Season 6, "Progeny"
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 RichardAK.
And then I crashed into you
And I went up in flames
Could've been the death of me
But then you breathed your breath in me
Chloe's body felt really good against his, but some deep instinct made Clark want to stretch out with her. He fell to the side, pulling her over with him. Not comfortable, unfortunately. His feet stuck over the arm of the couch, and his side was hanging over the edge. The old red couch just wasn't long or wide enough, because he was a pretty big guy.
Still, Chloe's body felt perfect, even if the couch didn't. Her legs intertwined with his, and her hand ran over his chest, her mouth following behind it. Even though she was kissing him through his t-shirt, it felt really good. He wondered what it would feel like to have her hands and mouth on his bare skin, and the thought sent a shudder through him.
He wanted to put his hands all over her, to push her shirt up or maybe just yank it off entirely, and run his palms all over her soft skin. But he reminded himself this wasn't about lust, but about reassurance.
Her hips shifted, and her jeans brushed against his hard-on, and all of a sudden they were aligned perfectly. His eyes drifted closed, and he knew he was lying to himself.
This was totally about lust.
Their bodies moved together, as smoothly and easily as if they'd been lovers for years. She felt right against him, perfect against him. What they were doing felt intimate, every bit as intimate as making love.
It was more than just lust, he thought. Although he had to admit there was quite a lot of lust involved. He ached to be inside her, to be part of her...
At that thought his eyes snapped open, and he looked around, remembering where they were. A dank, dusty, smelly old barn. Not really the right place for lovemaking, in his opinion. Chloe deserved a lot better than this.
She seemed to sense his hesitation, because she lifted her head and glared at him. "You're thinking again. Aren't you?"
"No." She moved against him, in a very deliberate way that made him throb. "Stop thinking, right now."
"But I don't..."
She moved a little faster. "You think too much, Clark. You've always thought too much. Can't you just let things happen? For once in your life?"
With every movement, pleasure crashed over him like waves slamming into the shore, and he closed his eyes and struggled to keep his brain functional. "It's just... this isn't the right... place for this, Chlo. I mean, it's a barn. Maybe if we..."
"No." She lowered her head so that her words were muffled against his throat. He could feel her lips moving against his skin, her breath brushing over him, and he shivered. "If we get off this couch, if we stop touching each other, we're going to start thinking again. We need to stop thinking so much. If we didn't think so much, we would have been lovers a long time ago. But every time we start thinking, we come up with some new reason not to get together."
Her body against his felt so good he couldn't imagine being able to come up with any reason for them not to get together. Except...
"Jimmy," he gasped, his face in her hair. "What about Jimmy?"
"Oh, damn it." She made a growling sound. "You just had to bring that up, didn't you?"
"He's not a that, Chlo. He's your boyfriend."
"I didn't mean it that way. I just meant..." Her hands dug fiercely into his shoulders, and she mumbled against his t-shirt, her voice a soft, intense whisper. "Clark. I want you."
Goddamn it. He was doomed. Totally doomed. Those soft words stole away every ounce of common decency or morals he'd ever had. And it wasn't just the words, either. Her body was still moving against his, soft and warm and so good against his. Her sweet fragrance filled his nostrils, and her breasts pressed against his chest. He was about to come right in his jeans-- and he wanted to.
He didn't really give a damn about Jimmy Olsen or Lana Luthor or what his mom would think or anything else. Right now the only person in the world he cared about was Chloe.
Even so, he gave it one more try. "Chlo," he whispered, letting his hands fall to her hips and stilling the motion of her body. He was so close to coming that he could feel his skin growing damp with sweat, and every movement sent a throbbing pulse of need through him. "We shouldn't..."
"Clark." She lifted her head and looked into his eyes. "I kissed you last year, when everything was crashing down around our ears. I thought it was the end of the world... and I kissed you."
He stared into her eyes, trying to figure out where she was going with this. "I remember," he said hoarsely, remembering the way she'd thrown her arms around his neck, remembering the way he'd held her in response. "Believe me, I remember. But the world isn't ending now, Chlo."
"Not exactly." Her voice dropped even lower. "But any day now, my meteor powers might manifest, and then everything might change for me. I don't know what's going to happen. I don't know if I might go crazy, or catatonic, or what. But either way..." She stared at him, her eyes dark and intense. "My world might be ending, Clark."
He looked at her a moment longer, remembering the horrible blankness in Moira's expression. He was painfully conscious it could happen to Chloe, too. He thought about her vivid face going blank, her bright eyes fading into dullness. He imagined never seeing her smile again.
A world without Chloe's smile in it would be terribly empty.
