Hunger, Chapter 7

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

As far as Clark was concerned, the greatest thing about Chloe was her ability to get him to lighten up. He remembered tickling her earlier, remembered her tickling him in return, and he had to admit that "fun" was a good description for making love to her. He'd gotten all serious and mopey after his heat vision had gone off, but till then he'd been having a damn good time with her. And not just in the obvious way, either. Chloe was an awful lot of fun.

"Okay," he agreed. "Fun sounds good."

He turned his head and started kissing her cheek. Her mouth stroked along his jawline, her lips trailing over his cheek and chin, and eventually their lips brushed together, without any real conscious decision on his part. As if their mouths were just naturally drawn to each other somehow.

He kissed her, lightly but passionately, over and over again, feeling his body react to her. Despite the mindblowingly scorching orgasm he'd experienced earlier, a primitive hunger swelled in him, a need for her that was so intense he could barely breathe.

He parted his lips and deepened the kiss, pulling her onto his lap. She pressed nearer to him, her breasts up against his chest, her legs straddling his thighs, so that they were so close he could feel her warmth against his cock. He pulled his head away from hers for a second and gasped, dragging some much-needed air into his lungs, then turned back to her and kissed her again, more urgently than before.

"Clark," she whispered against his mouth, running her hands all over him, across his shoulders and his back and his chest. He remembered her touching him that way earlier in the afternoon. Lana had never caressed him that way, as if she'd been trying to memorize every bit of his body. She'd never touched him with the admiration and sheer reverence Chloe did.

He ran his hand across her arm, then slid it around and gently, almost tentatively, touched her breast. He heard her suck in a quick intake of breath, which encouraged him to try again. He explored the soft flesh, kneading it gently beneath his fingers, stroking and caressing until she moved against him restlessly, almost the way she had when he tickled her. But judging from the breathy little moans coming out of her mouth, he was pretty sure what he was doing now didn't tickle.

He lowered his head, kissing across her collarbone and lower, brushing his lips over the top of her breast, and her fingers immediately dug into his hair, clutching at him with something approaching desperation. He could feel her quivering all over, could feel her hips moving against his in a rhythm that was so blatantly sexual he had to blink hard to keep his heat vision under control.

He moved a little lower, kissed her nipple, then drew it between his lips and sucked on it, and she made the sexiest sound he'd ever heard, a long, drawn-out, quavering cry. Her hips bucked against him, hard, and he could feel her heat and her moisture, and he wanted her so badly he had to struggle not to just pick her up and thrust into her, right now.

Any idea he'd had about this encounter just being fun faded from his mind. It was a lot more than merely fun. There was an intensity between them he'd never felt with another woman.

He didn't remember ever wanting Lana this badly. Maybe it was just the heat vision, because his eyes burned and stung so much he could barely keep it contained. Or maybe it was just Chloe. The way she threw herself into this, the way she totally enjoyed it the same way she totally enjoyed everything in life, was beyond exciting.

He gave up the struggle to control himself and pushed her back onto the grass.

***

Chloe opened her eyes, seeing Clark leaning over her, his face shadowed, his hair glinting in the starlight. Behind him, the deep gray sky was scattered with stars, reminding her of his unearthly origins. Although she'd known about his strange powers for half a year, she'd only discovered he was an alien a month ago, and that was a hard truth to reconcile with the ordinary Kansas farm boy she'd known for years.

She looked up at him, seeing the stars spread out across the sky behind him, and for the first time she fully accepted that Clark wasn't of this earth, but from a star God only knew how many light years distant.

My star man, she thought.

She'd suggested they treat this as fun, but she suddenly recognized it was impossible for her to treat it lightly. Earlier this afternoon she'd made love to the guy she adored more than anything, a man who was much more than a man. And now he was about to make love to her again, his lips against her throat and his hot, sweaty body pressed up against hers, every muscle in his body taut with need and hunger and urgency.

There were many ways she could describe this situation, but "fun" wasn't one of them.

