You're My Angel, Chapter 2

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

Clark knew he ought to look away, because Chloe would kill him if she noticed him staring at her and drooling, but he couldn't seem to take his gaze off her. Her movements grew steadily more confident, more sensual, and she swung around the pole again, then twined herself against it sinuously, in a highly suggestive fashion. At least it suggested a whole lot to Clark.

He stared at her rubbing against the pole, sliding her leg up and down, and he couldn't help imagining her leg wrapped around his thighs, her body moving against his...

He tried to get his mind off that image, but couldn't. His hard-on ached, and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

Chloe danced away from the pole and turned her back on the room, so all the audience could see was her wings-- and a very nice ass, he couldn't help noticing. The little scrap she wore clung tightly to her butt cheeks, and they were round and full and gorgeous.

But he forgot all about her ass when she reached up to the middle of her back, between the diaphanous wings.

Oh, no, he thought. She is not taking off her top, right here in front of everyone. In front of me.

But she unfastened the little scrap of sequined fabric and tossed it aside.

She still didn't turn to face the audience, but teased them by dancing with her back to them. He almost craned his neck to the side to try to get a glimpse of her breasts, but thought better of it. He was really better off not seeing her breasts. Her ass was distracting enough.

He stared at the way the twin globes of her ass moved, then shook himself mentally. He suddenly noticed the noise level in the nightclub had dropped significantly. Taking a quick glance around, he noticed he wasn't the only guy entranced by her. Almost every guy in the room was staring.

When the redhead had danced, there had been a lot of chatter, the sound of ice clinking as people sipped their drinks, the sound of men shifting their feet, or walking from table to table. But now there was only the sound of celestial harp music. And his superhearing heard the heavy, rapid pounding of a lot of hearts.

Chloe was apparently a success in her new line of work.

And what the hell was Chloe doing here, anyway? There was no possible way he would believe she was moonlighting as a stripper. Yeah, she needed money for college-- but stripping was totally not Chloe's style. So why was she here?

The question answered itself, really. There was only one thing that could get Chloe into a situation like this, and that was a big story. Journalism was Chloe Sullivan's one love, and she'd proven time and time again she'd do just about anything to get a story.

She danced across the stage, still keeping her back to the audience, gracefully undulating her hips in a way that made him think of things-- sensual, dark, outright dirty things-- he'd rather not associate with his best friend.

And then, slowly, she caught the pole and slid around it.

Clark's mouth dropped open as he got his first good view of her breasts. They were magnificent, full and round and pale, with dark pink nipples. They bounced and rippled with her every movement, and he watched them in masculine fascination, unable to take his eyes off them.

Wow. Incredible.

Suddenly she faltered, coming almost to a standstill, and he glanced up and saw that she'd finally spotted him. And from the dark look in her eyes, she wasn't at all happy to see him there.

Well, no wonder, since he'd been staring at her like he was a tiger and she was a piece of meat. He instantly looked away, his cheeks flushing red, but he couldn't resist stealing a few more glances at her as she resumed her dance.

God. He'd never realized she was so damn sexy.

The dance ended, and she retrieved her bra and put it on to applause-- quite a bit more than the redhead had garnered, he noticed. Well, Chloe was a hell of a lot sexier. She stalked in his direction, her lips set and her eyes narrowed, and he wished he'd supersped out of the club when he'd gotten the chance, because she looked like she was going to kill him.

Although the chance to see her breasts was worth dying for, in his opinion. At least he'd die happy.

She leaned her hands on the table, bent forward, and glared into his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Her cleavage was right on his eye level, and his gaze instantly dropped. Thank God she'd put her top back on, but even so, there was an awful lot of visible flesh there, and now that he knew what she looked like he couldn't stop himself from thinking about her. There was an endless video loop playing in his head, and it was showing images of her breasts. Beautiful, round, bouncing, pink-nippled breasts...

"Excuse me," she drawled. "I'm up here."

He jerked his head up, feeling his cheeks turn a fiery red. "Uh," he said, looking into her eyes. "I, uh, I... what are you doing here?"

She walked around behind him and leaned over his shoulder, presumably to keep their conversation more private. Her golden hair fell forward, tickling his ear and cheek, and she spoke very softly, so that he could feel the warm puff of her breath in his ear. "I'm investigating a murder."

"So am I," he answered.

