Red Hotter

Manip by Khyla. Used with permission of the artist.
Kal/Chloe
Season 6
2800 words
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 more explicit than my usual stories.

Red Hot, Part 2
Sequel to Red Hot

I'll do whatever you want. Anything and everything.

Clark Kent is a shy Kansas farmboy, and ordinarily words like that, uttered in a sultry feminine voice, would scare the hell out of him. Tonight, though, he's not scared. Tonight, he's not really Clark Kent at all. Tonight, just for this one night, he's given up the pretense that he's Clark Kent, ordinary Midwestern guy.

Tonight he's Kal.

Kal is Clark's dark side, the side that emerges whenever he gets too near red meteor rocks. Kal isn't a particularly nice guy, and he sure as hell isn't shy or naive or quiet or any of those words that could be used to describe Clark. Kal's something of a horndog, and he doesn't have a problem with using women for sexual release. Not even his best friend, Chloe Sullivan.

Hell, especially his best friend. If he's going to be honest with himself-- and being honest is what Kal is all about-- he pulled out that little sliver of red K and stuck it in his pocket just so he could come over here, to Chloe's apartment, and screw her.

Not that he'd force her or anything. But her reactions so far have made it pretty clear she's perfectly okay with the idea of screwing. Her breathless words made it clear that she's fine with it. He remembers her voice whispering submissively, Anything and everything.

A few minutes ago he made her come, over and over again, until she was screaming for mercy, and now it's his turn. He's still kneeling between her thighs, and he looks over her relaxed, sprawled-out body, seeing satiation in ever line of her body, in the faint curve of her lips, in her heavy-lidded eyes. He wonders what he most wants from her.

He's had so many different fantasies about her over the years. Because yeah, she's his best friend, but she's also a very pretty girl, and he's a normal guy. Well, normal in that superstrong, superfast, able-to-shoot-fire-from-his-eyes kind of way. He's normal in the way he reacts to women, anyway, and it hasn't escaped his notice that Chloe's hot.

The taste of her is still on his lips and his tongue, and the scent of her is still in his nostrils. She tastes sweet and hot, like honey heated to the boiling point. She smells as intoxicating as the deep, rich brandy he once drank at the Luthor mansion. He wouldn't mind going down on her again, but his cock is pushing hard against his jeans, so hard he's not sure the fabric's going to hold. Levis weren't designed with Kryptonian cocks in mind, after all.

Anything and everything. He thinks about that, and wonders how he wants to go about this. Even as Kal, he's a pretty basic guy, with basic needs. Right now he just wants to get off.

That's pretty simple and straightforward. But the question is, how to get off? He thinks about unzipping his jeans and leaning over her, rubbing his cock against the smooth skin of her abdomen. Or maybe sliding between her breasts, then grabbing a breast in either hand and pushing them together, so he's thrusting into all that soft warm flesh, moving harder and faster until he comes all over her chest and throat.

At the thought, his cock jerks, and he distinctly hears the sound of a seam giving way. She must hear it too, because her eyes widen. He almost laughs at her reaction, but he doesn't, because it's a reminder that he's an awful lot stronger than she is. If his cock can rip its way through a pair of Levis, it can do her some real damage, too. Even as Kal, he can't totally let himself go with a woman.

He reaches down and unzips his jeans, shoving his boxers aside and taking his cock into his hand. His cock is swollen, a thick dark ivory shaft traced with blue veins, and the head of it is already wet. Her eyes get wider, and this time he does laugh at her expression of shock. He knows he's a little bigger than the average human guy-- well, okay, quite a bit bigger-- but he also knows he can fit into a human woman. So he's not worried about it, even though it looks like she might be.

His cock pulses in his hand, hot and eager for some action. It's so hard it hurts. He slides his hand up and down a couple of times, and beads of precome form at the tip, then trickle down the shaft. The movement of his hand against the ache of his erection gives him some measure of relief, and he imagines just jerking off and letting his come spurt all over her. It's a very tempting thought.

But then she sits up and reaches toward him, and his hand drops away. Her fingers trace the ridge around the head of his cock, and the touch of her hand feels so much better than his did that he can't stop his eyes from closing, can't stop himself from moaning. It's a long, low sound, full of need and hunger.

