Never Let Me Go, Chapter 2

Clark/Chloe
Season 5, following my story "Here Without You," which followed two other stories and "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

Chloe:
Once Clark realized I knew his secret, I had to get used to his quick exits and entrances. It's a little weird dating a guy who can dash halfway across the state of Kansas in the space of a few seconds. But I'm pretty accustomed to it now, although I don't think I'll ever get over being impressed by it. I mean, the man can run fast enough to break the speed of sound. That's seriously cool.

Even so, he couldn't run fast enough to suit me right now. I wanted him where I could keep an eye on him, because I was genuinely worried about him. He looked painfully thin, his cheekbones standing out like blades, his cheeks hollowed. And when I'd lifted his shirt to check on his scar, I could actually see his ribs. Clark's a solid, muscular guy, and his ribs don't usually stick out that way.

It made it easy to believe what sounded like a totally crazy story.

But of course I've seen enough weird things since I first came to Smallville that the idea of traveling in time isn't as unbelievable as it once was. It's practically normal when you compare it to invisible men and teleporting girls and all the other strange things I've seen in the past five years.

Anyway, whatever he'd been through had obviously been pretty awful. There was a big scar in the center of his chest-- a disturbing enough sight, on a man who ordinarily can't be hurt-- and a lot of dried blood on his chest and shoulder. Just one glance at his chest had been enough to make my heart pound, although I'd done my best to keep my shock from him. He looked like he'd been through enough without having to deal with feminine hysterics.

But even though I managed to keep my horror to myself, I was worried about him, so worried that I almost resorted to biting my nails.

Fortunately, I didn't have to worry long. Six minutes later he charged back in through the door of my dorm room. His hair looked less tangled, although it was quite dry-- running at the speed of sound is more effective than any hair dryer-- and he had changed into a red collared shirt and chinos. This was not at all his usual look, and I inferred he was planning on taking me out to dinner.

Either that, or he figured he had a better chance of getting laid if he dressed up.

He whooshed to a stop in front of me, sending papers flying. I glared at him.

"Sorry," he said, looking meek. It was an act, and I knew it. He messes up my schoolwork at least once a week, and he's figured out that big, sorrowful eyes are my Achilles' heel. I can't stay mad at him when he looks at me that way. Which is really annoying.

He was only about a foot away from me. I caught the scent of soap and clean guy and had to stop myself from sucking in a long, appreciative breath. He smelled a whole lot better.

He smelled good enough to eat.

I caught myself mentally before continuing down that path. He needed food more than he needed sex, regardless of what he thought. And besides, I really wanted to talk to him about the crazy thing he'd said before falling asleep this morning.

Although judging from the gleam in his eyes, I had a feeling that conversation was going to have to wait until after we'd made love.

He took a step toward me, and I scooted back. "Let's go have some dinner, Clark."

"Let's have sex first," he countered, stalking me.

"Geez. You have a seriously one track mind."

"I haven't seen you for days, Chlo." His voice went unexpectedly serious, and he stared at me with solemn, intense green eyes. "I've missed you an awful lot."

Oh, hell. There he went with the big eyes again. Damn it. I just can't say no to those eyes.

Resistance was futile. But I made a hopeless effort at resisting him anyway.

"You really need to eat."

He continued to glide toward me with the smooth, dangerous grace of a panther. I backed away until I found the back of my knees pressed up against the bed.

Trapped, I thought wryly. Not that I really minded.

"No," he said softly. "What I need is you."

Read Chapter 3 here.