So you just followed me here out of the goodness of your heart, huh? With absolutely nothing in your mind but friendly concern?"
"That's right," she said, her tone acidic. "I was worried about you."
"Well," he drawled, "if you're that worried about my wellbeing, you can't leave now. Because I'm suffering from a serious case of blue balls."
She drew her head back and stared up at him with wide eyes. He knew she wasn't accustomed to "Clark Kent" being so crude, and he was a little amused by her startled reaction.
"You'll have to look for someone else to help you with that," she said at last, obviously struggling to sound dignified. Considering that her voice was still shaking, she didn't totally succeed.
"But that's not really fair," he said, lifting a hand and stroking her breast through the crimson fabric. He could feel her nipple hardening under his palm, and his own body grew still harder in response. "I mean, I took care of your... needs."
She tried to bat his hand away. "I didn't have any needs, damn it!"
"Yeah, right." He laughed, amused by her outrage. "Chlo, you're lying to yourself in a big way."
"No," she said angrily. "All I was trying to do was help you and get that damn ring off your finger. And instead I wound up..."
"Having a really great orgasm. And for some reason you're pissed about it."
"I'm pissed about it," she growled, "because you're acting like a complete asshole."
"Nah. If I were a complete asshole I would have just screwed you without making sure you got anything out of it."
She bared her teeth. "If you honestly think I'd let you have sex with me, then you're lying to yourself in a big way."
"I don't think so." He flashed his own teeth in a feral grin. "A couple of minutes ago I think you would have done just about anything I wanted you to."
A flash of embarrassed anger in the hazel depths of her eyes suggested she thought he was right. She tried to pull away from him again, but he didn't release her.
"Let go of me," she said in a low, deadly voice.
He rubbed against her, letting her feel his solid erection. "I don't think we're finished here, Chlo."
"Oh, we're finished all right," she said, her voice full of venom. "In fact, I think we're finished permanently."
Kal kept one arm around her waist and buried his other hand in her hair, tugging it firmly, so she had to look up at him. "If you really think I'm letting you go to another guy after that," he said between his teeth, "you're out of your mind."
"Do you really think you can keep me here against my will?" She glared at him, her eyes practically shooting sparks. If he didn't know better, he'd have sworn she had heat vision, and intended to use it on him. "I have a date, Clark. Let go of me, or I'm going to start screaming for help."
"Let you go so you can go screw Ollie? I don't think so."
"I told you," she said, annoyed, "Ollie and I haven't..."
"And you aren't going to," he answered shortly. "The only guy you're having sex with is me."
She bristled. "Not in a million years."
"Yeah, because you put up such a big fight last time." His hand squeezed her breast, gently but firmly, and she gasped, twisting suddenly in an attempt to get away. He held her against him easily.
"Clark, I'm not kidding, damn it. I'll make a scene if I have to."
"Fine," he said, and lifted her into his arms. "Maybe we should take this outside, after all."
Two seconds later they were standing in the darkness. She blinked, looking confused and disoriented, as he put her down. "Where the hell are we?"
"Met U," he answered. "By the lake."
"Great," she said, turning around in a slow circle and observing her surroundings. A light breeze blew off the water, cooling the spring air, a sliver of moon rode low in the star-studded sky, and frogs sang in a loud chorus, but otherwise the area was silent and dark. "Nice and isolated. There's nothing like being abducted by a crazy man to really brighten a Saturday night."
"I'm not crazy, Chloe. Just a little less... restrained... than usual."
She turned back around, studying him intently, then shook her head, looking sorrowful. "No. You're crazy when you're on red K, Clark. You know it as well as I do. You'd never in a million years do what you did to me in the nightclub unless you were wearing that stupid ring."
"You didn't seem to mind it," he said with an evil grin.
She sighed. "There's just no getting through to you when you're like this. I don't even know why I'm trying."
"Chloe," he said, rolling his eyes. "You talk too much. Way too much. Let's just quit talking, okay?"
"Why?" She glared at him. "So we can... screw?"
He shrugged. "Sure."