She touches him very gently, as if he's made of china instead of flesh, and his body quivers under her hand. She reaches out with her other hand, draws him to his feet, and pushes down his jeans and boxers. He'd like to be completely naked, but he knows if he takes off his jeans, he takes off the red K, and he doesn't want to regress to the stammering, shy farmboy. But he does strip off his shirt, and stands shirtless in front of her, hers to do whatever she wants with.

Anything and everything.

Her fingers trail down the shaft of his cock, moving along the top first, then tracing along the thick ridge underneath. Another deep moan resonates in his chest, and he pushes hungrily against her hand, wanting her to wrap her fingers around him so he can just thrust against her palm, over and over, till he comes in a long surge of fire.

She doesn't take the hint. Her fingers explore him, carefully, thoroughly, finding all his most sensitive places, until his head drops back and his spine arches. Her finger sliding over the slit at the very tip of his cock makes him cry out. Her thumb stroking over the tiny ridge of flesh just beneath the head makes him sob with pleasure. And her hand cupping his balls, rolling them gently against each other, makes his eyes roll back in his head.

He thinks he could come just from that, her hand holding his balls, testing the weight of them in her palm, playing with them gently and carefully. No one's ever touched him there before, and he didn't have a clue he'd like it this much. His balls begin to feel heavier and tighter, and he starts to crave release very badly.

But her hands lift and begin to run over his chest, stroking his shoulders and his ribs, then reaching around and sliding down along his back and over his ass. He shivers and can't stop himself from taking a step forward. His cock nudges against the soft knitted material of her nightshirt, and the soft fabric brushing over his exquisitely sensitive flesh feels good, so good that it wrenches another moan from him.

She looks down with a thoughtful look on her face, and then she's wrapping the fabric around him and beginning to stroke him with it.

The soft fabric and the gentle touch of her hand together are almost enough to send him over. He makes a low, animal noise of ecstasy. He can feel his legs shaking, can feel his skin beginning to grow damp. His legs never shake and he never perspires, so he's a little startled to find himself trembling and sweating like a human.

"Fuck, Chlo." His voice is hoarse and he can barely get the words out. "Chloe... please..."

"I'm not ready for you to come yet," she says softly, and he recognizes the words he said to her earlier. God. She can't make him wait any longer. He can't take it. Anyway, she was supposed to be submitting to him, doing anything he wants her to do. Wasn't she?

"What happened to anything and everything?" he asks through his teeth.

"I'll do anything you want, Clark. Everything you want." She looks up at him, and her lips curve in a sexy smile. "But on my own timetable."

The fabric doesn't stop stroking over him, and it feels so good he can't stop himself from thrusting into her hand, his hips jerking frantically. His cock is jerking too, quivering and pulsing like a living thing, and little high-pitched noises are coming out of his throat, noises of such stark desperation that he might be embarrassed if he wasn't so fucking turned on.

Her hand moves a little faster, and the soft fabric of her nightshirt feels incredible against him. "Shit," he groans, because he's about to come and there's nothing he can do to stop it. He's totally helpless beneath the touch of her hands. "Ahhhh. Shit. Yes. Chloe, God, I'm coming..."

And then she stops, and her fingers squeeze him, very gently but very firmly, her thumb pressing just beneath the head of his cock. He's still shuddering, but the overwhelming need to come fades, and he slowly realizes he's not on the verge of climax any more. Almost there, but not quite. That little squeeze was enough to pull him back from the edge.

His brain slowly starts functioning again, and he wonders where she learned that little trick. Probably from Jimmy, he thinks grimly. It figures she'd need to learn to slow him down. Jimmy doesn't strike Kal as having a lot of self-control. He's probably a selfish jerk in bed.

But Kal's dark thoughts about Jimmy fade from his mind, because she's stroking him with the fabric again, bringing him right to the brink and stopping him, over and over again, until his legs are trembling beneath him, the way a human's tremble after a fast ten-mile run.

"Chloe," he whispers at last, hoarsely. "Come on, Chlo, just finish it."

"The way you finished with me?" She smiles up at him, and there's a slightly evil cast to her smile. He realizes she's going to make him pay for what he did earlier.

Which is totally unfair, really. Because she loved it, or she wouldn't have screamed like that.

"I gave you the best orgasms of your life, Chlo. Don't deny it."

"I wasn't denying it. But you made me wait an awfully long time for them." She grins, and yes, it's a decidedly evil grin. She's obviously enjoying watching him squirm, listening to him whimper. "Now you're going to wait for yours."

