Season 5, after "Fanatic"
Rating: Adult. If you're under eighteen, please go elsewhere now.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the WB and DC Comics, not to me.
Clark didn't wait around to be grounded. He moved in a quick blur of motion, and two seconds later he was standing in a field some distance away with Chloe in his arms, both of them fully clothed.
"Where the hell are we?" Chloe blinked, looking bewildered. "What happened?"
"We're in the back forty. My dad was coming." He knew he was a wimp, but the last thing he wanted was a confrontation with his father right now. The truth was that he knew his dad would have some good points to make. He was a teenager, and he really shouldn't be having sex with a girl he wasn't even dating. But right now he just didn't want to argue about it.
Fortunately the back forty was surrounded by trees, so even in the middle of the day it was pretty well private. And private was exactly what he wanted right now. He didn't want to have to listen for his parents' footsteps, or worry about getting caught. He just wanted to be with Chloe.
"But our clothes--" She looked down at herself. "How did our clothes get back on?"
He grinned, amused by the perplexed look on her face. "Superspeed is your friend, Chlo."
"What about my bra?"
"It was kind of destroyed. Sorry. But don't worry, I put it where my dad won't find it." He'd stashed it in his trunk in the loft, where he kept all his mementos. He figured the shredded remnants of her bra were a memento he'd want to keep for the rest of his life.
He put her down gently, but she didn't move away from him. Her arms remained twined around his shoulders, and her body pressed against his, all the way down. She slid her calf between his legs, angling her hips against his a little more firmly, and he realized with shock he was getting hard again. After all that, after everything they'd done, after a climax that had totally rocked his world... he was already thinking about doing it again.
She rubbed against him, her eyes going smoky and dark with lust, and he realized she was getting turned on, too. He could smell the sweet fragrance of the moisture welling up between her thighs. "Mmmm. Clark."
"We need to stop," he said hoarsely, closing his own eyes. "We need to go interview some people, remember? We need to figure out what's happening..."
Her hips moved against his, and arousal beat at him in pounding waves. "What's happening," she said softly, "is that we've both been dreaming about each other, and it's making us crazy."
"Yeah, but..." She brushed against him a little more firmly, and the thoughts in his head suddenly shattered like crystal against flagstone. He struggled to put them back together in some sort of recognizable pattern. "We need to figure out why we're dreaming. What's causing it. If we're really dreaming about what we want, or just... oh, God, Chlo. Stop."
Her hands had shoved his shirt up, and her mouth was trailing over his chest in warm, delicious caresses. He shuddered, consciously holding his hands an inch or two away from her, even though he really wanted to touch her, too. But he was already way too worked up, and he knew it. He really wanted to strip her naked again and let his hands run all over her warm satin skin, touching her everywhere, his fingers clutching her, digging gently into her flesh...
But he couldn't do that. He might hurt her, and he didn't want to risk that. He curled his hands into fists, every bit as tight as the knots her touch was tying in his gut right now.
Her lips brushed over the sensitive skin just below his collarbone, and he whimpered. She laughed softly.
"You know your dad heard us earlier, right?"
He remembered the sound of workboots headed in their direction, angry, rapid footfalls striding toward the barn. "We were pretty loud," he answered, his eyes shut tightly as her lips brushed over his skin. "I tried to keep quiet, but I couldn't."
"Me neither." She kissed her way down his chest, then bent her knees and trailed kisses over his abdomen. When her lips brushed over his navel, and then even lower, he felt his knees go weak.
"I liked it when you went down on me, Clark." She brushed her fingers over the fly of his jeans. "Have you dreamed about me, you know, kissing you there?"
His cock throbbed against his jeans in a fierce surge of lust, and he gritted his teeth together. "Uh, maybe. Just once." And that was true, but it had been a hell of a dream. "But I... no, Chlo, I really don't think..."
She didn't listen to his demurral. She was already unfastening his jeans, slowly lowering the zipper, shoving his boxers out of the way, and he couldn't stop her, because he was already so turned on he couldn't touch her for fear of hurting her.
Oh, hell, he was kidding himself. He didn't want to stop her.
She went to her knees in front of him, and her hand wrapped around his cock. It was so erect it pointed to the sky, and she pulled it down gently, then leaned forward. He couldn't stop himself from looking down, enjoying the sight of her hand wrapped around him again. His cock was so filled with heat it was dark pink, almost red, and the sight of her little white hand on him, squeezing and caressing the swollen flesh, made him ache for release even worse than before.
