Hunger, Chapter 4

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

Suddenly Clark was back on the bed. She blinked at him, confused. "How'd you do that?"

"I can do lots of things," he said smugly. "Want me to show you?"

Despite herself, she had to smile. Clark was frequently so damn serious that she found his teasing side to be extremely charming, although she was a little surprised it was manifesting itself now. Sure, he joked around with her fairly often, but she'd always imagined that he'd treat sex as an Extremely Serious Event. And he probably had, with Lana. But with her, he was less inclined to take things seriously. Even, apparently, sex. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

She looked at the happy grin on his face and decided it was definitely a good thing.

Evidently he'd either used superspeed to get back on the bed, or just outright levitated, because he was suddenly two inches away from her, stark naked, and grinning like the Cheshire Cat. His chest was within easy reach-- and despite her earlier teasing, it was in fact both amazing and mind-boggling, massive and solid, and rippling with the powerfully defined muscles of a man who did heavy labor every day. Her gaze slid to his flat, copper-colored nipples, and her fingers suddenly itched with the need to touch him there. Although, she thought, his stomach was gorgeous, too. She looked downward, beyond his navel and down along the thin trail of hair that led to... well, that looked pretty damn touchable, too.

Glancing up again, she caught him staring at her body, a look of stark lust in his eyes. Her breath caught in her throat at his expression. She'd never seen him look at her that way before, as if she were really... desirable. Sexy. At the look on his face, she felt a surge of heat between her thighs, and her heart pounded harder.

He looked a little embarrassed to be caught staring. "You're beautiful," he murmured, his tone so reverent, so genuinely awestruck, that her throat tightened.

She tried to lighten the moment a bit by rolling her eyes. "Oh, please. Now you're being snarky."

"No, I'm not," he said softly. "I've always thought you were gorgeous. The last time we were at Crater Lake, I..."

He trailed off, and she blinked, incredulous. "Are you telling me you were checking me out at Crater Lake?"

"I was more than checking you out," he said, looking abashed. "I guess I was kind of staring. Lois had to tell me to put my tongue back in my mouth."

She stared at him, shocked, then suddenly giggled. "That's funny. She told me the exact same thing when I was checking you out."

She reached out and slid a finger down the middle of his chest, toward his abdomen, and all the teasing humor suddenly vanished from his expression. His gaze darkened with hunger, and then his long, thick lashes lowered over his eyes, veiling them.

Her hand slid a little lower, down the trail of dark hair, and then she let her fingers slide very lightly over his erection. It was incredibly hard and smooth, like satin over steel, and so hot she thought he just might burn her. She heard his breath hiss between his teeth at the brush of her fingers, saw his head drop back and his eyelids flutter closed.

"Chloe," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.

She continued to touch him, running her hand up and down and exploring him, feeling him throbbing against her palm, hearing his low moans. The deep, rumbling noises he was making seemed to reverberate in her body, making her quiver, and she could feel her own body pulsing with need in response.

All of a sudden he lunged for her, pushed her over backward, and pinned her to the mattress, his hands gently cupping her face in an affectionate gesture. She knew he was using a great deal of care, not exerting even a thousandth of the strength he possessed, yet she could feel the desperation in his movements as well as the caution. She felt his erection pressing eagerly against the bare skin of her inner thigh, hot and demanding, as he loomed over her, his jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed with hunger and lust. The teasing, laughing boy had entirely vanished, leaving a very intense man in his place.

"Now," he growled.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, her hands flat on his lower back, just above his ass. Beneath her palms she could feel his skin, heated and damp with sweat, and his tense muscles, flexing and rippling with every movement. She looked up into his eyes, and despite the need burning in her body, she couldn't resist teasing him just a little more. "Are you always this articulate in bed, big boy?"

He lowered his head. "Don't," he said breathlessly, "talk."

"Okay. I don't have to talk."

He brushed his lips over hers, and she felt him throb against her thigh. "And yet you're talking."

"It obviously turns you on."

"Everything about you turns me on," he whispered, sounding so sincere that she almost believed him. But not quite, because if he truly found everything about her to be so sexy, surely they'd have wound up in bed long before now. She decided to keep that thought to herself, though, because his mouth was moving over hers, soft but insistent, and she didn't really feel much like talking.

And yeah, that was definitely a first.

Her tongue slid over his lips, exploring the contours of his mouth. He tasted like sex, spicy and masculine and erotic. He was the best thing she'd ever tasted, better than the coffee she was addicted to, even better than Rocky Road ice cream.

He moaned at the touch of her tongue and parted his lips, and within seconds they were kissing hard, violently, almost wildly. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms and legs around him. She could feel his erection probing at the entrance to her body, sliding against her moisture, and suddenly she wanted him so badly she couldn't wait any longer. She needed him the way she needed coffee in the mornings, the way she needed water on a summer day, the way she needed sleep after she pulled an all-nighter while working on a story. She was desperate for him.

He was still kissing her hard, relentlessly. She put her hands on his face and pushed him away. "Clark," she whispered. "Please."

He closed his eyes, looking pained. "Chlo, I don't have any..."

He looked so miserable that she couldn't resist teasing him again. "You don't believe in being prepared? You're not much of a Boy Scout, are you?"

"It's just that I haven't..." He broke off awkwardly, obviously unable to figure out how to tactfully say I haven't had sex with my girlfriend recently. The reminder of Lana should have distressed her, but it didn't. Clark was here with her, after all, not Lana. He'd chosen to be with her.

And yeah, she ought to feel guilty about that, since Lana was, after all, his girlfriend. But right now she was beyond feeling anything but the sheer lust and need that threatened to consume her.

"I'm on the pill," she said, taking pity on him. "Don't worry about it."

He dropped his face against her shoulder. "Good thing one of us thinks ahead," he said in a muffled voice.

She laughed softly and ran her hand through his hair, noticing that it was damp with sweat at the back of neck. She knew he never sweated from exertion. He obviously wanted her as badly as she wanted him, and that made something deep within her glow.

Maybe all he felt for her was lust, but maybe... maybe there was something more. She wanted to believe that, anyway.

"So," she said softly. "What are you waiting for?"

Read Chapter 5 here.