Season 5, sequel to "Thirst"
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the WB and DC Comics, not to me
Clark thought grimly that he was a major jerk. He'd upset Chloe, nearly set her on fire, risked her life by making love to her... and all he could think about was doing it again.
It didn't help that she was looking at him so hopefully. She ought to be scared, but she obviously wasn't. He thought of Lana's probable response to finding the bed on fire. Lana would have been scared to death of him. Hell, any normal girl would see that making love to him was dangerous, and would probably be terrified at the very thought of doing it again. But Chloe wasn't normal, and never had been.
Maybe Chloe was right. Maybe he was just using her. Because God knew he'd had an awful lot of sexual energy stored up, and he hadn't dared make love to Lana. Partly for fear of hurting her, but he had to admit Chloe had a point-- he'd been terrified she'd notice his differences.
It wasn't easy to conceal something like fire shooting from his eyes.
The thought that he'd used Chloe really bothered him. Chloe was a terrific person, and he liked her, even loved her in a way. But he'd had no business making love to her, because the girl he was in love with was Lana. Yeah, sure, the whole vampire thing had creeped him out, but he was pretty sure he could have gotten over it with time.
But now he'd totally messed things up between them. Because there was no way he could ever go back to Lana, knowing that he'd screwed around on her. She deserved better than that. And Chloe deserved better than to be used as a convenient way for him to get his rocks off.
He wasn't sure which girl he was more upset about hurting, and that left him confused and wondering what the hell he really felt, deep down.
"Oh, no," she said, breaking the silence. "I know that look, Clark, and it never bodes well. What are you thinking?"
With an effort, he broke away from his dark thoughts and smiled at her. "Just that you really need your rest."
She reached up and grabbed him around the neck. "No, Clark. You're not getting out of this that easily. I still want you."
God help him, but he still wanted her, too. A lot. So much so that if she glanced down, she wouldn't have the slightest doubt of it.
Lana, he reminded himself firmly.
Chloe pressed against him, her soft breasts brushing up against his chest, and all thoughts of Lana immediately vanished from his mind like fog in the sun. Once again he was aware of nothing but Chloe, the satin of her body under his hands, the soft sweep of her hair against his skin, the sweet way she was brushing kisses over his collarbones. He made a strangled noise in his throat, whether of protest or passion he wasn't sure.
Chloe was right. He wasn't getting out of this. Because he didn't have any self-control where she was concerned, and despite all his thoughts about hurting her, he wasn't about to walk away from what she was offering.
I'm the world's biggest ass, he thought, and bent to kiss her.
Her mouth was even sweeter than it had been earlier. He could taste her passion, the spicy flavor of her arousal, and her tongue felt like velvet against his. Her arms were tight around his shoulders, her body soft and pliant against his. He'd never known a girl who surrendered to a kiss as totally as she did.
His eyes started to itch and burn almost instantly, and he closed them, rubbing them against his hair. "Chloe," he whispered. "My eyes. I can't..."
"What if you keep them closed?" she suggested.
"Doesn't work. Anyway..." The truth was that even if he could learn to have sex without his heat vision activating, he wasn't sure he wanted to. It had felt unbelievably good, so much better than the sex he'd experienced as a normal human that he didn't really want to give it up. He thought it would be frustrating to try, like jerking off without actually coming.
But he didn't want to set her on fire, either.
"Okay," she answered, understanding his silence with the uncanny ease of someone who'd been finishing his sentences for five years now. "But doing it inside doesn't seem to be a really good idea. How about a field, like I said earlier?"
He grinned against her hair. "Dad'll be pissed if I set his new corn on fire."
"Sex and popcorn," she said with a giggle. "No, I don't suppose we'd better try it in the corn field. Is there anywhere else?"
He thought about it for a second. "Now that you mention it, I think I know the perfect place."
He swung her up into his arms, without the slightest concern for the fact that they were both naked, and supersped out of the house.
Chloe squealed with surprise as Clark came to a halt, dropped to his knees, and deposited her on a soft surface. As usual, she had barely registered Clark's movements while he was carrying her, because he simply moved too fast for her merely human brain to register any impression of motion.
The scent of fresh, cool air on her face told her she was outside, and she blinked at him, shocked. She'd been kidding about making love in a field, because she'd been reasonably certain the staid and conservative Clark Kent would never in a million years make love outside. At the least, she'd expected him to stop for clothes first. "Are you nuts, Clark? We're both naked!"
"No one can see us here," he said reasonably. "All the bushes are too high. This used to be my favorite place to hide when I was a kid."
She looked around. Sure enough, they were in a small patch of lawn in the Kents' back yard, enclosed on three sides by tall hedges. The fourth side faced the corn field, where no one was likely to see them. Besides, the sun had set while they were... occupied. She looked up, seeing the charcoal gray of twilight still streaked by gold and pink streamers. A single star sparkled overhead.
"What if you set the hedges on fire?"
"What if I do? My parents never come back here. I'm the one who trims these bushes. They won't notice a few scorch marks."
"Suppose your parents come home?"
"They said in their note they wouldn't be back till ten. But if they're early, I'll hear their truck when it's still miles from here. We'll have plenty of time to get back in the house and get dressed, trust me."
