I Had Sex With a Space Alien, Chapter 6

Clark/Chloe
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 has no idea what the hell just happened. He and Chloe had been having fun, teasing each other, laughing together. Yeah, they'd been heading toward sex, but he'd expected it to be casual. Kind of a friends with benefits thing. More of a pleasant way to spend the afternoon than the precursor to anything serious.

But then all of a sudden he'd found himself with tears running down his face.

Even though he's an alien, he's pretty much like any other guy in most respects, and it makes him seriously uncomfortable to cry in front of a girl, even Chloe. He's confused, embarrassed, and a little freaked out.

He can't even understand why he reacted that way. It wasn't like she'd said anything deeply emotional or profound. She'd just said, Of course I want you, you big moron, and all of a sudden his eyes had started watering. Which was stupid.

Chloe still has her arms around him, and his face is pressed against her neck. That's just as well, because he can feel that his eyes are still red, and he's not sure she bought his story about it being due to the heat vision. In fact he's pretty sure she didn't. He's never been able to fool Chloe about anything.

She's running her hands through his hair, over his shoulders, in a sweet gesture of affection, and his eyes start to water again. He blinks hard, annoyed with himself. Yeah, Chloe had been crying too.. but he's a guy. Guys don't cry. It's against the Universal Guy Code.

"So," she says at last. Her tone is light, and he's relieved that she's trying to get things back on a more normal footing. Maybe she's not sure what to make of what just happened, either. "Are you ready for lunch now?"

He rubs his closed lids surreptitiously against her shoulder, then lifts his head and smiles down at her.

"Yeah, I think I've worked up an appetite."

"You up for a trip to the sandwich shop?"

Her choice of words is unfortunate, because all of a sudden he realizes what he's up for is her. Again.

Jesus, this is crazy. He's never had this kind of reaction to his ex-girlfriend Lana, or to any other girl. He can't seem to get enough of Chloe, and he just doesn't understand that at all. Sure, Chlo is pretty, but no more so than a dozen other girls he knows. He can't figure out why he's suddenly got a raging hard-on again.

He backs carefully away from her before she can notice his, well, condition. Reaching out a long arm, he snags his robe, sits up, and carefully drapes the navy blue material over his lap.

"Sure," he says, feeling his cheeks flame a bit. "A sandwich would be great."

She stands up, apparently not at all self-conscious about her nudity. But then, girls have less to be self-conscious about, he thinks wryly. She turns and strides over to the couch, and he studies her from behind, observing the way the cheeks of her ass move as she walks, watching the smooth, graceful line of her spine curve as she bends over to pick up her own robe.

He can't imagine being less interested in a sandwich than he is at this moment.

All he seems to be interested in is Chloe, and he's baffled by it. After all, he's managed to keep his hands off her for years-- well, okay, he's had a couple of lapses, but nothing really serious till now.

But today it's like a dam's broken inside him, and he's so flooded with need that he just can't stop touching her.

She turns around, shrugging on the robe, and catches him watching her. His desire must be reflected clearly in his eyes, because she hesitates. The robe is still gapping open in the front, and his gaze drops, drawn irresistibly to her breasts. Her skin looks pale and almost opalescent next to the purple terrycloth, and he wants to run his hands over her so badly he can hardly sit still.

"Um," she says, a little smile curving her mouth. "You don't look like you're really all that interested in the sandwich shop."

"I'm hungry," he answers, dragging his attention away from her and staring at an arrangement of flowers on the end table.

"Just not for food."

His gaze jerks back to her in surprise. She knows him way too well, he thinks ruefully. There's really no point in trying to fool her.

"I guess not," he admits. He stands up, dropping the robe to the floor, and steps toward her. Her gaze drops, and her eyes widen in an expression of amused dismay.

"Geez, Clark. What does it take to wear you out?"

"I'm not sure," he says, grinning. "How about we find out?"

Chloe doesn't seem to object to the idea, although he thinks she must be pretty hungry by now. He puts his arms around her, shoves her robe to the floor, and lowers his head, and they're kissing again, long hot kisses and quick teasing kisses and pretty much every kind of kiss he can imagine. Before long he's raining kisses over her throat and her cheek, stroking his hands through her hair and over her skin, and she's running her mouth over his collarbone, his chest, his shoulder.

His erection is pressed up between their bodies, and the smooth, warm skin of her belly makes him throb with need, until he's pulsing with so much desire for her that it almost scares him. He doesn't understand where this desperate craving for her is coming from, and it worries him if he lets himself think about it, so he decides not to think. It's safer that way. And easier, too, because his brain doesn't seem to be firing on all cylinders right now.

In fact, his brain's pretty much checked out and gone on vacation, but his body is totally engaged in what they're doing. Chloe's rubbing against him, sending little jolts of pleasure through his body, so that he groans into her mouth and clutches at her hips and pulls her against him even harder.