Her hand moved on him, up and down, pulling the delicate skin tight and then releasing it, over and over again. Then she bent forward and stroked her tongue over the very tip of his cock, where he was already wet with precome, and so sensitive that the light brush of moisture felt incredible. He groaned, dropping his head back.
"I've dreamed about this an awful lot," she whispered, licking him again. Her tongue explored him delicately, caressing and tasting, and pleasure shivered through him. He thought vaguely that he was a little surprised she'd been dreaming about this-- he'd always figured it was a guy fantasy, not a girl fantasy. But maybe he didn't know everything there was to know about girls.
Ha. He obviously didn't know the first thing there was to know about girls.
Anyway, he'd enjoyed exploring her body, so he supposed it figured she'd like exploring his, too. And he sure as hell wasn't going to stop her. Even if she was just making love to him because of her dreams, he was pretty sure that on some level, she'd always wanted to make love to him.
And on some level, he'd wanted to make love to her too. He was pretty certain about that, too. It was tempting to try to dismiss his physical attraction to her as something the dreams had induced, but he remembered sexual fantasies he'd had about her over the years. He remembered almost kissing her in an elevator. He remembered practically making love to her when he was high on red kryptonite.
He still wasn't sure that making love to Chloe was truly what he'd most wanted, his very deepest desire, but it was definitely on the short list.
Her tongue slid up and down the shaft of his cock, exploring him thoroughly. Since he'd made love to her just a few minutes ago, it occurred to him that he must taste like both of them. He had a vague concern she might find that to be kind of gross, but she didn't seem to mind.
"Mmmm," she whispered. "You taste like sex."
At the words, his erection spasmed harder than ever. What she was doing felt like sex, like pure, unadulterated porn, raunchy and raw and hot. He liked it. He liked it a lot.
Sighing and moaning with pleasure, he watched through half-shut eyes as she slowly licked her way back to the head of his cock and opened her lips.
No, he thought, knowing that what she was about to do could seriously make him lose control. I am not going to let her do that. She could get hurt.
But his hips jerked, ignoring his brain's input, and suddenly he was inside her mouth, and her lips were closing on him, and she was... oh, God.
He'd dreamed about this in vivid, Technicolor detail, dreamed about her making love to him this way, dreamed about thrusting between her lips until he came in the hot, wet depths of her mouth, and the memory of his dream made it impossible for him to pull away. His brain simply shut down and quit functioning, and his body did what it wanted to do. What she wanted him to do.
He did try really hard not to move against her too hard, because he was fairly sure she wasn't an expert at this, and he didn't want to hurt her. It was pretty obvious she hadn't done this too often, because as her mouth moved up and down his shaft, her teeth grazed him occasionally, in a way that probably would have hurt, if he were capable of being hurt. Fortunately he was invulnerable, and it didn't really bother him. He was too entirely focused on the heat and the suction to worry about her teeth, anyway.
He leaned his head back, sobbing, gasping for breath, crying out to the blue sky above. He could barely restrain himself from digging his hands into her hair and capturing her, pulling her closer. But he was afraid of hurting her, of yanking handfuls of her hair out or cracking her skull, so he clenched his hands into fists instead and kept them at his sides. He struggled not to thrust into her mouth, but despite his best intentions he sank more deeply into her warmth.
She didn't seem to mind. Her mouth grew more confident, more relentless, sucking harder, sliding along the shaft in a faster and faster rhythm. His balls drew up against his body, and his cock jerked violently, and he moaned her name in a vague protest.
"Chloe. Oh, God, Chlo, oh, God, you need to stop, oh God..."
She didn't stop. She didn't even slow down. He gritted his teeth, struggling to shove his orgasm away, but he didn't have the power to stop it, or even to hold it back a little. Things had suddenly gone way, way beyond his control.
He felt the first hard spasms in his balls, the first rush of heat, heard his own voice raised in a helpless cry. So good, he thought. So fucking good.
And then he wasn't thinking any more, not at all. His mind and his body were just a blur of ecstasy and fire and sheer sexual release. It felt as good as he'd dreamed. No, even better. Loud sounds came out of his throat, noises of rapture and surrender and unbearable pleasure, and it occurred to him vaguely it was a damn good thing they'd moved further from the house.
She didn't let up, her hot, eager mouth sucking every last drop from him, drawing every last spasm from his cock, every last shudder from his body. At last she pulled away from him, and he fell to his knees in the grass and bent forward, pressing his face into her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him and held him while he gasped for breath. At last he lifted her head and looked into her smiling face.
"Chloe," he whispered, cupping her face in his hands, very gently. "God, Chlo. That was better than any dream I've ever had."
Read Chapter 7 here.