She stared at him. In the semidarkness, his face was cast into shadow, making the angles of his face appear more clear-cut than ever. He was so starkly beautiful her heart ached just from looking at him.
"Okay," she said at last. Like there had ever been the slightest chance she was going to turn him down. The guy she'd loved since eighth grade wanted to make love to her-- was she really going to quibble over the location? Not bloody likely. Hell, she'd probably say yes if he suggested doing it on Main Street.
The corners of his mouth turned up, and he cupped her face in his hand, lowered his head, and kissed her, very gently. She shivered at the erotic brush of his lips over hers, and her hands came up almost of their own accord, dropping onto his shoulders and resting there. In the slight chill of the evening, his skin felt oddly warm, as if he'd been sitting in the sun for the past hour.
She flexed her fingers slightly, rubbing her palms against his smooth skin, feeling him shiver slightly beneath her touch. He made a little noise deep in his chest and kissed her a little harder, his lips opening, his tongue darting out and gently exploring the contours of her mouth. His hand slid into her hair, his fingers thrusting into its depths, capturing her so she couldn't get away. Not that she wanted to.
"Mmmm," she murmured against his mouth. "You are the most amazing kisser."
He pulled back and blinked at her, looking surprised. "Me?"
Her eyes popped open. She stared at him for a moment, puzzled, then made a show of looking around the small space. "Was there someone else here kissing me?"
"Then I was obviously talking to you, doofus."
He looked embarrassed. "It's just that I'm not all that, you know, experienced."
"You do pretty damn well."
He looked into her eyes a moment longer, then his eyelashes fluttered down to veil his gaze and he ducked his head, looking genuinely flustered. "Uh," he muttered. "Thanks."
She giggled. "I embarrassed you. I'm sorry."
"I just haven't kissed that many girls."
"Must be a natural talent," she said lightly, pulling his head back down and brushing a kiss over his lips. "Sort of like superspeed."
"Or maybe you're biased."
"Nah. I've kissed enough guys to know. Trust me. You're good at this."
He pulled away from her, his eyes suddenly narrowing. "Excuse me. Are you saying you're some sort of expert at this? How many guys have you kissed, anyway?"
She lifted her eyebrows. "I don't really think that's any of your business, Clark."
"You've hardly dated anyone in the last year. I don't see how you could have racked up a lot of frequent kisser points."
"Maybe I like to kiss guys even if I'm not all that interested in going out with them."
His heavy eyebrows drew down. "Are you telling me you've been macking on a bunch of random guys just for, I don't know, entertainment?"
Something in her chest warmed at his expression. Clark was seriously jealous, and not even trying to hide it. "Not a bunch of guys," she answered. "No more than twenty or thirty, anyway."
"Twenty or--!" He broke off suddenly, glaring at her suspiciously. "You're yanking my chain, Chlo."
A giggle welled up out of her. It occurred to her that she was giggling an awful lot tonight-- and giggling was so totally not her usual style-- but she didn't much care. She'd almost died yesterday, and tonight she was making love to the guy she'd wanted for years. Life was good, and she'd damn well giggle if she wanted to.
"Maybe a little," she admitted.
His fingers tightened in her hair, digging into it so hard it almost hurt. "You'd damn well better be exaggerating a whole lot, Chlo. Twenty or thirty. Jesus."
"Are you jealous?"
He looked startled, and loosened his grip, as if he'd suddenly become aware of his fist in her hair. "No," he said gruffly, staring at the ground. "Of course not. I just don't want you to let anyone... use you, Chlo. You deserve better than that."
There was a note of self-accusation in his voice that made her suspect he was thinking of himself. "Clark," she said softly, reaching up and brushing her fingers over the back of his hand, feeling unmistakable tension in him, feeling the tendons and the veins standing out beneath his skin. "Tonight... this isn't about using me. Don't start with the guilt, okay?"
He swallowed audibly, and his eyelashes drifted down again, concealing his brilliant eyes. "The truth is, I'm not sure what tonight's about, Chlo."
"Yeah. Me neither." She looked at his downbent head and reached out, stroking her hand through his dark, wavy hair. "So why don't we just make it about fun?"
"Oh, that's right. Fun is a totally alien term to you. Want me to define it?"
The corners of his mouth curved up again in a reluctant smile. "Stop it, Chloe. I'm not all that serious."
"You're the most serious person I've ever met," she said. "And that's not surprising, since you're the only Kryptonian on the planet. But you need to lighten up and have fun every now and again."
"I know how to have fun."
"Oh, yeah, you're a regular wild man. Parties, kegs, and women all the time. Come on, Clark. What did you do last Saturday night?"
He frowned. "I went to a party with you. And it didn't turn out to be all that much fun."
"Yesterday doesn't count. We were undercover."
He grinned. "We were under covers earlier, too."
She smacked him. "You know what I mean. What about last week?"
"Lana had to write a paper, and you were on deadline. I..." He broke off.
"Yeah? What did you do?"
He sighed. "I kind of... played gin rummy with my parents."
"Ooooooh. You party animal, you."
He dropped his face against her hair. "Stop it," he said, and she could feel his shoulders start to shake with laughter. "Just stop it. You're right. I'm pathetic, and I never have fun anymore."
"So," she said softly, brushing her lips over his cheek. "Let's have some fun."
Read Chapter 7 here.