No One Like You, Chapter 3

Clark/Chloe
Season 5, after "Fanatic"
Rating: Adult. If you're under eighteen, please go elsewhere now
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the WB and DC Comics, not to me

"Damn it. I shouldn't have had that fifth frappuccino this morning."

Chloe was sprawled out on Clark's couch in his loft, an old blanket spread over her, her arm flung up to cover her eyes. Clark was seated at his desk, trying to focus on his sociology textbook, but at his words he looked around and grinned.

"Told you it wouldn't work. You can't nap on cue."

"It's all the coffee," she grumbled.

"You really think so? I figured you were immune to coffee by now."

"Apparently not." She fidgeted with the blanket's tattered fringe. "Damn it, how am I supposed to dream if I can't sleep?"

"You've never been the napping type, Chlo." In fact, Chloe was so hyperactive that he was amazed she ever slept. She'd pulled all-nighters regularly back when she worked on the Torch in high school, and he was pretty sure she was still doing it. She'd called him at two in the morning more than once while working on a story for the Planet, apparently forgetting that it was the middle of the night.

She sighed. "I don't nap, but this is for an article. If I'm ever going to figure out what's going on, I need to have one of these dreams."

"Yeah, but I know you." He got up and walked across the floorboards, which creaked under his weight, then dropped down on the couch beside her. "You're composing your article in your head, aren't you? Hard to sleep when you're writing."

She opened her eyes and looked at him with a wry smile. "You know me way too well, Clark Kent."

The soft, intimate note in her voice knocked him for a loop. He swallowed, then reached out and touched her shoulder.

"Relax," he said, and began rubbing her shoulder gently.

His fingers tingled, and he was uncomfortably aware he wanted to rub a whole lot more than her shoulder. But he managed to keep himself under control and didn't let his hand drift anywhere it shouldn't. She sighed and rolled over a bit, kicking the blanket off, and he began rubbing her shoulderblades.

She felt very slender and fragile under his hand, and he was almost painfully aware of her fragrance, vanilla mingled with the clean scent of her skin. With his hyperacute senses, he could smell her scent perfectly well, but that didn't stop him from wanting to lower his head and bury his nose in her hair.

He could feel the heat of her skin through her shirt, burning into his palm, sizzling right through the rest of his body. Images from his dreams flashed through his brain, and he wondered what it would feel like to have her warm, naked body pressed next to his.

He shifted uncomfortably, discovering that he was so hard it hurt.

Fortunately, her eyes were closed. "Mmmm," she murmured sleepily, such a sensual little moan it drove all the air right out of his lungs. "That's helping, Clark. Don' stop."

He couldn't have stopped if his life depended on it. His hand slid slowly down her back, along the graceful curve of her spine, toward her waist. He paused at the waistband of her jeans.

Hold it, Kent. Stop right there. Do not go south of the border.

He desperately wanted to let his fingers trail a little lower, to feel the smooth curves of her ass under his hands. He managed to keep his hand from wandering, but he let himself steal a quick glance in that direction. Too bad she hadn't kept the blanket on, because her jeans didn't conceal much. She had a gorgeous ass, curvy enough to be entirely feminine, but nevertheless slender and trim.

More images from his dreams filled his head, and he thought about grabbing her rear with both hands while he thrust into her, hard and deep. He could barely prevent himself from groaning. He shut his eyes and clenched his fist, trying really hard to keep his hands under control.

"Hey," she mumbled. "What'dya stop for?"

He'd stopped because he was about to cross an invisible boundary they'd set long ago in their friendship, and totally screw everything up. He had a girlfriend. Lana. Chloe was not his girlfriend, and he had absolutely no business sitting here having fantasies about her butt. Damn these stupid dreams, anyway. He'd never thought about Chloe that way before this week. Well, almost never, anyway.

And now he couldn't stop thinking about her that way, no matter how hard he tried.

With a huge effort, he moved his hand upward, toward the much safer zone of her shoulderblades, and kept rubbing. Her breathing slowed, and within moments she was asleep.

He forced himself to remove his hand, stood up, and walked across to his desk. But he was so restless he knew there was no way he could possibly get any studying done.

And if he was going to be honest with himself, restless wasn't at all the right word for it. He was just plain horny.

He was so going to fail this exam.

What he really needed was to get rid of some of this sexual energy somehow. He could think of a perfectly good way to take care of the problem, but he sure as hell wasn't doing that with Chloe sleeping five feet away.

He had to come up with a better option. He just needed to pry his mind out of the gutter somehow.

Maybe sociology would help. Maybe if he focused on a dry, boring textbook, he'd be able to stop thinking about sex.

And maybe the cows will all sprout wings and fly.

Still, what the hell. It was the only thing he could think of to take his mind off his... problem. He dropped down into his desk chair, a little painfully, and looked at the words on the page. He read them. And read them again. And read them again.

