Season 5, sequel to "Reckoning"
Rating: Adult. If you're under eighteen, please go elsewhere now.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the WB and DC Comics, not to me.
At his icy words, Chloe winces, feeling like Clark just slapped her. But she conceals her pain, because she figures he's hurting worse than she is right now.
"I realize that, Clark," she says, as coolly as possible. "What are you worried about? Do you think I'm going to fall in love with you just because we have sex? Just how good do you think you are in bed, anyway?"
Amusement flickers in his eyes, although he doesn't smile. She thinks it'll probably be quite a long time before he really smiles again. "A minute ago I was getting the impression I was pretty damn good."
"Hard to tell," she answers lightly, "since you didn't finish what you started."
He takes a single step forward, and suddenly his body is against hers again. "Do you want me to finish what I started?"
His voice is low and husky, and a shiver passes through her. She tries to cover it with a smile. "What kind of dumb question is that? Of course I do."
"I just..." There's a faint uncertainty in his eyes, for the first time since he shoved her up against the wall. The angry, aggressive guy is still there, but she can see shadows of the gentle boy she's always known beneath the anger. "I didn't give you a lot of choice about it."
"I have a voice, Clark. If I'd meant to say no, you would have heard me."
"And you're okay with this just being... sex?"
"As opposed to what? Lovemaking?" She rolls her eyes. "I'm a big girl, Clark. Believe it or not, I've had sex with guys I didn't love before." Okay, it was only one guy, but Clark doesn't need to know that. The point is, she's capable of separating sex from love.
"No kidding?" He lifts his eyebrows, and his hands start to delve under her sweater again. "I didn't realize you were..."
"If you say easy, I'm going to kick you." Not that it'll do much good. But that won't stop her from trying.
"I was going to say experienced. Not a virgin, I mean."
"I'm nineteen, Clark."
She says it in her most world-weary drawl, and he appears to buy it, because the little crease between his eyebrows disappears. The fact is, she's not capable of separating sex and love where Clark is concerned, because it's already too late. She loves him like crazy. But she does understand he's not going to fall in love with her, and that's okay.
Well, no, it's not okay. It sucks. But it's the way things are. He's never loved her, and a quick roll in the hay-- literally-- isn't going to change that.
His eyes are growing heavy-lidded again, and his body is pressing against hers. She can feel he's seriously turned on, and suddenly the ache between her legs is back, more intense than before. She wants to feel him inside her so badly she could cry with the need.
"Clark," she whispers, moving her hips against his. Since she's still bound to the wall, it's all she can do, really. "Please."
This time he doesn't stop. His hands slide around behind her, cupping the cheeks of her ass and lifting her a little, so her bare flesh is rubbing right up against the front of his jeans. The denim ought to feel rough and uncomfortable, but she's so turned on that it feels like heaven, exactly what she wants, precisely what she needs. She lets her head drop back, sobbing and gasping as he rubs against her. He drops his head again, biting her throat gently, and his fingers dig into her ass a little harder.
Heat builds in her again, and then all of a sudden it overwhelms her. It might be snowing outside, but inside Chloe Sullivan it's a summer day at the beach with the sun beating down. She cries out, her body desperately straining against the leather strap, straining against his body, as an incredibly intense climax bursts inside her, so hot it's almost unbearable. Waves of heat scorch her, buffeting her like the winds of a desert storm.
At last she collapses back against the rough planks, gasping, and he leans into her, his body heavy against hers. He lowers her to the ground, but his hands are still cradling her rear, and she can feel he's entirely turned on.
He's not biting her anymore, but he's not kissing her, either. As her brain comes back online she starts to wonder what's up with the biting. Is it a Kryptonian thing?
No, that can't be the answer. He's kissed her before, more than once, and she's seen him kissing Lana. It made her want to gouge her eyeballs out-- but that's totally beside the point. He obviously likes kissing. In fact, he seems pretty human that way. So why does he keep biting her? Not that she minds, exactly, but it's a little... strange.
She wonders if it has anything to do with his insistence on not being touched. Maybe kissing just represents more intimacy than he can handle right now. She guesses he's looking for superficial physical pleasure, not affection. Sex rather than love, just like he said earlier.
She turns her face so it's pressed against his neck, being careful not to kiss him and freak him out, and draws in a long breath. He smells sexy, masculine sweat mixed in with the fresh scent of winter on his skin. Against her lips, his throat is rough with stubble, and she wants so badly to kiss him that she can hardly restrain herself.
But the last thing she wants is for him to back off again, so she just stands there and breathes in his scent.
He's breathing hard, and she can feel the tension in his muscles, everywhere his body is pressed against hers. He feels so big and solid, and despite the bone-deep relaxation from her orgasm, she still wants very much to have him inside her. It's been a long time since she had sex with a guy, and that single time really didn't work out too well.
She figures it was because that first guy wasn't Clark. Somehow she knows that with Clark, it's going to be awesome.
"Clark," she whispers. Her lips move against his throat, and he jumps and shudders as if she's doing something very intimate to him. She can feel his body stiffen, like he might just run away from her. "Clark, what are you waiting for?"
"Chloe." His face is against her hair, and his voice sounds muffled. "Are you sure you want to..."
"Oh, for God's sake, Clark, just do me, okay?"
He makes a small sound against her hair. She's not sure if it's a noise of lust or amusement. But he lifts her again with one hand, and his other hand unzips his jeans.
Suddenly his erection is probing at her, hot and hard and eager. She wishes she could spread her legs apart further, but her knees are still pretty much bound together by her jeans, just as her wrists are bound by his belt. He pushes against her, but because she can't open her thighs as much as she'd like, he doesn't accomplish much. He looks down, considering the problem, and then all of a sudden there's a blur of motion, and she's naked from the waist down.
