Hunger, Chapter 3

Clark/Chloe
Season 5, sequel to "Thirst"
Rating: Adult
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the WB and DC Comics, not to me

He wanted her. Clark Kent wanted her.

Chloe couldn't believe she was sitting in the Kents' kitchen with Clark's arms locked around her. She couldn't believe the way he'd kissed her, like he'd always secretly wanted to and had been barely holding himself back all these years. And she couldn't believe the way he was reacting to the light brush of her hand, groaning and gasping like her touch was the best thing he'd ever felt, his hips jerking, his erection pressing up eagerly against her hand.

She lifted her head, and all of a sudden he was kissing her again, his kisses just this side of brutal, demanding and hard and frantic. His tongue thrust into her mouth in a hungry, sexual rhythm, and he tangled one big hand in her hair, holding her as if he was afraid she might suddenly get up and walk away. His other hand began to roam, moving down her back, tugging up her shirt, and sliding up underneath, then splaying out over the small of her back and gently sliding up and down. The feel of his callused palm against her bare skin sent fire spiking through her, and she moaned into his mouth.

Her hand tightened convulsively on him, and his body suddenly shuddered. Beneath her fingers, she could feel his erection spasming. He moved swiftly, capturing her hand in his much bigger one, tugging it away, and lifting his mouth from hers.

"You need to stop that," he whispered, zipping up his jeans. "Right now."

She looked into his heavy-lidded eyes, seeing the desire he wasn't even trying to hide anymore. She could hardly believe that she, Chloe Sullivan, had brought him to the edge of sanity with a few kisses and caresses. But looking into his eyes, she had no doubt that he was on the verge of losing control.

"I don't want to stop," she answered, softly but firmly. "Neither do you. Take me to bed, Clark."

He hesitated a long moment, and she could almost see the thoughts flashing through his mind, could feel him weighing his desire for her against his guilt over betraying Lana. Or maybe she just knew what he was thinking because she was having the exact same thoughts. She'd wanted Clark forever, but Lana was her friend, and sleeping with her boyfriend would be very wrong. And yet here she was, unabashedly trying to get Clark to make love to her.

The problem was that she'd loved Clark for years. He'd been the center of her universe almost since she'd known him. She couldn't just shut off her feelings for him, even if he loved another girl. And part of her was convinced he loved her more than he loved Lana, anyway, but was just too damn stubborn to see it.

She knew everything there was to know about Clark Kent, after all, knew all of his secrets. It wasn't just that she was aware he was an alien with superpowers. She knew what he liked best on his pizza, knew the TV shows he wouldn't admit to enjoying but watched on a regular basis anyway, knew he got the Sports Illustrated swimwear issue every year and hid it under his mattress so his mom wouldn't find it.

He knew all her dirty little secrets, too-- knew that her favorite movie was Titanic and that it made her cry every time, that she sometimes cranked up the Backstreet Boys when she was alone, that she loved Rocky Road ice cream and could eat a quart of the stuff at a time. They could recite long lists of each other's favorite books and music, had argued endlessly over politics and religion. They knew everything there was to know about each other.

Lana and Clark, on the other hand, didn't know each other the same way. Even though they'd known each other for years, they didn't talk the way she and Clark did, for hours and hours at a time. They didn't talk much at all, as far as she could tell. So how could she believe they were really in love?

And if she was right, if Clark really loved her and not Lana, maybe he just needed a little push to realize it.

Rationalization, she thought grimly. I'm a world-class expert at rationalization.

Clark was still looking at her. His hand lifted to brush over her cheek, and then he swept her up in his arms, the way he had at the Fortress of Solitude, when he'd first found out she knew his secret. There was a sudden sensation of movement and the world blurred.

She blinked, looked around, and discovered they were in his bedroom.

*****

Clark put Chloe down onto the dark blue comforter, very carefully. He was still conscious that she'd been terribly ill, and no matter how much she assured him she was fine, he couldn't think of her as anything other than fragile.

