Never Let Me Go, Chapter 3

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

Clark:
It’s hard to get across to humans how much I need sex sometimes. I don’t think even Chloe really gets it, even though she’s seen me at my most desperate. This probably makes me sound like some kind of sex maniac, but the truth is it wasn’t a problem for me till recently. Until recently, I didn’t think about sex any more often than any nineteen-year-old guy.

Okay, that means I pretty much thought about it all the time. But now it's a hundred times worse.

See, once my body's Kryptonian lifebonding biology kicked into high gear, sex got a lot more intense. My body decided Chloe was the woman that fits my soul (an awkward English phrase that translates a perfectly simple, straightforward Kryptonian word), and I started saying the Kryptonian lifebonding ritual to her every time we made love. I also started wanting her really, really badly, so desperately that I can’t eat or sleep if I don’t make love to her on a regular basis.

Although it wasn't all my alien biology. The truth is that I’d wanted her even before the whole lifebonding thing kicked in. I’d wanted her for a long time and just hadn’t been honest with myself about it, because I thought I was in love with someone else. It took me a long time to realize the woman I truly loved... was Chloe.

I’ve always been the master of self-delusion.

Anyway, I digress. Chloe was about two inches from me, and I had her trapped against the bed, and every cell in my body was demanding that I make love to her, right now. Yeah, I hadn’t had a decent meal in days, and I was starving, but my body craved sex with her so much that I simply didn’t care. Right now, sex with her was all I could think about. It was all I wanted.

I slid my arms around her waist and pulled her against me. She didn’t seem to object, because her arms came around my neck. “Clark,” she whispered into my shoulder. “We really should—“

“We really should quit talking,” I interrupted.Talking wasn't what I wanted to do right now. After everything I’d been through in the past few days, you might think I’d be too tired to think about sex. But you’d be wrong, because my body was already willing, ready, and able. I was so hard it hurt.

She looked up into my eyes, apparently saw desperation there, and smiled wryly.“Okay, Clark. I’ll quit talking.”

“Yeah, right. That’ll be the day.”

She smacked my shoulder. “You know, when you're trying to get me to sleep with you, you should really keep your smartass comments to yourself.”

I grinned. "I'll remember that."

"No, you won't. You never quit with the smartass comments."

"As opposed to you."

She looked offended. "I'm not that much of a smartass."

"Yeah, you are." I said. "And you talk way too much besides. Shut up, Chlo."

And I bent a little and kissed her.

I was so worked up that it wasn’t a soft, gentlemanly kiss. It was more like affectionate assault. I mean, I was careful not to kiss her too hard—because I’m so strong that I could really hurt her if I wasn’t careful—but I kissed her hard enough to make her lips open, and almost instantly found her tongue with mine.

She tasted like strawberries, or maybe more like raspberries, kind of sweet and tart at the same time, and a hot wave of lust washed over me. Although lust isn’t really the right word. What I felt wasn’t merely lust or desire or need. It was a desperate craving, something so primal and carnal that it just stripped my mind away and reduced me to nothing but physical yearning.

I couldn't believe how badly I needed her.

I gently pushed her backward, so that she had no choice but to sit on the edge of the bed. She shifted her position and lay back on the mattress, and I settled on top of her, my erection pressing between her thighs. I could feel the heat of her body right through our clothes, and it felt so intensely good I thought I’d die of it.

But I’d die happy.

A long, low sound of pleasure and want and longing came out of my mouth, and I moved my hips, pressing against her in a hungry rhythm.

“Clark,” she whispered. “You’re really worked up. Take it easy.”

She was right to be concerned. When we first started making love, I found it so hard to control myself that I’d actually hurt her a couple of times. Not badly, just enough to scare myself. With practice I’d learned how to control myself better, but I wasn’t sure I’d be able to right now, because I was boiling over with need. That worried me, because I never want to hurt Chloe.

I moved my hands away from her, fisting my hands in the sheets, and contented myself with kissing her throat. She tugged up my shirt and started to run her hands over my back, and the touch of her hands against my skin was so exquisite that another one of those sounds rolled out of my throat.

I wanted to fuck her so badly I could hardly stand it. I don't usually think about making love to Chloe in such crass terms, but this was an utterly physical need, like breathing or drinking water, a basic biological necessity. I just needed to fuck her.

And yet at the same time my longing for her was something so deeply emotional, so intensely spiritual, that I didn't have words for it. At least not in English.

She tugged my shirt off over my head, then unbuckled my belt and got my pants unfastened. I reached between us and managed to get her shorts undone, and she kicked them off. All of a sudden there wasn't anything between us except the very thin fabric of my boxers and her panties. I moved against her, feeling her heat much more intensely, and groaned.

She reached down between us and brushed her hand over my cock. I was so hard that the touch of her hand sent a bolt of pleasure through me, making me shudder. I caught her mouth again in a long, fierce kiss.

"Chloe," I whispered against her lips. "Stop that."

