Season 4, during "Devoted"
Rating: Adult. If you're under eighteen, please go elsewhere now.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the WB and DC Comics, not to me.
Four nights later I walked off the football field after practice. Ever since my sixty-yard pass, the other guys had accepted me as the quarterback, and things were looking up. The problem was, their acceptance didn't make me as happy as I'd thought it would.
I remembered Chloe's sardonic words: You're going to be a superhero around here.
But I didn't want to be a superhero. I wanted to be Chloe's superhero.
I'd called her about a hundred times over the past few days, desperate to clear the air between us, desperate just to talk to her, but she hung up every time she heard my voice, and eventually just quit picking up the phone at all.
I couldn't think of the last time I'd gone four days without talking to her. I was miserable, and I just wanted to explain. But I couldn't explain if she wouldn't talk to me.
I headed into the locker room and changed, then headed down the hall toward the front doors.
I'd noticed earlier that the light in the Torch's office was still on. No big surprise there. Chloe worked all sorts of crazy hours, and she practically lived at the Torch. And of course she was out one reporter now, which left her practically alone to do all the work.
I knew I needed to get home. Mom hadn't exactly grounded me, but I was obviously in pretty deep shit with her. It had been made very clear to me that if I put one foot out of line, I'd be shackled in my room for the rest of my life. With kryptonite shackles.
But right now I'd rather have Mom mad at me than Chloe. I couldn't go on moping around this way.
I turned around and headed down the hall.
I stuck my head around the open door of the Torch and surveyed the room. Chloe was clicking away at the computer, presumably working on some story or other. And she was alone.
I tiptoed in and closed the door behind me.She was so wrapped up in her work she didn't even notice the sound of the door closing. I just stood there and watched her for a minute. I'd hardly seen her for days, and I stared at her with a sort of hunger, drinking in the way she looked. She was wearing an emerald green tank top and jeans shorts, and she looked seriously sexy. At last I spoke.
She jumped violently and spun around. "Clark!" she snapped. "Don't sneak up on me that way!"
"Sorry," I said meekly. Way to go, Kent, I thought. Scaring the hell out of her was a great way to start off an apology.
Her eyes narrowed. "What are you doing in here? I thought you were at practice."
I hefted the gym bag in my hand. "We finished. I wanted to come by and say hi before I went home."
"I'm busy," she said shortly, and turned back to the keyboard.
She obviously wasn't going to cut me the slightest bit of slack. "Chloe," I said, stepping toward her. "We need to talk."
"We have absolutely nothing to talk about."
"We have tons to talk about. I hate it when you're mad at me."
"Then you shouldn't piss me off."
I stopped next to her chair, gazing down at the top of her head, then dropped to my knees next to her and looked up at her. She stared at the computer screen, refusing to meet my eyes.
"Chloe," I said softly. "I'm really sorry I hurt you. I didn't mean to."
"You didn't hurt me," she said, her voice dripping icicles. "I'd have to care about you in order to be hurt."
Ow. She was slicing me to ribbons here. "Come on, Chlo," I pleaded. "I know I was stupid. But I swear, I never meant for you to be embarrassed that way. And I didn't make out with you because I was taking advantage of you. I did it because I couldn't help it."
She stared at the monitor for a moment longer, then turned her head and looked at me.
"You have my attention," she said.
"When you were... waiting for me in my loft," I said awkwardly, "I knew I should make you go, but I just couldn't, Chlo. You were so..."
Well, that had certainly been part of it. "Um. Well. And you felt so good. You smelled good, too. And I..."
Just thinking about Chloe on my lap, moving against me, kissing me, running her hands over my body, was making me stammer. She stared down at me for a minute, looking skeptical, then rolled her eyes.
"I'm sure you would have reacted to any naked girl the exact same way, Clark."
I took a deep breath, trying to get myself together and get rid of the stammering. "No," I said at last, quietly but firmly, reaching out and putting a hand on hers. "I don't think I would have. Because no other girl is as sexy as you are, Chlo."
She blinked at me. "You are full of crap."
"No, I'm not," I said, squeezing her hand. "The other night when I was making out with Mandy so Lois could find the cure-- I didn't feel a thing. I swear, Chloe."
"Yeah," she said, a small smile playing at her lips. "I could tell you weren't really into it."
I was surprised she'd realized that. I guess I'm not much of an actor. "I was more than not really into it. I was kind of... repulsed."
"Mandy's pretty," she said in a quiet voice.
"Yeah. She is." I looked into her eyes and spoke with soft intensity. "But she's not you."
Chloe's eyes went all soft and glowy, and I realized that I'd actually managed to say the right thing for once in my life.
I thought wryly of one of my dad's sayings: Even a blind hog finds an acorn every now and then. More often than not around girls, stupid things came out of my mouth, but now, when it really counted, I'd managed to get through to her.
But Chloe had always been something of a doubting Thomas. The healthy dollop of skepticism in her personality was part of what made her such a good reporter. "Clark," she whispered hesitantly. "You've never been interested in me that way before."
"That's because I was dumb."
A slight smile curved her mouth. "You'll get no argument from me."
I answered her smile with a relieved one of my own. "So are you going to talk to me now?"
She lifted an eyebrow, then reached out and stroked the hair off my forehead. "Do you really want to talk?"
At the touch of her hand, heat raced through all my nerves, and I realized that she was right. Talking was definitely not at the top of my to-do list. Then again, any other activity was decidedly risky. Yeah, it was night and the school was mostly empty, but there were still people roaming around the halls, including teachers and coaches, and probably Principal Reynolds as well.
"Uh..." I said, knowing I should pull away from her hand but unable to move somehow. "I really have to get home. I'm in big trouble with my mom."
