Spellbound, Chapter 8

Clark/Madeline/Chloe
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.

Clark lowered his head, because Chloe was eleven inches shorter than he was, and even standing on tiptoe she couldn't quite reach his lips. Their mouths touched lightly, and pleasure brushed over his nerves, expanding like ripples in a pond from his lips to his whole body.

His arms slid around her waist in an instinctive reaction, and he pulled her toward him. Suddenly he found he was as hard as granite, and her abdomen felt good against his aching erection. She put her arms around his shoulders and moved sinuously against him, and he moaned.

Her hand slid down his shoulder, over his chest, and he flinched violently, letting go of her and jumping away.

He stood there, breathing heavily, staring at her, and she stared back at him, her eyes wide with surprise. But she couldn't possibly be as surprised as he was. He hadn't had the slightest intention of moving... he'd just reacted, somehow.

"Hey," she said softly. "Easy, Clark. I won't hurt you. I'd never hurt you, even if I could."

"I know that," he answered, his voice shaking. "I just... it just..."

When her hand had slipped over his pecs, he'd gotten a horrible flash of Madeline's nails ripping into his skin, and he'd just freaked. He knew Chloe wasn't Madeline, but the memories were still there, and they were too fresh and vivid to be ignored.

"It's okay," she said softly, stepping toward him. He shied back, like a nervous thoroughbred, but she reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. Her touch was very gentle and careful, and he felt some of the anxious fear drain out of him.

He stood still and let her touch him.

Her hand slid over his collarbone, exploring the ridges and valleys of his bones and muscles through his t-shirt, and then her fingers slipped down across his chest, just a bit. He jerked again.

"Take it easy," she whispered.

"I am taking it easy."

"Yeah, that's why you're shaking. Relax, Clark. I'm not Madeline, okay?"

"She looked like you," he said, his voice low. "She sounded like you. She even smelled like you."

"I know. But I'm not her. I tried to stop her, Clark. I swear."

He realized he was making her feel guilty, and he tried really hard to relax under her hand. He didn't want Chloe to feel guilty for what had happened, because it hadn't been her fault, any more than it had been his.

Her hand slid over his pecs again, and he managed not to freak out. Then her hand moved to the center of his chest, exactly where Madeline had clawed him worst, and he jolted again. The image of blood trickling down his thighs rose up in his mind again, and nausea and panic rose in his throat, choking him, making his pulse race with nerves.

Her other hand lifted to his hair, stroking reassuringly, and he somehow managed not to bolt away from her and superspeed down the stairs. She lifted her face, standing on tiptoe, and he kissed her again, a little less tentatively. Her lips parted, and his tongue flicked shyly into her mouth and brushed against hers, for just a second, before retreating.

"Mmmm," she whispered against his lips. "Do that again."

Clark. Kiss me.

He remembered her saying that when he was chained. That hadn't been Madeline, but Chloe. And on some level he'd known that, and hadn't been able to stop himself kissing her. He couldn't stop himself now, either.

He opened his mouth and let his tongue touch hers more assertively. Their tongues slid together in a gentle, affectionate caress, and suddenly he was so rigid that it hurt.

Their mouths fused together, and he pulled her body against his more firmly, needing warmth and affection more than he'd ever needed anything, needing her gentle touch to help erase everything Madeline had done to him from his memory.

Her hand brushed over his cheek, and suddenly he heard an echo of Madeline's voice, saying, Demonstra. He jerked away again and involuntarily went into superspeed. He came to a halt on the other side of the loft, near the window.

"Wow," she said, staring at him. "You really are fast."

He could feel his chest heaving with panic, and he lowered his gaze and studied the floor, because it was easier than looking back at her. "This is just a really bad idea, Chlo. We should just give it up."

"I don't think so. You're scared half out of your mind, Clark. You need to get past this somehow."

"I can't get past it." He could barely speak through the tightness in his throat. "Not right now."

"Sure you can." She walked toward him, and he managed to keep his feet nailed to the floor, even though he really wanted to run again. She took his hand and tugged him toward the couch.

"Lie down," she said.

He blinked at her. "Uh..."

"Humor me. Lie down."

Confused, he stretched out on the couch. She sat down beside him, took his wrists, and pulled his arms up over his head, in a position that reminded him of the way he'd been chained. Fear flooded him, but he pushed it back, reminding himself that she couldn't hold him here unless he permitted it. He wasn't powerless, and unlike Madeline, she couldn't make him do anything he didn't want to do.

