Season 5, second half of season
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 begins to heat up almost instantly under her exploring hand. He's huge, obviously seriously turned on, and his warm, satiny skin feels good in the palm of her hand. He seems to like the way it feels, too, because he makes a little sound that sounds a lot like a whimper and moves his hips so that he slides further into her hand.
"You need to stop," he whispers. "You're driving me nuts."
"That's the idea, Clark."
"No." He reaches down and captures her wrist, then gazes at her. In the light of the fire, his eyes look more amber than green. "The idea is for me to make you happy, remember? But you keep distracting me."
"It seems to me that you're easily distracted."
"I think you're right." He lets go of her wrist and rolls toward the fire slightly, so he's lying next to her on the carpet. "We need to work on that."
He drops his hand onto her stomach and begins to run his fingers lightly over the sensitive flesh. It almost tickles, but his touch is firm enough that it doesn't, quite. His skin is still hot, and warmth spreads through her everywhere he touches.
She drops her head back, letting herself simply enjoy being caressed this way. He's watching her responses with an alert intensity in his gaze, a look of keen masculine interest. She sighs and closes her eyes as his hand drifts lower.
His fingers slide through the curly hair at the juncture of her thighs, then dip lower, exploring her wet flesh. It's what she's been waiting for, how she's been dying for him to touch her, and a little moan escapes her.
He explores her carefully, and when he finds her most sensitive spot her body jerks, and she gives a strangled cry.
Clark may be a little obtuse sometimes, but he isn't stupid, and he seems to recognize that's where she wants to be touched. Then again, she thinks, her nonverbal cues aren't exactly subtle, either. He carefully runs his finger back and forth there, and she makes a small sound of mingled pleasure and discomfort.
His hand stills. "Is that okay?"
"Just a little softer," she whispers.
"Sorry," he murmurs, but she doesn't mind. She's glad Clark isn't so experienced that he knows exactly what to do and how to do it. She knows he's not a virgin, and neither is she, but neither of them has a lot of experience in sexual matters, either. She's more comfortable with her hesitant, awkward farmboy than she'd be if she suddenly discovered he'd somehow picked up a lot of sexual expertise. This way they can learn together.
He lightens his touch just a bit. It's perfect, the best thing she's ever felt, and she can feel spasms begin deep within her body, and she knows she's about to come. But despite the intense pleasure, she also feels an emptiness deep inside, an aching need for intimacy. A need for him.
But she can't stop his hand from moving, and she wouldn't even if she could. She throws her head back, arches her body, and moans as his hand brings her closer and closer to the brink.
And then he stops.
"So," he says. "Am I doing this right?"
Incredulous, she opens her eyes. There's a little glint of mischief in his gaze that tells her he knows he's doing a damn good job.
"If you stop now," she says tersely, "I'm going to hurt you."
"Good luck with that," he answers, grinning openly now. "It's not easy to hurt me."
"Clark. Don't stop."
He moves his hand slightly, just once, and she convulses, clenching her jaw and balling her fists up. She's so close that she thinks she's going to die if she doesn't get release soon.
"I'm going to figure out a way... to hurt you," she promises between her teeth. "Trust me on this."
"I'm terrified. Really."
He moves his hand again, almost lazily, and she shudders. "Clark," she whispers. "Quit kidding around. Please."
He bends over and kisses her nipple, and another shock of pleasure goes through her. She reaches for him, trying to capture his shoulders and pull him down onto her, but he resists her easily, which is not really a surprise.
"Chloe," he says softly, and some of the humor has left his face. His eyes are dark and intense. "You really want me... don't you?"
The fact that he even feels he needs to ask, given her rather obvious responses, astounds her. But she looks into his eyes, sees the insecurity and the uncertainty there, and realizes no one has ever made love to him knowing he's an alien.
She remembers what he said to her when she told him she knew his secret, and he confessed he hadn't been born on Earth. He'd looked at her anxiously, obviously terrified she was going to recoil from him in horror, and said in a soft voice, I'm still the same person I always was.
He'd been afraid of rejection then, and he was still afraid of it now.
"Clark," she says softly, and wraps her arms around his waist. "Do you even have to ask?"
He hesitates for a moment, then lowers his head and presses his face against her hair. "I guess not."
She sighs, raises her hand, and strokes his hair gently. "I guess you do, or you wouldn't have asked. Of course I want you, you big moron. Otherwise I wouldn't be here, would I?"
He swallows audibly, then shifts his weight so he's on top of her again, puts an arm on either side of her, and settles against her.
He's hot, but not unbearably so, and she can feel his erection nudging against her thigh. She wants him inside her so badly that tears of need are stinging her eyes. He's blinking hard too, and she's not sure if it's from the heat vision, or from tears of his own.
"Clark," she says softly, kissing his throat. He smells good, pine needles and sweat and desire all mingled together on his skin. "I want you. I really do."
He gives a soft moan. His hips move just a bit, the muscles of his lower back flexing beneath her fingers, and the head of his cock slides inside her.
She sucks in a deep breath, a little startled even though it's exactly what she's been craving. Somehow she wasn't expecting him to feel quite so big and... intrusive.
Clark groans, turns his head to the side, and heat pours from him again, so hot she can feel it. The fire flares more brightly, and she can hear his breath rasping in his throat.
"Chloe," he gasps. "God, Chloe. You feel so good."
Her body seems to be adjusting somehow to the feel of him. He moves again, sliding an inch or two further inside her, and her body begins to respond to him less like an invader, and more like a welcome visitor. Instinctively, she lifts her legs, wrapping them around his hips, and he slides in a little farther. A soft sound of ecstasy rumbles in his chest.
She can't seem to say anything coherent, so she whispers his name. He lowers his head and kisses her, a long, deep kiss that seems to go on forever, and before long their bodies are as deeply entwined as their mouths are, sliding smoothly together in a gentle, rhythmic motion, as easily and effortlessly as if they were one person. It reminds her of the night they danced in each other's arms at the spring formal, years and years ago.
She can feel moisture on her cheeks, and she has no idea if the tears are hers or Clark's. She thinks they might both be crying, although she's not sure why.
Part of her wishes they could make love forever, and never ever stop, but her body is straining relentlessly toward what it needs, and she thinks his probably is, too. The motion of their bodies grows faster and more desperate, and she can feel herself starting to lose control. She's pretty sure he's losing it, too, because he feels hot and hard inside her, and he's breathing in sharp, frantic gasps.
At last he lifts his head away from hers. "Chlo," he says softly, kissing the tears away from her cheeks. "Oh, Chloe."
She opens her eyes, sees tears streaking his cheeks too, and lifts a hand to his face to brush them away.
"Heat vision," he explains hoarsely.
She smiles wryly, wondering if she can possibly blame her tears on the same thing. A deep emotion she doesn't quite understand has her in its grip, and she can't seem to stop the tears spilling from her eyes. The more Clark kisses her tears away, the more fall. But she can feel his tears spilling onto her, too, so she doesn't really mind. The idea that she's somehow brought this strong, determined man to tears shocks her to her core.
He's still kissing her cheeks, her hair, her ears, but he's moving harder and faster within her, and suddenly all thoughts of tears leave her as pleasure rolls over her like a freight train. She cries out as her climax slams into her, as an incredible pleasure fills her body and her soul.
Clark's back arches, and he turns his head away as heat streams from his eyes. His body thrusts into hers frantically, and he utters a long, guttural cry of ecstasy as he comes deep inside her.
Read Chapter 6 here.