They sink to the carpet together. He starts to push her back onto the floor, but she gently bats his hands out of the way, puts her palms on his chest, and shoves him over backward. He lies back willingly enough, and she straddles his thighs and looks down at him with a smile.

"Somehow I knew you'd enjoy being on top," he says, smiling back at her.

"Actually," she admits, "I've never tried it."

A deep masculine part of him is glad to hear her sexual experience isn't a lot more extensive than his own. "Me neither. But I'm all for new experiences."

She's sitting upright, while he's sprawled on the carpet, so he can't kiss her. He needs to touch her somehow, so he reaches up and begins to play with her breasts. They're soft and pliable under his fingers, an interesting contrast to her nipples, which are rigid and crinkled. She moans softly as he brushes his thumbs over her nipples, and her hand begins to trail over his abs, his ribs, his chest. His skin burns wherever she touches, and he realizes he's getting heated up again.

And then she rises up on her knees, reaches down and gently grasps his cock, and guides it into her body.

Only the very tip of it is inside her, but she's wet, both with her own moisture and his, and it feels so good that an irresistible deluge of heat floods him. He turns his head, hoping he can hit the fireplace from this angle, and his heat vision activates. He groans, gasps for breath, and his body writhes helplessly beneath her.

When he's aware of his surroundings again, he looks back at her and sees her eyes watching him with intense interest.

"So what does that feel like?"

Terrific. This is just a great time for her to go all investigative reporter on him. Not. "Good," he says shortly.

"You know, I kind of figured that out on my own. But what is it like, exactly? Is it like an orgasm?"

At her words, his erection twitches, and he realizes he's still not very deep inside her. They really need to work on that, instead of talking. "Sort of. Not really."

"Can you be a little more descriptive?"

"I don't know how to describe it," he answers irritably, annoyed that she's practicing her interviewing techniques on him at this precise moment. The girl just won't shut up, and it's beginning to aggravate him. She seriously needs to get her priorities in order. "It's hot. It feels good."

"Do your eyes burn when it happens?"

He sighs. Obviously he's not going to get away with terse answers. "It's... sort of like an explosion, Chloe. Like all of me is on fire and I can't..." His cock jerks again, and he swallows. "I can't stop it. It's not just my eyes. It's everywhere."

"So," she says softly. "You can't stop it, no matter how hard you try. It's... irresistible?"

His mouth feels really dry suddenly. "Yeah," he agrees in a hoarse voice. "I keep trying to fight it, but I can't."

"So it's, I don't know, overwhelming. Sort of like when you know you're about to come and you realize it's going to happen, and there's no stopping it. Is that right?"

His jaw clenches. "Chlo."

"You're getting turned on just thinking about it," she says, and her voice sounds a little amused. "You must really like it."

He does and he doesn't. It feels incredible, but it's also an uncomfortable reminder that he's alien. Different. He'd really rather not think about it at all. His eyes are burning furiously, his skin is scorching hot, and he thinks it would probably be safer to change the subject.

"You know," he says lightly, "this is the absolute last time I'm letting you get on top. Because you don't seem to have a clue what to do with me."

She grins. "Oh, trust me, farmboy. I have a very good idea what to do with you."

She lowers herself onto him an inch or two, and it feels so good that his damn heat vision breaks loose a second time. Which is really her fault for talking about it so much and getting him all worked up. He jerks his head to the side and breathes hard as heat streams from his eyes again. It's like a rush of fire through his body, like being caught in a blast furnace, and this time it's so overpowering that he has to grit his teeth to stop himself from yelling.

His hips jerk upward in an involuntary, reflexive motion, and all of a sudden he's deep inside her.

She gasps. "Clark."

He's gasping, too, and not just from the heat vision. This is exactly what he wants, to be inside of her. To be part of her. But it's more than just a want--it's a deep, primal desire. It's what he needs.

He thinks he needs her more than he needs oxygen or sunlight or water. He's never needed anything the way he needs this.

Neither of them moves for a second. They're motionless, reveling in the intense intimacy of their bodies merging together. Then he reaches for her hands and entwines his fingers with hers. He turns his head toward her, opens his eyes, and they gaze at each other. Something wordless but strangely profound passes between them.

His eyes sting again, and he blinks hard. No. No, no, no. He is not crying again. They're screwing, damn it. That's all. Two friends having a little fun together. There is absolutely no reason for tears to be stinging his eyes this way.

And then she's moving up and down on him, and it's the best thing he's ever felt in his life. Her body is tight and hot, clutching at his eagerly, making him crazy. She moves faster, and he can feel the spasms racking her as she climaxes, her voice lifted almost to a scream, her hands clutching his hard.

He drops his head back and squeezes his eyes shut and cries out as his body erupts. He's coming hard inside her, in spurt after spurt of heat and rapture and sheer physical release, fulfilling his desperate need for her. It feels so good that he can't breathe, can't do anything but shudder and groan and hold onto her hands like a lifeline.

This time he's not even aware of the tears spilling from his eyes.

Read Chapter 7 here.