Season 6, after "Crimson"
Rating: Adult. If you're under eighteen, please go elsewhere now.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and DC Comics, not to me.
But the secret is still my own
And my love for you is still unknown
He spoke in a whisper, but his voice sounded very loud in the silence of the night. He'd awakened from a dream of her and spoken her name into the inky darkness of his room, but there was no answer. There was never an answer. He was alone.
He'd dreamed of working with Chloe at the Torch, dreamed of working beside her the way they had in high school. He'd dreamed of pulling her away from the computer, cupping her face in his hands, and kissing her, long and hard. He'd dreamed of her wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him back, lifting a leg and twining it around his calves, pressing against him...
As the memory of the dream fell away, he became aware that he had a massive hard-on. He reached down, almost absently, and ran his hand over the swollen shaft. His cock throbbed under his hand, and he moaned.
He didn't have to keep himself quiet, because his mom was in Topeka again. As a state senator, she was in Topeka more often than not lately, leaving him alone on a hundred-acre farm. But that hadn't bugged him much as long as Chloe had been around. Chloe hung out with him and kept him from getting too lonely. At least she had.
He thought of the last time they'd hung out together. She'd been upset, because she'd just broken up with her boyfriend Jimmy. He'd knelt on the floor next to her chair and put an arm around her to console her, and suddenly he'd noticed how close her lips were to his, and he'd found himself kissing her. He'd pulled her off her chair and into his lap, and she'd wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back like there was no tomorrow.
Which as it turned out, had sort of been the case.
He wrapped his fingers around his erection and moved his hand harder, reliving the moment they'd kissed, the way she tasted, the way her tongue felt like velvet against his. Pleasure grew in him, and he arched his head back and ground his teeth together. He stopped the movement of his hand, because he didn't want it to be over too soon.
He wanted to think about Chloe just a little longer.
He moved his hand upward just a bit and stroked the head of his cock with his thumb. It was already wet with precome, and the slow sweep of his thumb over the sensitive skin there felt so good he moaned her name again.
Another memory flashed into his mind, a memory of the time he'd been high on red K and she'd been revved up on adrenaline thanks to an alien parasite that had invaded her body. The two of them had made out in the back of their friend Pete's car, and she'd reached down and brushed her hand over the fly of his jeans. Even through denim her touch had felt awesome, so hot and sweet he'd come perilously close to creaming his jeans right then and there.
He moved his thumb faster, imagining it was her touching him, and his spine arched. He dropped his head back, writhing against the sheets, gasping for breath, whispering her name.
Chloe had been his best friend for seven years, as essential to his existence as sunshine or water or air. And the night he'd kissed her at the Planet, he'd realized that his feelings had somehow grown from mere platonic affection to something a lot more intense.
But apparently she'd taken something entirely different from that kiss. He remembered their last conversation, three months ago. Just thinking about it made his throat grow tight.
"I'm moving in with Jimmy," she'd informed him curtly.
"Jimmy?" He couldn't believe his ears. He'd kissed her in the Daily Planet just the night before, and he thought he'd made his feelings very clear. But maybe not. "What do you mean, you're moving in with Jimmy? I thought you guys broke up."
She looked away from his eyes, from the shock he knew was written on his face. They stood in his loft, facing each other, and the afternoon sunlight slanted in the big window. The shaft of light fell over her as if she were an angel in a Renaissance painting, heavenly light pouring over her so that her hair gleamed and her skin glowed.
"This morning we talked," she said at last. "And we worked out our problems."
"But-- but--" He floundered helplessly, panic-stricken and unable to get words out past the tight constriction in his throat. "But last night. We kissed."
"That didn't mean anything, Clark. I was just upset about Jimmy. Anyway, we've kissed before, and it's never meant anything."
He stared at her, unsure what to say to that. She was right-- they'd kissed before. And while he couldn't say it had never meant anything, it was true that they'd always just swept anything of a physical nature under the rug and ignored it. It was something of a tradition in their relationship.
But this time it meant a whole hell of a lot, he thought. The words died unspoken at the uncharacteristically cold expression on her face.
"In fact..." She crossed her arms in a defensive posture and turned her head, meeting his eyes. "I hate to say this, Clark, but a lot of the problem in our relationship is you. Jimmy says I run to you every time you call, and he's right. He doesn't understand, and I can't explain anything to him without compromising your secret. It's just not fair to him when I disappear and can't tell him why. It's putting one hell of a strain on our relationship. So..." She swallowed. "I don't want you to come see me at the Daily Planet."
He stared at her, bewildered. "I don't understand."
"Just don't come to Metropolis anymore, okay?"
He felt suddenly bereft, like his whole support system had just been cut away, leaving him falling through the air without anything to catch onto. "But I-- okay, but I can still call you, right? Because..."
She shook her head, and his voice trailed off. "No," she said, more firmly. "I can't hang out with you any more, Clark. Keeping your secret is just too much strain on my life. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone your secret. But I just can't be your friend any more, Clark. It's just... too much to ask. I can't cope with it."
She turned her back on him and went down the stairs. He stood stock-still in the loft, listening to her footsteps walk out of the barn. Out of his life.
He'd known for a while that being his secret keeper was causing Chloe problems in her personal life, but he thought she loved him enough to cope with it. But in the end, she'd had no choice but to choose between him and Jimmy-- and she'd picked Jimmy.
In the empty darkness of his room, he blinked tears away. He hadn't talked to her in three months, and he'd struggled to forget their last conversation. He'd struggled to forget her.
But he couldn't.
His hand slipped down to encircle his cock again, and he moved it hard, thinking of her bright, happy smile, the way her hair gleamed in the sunlight, the way her mouth tasted. A flash of heat burst through him, and a long, low rumble of pleasure rose from his throat as he climaxed, every muscle in his body straining, his come spurting over his stomach and chest in violent spasms.
And then he fell back against the pillow, gasping for breath.
As the physical pleasure ebbed, the dark emptiness of his life pressed down on him, smothering him. He kept jerking off in order to comfort himself, but the truth was it wasn't much comfort. He missed Chloe so badly it hurt. He'd always thought the term heartache was only an expression, but now he knew exactly what it meant, because there was a pain in his chest that just wouldn't go away.
Over the past three months, he'd thought a million times of going to her and begging her to rethink her decision, to choose him instead of Jimmy. But every time he'd gone to Metropolis, he'd seen her and Jimmy together. And she looked happy. Really happy. He remembered that broad smile from when they were in high school, before she knew his secret. Before he'd complicated her life so badly.
The truth was, Chloe was better off without him in her life. It hurt to admit it, but he hadn't seen her smile like that for a long, long time.
He wiped off his stomach and chest with the sheet-- he'd need to do laundry tomorrow, before his mom got back-- and rolled over, away from the wet spot. He wrapped his arms around his pillow and pressed his cheek against it. Tears ran down his face in the dark, but he didn't bother to wipe them away.
Sleep wasn't easy to find. But eventually he began drifting back into unconsciousness. In the last moment before he fell asleep, he whispered her name once more in the darkness.
But there was no answer. There was never an answer.
He was alone.