Not that he really thought Chloe would ever make him do something he didn't want to do.

"Keep your hands right there," she told him, one hand pinning his wrists down against the cushions. Her hand was small, and couldn't begin to encircle his wrists, but she flattened her hand against him, holding him down. "I'm going to touch you, and you're just going to lie there and let me do it."

"Uh... I don't think this is such a great idea."

"Sure it is." Her free hand slid over his cheek, very carefully, then started to trace the whorls of his ear. He tried hard not to moan, because it felt really good. Her hand slipped down over his throat, tracing the tendons, and this time he couldn't quite hold back a moan.

Her hand reached down and tugged at the hem of his shirt. He sat up a bit, so she could remove it, and didn't object when she pushed him back down, his arms still over his head. Now he was half naked, just like he'd been when he'd been chained, and the memory made him more nervous than before.

She bent and brushed a kiss over his bare chest, and he instantly thought of Madeline, clawing him and then licking the blood from his skin. He jerked nervously, but her hand tightened on his wrists, and she spoke softly.

"It's okay, Clark."

He made a conscious effort and somehow managed to relax. Her mouth felt good against his skin, and every now and then her tongue slid out to taste him. He liked the way it felt, especially when her tongue brushed over his nipple. His hard-on started to throb, and he moaned again.

"Chloe."

Her mouth moved lower, toward the part of him that was throbbing, and he moved restlessly underneath her, racked with physical need and mental anxiety. Her hand released his wrists, and he started to move his hands toward her in an automatic response, wanting to touch her, but she spoke.

"No, Clark. Keep your hands over your head."

He didn't really like keeping his hands in this position. It made him feel exposed and vulnerable, and was all too reminiscent of the way he'd been chained. Which he supposed was the point. He dropped his hands back on the couch and tried to enjoy what she was doing, without thinking about what Madeline had done to him.

Her mouth brushed over his navel, then over the light dusting of hair beneath it. The skin there was very sensitive, and his cock reacted to the nearness of her mouth with a predictable jerk of need. She apparently noticed the movement through the denim, because her hands moved to his waistband, and she began unbuttoning his jeans.

"Uh, Chloe..."

"It's okay," she assured him again. She unzipped his jeans and pushed them and his boxers out of the way, then stared at his erection with big eyes. All of a sudden he remembered he wasn't the first guy she'd done this with.

Irrelevant, he told himself firmly. It was stupid to worry about it. If he'd had any sense, he would have started dating her in their freshman year, and then she never would have hooked up with anyone else. But what had happened in the past didn't matter all that much.

It was where they went from here that mattered.

She looked at him so long he started to feel uncomfortable. Maybe there was something weird and alien about him, after all, he thought, although he knew perfectly well there was nothing visibly alien about his anatomy. Anyway, he felt really vulnerable, and her staring didn't help. He wiggled uncomfortably beneath her. "Look, Chlo, I think..."

"Do you ever quit talking?" She lifted her eyebrows as she looked up at him. "I know you're freaked out, Clark, but I'm not going to hurt you. Honest."

"I know that." His voice sounded hoarse to his own ears. "But I don't want you to think I'm... I'm using you or anything."

"You're not." Her mouth lowered, brushing over his swollen cock, and he jumped in shock. "We both went through a lot, Clark. I figure we can help each other get over it."

He was obviously weak, because the minute her mouth touched him, he lost all ability to object. He couldn't object, not while she was doing that. Her lips explored him, very slowly and carefully, and he closed his eyes and arched up against her, entirely helpless to stop his responses. He thought vaguely he ought to be scared, because Madeline had done this to him too, but she'd perverted the intimacy by using it to hurt him, to show him who was in charge.

Chloe wasn't using it as a power play. She was just trying to make him feel good.

And she was definitely succeeding.

Her lips moved up toward the sensitive head of his cock, and then her tongue slipped over him there, and he gave a long, low moan.

He didn't think of Madeline, because he couldn't think at all. His brain simply shut down as sensation poured through him, reducing him to a mindless, quivering mass of jelly. He arched his head back, little gasping sounds emerging from his lips, his heart pounding wildly.

And then she took his erection in her hand, pulled it toward her, and very gently took him between her lips.

A strangled cry escaped him. He tried not to thrust, because he knew she wasn't any sort of expert at this, but he couldn't quite stop himself from pushing up into her mouth a little deeper. She didn't seem to mind, and the heat and suction drove all his dark demons away, replacing them with something a lot warmer and brighter. He couldn't think dark thoughts when he was experiencing this kind of overwhelming physical pleasure. In fact, he couldn't think any thoughts at all.

