Rating: Adult. If you're under eighteen, please go elsewhere now.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and DC Comics, not to me.
Author's Note: This is an AU in which Clark and Chloe are both still virgins and unattached. Title suggested by red_dwarfette and used with permission... thanks!
Chloe knew she ought to be walking away from Clark, instead of putting her hands all over him. But she remembered the heat of his erection against her palm, the way he'd throbbed and pulsed in her hand, the soft noises of pleasure he'd tried to muffle against her shoulder, and she realized she wasn't going anywhere.
Somewhere deep down, she'd always wanted to touch Clark this way. Always. And if the red K made him want to be touched... well, she just wasn't strong enough to walk away from him.
His hand held her wrist, gently but firmly, and he pulled her down onto the floor with him. She found herself sprawled over top of his big, hot body, his erection cradled between her thighs, his hands on her ass. His fingers curled gently into her hips, holding her so she couldn't get away.
"Fuck me, Chloe," he whispered in her ear, his voice husky and seductive.
A shudder racked her. Clark never talked that way, and she knew he wasn't totally in control of himself. And yet she was wasn't pulling away from him. She really ought to feel guilty about the way she was behaving.
And maybe she did feel guilty, deep down. The guilt was just buried under a landslide of need and desire and outright lust.
She sat up, and his eyes instantly focused on her breasts, which had bounced a little with her movement. She wanted to look at him, too, so she reached down and tugged at his shirt, and he helped her pull it off. She gazed at him appreciatively for a long moment, admiring the hard muscles rippling beneath his smooth golden skin.
At last she couldn't hold still any longer. She began to move against him, her shorts brushing lightly against his jeans.
His eyes fluttered shut and his mouth fell open, and he arched his head back so hard that she could see the tendons in his neck standing out. A long sound of ecstasy and hunger spilled from his lips.
"God," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "Chloe... that's so good... oh, Chlo..."
She really liked hearing him say her name in that low, sexy voice. But his words trailed off into soft moans and harsh gasps of pleasure. She was still moving very slowly against him, and his whole body shook violently, as if the pleasure were too intense to be borne.
At last he tightened his hands on her hips, forcing her to stop. He gazed at her, his eyes heavy-lidded and intense, and his hands moved around to her front and started unbuttoning her jeans.
She didn't try to stop him. She wanted to be totally naked, wanted to feel his body against hers, inside hers, with a desperate yearning she'd never felt before.
She just hoped he wouldn't hate her afterward.
He pushed frantically at at her jeans, and she shifted position slightly and shoved them right off, along with her panties. And then she was leaning over him, totally naked, and his big hands ran over her body, exploring every curve, every line of her. The feel of his hands on her bare skin turned her on so much she could feel moisture on the inside of her thighs.
Her hands slid over his abdomen and down to his jeans, unbuttoning them. She didn't take the time to pull them off, only shoved them hastily out of the way, along with his boxers. Then she paused and stared, drinking in the sight of him.
His erection was beautiful, a long, thick ivory column etched with blue veins, and she could see it pulsing in a steady rhythm, echoing his heartbeat. The head of it was a darker shade, flushed almost pink, and there was a glistening pearl of moisture at the very tip.
She was mesmerized by how beautiful he was. She'd never thought of that particular portion of the male anatomy as especially compelling or sexy before, but he was absolutely mouthwatering.
Unable to stop herself, she reached out and traced the thick ridge of his erection from base to tip. It quivered and jerked under her light, exploratory touch, and he dropped his head back again. She saw his hands clench into fists, tensing the muscles in his arms and chest. "Chloe," he murmured, his voice harsh. "You're killing me here."
Ignoring his words, she stroked her finger across the tip, very gently, sliding through the moisture and spreading it over the head of his cock. He groaned, his body convulsing beneath her hand, and another bead of precome appeared. She ran her finger over him in circles, spreading out the moisture, lightly caressing the delicate skin, exploring every ridge and valley, until his balls drew up tightly against his body, until he was practically whimpering.
Wow. She'd made Clark whimper with need. That was something she hadn't ever imagined, even in her wildest fantasies.
A cynical little voice inside her head reminded her that it wasn't her-- it was the red K in the Cherry Red. He'd probably react this way to any woman right now. He was high on a drug he'd ingested through no fault of his own, and she was shamelessly taking advantage of his altered mental state. She had no business doing this to him, and she knew it.
But she was dripping with moisture, all but burning up inside. She could feel an aching need deep inside her body, the desperate need to take his cock deeply inside her. She was a virgin, but she wasn't naive, and she knew perfectly well what was involved. She couldn't stop herself from envisioning him sinking deeply into her, filling her, moving inside her in a steady, hard rhythm, until they were both crying out and coming together in a wild storm of heat.
The raw, vivid images made her shudder. He was shuddering too, groaning and crying out and gasping as she touched him. She could see sweat glistening on his forehead, could see the muscles of his abdomen rippling as his hips moved hard against her hand, and she knew he was every bit as desperate for release as she was. Maybe more so.
She realized she couldn't leave him like this. At this point, it would be cruel to walk away from him.
But she couldn't make love to him, either. He might never forgive her for it.
She might never forgive herself.
She wasn't going to make love to him, in the literal sense, but she had some other ideas on how to take care of the problem. An article she'd been reading in Glam Girl popped into her head, filling her mind with another rush of explicit thoughts, and suddenly the desire to know what he tasted like flooded her. She'd never done that to a guy before, but she didn't hesitate. She just pulled his erection toward her, then bent over and ran her tongue over its rounded tip.
A truly frantic noise rose from him, a sound she couldn't even begin to describe. He sounded as if she might really be killing him. His chest and arms were wet with sweat, his face was contorted in what looked like agony, and every muscle in his body was taut.
He tasted better than she had imagined, sweet and salty and spicy all at once. She stroked him with her tongue again, and he cursed lividly, in a long stream of vulgar words that ordinarily would never have come out of his mouth, and buried his hands in her hair, tugging at her gently but firmly.
She took the hint, parted her lips, and took the head of his erection into her mouth.
She could sense him trying to restrain himself, to control his reactions, but he gave up the battle almost instantly. He thrust deeply into her mouth like he just couldn't help himself, curses and gasps and incoherent noises coming from his throat, and writhed frantically beneath her as hot come erupted from him in long, violent spasms.
Read Chapter 5 here.