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.
For several minutes, there's no sound in the barn. Chloe kisses Clark gently, over and over again, on his cheeks, his chin, his mouth, while he shakes in silent grief. At last he zips his jeans, then reaches up, unfastens the belt from around Chloe's wrists, and picks her up in his arms. He carries her over to a pile of hay bales and drops down onto the hay, holding her in his lap.
All the anger seems to have drained from him, but she can still feel his sorrow and pain as clearly as if he were still crying. It's evident in every line of his body, every breath he takes. His face is buried in her hair, and she puts her arms around his neck, trying to comfort him without words.
She wants to hold him forever, but she's getting very cold. All of a sudden she realizes her feet seem to be turning into blocks of ice, and she becomes aware that she's shivering. Unfortunately, her jeans and boots are several feet away.
Clark seems to feel the shudders racking her, because he lifts his head and looks at her bare legs. His eyes are still red-rimmed, but there's an intent expression on his face, and all of a sudden her legs and feet begin to warm up. It feels like there's a sun lamp in the barn. She looks at him with surprise, realizing he's using his heat vision.
"Don't set the hay on fire," she warns.
"Don't worry." His mouth twists wryly. "I have a lot better control over this than I used to. I almost never torch things anymore."
"Oh, that's reassuring."
But despite her snarkiness, she's not really worried he's going to catch her on fire. She trusts him. The warmth flowing from his eyes feels really good, and she sighs and drops her head against his chest.
"Chlo," he says softly. "I really didn't mean to..."
His voice trails off, and he takes one of her wrists in his big hand and looks at it. There's a little red mark where she was straining against the leather, and he makes a small sound of dismay and begins to rub it gently.
"You didn't hurt me," she assures him.
He doesn't seem to hear her reassurance. "I'm sorry," he says, rubbing his thumb over the inner part of her wrist gently. His careful touch feels good on her sensitive skin, and her eyes drift shut. "None of this should have happened, Chlo."
She's feeling a little drowsy, and she'd like to lean her head against his shoulder and slide into peaceful sleep. But at the self-loathing in his tone, she opens her eyes and looks at him, seeing guilt mixed with the sorrow in his eyes. "Hey," she says softly, lifting her hand and brushing her fingers over his high cheekbone. "Quit beating yourself up about it."
"I just..." He's silent for a moment, then suddenly the words start pouring out of him. "It's not just this, Chlo, it's everything. I've screwed everything up lately. It's my fault my dad's dead. It was my fault Lana got killed. It's like I can't do anything right."
"None of it's your fault," she says reasonably, stroking her fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck. "I don't know why Jor-El does what he does, but the truth is, he set things up so you couldn't win, Clark. When he gave you back your powers, he said someone else would have to die, right? So what happened wasn't your fault at all. It was Jor-El's fault."
He sighs. "He said it wasn't his decision. He told me the universe has to maintain a balance."
"Whether that's true or not, he's the one that chose to bring you back from the dead. Right? Would you have ever agreed to be resurrected, knowing someone else was going to die?"
"I don't know." He gives another long, shuddering sigh. "If I hadn't gotten my powers back so I could disarm that missile, everyone in Smallville would have died, Chloe. But I honestly don't know if I could have made that kind of decision. Maybe that's why Jor-El made it for me."
"None of it would have happened in the first place if he hadn't taken your powers away," Chloe says. She's trying to maintain her dispassionate tone, but her voice is starting to rise a little, because just thinking about everything Jor-El's done ticks her off. "He punished you for saving the world, Clark. That just wasn't right."
"He punished me because I didn't get back to the Fortress by sunset, the way I promised."
"But you couldn't. Because the Disciples of Zod were running amuck and trying to kill everyone, right?"
"By the time you got them into the Phantom Zone, was there any possible way you could have gotten back to the Fortress by sunset? I mean, I know you're fast, but you're not instantaneous. Right?"
"True," he admits. "I couldn't have gotten back in time, even if I went to the caves at top speed. The sun was already setting."
"Not your fault, then," she says. "Quit blaming yourself."
His forehead wrinkles. "I just feel like there should have been something I could have done to save my dad..."
"And when you're faster than a jet plane, strong enough to lift a house, and bullets bounce off you, it's hard to accept you can't fix everything," she agrees softly. "I understand, Clark. But even you can't prevent death, Clark."
He looks at her oddly. "That's pretty much what Jor-El told me."
"Oh, joy. I've always wanted to sound like Jor-El. Not."
Something very like a smile flickers in his eyes. "Well, nobody's perfect."
His arms tighten around her, and she presses her nose into his chest. His black t-shirt is soft against her face, and he smells so sexy she feels warmth eddy through her veins... and this time it's not from his heat vision.
"Chloe," he says again, and there's a hoarse note in his voice that suggests he's feeling the warmth, too. He pulls her against him, even closer, so that her bare thigh is pressing up right against his crotch. And there's definitely a sign of interest there.