He braced himself on his arms and leaned over her, his weight pushing her into the softness of the grass, and she lifted her head and brushed her lips over his throat. She could feel the vibration as he moaned, and encouraged, she opened her mouth and scraped her teeth against him lightly.

He froze.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I forgot you didn't like that."

"It's okay," he said softly. "Do that again."

She did, and he moaned, his body moving against hers. She could feel his erection pushing urgently against his thigh, and a small part of her mind wondered if he was thinking of Lana, and if that turned him on. She scraped her teeth against him a little harder, being careful not to bite down-- not for fear of hurting him, but for fear of breaking her teeth against his invulnerable skin-- and he arched his head back.

"Chloe."

Well, that seemed to answer the question of whether he was thinking of Lana or not. "I thought you didn't like that, after what happened yesterday," she said.

"It's not like what happened yesterday," he answered, his head still back, his eyes clenched shut. She wondered if his heat vision was about to go off. "Not at all."

He lowered his head, eyes still shut tightly, and did the same thing to her, nipping gently at the delicate skin of her throat, and all of a sudden she understood what he meant. What Lana had done to them had been an assault. What they were doing to each other was simply a physical demonstration of affection, just like kissing and touching. His teeth on her throat bore no more resemblance to Lana's attack than rape did to lovemaking.

His hands roamed over her body, and she moaned, feeling her nipples harden in the cool evening air, feeling heat gather between her thighs until she couldn't hold still any longer. She squirmed against him and ran her hands down his back, pulling desperately at his hips.

He shifted his position slightly, so that she could feel the broad, blunt head of his erection rubbing against her moisture. She wanted him so much, more than she'd ever wanted anything. She ached deep inside, her need for him so intense she felt like she was on fire.

And then he flexed his hips and very slowly slid into her.

His hard, hot body felt every bit as incredible as it had last time, but this time he seemed to fit a little better, sliding into her easily, slipping more deeply into her with each careful thrust. She wrapped her thighs around him, her fingers digging into his shoulders, begging him wordlessly for more.

At last, when he was as deeply inside her as was humanly-- or Kryptonianly-- possible, he began moving against her in a slow, deliberate rhythm. She wasn't sure if he was being careful because she'd been so ill, or if he was just trying to make it last, but either way, his long, slow movements made her absolutely crazy.

She could hear the heavy, harsh sound of his breathing, could feel the sweat on his back beneath her hands, despite the cool breeze blowing over them, and she thought it was probably making him crazy, too. But he didn't move any faster, just kept making love to her, very slowly.

She kissed his cheek, his ear, trying to tell him wordlessly how good it felt, how much she felt for him. How much she loved him. She couldn't say the words out loud-- he had a girlfriend, for God's sake-- but she couldn't stop herself from loving him. She'd never been able to stop herself from loving him.

Her heart pounded wildly against her ribs, and she could hear the rush of blood in her ears. His eyes were shut tightly, his breath coming in unsteady gasps, and she could feel the tension in his body, knew that he was struggling to hold himself back.

She didn't mind. She wanted him to make love to her forever.

She wanted Clark in her arms for all of time.

His mouth found hers, and all of a sudden they were kissing again, long, sweet, intense kisses that said everything neither of them could say out loud. At least she was pretty sure he wasn't saying everything he felt out loud, either. He didn't have to. His kisses spoke volumes.

He groaned into her mouth, moving a little faster, and suddenly he was thrusting into her hard, lifting his head from hers and shutting his eyes again. Bliss exploded within her, so powerful she was hardly aware of her own screams as her body arched, as spasms of ecstasy washed over her in a long, drawn-out climax that felt better than anything she'd ever imagined.

His movements became desperate, almost violent. Feeling him stiffen beneath her hands, she dragged her eyelids open, watching him throw back his head, his lips parted, his eyes wide. His voice lifted in a hoarse cry of pleasure, and she held him close as his come spurted deep inside her and a long burst of heat streamed from his eyes.

Read Chapter 8 here.