She lifted her hands in a Why me? gesture. "You just don't understand what I'm telling you, do you? I... don't... want... you. I have a boyfriend, and I have a date with him, right now. Let me go."
The words I... don't... want... you cut into him like a kryptonite blade, and rage exploded in his chest. "I'm not letting you go, damn it," he snarled, taking a step forward, so that he loomed over her.
She didn't cringe, didn't look intimidated, only stood with her arms crossed, glaring up at him. "Try to think about this logically, you big moron. The only emotions you're feeling are coming from the ring. You've never wanted me before."
Something snapped inside him, and rage poured out of him like a flooding river. "I've always wanted you!" he yelled. "For years, damn it!"
"You're full of crap!" She sounded almost as angry as he did. "I've practically flung myself at you, Clark. A bunch of times. And every time-- every last time-- you've ignored me." The anger seemed to drain out of her, and her voice dropped almost to a whisper. "You don't want me, Clark. You've never wanted me."
"You're wrong," he said softly. Taking a step toward her, he captured her face between his hands. "I want you so much, Chlo. I've wanted you for so damn long."
He lowered his head and kissed her hard, trying to somehow convey everything he felt for her, letting the frustrated longings of three years pour out. His body ached with need, but beneath that he ached with something less physical, something much deeper, something almost spiritual. He ached for her somewhere deep inside, wanted her so desperately he just couldn't go on another minute without her.
Even when he was on the red kryptonite, there was an emptiness inside him that could only be filled by Chloe.
She stood frozen for a moment, then he heard a small sound of surrender in her throat, and she slid her tongue tentatively into his mouth. Relief flooded him, relief that he'd gotten through to her, managed to convince her he really and truly needed her. He groaned deeply, yanking her against him, kissing her harder, his hands all over her body.
She was a little more cautious, her hands sliding gently through his hair, then down the nape of his neck, and finally across his shoulders. He gasped at the light touch of her fingers against his body, longing for more. And then she tugged up his black t-shirt and ran her hands up under his shirt, and he found himself groaning again, feeling such intense pleasure he thought maybe he wouldn't be able to survive it.
At last he pulled his mouth away from hers, kissing her throat and chin and jaw. She tilted her head back in a gesture of submission, letting him do whatever he wanted.
"Oh, God, Clark," she whispered, her fingers digging into his hair. "I really do want you."
At her soft admission, a fierce satisfaction filled him. "I knew that," he answered, his lips against her throat. "It was kind of obvious earlier."
"You're an egotistical jerk, Kal."
He laughed against her neck. "But you want me anyway."
"Yeah," she said softly. "But I'm not making love to you like this. You need to take off the ring."
Yeah, right. That was going to happen. Like he needed to start getting all neurotic and anxious at this stage of the game. "No," he said shortly.
"Fine. Kal. Whatever you call yourself, I'm not making love to you until the ring comes off."
He lifted his head and glared down at her. "Do you think I'm giving you a choice?"
She stared back at him, unflinching. "I don't believe you'd rape me, Clark. Even if you are wearing that stupid ring."
The ugly word brought him back to his senses. He blinked, suddenly ashamed of himself despite the artificial confidence red K filled him with, and looked away from her. "I wouldn't force you," he said, more softly. "I'd never do that, Chlo."
"I know that." She ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it in an affectionate gesture. "But I just have this feeling you never would have touched me if you weren't wearing the ring."
She understood him way too well. He swallowed. "I can't take it off, Chlo. It's hard to explain, but... I just can't."
She looked at him, studying him for a long moment, giving him the uncomfortable feeling that she was reading his mind. He thought he was probably a lot more transparent than he wanted to be.
"Okay," she said at last, softly. Her hands moved to the fly of his jeans, and she started unbuttoning them.
He blinked and looked down at her hands, finding the sight of her small fingers undoing his jeans to be oddly mesmerizing. "Chlo," he said softly. "What are you doing?"
"Earlier you mentioned you were suffering," she answered with a slight smile. "I thought I'd take care of the problem."
And she dropped to her knees in front of him.
Read Chapter 5 here.