Humans were fragile anyway, compared to him. He'd only slept with Lana twice, when he'd lost his powers, and when he'd gotten them back he'd resisted having sex with her again, for fear he'd hurt her somehow. He ought to have the same concerns about Chloe, but somehow he knew he could never hurt her. He wasn't sure why he was so certain of that, when he hadn't been at all certain about Lana. But for whatever reason, he really wasn't worried about it. He'd be careful.

He sat down next to her on the bed, leaned forward, and brushed a gentle kiss over her lips.

She responded, trailing light kisses across his jawline and down to his neck. And then, to his shock, she opened her mouth and very carefully scraped her teeth over the skin of his throat.

Instantly he jerked backward, sitting bolt upright and moving to the edge of the bed. She lifted her eyebrows and looked at him. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he said, barely able to keep himself from catapulting off the bed and running for the door. "I'm fine."

She studied him for a moment. "No, you're not. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm fine. Really."

"You're a terrible liar, Clark."

"I just..." He looked away from her serious gaze. "I just don't like being... you know... bitten there."

"Because of what happened with Lana?"

He really wished she hadn't brought up Lana. Just the name was enough to make guilt roil in his stomach, and the thought of what had happened yesterday made him want to hide under the bed and not come out again. "I guess," he said, a little sullenly.

"Clark." She sat up and looked at him. "I'm not a vampire."

"I know that. I just don't like it, okay?"

"Okay. I won't do it again if you don't want me to." She moved toward him and wrapped her arms around him. He sat stiff and unyielding for a minute, then slowly dropped his head onto hers, put his arms around her, and held her against his chest.

"I'm sorry," he said at last, softly. "I guess I overreacted."

"No. I understand. I got bitten too, remember? And you're right, it was scary as hell."

He remembered catching her as she fell at the sorority party, seeing the two puncture wounds in her neck, seeing the blood on Lana's mouth, and a wave of tenderness flooded him, followed almost instantly by an irrational anger. "She could have killed you," he whispered into her hair. "She would have killed you, if I hadn't found you in time."

"It wasn't her fault, Clark. No more than it was your fault for going crazy when you put that class ring on. She couldn't help it."

"I know that. But I still can't..." His arms tightened around her. "I'm not sure I'm going to be able to forgive her for it."

She lifted her head and stared into his eyes. "Do you think that's what this is all about, Clark? Are we trying to get back at Lana somehow? Punish her for what she did?"

The suggestion disturbed him. He listened to the steady, fast sound of her heartbeat while he considered it, thinking about everything Chloe meant to him, everything they'd gone through together. "I don't think so," he answered at last. "It's more than that. I almost lost you, and it really scared the hell out of me. I just... want you, Chloe."

She pressed her lips to his throat, and this time he didn't pull away. "Okay," she said. "That works for me, because I want you, too."

She lifted her head, and he kissed her, trying to convey with one light kiss all his feelings for her, feelings that had built up over five years of friendship, feelings he hadn't even really been aware of until today. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him against her harder, and suddenly they were kissing the way they'd been kissing downstairs, with ravenous, hot kisses he could feel burning right down to his toes.

Within moments, he found himself on top of her, their bodies pressed together. He barely had the presence of mind to rest his weight on his arms on either side of her, so as not to hurt her. His mind was pretty much gone, burned away in the heat they were generating, and all that seemed to be left of him was his body and its demands.

His erection was cradled between her thighs, right up against her heat, and their bodies began to move together in an eager rhythm, straining together as they moaned into each other's mouths. Sweat broke out on his skin, and his eyes began to burn and sting.

He was so close to coming his heart thundered, and his breath came in hard, sharp gasps. But he wanted more, much more. He moved back from her just a bit and started stripping off her clothing, unaware he'd gone into superspeed mode until she gasped. "Clark."

He dropped back into normal time, his cheeks flushing. "Uh. Sorry."