For some reason, none of the words seemed to be able to get from his eyes into his brain. He sighed and started reading out loud, very quietly. It still didn't help much, but at least it was taking his mind off sex. Well, sort of.

And then he heard Chloe stir on the couch. He looked over his shoulder and saw her twitching. Apparently she was dreaming. Her eyes remained closed, but her mouth opened, and she spoke in a bare murmur that he couldn't possibly have heard without superhearing.

"Clark," she whispered.

*****

When Chloe stirred an hour later, Clark was bent over his sociology textbook, deeply immersed in his studying. At least he hoped Chloe would believe that. In fact he was totally focused on Chloe, despite his best efforts to forget her presence. Her scent filled his nostrils, and he could hear every beat of her heart. It sped up as her eyelids fluttered, and he felt his own heart rate rise in response.

"Hey," he said softly, turning around and smiling at her.

"Hey." Her voice was equally soft, and husky with sleepiness. His hard-on immediately returned, worse than before. He tried really hard to suppress it and stayed in his chair, because there was no possible way he could stand up right now. Besides, the further away he was from Chloe, the better.

"Did you dream?" he asked.

She sat up, blinking the sleep out of her eyes, and frowned as if she was trying to remember. "Uh, yeah," she answered. "I dreamed about..." She broke off suddenly, her cheeks flushing.

"You don't have to tell me. I already know."

She stared at him, wide-eyed, and he heard her heart rate speed up. "You do?"

He forced a smile, trying to spare her any embarrassment. "I've known you for a long time, Chlo. I know what you want most. You dreamed about being a reporter at the Daily Planet, right?"

Some of the tension went out of her posture, and her heartbeat slowed. She flashed her wide smile, though it didn't look quite as bright as usual. "Yeah," she agreed. "That was pretty much it."

He frowned. "So is everyone in Lowell County having these dreams, do you suppose? I mean, you only fell asleep for an hour, and you had one."

"Doesn't prove anything," she pointed out. "I might have just had one because I expected to have one. The subconscious is a funny thing sometimes."

"Did it seem unusually vivid?"

Her hazel eyes went unfocused as she thought about it. "Yeah," she admitted eventually. "It did."

"Then it's probably part of the phenomenon. Whatever 'the phenomenon' is." He frowned. "So where do we go from here?"

"I guess we hit the investigative reporting trail." She bounced to her feet and raked her fingers through her rumpled blonde hair, looking entirely refreshed and totally energetic. Perfectly normal, in other words. "Let's go downtown and try to interview some people."

"Chloe..." Clark sighed. "People may not want to talk about their deepest desires to us."

"You'd be amazed what people will talk about." She grinned. "Let's try the Talon. We know some people there, so we can talk to them, at least. Maybe we can figure out a geographical pattern or something that'll help us figure out if the dreamers are all close to the LuthorCorp plant."

"Okay." She turned toward the staircase, and he dared to stand up, hoping she wouldn't glance back at him and notice his... problem. He followed her down the stairs, her scent filling his mind. He couldn't quite drag his gaze away from the sight of her rounded ass moving as she bounded down the stairs, and he really hoped she wouldn't look back and notice.

But at the bottom of the stairs, she hesitated. He was so distracted he almost ran right into her, but he paused one step up and looked down at her.

"Clark," she said softly.

He stepped down next to her and found himself a lot closer to her than was prudent. He swallowed. "Yeah?"

She turned toward him and put a hand on his chest, and he was so startled he almost jumped right out of his skin. "I lied about my dream," she said, staring at his chest.

The words I know almost popped out of his mouth, but he thought it was probably best not to say that. She had a right to her mental privacy, and he shouldn't have listened to her faint whispers while she dreamed, or used her heartbeat as a lie detector. But the problem was, he couldn't help listening to her heartbeat, any more than he could help breathing. And he couldn't possibly ignore her voice whispering his name.

"That's okay," he said. He thought his voice sounded rusty, like he had a head cold, but he couldn't seem to clear his throat right now. "I mean, I didn't tell you about my dream, either. You don't have to tell me about yours."

"I really think I should."

He was painfully conscious of her palm against his chest. Part of him wanted to back away, and part of him wanted to grab it and move it lower. A lot lower. He managed to keep his hands loosely at his sides and carefully didn't look down at her.

"I think maybe dreams are one of those things people might be better off not sharing," he said hoarsely.

"Maybe you're right. I just..." She lifted her head and studied him, and he reluctantly looked down into her eyes. It was a mistake, because her mouth was only inches away, and his heart instantly kicked into high gear, along with his erection.

"I dreamed about you," she murmured at last.

"Chloe." His voice was a harsh whisper, and despite his best intentions, his hands lifted, and his arms slid around her waist.

He couldn't help himself. He bent and kissed her.

Read Chapter 4 here.