She lifts her head and brushes her lips over his throat, and he makes a little sound of pleasure.
"You don't mind if I kiss you, do you?"
"No," he answers. "I think I'm okay with that now."
"Good." She lets her lips move over his neck, down to the hollow at the base of his throat, and he sighs and lifts his head a little, allowing her better access. She kisses him tenderly, with great thoroughness and attention to detail.
She's a reporter, after all, and a good reporter has to pay attention to the details.
His hand is in her hair, but it slowly slides down across her back, and then across her bare rear end. She sighs, liking the intimate touch of his fingers there, and her own hands slide up under his shirt. He jumps a bit, and she lifts her head and looks at him to gauge his reaction.
"Don't you dare tell me not to touch you again," she says, frowning at him.
"I wasn't going to tell you that." He stirs under her hands, dropping his head back a little, so that she can feel his muscles bunch and flow. "I like it."
"Good." She runs her fingers down his spine, across his ribs, feeling the immense strength in his muscles, feeling the heat of his skin. He makes a small noise in his throat, a sound of unmistakable pleasure, and she wonders how long it's been since someone touched him this way. She knows he and Lana haven't been making love, but have they been making out, or has he just been avoiding physical contact entirely?
Judging from his reactions, she suspects the latter. Because now that he's not trying to hold himself back, he's responding like he hasn't been touched like this in months. Maybe years.
Her fingers delve under the waistband of his jeans, stroking his ass a little, and he gives another jolt, like she startled him. "Chloe," he whispers again, his voice so low it's barely audible. All of a sudden she finds herself on her back, with a rather large guy on top of her. His weight presses her into the bales of hay, and the hay makes her back itch a little bit, but not enough to make her want to stop.
Not when Clark has a look of pure, desperate lust on his face, and his hands are running over her like she's the sexiest woman he's ever touched.
He's pulling off her shirt, yanking her bra off, and considering it's snowing outside, she ought to be freezing to death about now, but his body heat is more than enough to keep her warm. His lips caress her throat in gentle kisses, as if trying to make up for his earlier rough bites.
She tugs his shirt off, and the feel of his naked chest against her bare breasts is just incredible. He feels so good, so solid and warm, that she wishes they could stay here for the rest of eternity, his body pressing hers into the hay, her arms wrapped around him.
She can feel his erection through his jeans, straining at the fabric, and she reaches down between them and unzips his jeans, then pushes his boxers out of the way. He moves against her, his hard body pushing eagerly at her wet flesh, and a soft moan rises from his throat.
She lifts her legs, wrapping her thighs around his hips, and he slides right into her.
Once again she's amazed by how easy it is, how perfect he feels inside her. He sinks further into her and groans again, longer and louder, his voice sounding very loud in the quiet barn. She presses her face into his shoulder, because she wants to tell him how much she loves him, so badly that she can hardly keep the words back.
But she knows this isn't the time. Clark's been through too much lately-- he doesn't need any more weight dropped onto his shoulders right now. Despite his physical need for her, she can still feel his sorrow and guilt lurking just beneath the surface, and she doesn't want to add to it.
Besides, he still loves Lana, even if they aren't an item any more. He doesn't need Chloe throwing herself at him and begging her to love him. She refuses to be that pathetic, damn it.
All she can do is make love to him, and hope he remembers who was here for him when he needed someone.
She can't tell him how she feels, but she can't stop herself from showing it. She runs her hands over his back, through his hair, and kisses his cheek, gentle, soft, loving kisses that say everything she can't right now. He sighs and turns his head, claiming her mouth in a long, deep, sweet kiss.
The kiss goes on a long, long time, but at last he pulls away. She drags her eyelids open and sees him looking down at her, an expression she can't quite define in his eyes.
"Chloe," he whispers in a faltering voice. "There are... there are times when I get so damn lonely."
The raw ache in his tone makes her heart swell. She understands why he's lonely-- he's the only one of his kind on Earth, perhaps the only one of his kind in the universe, and no one understands him completely. But she understands him better than anyone else. She knows everything about him.
She's the only person in the world who does.
"You're not alone, Clark," she murmurs, looking straight into his eyes. "I'm here."
A shudder passes through him, and he moves a little faster, thrusting more deeply. It feels so good to hold him close while he makes love to her that she squeezes her arms around his ribs, wishing she never had to let him go. She can feel the sweat between their bodies, can feel the heat building between them, and she clutches at him, her fingers digging into his back.
She wishes they could stay here forever, but he's moving hard and fast, his eyes wide as he looks into her face. And then, just like last time, they're coming together, his deep voice and her high one raised together, as pleasure washes over them in long, intense waves.
But even as they climax, they don't look away from each other. She stares into his eyes, and for one brief moment, his gaze is filled with an expression that makes her throat tighten.
Just for one moment, he's looking at her like she's everything in the world to him.
Read Chapter 5 here.