He lifts her again. Her legs are cold-- in fact she's cold in places that are really better off kept warm-- but she wraps her thighs around his hips, feeling his erection pressing against her, and she starts to warm up rather quickly.
He slips inside her easily, like he was made for her. She knows she's wet after what happened earlier, but she somehow didn't expect it to be this easy. Then again, everything's always been easy with Clark.
In only a few seconds, he's all the way inside her. And she was right-- it is awesome. He seems to think so too, because he utters a long sound of pleasure.
"Ahhhhhh," he murmurs softly. "Chloe."
She expects him to take her hard and fast, given the way he was acting earlier, but instead he moves in her very slowly. Maybe he's afraid of hurting her, despite her assurances that she's not a virgin, or maybe he just isn't quite sure what he's doing. She's pretty sure he's not an expert, any more than she is.
Either way, she had braced herself for a quickie, and instead he's taking his sweet time about it. She's certainly not complaining, though, because it feels wonderful.
And it feels a lot more like lovemaking than sex.
He moves inside her, the worn fabric of his jeans gently abrading her inner thighs, and she can hear his breathing quicken, his hands gripping her a little more tightly. He lowers his head and nips at her earlobe again, a quick bite that stings just a little.
She takes a chance, and turns her head, brushing a kiss over his jaw.
Instantly he stiffens. "Don't kiss me," he tells her, his voice growing cold again.
"Clark." She's trying really hard not to get annoyed here, but damn it, the man is getting on her nerves. "Why can't I kiss you?"
"I don't feel like kissing," he says tersely. His voice is strained, and his body moves a little faster in hers. He's starting to sweat a little, and his hair is growing damp, making it curl more wildly than ever. She wishes she could run her hands through it. Or maybe give it a good hard yank, because she's getting pretty exasperated with him.
"Why the hell not?"
The minute the words leave her lips, she knows she's not doing a good job of keeping her frustration to herself. Clark freezes up, his body stiffening like she's insulted him, and turns his head, glaring at her. "I knew this wouldn't work, damn it."
"It's working fine. I just don't understand what's wrong with kissing you."
"You know, most women can avoid getting in arguments while they're having sex."
"Not if they're having sex with you," she snaps. "Because you're really aggravating."
"Chloe." His body is still deep inside hers, and she can feel his erection twitching a bit. "Could we possibly have sex now and argue later?"
She stares into his eyes defiantly. "I want to kiss you."
"No kissing." His tone is intractable.
She drops her head back against the wall and sighs. "Fine, Clark. Whatever. Just get it over with."
"Well, gee, now I can hardly wait. Your enthusiasm is simply overwhelming."
"What do you expect?" she growls. "You're being really weird."
"Quit badgering me." His eyes grow dark with anger. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but I've had the week from hell."
"I know that," she says, more softly. "Look, Clark, I'm not trying to be a pain. I just like to kiss guys when I have sex with them, all right?"
"I just don't want you thinking..."
"That you have any feelings for me. Right. I know. Don't worry about it, Clark. I get it, really. I'm just the nearest warm body."
She must sound more bitter than she meant to, because he stares at her, looking dismayed. "This really isn't working," he says at last, more to himself than to her.
"No." He drops his face against her hair again. "I'm really sorry, Chlo. I shouldn't have done this to you."
She kisses his throat a little, because she's stubborn and hardheaded and doesn't learn from her mistakes. And she's proud of that, damn it. "It's all right, Clark. I'm not mad."
"We should stop." But his body is still moving in hers, and she recognizes that he isn't going to stop. She doesn't want him to. No matter how aggravating he is, his body feels so good, so right, inside hers that it's pushing her inexorably toward another climax. She shivers.
"Don't stop," she whispers, grazing her lips lightly over his jaw.
He makes a strangled noise, like he just can't stop himself, then turns his head a little and kisses her, full on the mouth.
Their lips brush together in gentle, wordless affection. She knows he doesn't love her, but they've been friends for years, and she's aware that she means an awful lot to him. If she hadn't been aware of how much she meant to him before, his kisses express it quite clearly.
She isn't sure why he was trying so hard to avoid kissing her, because their kisses are sweet and tender and intense, and utterly perfect.
Now that he's started kissing her, he doesn't seem inclined to stop. He opens his lips, his tongue sliding against hers, and she moans softly into his mouth. His fingers tighten on her, his body moves harder, and she hears his breath hitching in his throat.
Their kisses get deeper and hotter, and she can taste salt. She realizes he's crying, silent tears running down his cheeks, and now she understands why he was trying to avoid any display of affection from her. He's still raw with the pain of everything that's happened, and he's been struggling to lock himself away emotionally so he doesn't have to cope with it all. It's a typical Clark response, a reaction she's seen many times before.
But she doesn't think it's good for him to hide his emotions away right now. He's lost too much. In a single day, his life was shattered into a million pieces, and he's still blaming himself for everything that happened. She thinks he needs to stop trying to avoid his pain, and just let himself grieve.
She wishes she could get free of the strap so she could put her arms around his neck and hold him, but she can't, so she settles for kissing him like he's the most important thing in the world to her. And at this moment, he is.
No. If she's going to be perfectly honest with herself, he's the most important thing in the world to her at every other moment of her life, too.
He moves harder, in fast, violent thrusts, and her body arches in another climax, hotter and better and stronger than anything she's ever felt before. At the same moment, she can feel the heat inside her as he comes. His body shakes, and she hears a broken sob emerging from his throat. She's not sure if it's a noise of pleasure or sorrow or both, and she kisses him one last time, trembling with the last vestiges of her orgasm. Then she opens her eyes and sees the tears streaking his face.
He holds her tightly, shuddering with silent sobs, and she lifts her head and kisses his tears away.
Read Chapter 4 here.