She glanced up, and he followed her gaze and saw the nightclub's manager, frowning at them. Obviously the talent wasn't supposed to waste time chatting. Chloe didn't hesitate. She slid right into his lap.

He jumped, startled. "Hey!"

"Wow," she said, moving against him. "And I thought I left the pole on the stage."

He turned redder. "Chloe..."

She leaned over, so that her mouth was right against his ear. "I got caught snooping in the file room," she whispered, and the soft brush of her breath over his ear made him harder than before. "I had to make up a cover story in a hurry, so I told them I was the new girl."

He tried really hard to ignore the pressure of her thigh against his erection. But it was hard as hell to ignore. What he really wanted to do was rub against her, but this was Chloe. His friend.

Besides, his suit was dry clean only, and if he moved very much it was going to get seriously wet. Shrinkage in the crotch would be hard to explain to his mom.

"Did you find anything out?"

"Yeah," she answered softly. "But I don't think we should try to talk here. Slip me a twenty so it looks like we're doing business, and I'll meet you out back."

Awkwardly, because every movement made him rub against her and brought him that much closer to a dry cleaning crisis, he dug out his wallet and extracted a twenty. He considered her for a moment, then tucked it into her skimpy, sequined bra, brushing his fingers over her breast. Her skin felt just as warm and soft as he'd imagined, and heat rushed through him.

"Hey," she said, lifting her eyebrows. "Are you feeling me up?"

"I don't think so." He ran his thumb across the top of her breast a little more deliberately. "This is feeling you up."

She drew in a sharp breath. "Clark."

"Just trying to protect your cover and make sure you don't get fired."

"Oh, I see. That's very..." She wiggled against him and grinned evilly. "Big of you, Clark."

She slid off his lap, rubbing against him a little more than she needed to in the process. He gritted his teeth together to held back a moan. She walked away without looking back, and he watched the saucy curves of her ass as she strutted away.

He noticed most of the other men in the audience were watching her, too, rather than the skinny brunette who was now on stage. He glared at the nearest guy, a balding fifty-year-old who was almost literally drooling.

Leave her alone. She's mine.

He blinked, startled by the thought, and shoved his unexpected possessiveness away. Chloe wasn't his. He was dating Lana, not Chloe, and he needed to remember that. Just because Chloe had unexpectedly spectacular breasts and an impossibly gorgeous ass, that didn't make her his. They were just friends. Always had been, always would be. Just friends.

He watched her disappear backstage, still wearing her wings. She really did look like an angel, he thought. A very, very sexy angel.

A fallen angel.

Suddenly a voice behind him caught his attention. He turned his head slightly. A guy at the table behind him was speaking in a thick Slavic accent.

"That new girl-- who is she? I want her."

You can't have her. She's mine.

The unfamiliar feeling of possessiveness rose in Clark again. He pushed it away impatiently and continued to listen in on the conversation.

"I don't know," the other man at the table answered. "She's new. For five hundred K, you know I don't ask any questions of any of my girls."

Five hundred K? What the hell? Clark frowned, confused.

"And for that much," the accented voice answered, "you better not answer any questions, either."

The conversation was the first real hint he'd gleaned that something strange was going on at the Wingate. He strained his superhearing, listening for more, but suddenly the lights went on, the music stopped, and a loud voice spoke.

"Everybody freeze!"

Clark cringed at the loud noise and readjusted his hearing, looking over his shoulder. A tall brunette he recognized as Detective Maggie Sawyer spoke to the room at large.

"Metropolis P.D.!" There was a sudden burst of anxious noise, and she spoke more loudly. "Everybody take it easy! We have a report of minors working and being served in this establishment. We will be interviewing you individually. Please have your I.D.'s ready."

Oh, great. Clark thought about superspeeding out, but Sawyer was already stalking in his direction, her eyes narrowed. They'd already had one confrontation, when she'd practically accused his dad's friend, Senator Jack Jennings, of murder, and he didn't like her much. He rose to his feet, and she turned him around and started cuffing him.

"The really wrong time and the really wrong place, kid. You're under arrest."

Great. Just great. His parents were going to kill him.

But even though that ought to be his biggest concern, he looked around, more worried for Chloe than he was for himself. A girl had been killed here earlier in the week, and something weird was definitely going on. He needed to find Chloe and make sure she was safe.

He needed to protect her.

Read Chapter 3 here.