"Why?" She ran her hand up and down. It felt awesome, but I didn't want to get off that way. The problem was that my need for her was so intense right now that it couldn't be fully satisfied any other way except by being inside her. I wanted to be a part of her, as close to her as I could possibly get.

I reached down and gently caught her wrist, stopping the enticing motion of her hand, then pushed at her panties. She wiggled them off, and I shoved my boxers down and thrust against her again.

I could feel the head of my cock nudging at the soft, wet entrance to her body, and a desperate moan escaped me. But she put her hands on my shoulders and pushed me back slightly.

"Hey," she said. "Don't forget the condom."

Hell. I dropped my head against her shoulder, sighing. The biological imperative that drove me didn't want anything between us as we made love, not even a condom.

I wanted to be inside her, completely bare, feeling every bit of her liquid warmth against my cock. I wanted to feel her muscles convulsing around me as she climaxed. I wanted to feel my come flooding her, deep inside.

The thought made my mouth go dry, and it was all I could do not to rock my hips forward a bit and enter her. Struggling to hold onto my last remnants of self-control, I reached over, fumbled in the bedside drawer, and found a condom.

Properly attired, I looked down at her. Her eyes were bright with affection, her hair was rumpled, and her lips looked slightly swollen, like I'd been kissing her a bit too hard. She was still half clothed, but she was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen, and I couldn't hold myself back any longer. I slid into her, slowly, still doing my best to be careful, my lips pressed against her throat.

She gave a soft whimper and arched against me, and the rest of my self-control took a hike. I thrust into her, all the way, so hard that my balls slapped against her ass. It felt amazing, and I froze for a moment. I'd missed her so badly these past few days, and now I paused just to enjoy the sensation of finally being inside her again.

"Clark," she whispered, burying her fingers in my hair.

I lifted my head, looked down at her, and opened my mouth. I'm not sure what I intended to say-- her name, maybe, or something brilliant and original, along the lines of "God you're beautiful"-- but instead Kryptonian words spilled out.

The first line of the Kryptonian lifebonding ritual, the words that translated as, I trust you.

This happened pretty much every time we made love. It was a compulsion on my part, but it didn't mean we were bonded. For us to be bonded, she'd have to say the whole ritual back to me. Since she didn't speak Kryptonian, this wasn't likely to happen any time soon.

At least, that's what I'd thought. But she looked into my eyes... and said the words right back to me.

Her accent was heavy, so that some of the words were barely comprehensible, but even so I felt a bolt of lust and frantic desire hit me like lightning.

"Chloe," I whispered, staring into her hazel eyes. "Chloe, how did you..."

"You've been saying it to me for the past three weeks," she said softly. "Did you really think I wasn't listening?"

"Chloe." I swallowed hard, wanting desperately to move in her hard and fast, and barely able to resist the urge and hold still. "Chlo, you can't say it all back to me, or we'll be..."

"Lifebonded. Yeah. But Clark, it seems like you're already stuck with me. You said Jor-El told you you'd die without me."

Damn it, I had a big mouth. Obviously I'd been so tired this morning I'd said a lot more than I should have. "Chloe," I said, gritting my teeth against the lust that squeezed my balls in an iron grip. "You are not going to lifebond with me out of some sort of... guilt."

"Why do you think it would be out of guilt?"

"Guilt. Concern. A misplaced sense of obligation. Whatever. They aren't the right reasons to make a lifetime commitment, and we both know it."

"You don't know what my reasons are, Clark."

I sighed. I had a feeling that if she were Kryptonian, she'd feel the same compulsion I did, and we would have said the lifebonding ritual to each other by now. But she wasn't Kryptonian, and I wasn't going to let some alien biological drive stampede us into a commitment we weren't ready for.

"I don't think this is really the time to discuss it, Chlo." She wiggled against me slightly, and I moaned, feeling my c*ck throbbing inside her. "Is there any possibility we could have this conversation later? Because I'm not really capable of making rational decisions right now."

"Okay," she said softly. "We'll talk about it later."

I pulled almost all the way out of her, then thrust hard, and began fucking her in a hard, steady rhythm. It felt so good I couldn't stop myself from crying out, couldn't stop myself from gasping for breath and shaking all over.

I felt her body arch against mine as she came, sobbing and clutching at me, and searing heat sizzled through me. Need and desire swelled in me, and I thought I was going to lose it right then and there. But I didn't. I kept fucking her with wild abandon, and the knife edge of need grew sharper and sharper, and more and more relentless.

I wanted to come more than I'd ever wanted anything. I was utterly desperate to come, and yet somehow an orgasm eluded me. Somehow I just couldn't quite get there.

The tiny part of my brain that was still capable of rational thought realized that I was waiting to hear Chloe say the rest of the bonding ritual.

Not gonna happen, I thought grimly, thrusting harder. She came again, and then again, crying out and sobbing and moaning. I could hear her heart thundering, could hear the blood rushing through her veins, could smell the sweet scent of her body, and it all drove me to a state of wild desperation.

