Sex in an Elevator

Clark/Chloe
Season 4, "Bound"
Rating: Adult. If you're under eighteen, please go elsewhere now.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and DC Comics, not to me.

"Hi."

Her lips are only an inch or two away from his, and he can't quite figure out how that happened, or how he wound up against the wall of the elevator with her body pressed up against his. It's a weird situation, because he's rarely thought of Chloe Sullivan as female. They're just friends, after all. They've always been just friends.

But suddenly his body is announcing quite clearly that they're more than just friends, and that he's a freaking moron to never have noticed how sexy she is. His body's definitely aware that she's female, even if he's not, and it's suddenly making its awareness very, very clear.

He thinks he should probably push her away, but somehow he can't. His hand comes up, almost automatically, to grab her by the shoulder and hold her against him. With his other hand he reaches out and presses the emergency stop button. The elevator grinds to a halt, and he captures her other shoulder and lowers his head, kissing her roughly.

They're supposed to be looking for an earring, to help clear Lex Luthor of murder, and he's not quite sure how they wound up kissing instead. He's a little surprised by his own actions. He hasn't kissed many girls, and he's a little shy about his inexperience, because he knows he's definitely not an expert on kissing. But she doesn't seem to mind.

She makes a little sound in her throat, and her hands slide up, fisting in his hair and pulling him closer. The kiss gets deeper and wetter, and her body presses into his harder, probably because his hands have somehow dropped to her hips. Suddenly he's yanking her closer, his fingers curling into her soft ass, his hands rough and eager.

He knows they don't have much time, that someone will report the stalled elevator to maintenance. He pushes her up against the other wall and shoves her skirt up, grinding against her in a totally unsubtle way as he continues to kiss her in long, wet, desperate kisses. He can hear her heartbeat going faster and faster, can hear the little moans rolling out of her throat, can smell the soft, sexy scent of her arousal. Even through his jeans she feels so unbelievably hot that his cock is twitching, and he thinks he might come, like, right now.

Then her hands are moving around to his front, undoing his jeans and shoving them out of the way, and he's reaching up under her skirt-- which is not at all the way Clark Kent usually behaves-- and yanking her panties down. Now she's naked under the skirt, panting for breath, and he moves his hand a little and discovers that she's very wet and very ready. The moisture of her body on his fingers turns him on even more, and he explores her, his fingers sliding over her and into her until she whimpers, until she squirms against him. He moves his mouth away from hers and buries his face in her hair, gasping for breath.

"Chloe..." It's the first thing either of them have said since her "hi," and his voice sounds loud in the small space, even though he's barely whispering. He pulls his hand away, grabs her by the hips, and lifts her against the wall, so feverishly hot for her he doesn't even care if she notices his superstrength and wonders what the hell he's made of. Her hands dig into his hair harder, and her eyelashes flutter shut, her mouth falling open in an O of pleasure, as the broad head of his cock presses up against her warm, wet core.

"If you don't want this," he says between his teeth, "now would be a good time to say so."

"Oh, God." Her head falls forward, and she's whispering against his throat. "I've always wanted this, Clark. Always."

The sheer desperation in her voice makes him hotter than before. He's still not totally sure what he's doing-- he's a complete novice at this, after all-- but he has a pretty good idea of the basics, and his instincts help him along. He pushes into her, just a bit, and pleasure floods him, so intense and hot that he can barely hold back a yell of pleasure. He doesn't want anyone to wonder what's going on and investigate, though, so he manages to limit himself to a long, low groan.

The head of his cock is inside her, and she's hot and wet, and he has no idea if this is her first time, too. He doesn't know how to tell, and he's a little afraid of hurting her, but he can't stop now. But he tries to keep it slow, even though his body is shuddering with need, his skin is wet with sweat, and she feels better than anything he's ever felt before.

Her hands reach up under his jacket and shirt and slide over the slick bare skin of his back, and he responds, moving his hips so that he slides further into her. He's wanted this so long, and never admitted it to himself, never acknowledged that he sees her as a lot more than just a friend, that she's one of the sexiest women he knows. And that she means an awful lot to him.

His lips find hers again, and at the same moment he thrusts hard, and suddenly he's deep inside her. He can't stop himself from groaning again, and maybe this time it's actually closer to a yell, but at this point he doesn't give a damn who hears him. He's having quick dirty sex in an elevator with Chloe Sullivan, and God it's good. So impossibly good.

All thoughts of keeping it slow fade away under the onslaught of pleasure. He's thrusting hard and fast, without having made any conscious decision to do so, and heat spills through his nerves and scorches his veins. Goosebumps run over his skin in waves, and sweat is starting to drip from his forehead and trickle down his back. She's clutching him more tightly, and he wants to hold her tighter, too, but he's afraid of hurting her, so he consciously keeps his grip loose. Not too loose, just not tight enough to hurt her. Because she's his best friend in the world, and he would never want to hurt her. All he wants right now is to make her happy.

And then her body shudders, and squeezes his, and he hears a long wail come from her throat, and he's pretty sure that he's made her happy. Really, really happy. He lowers his head and kisses her again, hard, so as to muffle the sounds she's making. And maybe simply because he really wants to kiss her right now, as she climaxes.

He's definitely not an expert, but he can tell she's coming, because her body is contracting around his in long waves, and it feels so good that he can't stop his hips from jerking frantically against hers. He's grinding into her hard and fast, his frantic cries muffled against her lips, and then violent ecstasy jolts through him, tremor after tremor of a pleasure so extreme he can hardly stand it. It's long and intense and better than anything he's ever experienced, and he doesn't stop slamming into her until the very last shudder fades.

And then he's leaning against her tiredly, pushing her into the wall, and their arms are around each other, and her face is against his throat and his is buried in her hair. He doesn't know what to say, or where they should go from here. It's not a situation he ever expected to cope with in their relationship.

Chloe Sullivan is his best friend, and he's just done her in an elevator.

Not that he's complaining. He's simply not sure what to say or do next. And neither is she, apparently, because she's silent, which is not a normal state for Chloe.

For a long moment, the only sound is their breathing. At last he steps back from her, shoves everything back where it belongs, and zips up his jeans, and she pushes down her skirt and tries to smooth it down. They self-consciously avoid looking into each other's eyes. He reaches out and pushes a button, and the elevator starts again with a jerk.

He figures their friendship will start right up again the same way. Things might be a little bumpy at first, but they can get past this... if they want to.

The problem is, he's not sure he wants to go back to being just friends.

He remembers the way it felt to be inside her, and he knows he doesn't want things to go back to the way they were. And it's not just sex. It's like making love to her set a lot of feelings free he'd been keeping cooped up in little dark cells, and he doesn't think those feelings are going to go back into their imprisonment willingly.

The door slides open, and she smiles at him uncertainly. "I guess the earring isn't here," she says."

"Doesn't look like it," he answers.

She steps out of the elevator, her shoulders squared. "I guess you can't always find what you're looking for," she says, sounding like she's trying her best for brightness. But her voice wobbles a bit, as if she's close to tears.

"No," he agrees. "You don't always find what you're looking for." He follows her out of the elevator and puts an arm around her waist, pulling her against him in a gentle, one-armed hug. She looks up at him in surprise, and then her eyes start to brighten at whatever she sees in his face.

"Sometimes," he says, "you find something you weren't looking for at all."

Her eyebrows lift. "And is that a good thing?"

He holds her a little closer. It isn't a just-friends hug, and that's okay, because they're no longer just friends... if they ever were.

"Yeah," he answers. "That's definitely a good thing."

-The End-