He remembered Moira's voice saying, You're in love with her. He tried to deny it, but his denial had lost a lot of its strength in the past few minutes. He wanted her so badly, ached for her so badly, that he couldn't deny he had some feelings for her, even to himself.
And, yeah, that shouldn't come as a surprise, really. He loved her. He knew he loved her. He'd loved her as a friend for years and years. And so naturally the idea of being without her was... dismaying.
Which was all well and good, but not a completely reasonable explanation for why he was on the verge of ripping her clothes off and screwing her, without any concern for the fact that she had a boyfriend.
"Chloe." His voice was low and harsh. "Don't talk that way. Please."
She looked into his eyes unflinchingly. "I'm a reporter, Clark. I deal with truth. Even when the truth hurts."
He thought about her mind falling into darkness, for the rest of her life, and pain struck into his heart, as real and intense as a shard of kryptonite. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down, onto his chest, and held her tightly.
"No," he whispered into her hair. "Don't go away, Chlo. Don't ever go away."
"I wish I could promise that." Her voice sounded choked. "But I can't."
He blinked hard, remembering her voice saying, My world might be ending.
For the first time, it occurred to him that the world as he knew it might be ending too.
And I crashed into you
Like a runaway train
You will consume me
But I can't walk away
Clark continued talking, telling Moira about Chloe being valedictorian of their class, about the insanely late nights she worked at the Planet, about her passionate love for frappuccinos, about the various times she'd saved his life. But he could tell Moira wasn't really listening any more. Her eyes looked vacant, and she stared out the window, barely aware of his presence.
At last the door opened, and he got to his feet and walked across the room. Chloe bounced in, carrying bags and wearing a determinedly jaunty expression on her face. "Hey," she said cheerfully. "I brought sandwiches. And I realized I don't know which ones you like, Mom, so I just bought one of each..."
"Chloe," Clark broke in. "I don't think your mom's hungry."
"Hey there." She turned toward him, smiling hopefully, as if she thought he could solve everything, make all this right somehow. He hated knowing that he couldn't. "Have you talked to Oliver about setting up a safe place for her to stay in Star City?"
"Chloe." He spoke very gently. "We have a problem."
Chloe looked at his serious expression, then put the food down on a table and walked over to her mother. Moira didn't turn her head at her daughter's approach. She seemed lost in thought as she stared out the window.
"Mom," Chloe whispered. "Mom?"
"I..." Moira spoke with difficulty. "I wanted to see a blue sky... one last time."
Clark could see Chloe forcing a smile onto her lips as she knelt in front of her mother. "There'll be plenty of blue skies where you're going, mom. You're not going to be be locked inside anymore. Okay?"
"Sweetheart..." Moira seemed to be forming the words very slowly and carefully. "I'm slipping back."
Chloe started to shake her head in denial, and Clark stepped toward her, then hesitated. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her, but he didn't want to intrude on her last moments with her mother. "Chloe," he said gently. "The drug that Lex used on your mom -- she only stays lucid twenty-four hours. She doesn't have much time left."
Chloe lifted her chin. "I'll go talk to Lex, then. I'll make a deal with him."
"No," Moira said. Her voice sounded a little firmer, a little less distant. "No deals with that man. I can't allow it."
"Mom..." Chloe's voice broke. "I already lost you once. I won't let it happen again. If this drug is out there, I can get it, trust me." She glanced over her shoulder at Clark. "I have some pretty amazing resources at my disposal."
"No. Being with you again..." Moira made a noise somewhere halfway between a chuckle and a sob. "It's the greatest gift I could have ever been given. But I... I'm dangerous, Chloe."
"No, Mom. That's not true."
"It is true. My ability to control people with powers-- it's like I'm a human weapon. And I--I can't -- I can't allow it. I can't let it happen."
"But Mom... it doesn't have to be like this."
Moira turned her head with an obvious effort and looked into her daughter's eyes. "My little cub reporter," she said gently, holding out a little bracelet that looked like it had once adorned a child's wrist. "This... this belongs... to you."
"No, Mom." Chloe's voice broke. "Please. Please don't go, mom -- not yet. Not again."
Moira's voice was very soft. "I... love you... Chlo-- Chloe..."
Her voice trailed off, and her eyes went entirely blank. There was a long silence. At last Chloe bent her head and whispered, "I love you, too, mom."
And then she clutched the bracelet in her hand, her shoulders jerking in convulsive, silent sobs, and Clark couldn't stay on the other side of the room any more. He'd never been able to walk away from her when she was grieving. He went over to her, knelt beside her, and put his arms around her.
She turned her face into his shoulder and cried.
Read Chapter 5 here.