I clenched my jaw, grinding my teeth together, frantic for release and going crazy because I couldn't find it. With every thrust I could hear myself crying out, almost yelling, with pleasure and agonized need. My balls were taut, my gut was tight, my cock was so hard it hurt, and I'd never been more totally aroused in my life.

I couldn't stop myself. I uttered the next line of the bonding ritual. I trust you... to come to me.

She said it back to me, blurrily but recognizably, and my arousal exploded to a whole new level. Every muscle in my body went rigid, and my skin became damp with sweat. My eyes started to burn-- my heat vision acting up, which it sometimes does when I'm really turned on. And right now I was really turned on.

I clamped my eyes shut in order to make sure I didn't set the bed on fire and arched my head back, sliding roughly into her slick, hot body. Some remaining rational brain cell made sure I didn't thrust too hard and hurt her, but other than that I was totally and completely out of control.

My heart pounded frantically, my breath rasped in my throat, and I couldn't seem to draw in enough oxygen. I felt her convulse beneath me again, crying out, and that only turned me on more. I was moving fast and hard within her, thrusting almost violently, but it just wasn't quite enough.

It was like the climax I could feel welling up inside me was just out of my reach, and no matter what I did, I couldn't quite get to it. A frantic noise of yearning and frustration and anguished need spilled from my lips.

"Clark," she whispered, wrapping her arms around me. "Hey, Clark. Take it easy."

Taking it easy was the one thing I wasn't capable of doing right now. But she dropped a hand to my hips, stopping my wild movements, and brushed a kiss over my cheek. I dropped my head to her shoulder, gasping, shivering all over.

"I'm so sorry," she said softly in my ear. "I didn't mean to start something I couldn't finish."

"I can't... I just... Chloe, I can't..."

"Yeah," she answered, stroking my hair, which was wet with sweat. "I figured out the problem. Shh, Clark. Relax. Take a deep breath for me, okay?"

I drew in a long, shuddering breath and tried to calm down a bit, but my need was so great that it wasn't easy. I could barely hold still.

"Chloe," I whispered. "Please. I can't stop."

"Clark," she said softly. "This isn't working for you."

That was obvious, and yet the biological need I felt didn't allow me to stop, either. There was no way I could back away from her now.

I moved in her more slowly, trying really hard to control myself. Unfortunately, that didn't work either. All it did was make me hotter and more desperate. I kept my face pressed against her shoulder and tried really hard to keep the words in, but I couldn't help myself. I uttered the next line of the ritual.

I trust you... to come to me... to find me when I am lost.

And she said it back to me.

"Chloe," I whispered, feeling an unbearable heat in my body. "Please. Stop it."

"I can't help it," she said. I lifted my head, seeing her staring at me, wide-eyed with shock. "I didn't mean to say it. I just... couldn't help it."

"Chloe," I said. "Come on. This isn't something you should joke about. It's serious."

"I know," she whispered, looking stunned. "I swear, Clark. I can't help it."

Great. How could a human have a compulsion to say the Kryptonian lifebonding ritual? That seemed impossible. And yet I reminded myself that the Kawatche people believed they were descended from a man from the sky, and that humans and Kryptonians were alike in many ways. Not for the first time, I entertained the suspicion that Earth had been seeded by Kryptonians, long ago. Maybe if that was the case, some of the Kryptonian biological traits lay dormant in humans, just waiting to be awakened.

But that was all just theory. Practically speaking, what it meant was that we were in very big trouble, because my body was reacting frantically to the sound of her voice saying the words I wanted to hear.

I thrust into her again, every movement driving me higher, and more of the bonding ritual spilled out of me in rough, broken sentences.

I trust you
To come to me
To find me when I am lost
To save me when I am in peril
To always
Always
Be there for me.

She said it all back to me, her words heavily accented, but understandable, and all the while our bodies kept moving together. I desperately wanted to come, but I was even more desperate to hear her voice saying the rest of the words to me. I wanted to hear her say it more than I'd ever wanted anything. The remainder of the ritual poured from me.

Trust me
I will always come to you
Protect you from danger
Guard you from enemies
And always
Always
Be there for you.

In response, her voice whispered it in my ear. She stumbled over some of the more guttural sounds of the language, but it was clear enough. At last she said the last line, then fell silent.

I caught her mouth with mine, kissing her frantically as my body slammed into hers in a fast, violent rhythm.

An incredible sensation burst within me. It was more than just an orgasm. I don't know how to explain it. It was the purest, most transcendent ecstasy I'd ever experienced, something way beyond physical pleasure and release, something that was so strong and emotional and utterly overpowering that I writhed and gasped and finally, at the end, found myself screaming. I could hear her responding the same way, could feel her fingers digging into my back and her body moving hard against mine.

It went on a long, long time. At last the pleasure died away, and I rolled off her, so as not to squash her, and collapsed to the mattress, gasping for breath.

She turned her head and looked at me with a little smile, then echoed something I'd said to her the very first time we'd made love.

"You're mine," she whispered.

Read Chapter 4 here.