Hold Onto Me, Chapter 3

Clark/Chloe
Season 6, "Freak"
Rating: Adult. If you're under eighteen, please go elsewhere now.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and DC Comics, not to me.
Based on a plot bunny by sullivanlane, used with permission.

Clark lifted his head just a bit, and suddenly he found himself kissing her on the mouth. She didn't seem to object. She kissed him back, clinging to him, her lips soft and moist and sweet. He was trying to keep things platonic between them, or at least PG-rated, but her tongue brushed against his lips, sending a shower of sparks through him, and suddenly keeping it platonic was the farthest thing from his mind.

Their mouths opened, their tongues twined together, and his arms tightened around her, pulling her against him more intimately than before. She felt good against his hard-on, so good that he couldn't quite stop himself from rubbing against her. She didn't seem to mind. She made a little mmmm sound and pressed against him harder.

His hands moved over her back, then eagerly slid up under her shirt. Her skin was warm under his questing hands, soft and entirely touchable, and he wanted to touch her more. A lot more. He found himself tugging her shirt off, but she didn't seem to mind. She yanked at his, too, and seconds later she was pressing against him, her upper body clad in nothing more than a very flimsy little lace and silk bra. His heart started to pound violently, and his hard-on pulsed with a craving he couldn't ignore.

"Clark," she whispered against his mouth. "If Jimmy comes back..."

"I'll listen for him," he promised. Her words reminded him that they had no business doing this right now. She was attached, involved in a supposedly committed and exclusive relationship, and her commitment wasn't to him. But those concerns seemed very vague and far away somehow. Right now he needed her so badly he couldn't seem to stop himself, and she evidently felt the same way.

Their kisses got more and more desperate, hot and almost frantic, and he went after her bra. He managed to get it unhooked, and then her soft breasts were pressed against his chest, and he knew he was in way over his head, and sinking fast.

He was drowning in lust, and he didn't give a damn.

His mouth was all over her, brushing against her shoulders, her throat, her breasts. Her eyelashes drifted shut, and she dug her fingers into his hair, leaned her head back, and moaned. Then she leaned forward and began kissing him. It was his turn to arch his head back, and little sounds came out of his throat that echoed hers, noises of pleasure and need and sheer desire.

Her hands drifted down his abdomen, and suddenly she was unbuttoning his jeans. He fumbled at hers as well, wishing she'd worn a skirt. But he unfastened the button on her pants and managed to shove them off, with some cooperation from her.

And then she was rubbing against him, absolutely nothing between them but the thin cotton of his boxers and the lacy nothingness of her panties. She felt hot against him, and he could smell her arousal with his acute senses, and the thought of how wet she must be made his cock jolt hungrily. He bent his head and kissed her throat again.

"This is wrong," she whispered into his hair.

"I know." He rubbed against her hard, his hips flexing, so that their bodies rocked together in a very sexual motion. "Totally wrong."

Her voice was very soft. "I wish we'd done this a long time ago."

"Me too."

He gave in to a primal impulse and bit her throat, very lightly. Almost instantly he wished he hadn't. He didn't especially want to hurt Jimmy-- he kind of liked the guy-- and he didn't want to make Chloe's life difficult. If he left a hickey behind, it'd be kind of hard for her to explain away to Jimmy.

Although maybe, he thought, that was precisely what was behind his impulse-- the instinctive desire to mark her as his, not Jimmy's.

He decided he didn't give a fuck about Jimmy's feelings right now. Chloe was his, and that was that, damn it. He bit her again.

She whimpered and pressed more tightly against him, and her movements felt so good he totally lost it. He shoved her panties down with rough, awkward movements, and she wiggled and managed to squirm out of them. Her hands pushed down his boxers, freeing his swollen erection, and then he caught her by the hips and lifted her just a bit.

She was as hot and wet and soft as he'd imagined, and he slipped into her effortlessly. Being inside her felt easy and right, so damn perfect that he flung his head back and gave a long, guttural growl, his teeth bared against the overwhelming pleasure. She uttered a soft whimper, and her hands dug into his shoulders at the same moment her body clenched around him. It felt so good he could barely hold back his climax.

She sank down on him, until he was all the way inside her, and he curled his fingers into her hips to stop her from moving. He was already way too close to the edge, and even though he didn't want Jimmy to come back and catch them at this, he didn't want it to be over in five seconds, either.

For a long moment they remained motionless, while lightning flashed, lighting her hair and her shoulders with silver. The only sounds were the thunder rolling overhead, the rain slashing against the windows, and the rough, ragged sound of their breathing. And her heartbeat. He could hear her heart pounding over every other noise, a fast, steady sound that told him clearly how aroused she was.

At last he loosened his grip, just a bit, and she rose up on her knees, moving upward so that he slid almost out of her, then sliding down again. An incredible rush of fire shot up his spine, flooding every nerve in his body with heat, and he hissed through his teeth at the raw pleasure.

She did it again, leaning forward so her bare breasts brushed against his chest, and he bit into her throat again, with a little more force. Not much-- because he could seriously hurt her, and he never wanted to hurt her-- but definitely hard enough to leave a mark.

"Clark." Her body was moving on his steadily now, and her breath came in gasps. "Oh, God, Clark, we shouldn't..."

"You could have been killed." He spoke fiercely against her throat, his body slamming hard into hers. "They abducted you. They hurt you. They could have killed you."

"I'm okay," she whispered into his hair, stroking his back in a comforting gesture. "Because of you."

"But I had to hurt you." He slid his arms around her, squeezing her against his chest protectively. "I hate hurting you, Chlo."

She kissed his ear, and he was pretty sure she understood what was driving him, the panic and the fear that had somehow turned into sheer need and desire, the long-held affection and trust that had somehow turned into devotion. When he'd had to use his heat vision on her, when he'd had to risk hurting her in order to save her, all his feelings for her had somehow been ripped apart and put back together in an entirely different pattern.

Somehow everything had changed between them.

Their bodies continued to move together, their rhythm slowly growing in speed and intensity, their hands and mouths touching more eagerly. Clark felt a fine film of sweat break out on his skin, and her back was damp beneath his hands, too. He flexed his hips a little harder, sinking into her even more deeply than before, and suddenly it was too much, too good, and he couldn't hold back his climax any more. He thrust hard, his back arching, and gave a long, low cry of pleasure as come erupted from him in a storm as violent as the one outside.

She cried out too, her body clenching around his, and he surged into her harder than before. Her body tightened around him, drawing spasm after relentless spasm of heat from him, until he gasped desperately for breath and writhed beneath her, until the ecstasy was almost unbearably intense.

At last her inner muscles relaxed, except for tiny little aftershocks, and she fell forward, collapsing against his shoulder. He fell back against the cushions, holding her against his chest, his arms wrapped around her in a protective, loving embrace.

"Chloe." His voice was soft and reverent. "God, Chlo."

"Clark." She rubbed her nose against his throat affectionately. "We need to get our clothes back on. Jimmy will be back soon."

At the mention of Jimmy, he stiffened in a sudden possessive anger, and she sat up, placing a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Easy, Clark. I'm going to talk to him. Just not right now, okay? He's already freaking out after everything that's happened, and it's not fair to dump this on him right this minute."

He lowered his head and looked into her eyes. "But you'll talk to him later?"

She put a hand on his cheek and looked at him with honest, forthright eyes.

"Yeah," she said softly. "I'll talk to him later."

Read Chapter 4 here.