"Let me guess. She wasn't happy that you had a naked girl in your loft."
Her hand continued to run through my hair, then down across my cheekbone, and I struggled to pay attention to her words. "Um. Yeah. She wasn't real thrilled about it. Parents are funny that way."
"So I guess if we want to... spend any more time together... it won't be in your loft."
Just the idea of "spending time together" was enough to stun me into a quivering, breathless mass of hormones. "I think we'll have to get creative," I said. "Because Mom's going to be watching me like a hawk."
She looked around the empty Torch, and her hand slid down over my shoulders. Even through my flannel shirt it felt like her skin was burning mine. "Well, we seem to have this place pretty much to ourselves."
I drew back from her hand, reeling in shock at the idea. "Are you crazy? What if someone walks by?"
"What if they do?"
"If the principal comes in, and catches us... together... and tells my parents..."
"You'll be in trouble. Which you already are anyway."
She had a point, I had to admit. Her hand fell back onto my shoulder, then moved down across my chest, and my hormones pretty much stomped all over my brain, preventing any further coherent thought. "Uh," I said, struggling to force out words. "There's trouble, and then there's trouble, Chlo. If we get caught..."
She grinned. "Scared, Clark?"
She leaned forward, bending over just a bit, and brushed her lips over mine. She tasted good and felt better, and I immediately forgot all my objections. Chloe had always had a way of bringing out my reckless side, and right now I was feeling pretty damn reckless.
I slid my arms around her waist and pulled her off her chair, onto my lap. She felt warm and soft in my arms, and she smelled sweet. All my hormones jumped to attention, along with a certain part of my anatomy. "Wow," she said, rubbing against me. "You really do think I'm sexy, don't you?"
"Absolutely." I kissed her again, deepening the kiss, letting it get wetter and hotter. She tasted much better than Mandy had, like coffee and whipped cream and cinnamon. Her hands laced in my hair, her body moved against mine, and I moaned softly into her mouth.
She pushed at my shoulders, and I went over backward. The floor was industrial tile, not exactly the most comfortable surface in the world, but since I'm invulnerable I tend not to notice these things as much as a human would. Besides, I didn't need a comfortable surface underneath me when I had Chloe on top of me.
She sat up, straddling me, exactly the way Mandy had, only with Mandy I hadn't felt much, and with Chloe I felt a whole hell of a lot. She rubbed against me again, and the gentle pressure of her body against my hard, aching flesh wrenched a groan from me.
"Shhh," she whispered. "You're going to get us in trouble."
I bit down on my lip to keep quiet. I lifted my hands, running them over her body, stroking her breasts, playing with her rigid nipples. She seemed to like the way it felt, even through the fabric of her shirt and bra. A soft whimper broke from her, and her head dropped back, but she continued to move against me in a slow, methodical rhythm. Even through denim she felt incredibly hot, and I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes, so turned on I could hardly stand it.
The memory of the way we'd come together in my loft surfaced in my brain, and I ground my teeth together harder. My hips moved instinctively, rising and falling to meet hers, and I could hear her gasping. Little spasms of heat started to quiver through me, sweat broke out on my skin, and I knew I was about to lose control. Judging from the little noises she was making in her throat, I was pretty sure she was about to lose it, too.
I dragged my eyes open and saw her watching me intently. Her hands were clenched in my shirt, her lips were parted, and her eyes glittered feverishly as she moved. And then her body arched, her eyes shut, and she cried out.
Pleasure flooded me, and I moved against her frantically. All of a sudden I dropped my head back, and a long, low groan rose out of me. I wanted to dig my hands into her hips, but instead I balled my hands into fists at my side so as not to grab her and hurt her. I could hear myself making harsh, guttural noises, despite my best efforts to keep quiet, and I gasped for breath, shaking violently, as ecstasy rolled through me in fast, hard bursts.
At last it was over, and I lay sprawled on the industrial tile, panting. Chloe leaned forward, dropping her head against my chest, and I tangled my hand in her hair and kissed the top of her head.
"Chloe," I whispered. "I'm devoted to you."
She lifted her head, and in her eyes I could see an echo of the same sentiment. How about that? I thought. It wasn't just the love molecule. She really does like me that way.
She grinned down at me. "About time you figured that out, Kent."
I responded with a big, stupid grin of my own. I knew I probably looked like a doofus, but I didn't much care, because I felt happier than I had in days. Maybe happier than I ever had.
All of a sudden I turned my head and listened intently. "Shit," I said. "Reynolds is coming."
Chloe didn't ask how I knew. She scrambled for her desk, and I struggled to my feet and plopped myself down in the other chair. Thank God we hadn't taken any of our clothes off, because I had been a little preoccupied, and his footsteps were pretty close. I hastily straightened my clothes and raked my fingers through my disheveled hair in the hopes that I wouldn't look like I'd just been rolling around on the floor, engaging in an extracurricular activity that wasn't sanctioned by the school.
A moment later, Principal Reynolds opened the door and leaned in. "Hello there, Miss Sullivan," he said cheerfully. "Burning the midnight oil?"
"I just have a couple more stories to finish," Chloe answered, typing away diligently.
"Don't work too late, Miss Sullivan. There's a fine line between being devoted to your work and being a workaholic."
"I'll bear that in mind," Chloe said.
Reynolds' gaze moved to me. "Good evening, Mr. Kent," he said. "I thought I'd heard you were no longer a reporter."
I stared at the monitor so as to avoid looking him in the eye. "I decided I could make time for this, sir. It's important to me."
"Good, good," he said. "Glad to hear it. Football is a valuable activity, but so is writing. I'm glad you're back on the staff of the Torch."
I looked over at Chloe. She winked at me, and I couldn't totally repress my grin. But I answered him very seriously.
"So am I, sir."
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