She blinked down at herself, then looked at him, clearly confused. "What the hell did you do with my clothes?"

"Took them off." His cheeks flamed redder. "I guess I should have asked first."

She patted his cheek. "I don't mind. But you could give me some kind of warning."

"Sorry," he mumbled again, suddenly feeling very alien. Going into superspeed was almost a reflex when he was in a hurry, but to humans it was... weird.

"It's all right, Clark." She ran her fingers through his hair, rumpling it, and grinned at him. "So how about your clothes?"

Reassured that she wasn't freaked out, he moved back into superspeed and got rid of his own clothes, from flannel shirt to work boots. He switched back to normal perception to find her staring at him, round-eyed.

"Wow," she said. "That's amazing."

He felt his cheeks heat up again. "I've been able to do that since I was ten. I'm just getting faster."

"Not the superspeed," she said, fluttering her eyelashes. "Your chest. It's just... mind-boggling."

He tilted his head and looked at her suspiciously. "You're pulling my leg."

"Maybe a little," she admitted, laughing softly.

He reached down between them, brushing his fingers over her abdomen, and she doubled up, giggling harder.

"Shouldn't make fun of me," he said, tickling her relentlessly. "It's not nice to make fun of a guy when he's naked."

She squealed and tried to get away from him, without much success. "Clark!" she gasped. "Stop!"

"Are you going to quit making fun of my chest?"

"I didn't!" She squeaked, squirming against him in what he assumed was another effort to get away. His erection was resting on her stomach, and the feel of her smooth skin rubbing against his swollen flesh was almost more than he could take. "I said it was amazing! Mind-boggling!"

"It was the way you said it. You were being snarky."

She giggled helplessly at the onslaught of his fingers. "I'm always snarky!"

"There's a time to snark, and a time not to snark," he said, moving his hand up over her ribs. She squealed again. "This would be a good time not to snark."

"'A time to snark.' Where'd you get those words of wisdom, Socrates?"

"The Bible. Ecclesiastes."

"The Bible does not use the word snark!"

"It's a newer translation," he explained seriously.

"You're lying."

"Like a rug, yeah." He relented and quit tickling her. "But you know, you shouldn't poke fun at me when I'm naked. I'm not all that used to being naked around girls. You're going to puncture my ego, and I'll wind up in therapy or something."

She snorted. "Yeah, because your ego is so easily punctured." She reached up and started trying to find a ticklish spot on him, without much success. "Damn it, aren't you ticklish anywhere?"

"I don't think so." Her hand slid across his abs, and suddenly he jerked in surprise. "Chloe."

"Does that tickle?" she inquired sweetly.

"No, I--" He broke off with a startled laugh as her fingers continued to explore him. "Well, maybe a little. Chlo-- don't--"

She didn't quit, only grinned evilly up at him. "So you're invulnerable to bullets, but you're ticklish?"

Helpless laughter rose up from his throat. "Chlo. Stop." He'd never had a girl turn him on and make him laugh at the same time, but he wasn't surprised Chloe had that effect on him. Her fingers were making him squirm, and the pressure of her lower belly against his cock was driving him crazy. Part of him didn't want her to stop at all, but he wasn't sure he wanted to come while he was laughing hysterically. And he was definitely sure he wanted to come inside her. His hunger for her was too intense to settle for anything less.

Desperate to get away before he totally lost it, he rolled away from her, and suddenly realized he'd found the edge of the bed, the hard way. He hit the floor with a loud thud.

Her worried eyes peered over the edge of the bed at him. "Are you all right?"

He crossed his arms behind his head and looked up at her. "I think a better question would be, is the floor all right?"

"Oh. Right. A little fall like that wouldn't hurt you, would it?"

"No. I could fall off the top of the Daily Planet building and hardly notice it." He grinned. "I'm not going to come back up there unless you promise to behave, though."

She returned his grin, smiling down at him. "I'll be good," she promised. "That is... if you really want me to be."

Read Chapter 4 here.