He gave into her completely, pushing into her mouth a little more, then withdrawing and thrusting again. He was barely aware that he was groaning her name, over and over again. Heat built in him, and he felt the familiar squeezing sensation in his balls that meant he was about to come.

"Chloe," he gasped. "Chloe, stop."

He didn't really want her to stop, but he didn't think she'd particularly appreciate several mouthfuls of-- well, he just figured she'd want to quit about now. She lifted her head, and he almost sobbed at the loss of the heat, even though he'd been the one to tell her to stop.

She stood up for a second, kicked off her shoes, yanked off her Journalists do it on keyboards shirt, and shoved her jeans and panties to the floor. He barely had time to realize that she'd just stripped naked, right in front of him, before she straddled him. He kept his hands over his head and just stared at her, watching her breasts jiggle and bounce as she took his cock in her hand and guided him into her body.

She felt so good, wet and hot and soft, and he couldn't imagine how he'd ever wondered if he could get off on normal sex, because he was so close to exploding right now that he was a little embarrassed by the desperate little noises he was making. She was incredibly tight, and he remembered she'd only done it once. Well, twice, if you counted Madeline. He'd screwed her pretty brutally, because Madeline had driven him to the point of madness, and he wondered if she was sore. But she didn't wince as he entered her, only pressed down on him with a look of shocked wonder on her face.

It was that expression that made him totally lose it. Her lips were parted, her eyes bright, and she looked like she'd never imagined it could feel this good. At the pleasure on her face, he couldn't restrain himself any longer, and he slammed up into her, hard, his body sinking deeply into hers. She moved on him, sliding up and down in an instinctive motion. His hard-on spasmed, and his balls went taut, and he closed his eyes and sobbed and thrust into her violently as a long, intense climax rocked him.

He cried out and arched wildly beneath her, and she didn't stop moving till his spasms died away. Then she leaned forward and dropped a kiss onto his chest.

"See?" she said, her voice muffled against his skin. "I told you. You're no pervert. Not much of one, anyway."

He couldn't believe how good making love to her had felt. No pain, just sheer physical pleasure and sweet intimacy that helped wash away some of the memories of the awful, twisted sex he'd experienced with Madeline. And he'd sort of liked having her take charge. He was surprised to realize he didn't mind being a little submissive, as long as it didn't involve pain.

He opened his eyes and looked at the blonde tangle of hair on his chest, feeling a warm affection swell in his chest. "I don't think you got as much out of that as I did."

She looked up at him with an impish smile. "Maybe not quite as much."

He lowered his arms, putting one around her waist, and stroking her hair with the other hand. "Maybe I need to do something about that."

"I don't think I'd mind."

He ruffled her hair affectionately. "Me either." He looked into her eyes, seeing the steady affection that had always been there, that had never wavered, not even when he'd told her he was an alien. It wasn't every girl who'd make love to an alien, he thought wryly. He was damn lucky to have found the one girl in a million who didn't look at him strangely, even when he used superspeed or heat vision.

She lifted her eyebrows. "So what are you waiting for?"

An incredulous laugh escaped him. "Give me a break, Chlo. I need a little time to recover."

"Oh." She looked disappointed, although he could tell from the little smile curving her lips that she was just teasing him. "I guess your alien powers don't include super sexual abilities."

He laughed despite himself. "I don't think so. In some ways, I'm just an ordinary guy."

"And in some ways, you're not ordinary at all."

"Yeah." She was staring into his eyes again, and he looked back at her, spellbound by the expression on her face. She'd always looked at him with affection and trust, but now there was something more in her hazel eyes, something he couldn't quite pinpoint, but which made him feel very warm inside. "There are definitely some weird things about me, Chlo."

She reached up and put her hand against his cheek.

"I don't mind," she said softly.

He believed her. Chloe Sullivan was the one person in his life who'd always accepted his peculiarities, and the idea that he was an alien hardly seemed to faze her at all.

The thought that she accepted him for what he was turned him on, despite the climax he'd just experienced, and his cock twitched against her thigh. Her mouth curved.

"I thought you said you were just an ordinary guy in bed."

"Well..." He grinned despite himself. "Maybe not quite ordinary."

"Somehow I'm not surprised," she said with a smile, and bent to kiss him.

-The End-