Season 4, "Spell"
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 darker than my usual stories. Elements of rape, bondage, and sadism.
Chloe tilted her head as she studied him, her eyes alert. "You said that to the witches, too. Exactly what do you mean by that?"
"I, uh..." He began to pace nervously. "I'm sort of an alien."
He didn't look back at her, but he could imagine her eyebrows shoot up. "Sort of?"
"Okay, well, not sort of. I mean, I am an alien, but I've been here on Earth since I was three."
She stood still for a moment. Then he heard her footsteps coming toward him. She caught his arm, putting a halt to his restless pacing, and looked up into his eyes. "Do you really believe this, Clark?"
He heard the unspoken remainder of the thought: Are you really that crazy? He glowered down at her, feeling defensive.
"How would you explain the fact that my injuries all disappeared, Chlo?"
"You're a meteor freak," she said promptly. "How else? We've met people with all sorts of strange abilities, Clark. The ability to heal spontaneously doesn't mean you're a strange visitor from another planet. It's the rocks that are the strange visitors."
"The rocks came with me." He sighed, feeling the guilt that always filled him whenever he thought of the meteor shower. "I arrived on Earth the day of the meteor shower. My parents found me and my spaceship in a field. I think the rocks are part of my home planet. It was called Krypton, and it blew up. I was the only survivor."
She stared up into his face for a long moment. "You really believe this, don't you?"
He nodded. "It's true," he answered simply.
"I don't suppose you'd be willing to show me your spaceship."
"It blew up. Actually, I kind of blew it up. Remember the big crater that showed up on our farm a couple of years ago? Apparently that's what happens when an intergalactic star drive explodes."
Her eyes went wide. "Oh, my God. You are serious. And those weird markings on your barn--"
"I put them there. But not on purpose. I was sort of being controlled. I couldn't help it."
She cocked her head, and he could see the investigative reporter start to emerge. "How'd you do it, exactly?"
He turned his head, stared at a candle on the table, and narrowed his eyes.
"Like this," he said.
The candle's wick immediately lit, and her mouth dropped open. "Holy crap."
He wasn't sure if that meant she was horrified or impressed. But at least she didn't turn tail and run away from him, which meant he had a chance to explain, to assure her he was the same person he'd always been, that she didn't have to be afraid of him.
She stared at the candle for a long moment, then looked back at him. "So what else can you do?"
"This," he said. He went into superspeed for an instant and sat down on the couch. She spun around and stared at him, looking bewildered.
"Did you just teleport?"
"No, I ran. I'm really, really fast. I'm really strong, too. I can pick up a car pretty easily."
She stared at him for a moment, her eyes growing even wider, and he felt pain stab through him. He didn't want Chloe to be afraid of him, or to think of him as a freak. That was the real reason he'd never told her-- not because he didn't trust her, but because he was afraid of the way she'd look at him once she knew his secret. He vividly remembered the way his friend Pete had reacted when he'd found out, backing away from Clark like he might suddenly grow a second head, and his heart sank.
And then she smiled.
"Wow," she said. "I always knew there was something special about you, Clark."
She'd said almost the same thing to him a couple of years ago, when she'd been under the influence of an alien parasite that made her act wildly out of character. He'd been on red kryptonite, which made him reckless, and he'd shown off his powers. She'd told him he was cool. But she didn't remember the incident, and he hadn't been certain she'd think his strange abilities were cool when she was herself. Somewhere deep down, he'd been terrified of being rejected by his best friend.
He was immensely relieved to know she wasn't scared or revolted or horrified. In fact, she looked deeply impressed, and his heart lifted.
"So you have all these powers, but the witches took them?"
"Yeah. Ordinarily I can't really be injured, but somehow they managed to take all my abilities away."
She walked over and sat down right beside him on the couch, then reached out and took his hand. "No wonder you were so scared," she said softly. "You're not used to pain, are you?"
He shook his head. He was grateful that she was sitting so close, her leg pressed right up against his, wordless reassurance that she still thought of him as her friend, and not some strange bug-eyed monster. The warmth of her palm against his was comforting, too, and he squeezed her hand a little more tightly. He thought of the way Madeline had clawed him, bitten him, remembered the blood running down his thighs, and a shudder of revulsion and horror ran through him.
"I'm not used to being helpless, either," he said roughly. "Ordinarily I could snap those bonds like a human could tear tissue paper. I hated it, Chlo. But..."
He hesitated, and she filled in the rest of his sentence. "But part of you liked it, too."
"I'm afraid," he whispered hoarsely. "I'm afraid that..."
"That you're some kind of pervert, Clark? That you're a masochist?"
He bowed his head and didn't answer, only studied his work boots as if the laces were infinitely fascinating.
"What happened," she said softly, "wasn't your fault, and it wasn't your choice. It wasn't like you asked them to chain you up, Clark. And you certainly didn't ask Madeline to hurt you."
"But I..." He closed his eyes, remembering the way he'd come, over and over again. The way he'd begged for release. The way he'd screamed with pain and pleasure. "I liked it, Chlo. I mean, it felt really, really good. But it also totally creeped me out, and I don't ever want to do that again."
"I don't blame you. It was pretty horrible."
He stood up and started pacing again. "But what if I can't get off any other way? What if normal sex doesn't work for me now?"
She sat on the couch and watched him stalk restlessly back and forth in the confined space. "I really doubt that'll be a problem, Clark."
He knew his concerns probably sounded stupid to her. But he couldn't quite find the right words to convey his fear. He'd experienced some mindblowing orgasms with Madeline, and he was afraid that sex was now mixed up inextricably in his mind with violence and bondage and blood. He was afraid that when he had normal, loving sex with a girl who mattered to him, it wouldn't measure up.
"There's no way to know," he whispered.
She was silent, and he could almost hear her thinking.
"Yes, there is," she said at last. "Let's find out."
She stood up, walked toward him, and reached up on tiptoe to kiss him.
Read Chapter 8 here.