Thinking About It, Chapter 2

Clark/Chloe
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.

Clark felt his ears turn red. Hell, he was pretty sure his toes were blushing. "Uh," he said. "Uh, Chlo, I'm not sure that's such a good idea."

"Why not?" She crossed her arms and stared across the table at him, her chin tilting up in what he recognized as the dreaded Stubborn Look. Oh, God, he was in trouble. He was absolutely no match for Chloe in stubborn mode, and they both knew it.

"Um. Well. You know, you have a boyfriend. I mean, had a boyfriend."

"Had being the operative word here. There's no reason I can't have sex with another guy if I'm no longer dating Jimmy."

"Uh-huh. That's sort of a technicality. You know, maybe you should quit journalism and become a lawyer. You'd make a good one."

"Gee, thanks."

"The problem is that you still like Jimmy. I mean, a minute ago you said you love him."

"I think I love him," she corrected. "Although if I really loved him, I have to believe maybe I wouldn't keep thinking about you so much."

The words echoed his own thoughts of a few moments earlier, which kind of freaked him out. He and Chloe thought along such similar lines that it was scary sometimes. Just the result of having been friends for so long, he thought.

“Uh,” he said again. “I’m not really sure…”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Chloe set her mug down on the table with a clunk and glared at him. “What’s to think about, Clark? I want you. You want me. Why not go ahead and do it and get it all out of our systems?”

The idea of going ahead and doing it made heat surge through all his nerve endings, but he tried to ignore his body's reaction. “It’s not that simple, Chlo. We’re friends, and I don’t want to screw that up.”

“Yeah, we're buddies. So for just this once, we can be fuck buddies. What's wrong with that?”

He felt his cheeks heat further. “Chloe.”

She laughed softly at his remonstrative tone. “You’re such a Boy Scout, Clark. Don’t pretend you’ve never heard that word before.”

He'd certainly never heard her say it before. He did his best to look disapproving, for fear she might notice that the coarse word falling from her lips had seriously turned him on, to the point where he had to shift in his chair because his jeans felt really constricting all of a sudden. "It’s not very ladylike.”

“I’m not a lady, in case you haven’t noticed.”

"No kidding." He shook his head at her in a repressive gesture. "Let's not use that kind of language in my mom's house. She'd have a fit if she were here."

"But she's not here. It's just us."

He didn't need the reminder that they were alone. Another stab of arousal hit him, but he tried really hard to ignore it. "Still. Watch your language, Chlo."

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Chloe. Stop it.”

“You’re turning red.”

“I am not.”

He could feel his cheeks flaming, but he didn't want to admit it. It was like he was ten years old or something. The problem wasn't that the word shocked him, but that it was making him harder than before, and that made him blush.

She grinned evilly. “I bet you can’t say that word, Clark.”

“I could if I wanted to.” He took a sip of his coffee, trying to look dignified and calm, like he didn't have a hard-on the approximate size and shape of a missile straining against his jeans. “I simply choose not to.”

“You can’t say it, can you?” She quirked an eyebrow and looked at him. “Go ahead, Clark. Say the word.”

“Uh…” He opened his mouth, then shut it again.

“Say fuck,” she prompted.

He felt his cheeks getting hotter, and he started to get worried that his heat vision might go off. Blushing and heat vision tended to be intertwined where he was concerned, and he really didn't want to set the house on fire. And if he said it... he was going to. “I can’t," he admitted at last.

She grinned again. “I guess this is why I’ve never managed to get you into bed. You’re just too much of a prude.”

“I’m not a prude.” His inner fantasy life was as vivid and dirty as anyone else’s. At least he thought it was. But if he actually said the word, he was almost certain his heat vision was going to cut loose, and that would be totally embarrassing.

“You've managed to surprise me,” she said, stirring her coffee absently. “I know it's been a long time since you had sex. I honestly didn’t think you’d turn me down.”

It had been a long time, and the thought of doing it with her had his hormones all in an uproar, and his heat vision close to erupting. But his concern for their friendship held him back. “So what’s your excuse? It hasn’t been very long for you. I mean, you and Jimmy just broke up.”

“Actually,” she said softly, “it’s been even longer for me. I haven’t had sex since I was sixteen.”

His jaw dropped open, and he stared at her in shock. “Are you telling me you and Jimmy never…?”

“Yeah,” she admitted with a little sigh. “I wasn’t sure I was ready.”

He was shocked to realize she and Jimmy hadn’t ever consummated their relationship. Well, this relationship. He knew she wasn't a virgin, and he was pretty sure the “cute intern” she’d met all those years ago had been Jimmy, although he wasn’t certain.

But she and Jimmy had been dating for months, and apparently they hadn’t chosen to have sex. She wanted to have sex with him instead.

The idea that she’d hesitated to become intimate with Jimmy stunned him, and the notion that she'd rather have sex with him than Jimmy turned him on hugely. His hormones began clamoring more loudly than before, and his eyes burned fiercely.

She hadn’t been sure she was ready for Jimmy—but she was ready for him.

The thought made his throat tighten and his body ache. All of a sudden he was ready for her, too, in a big way. He put his mug down, stood up, and stalked around the table. He caught her by the hand and pulled her to her feet.

“Okay,” he said, gazing down into her eyes. “Let’s do it.”

Read Chapter 3 here.