She drops to her knees in front of him. Good place for her, he thinks. He spreads his legs a little, bracing his feet, and grinds his teeth together. But he can't stop another of those damn whimpers from escaping when her tongue flicks out and strokes, very lightly, over the head of his cock.

"Wow," she says softly. "You taste good, Clark."

He clenches his jaw harder, because her words are almost enough to make him come on their own. He likes the fact that she's into it that much, likes how honest and straightforward and purely sensual she is.

She licks him again, and he shudders.

Kal is undeniably a horndog, but he's stuck in Clark Kent's body, and Clark Kent doesn't go around having sex all the time. Which just goes to show that Clark is a moron, as far as Kal's concerned. Because this is the best freaking sensation he's ever experienced, and he really can't understand why Clark doesn't spend all his time trawling nightclubs for willing girls who'll do this.

Or hell, just get Chloe to do it. She's good. The girl has a talented tongue. Which figures, really-- she sure as hell exercises it enough, what with all that talking she does.

The vague thought occurs to him that he wouldn't enjoy this as much if this was just some random girl from a nightclub kneeling at his feet, but he tries to shrug it off. Yeah, Clark wanted to come over here because he has a secret thing for Chloe-- but Kal doesn't really care what woman he's with. Women are women. What's that old saying? All cats are black after midnight, that's it. In the dark, Kal figures any woman's tongue feels pretty much the same.

But they're not in the dark. The apartment is brightly lit, and there's a blonde in front of him, kneeling in front of him, stroking him with her tongue. It's not just some random girl-- it's Chloe.

And for some reason, that makes him so damn hot he can't stop those little whimpering sounds from escaping his mouth.

His hands drop to her head and dig gently into her hair. He doesn't want to hurt her, but he can't take being teased much longer. He's so swollen he aches, and he thinks his balls must be a bright shade of cobalt by now. He tugs her toward him, and she takes the hint, opening her mouth and letting him slide between her lips.

Her tongue continues to play with him, swirling around the tip of his cock and licking away all the precome, but now her lips are sucking on him too, and it's the best thing ever, better than clear fresh country air after days in the city, better than a rainshower after two weeks of summer drought. He loves the feel of her lips fastened around the head of his cock, but he needs more, needs it so damn badly that he can't stop himself from pushing into her mouth, just a little further.

She lets him slide in, and he can feel his cock resting on the soft velvet of her tongue. He wants to thrust really, really hard, and can barely restrain himself.

Kal isn't into restraint. But even though he's Kal right now, he has to hold himself back. He remembers the seam of his jeans giving way, and he knows he can hurt her. And he doesn't want to do that. He'd never want to do that.

Not that Chloe means something to him or anything.

It's just that she's really, really good at giving head.

Her lips slide further down his shaft as she takes more of him into her mouth, and he feels himself throbbing with a hard, irresistible beat. He's trying to resist it, though, because he isn't sure it's safe for him to come in her mouth. He doesn't want to choke her or hurt her somehow. But she doesn't let up, and the suction and heat just get more intense, and her mouth is moving on him, faster and faster.

He grits his teeth and tries to hold back. But then she reaches up with a hand and starts to stroke his balls again, cupping them, toying with them, rolling them together gently. And suddenly holding back isn't an option any more.

His voice lifts in a long, anguished cry as he comes in a violent cataclysm, his head arched back, his hips jerking spasmodically. He's flooding her mouth with come, torrents of it, and he can hear her swallowing it all down. It feels so good he can hardly bear it, but she doesn't give him any reprieve. Her mouth keeps sucking and sliding and licking, so that the spasms grow even more intense. He's pretty sure he's screaming as loudly as she was earlier, but he doesn't really care, because Kal doesn't give a fuck about what the neighbors might think.

All Kal cares about is pleasure. And right now he has plenty of that.

He gasps for breath as the heat of his orgasm fades away. He's still standing, barely, but his knees are trembling beneath him and his whole body is shaking. He's never felt anything like that before in his life, never. He wonders if it's the influence of the red K, or if it's something else.

Like a certain blonde who's looking up at him, smiling and licking her lips.

"Now," she says. "What comes next?"

He stares down at her. His body is worn out, but his brain isn't, and he's already thinking of all the other things he'd like to do with her. Once he recovers, he thinks, they have a busy night ahead of them.

He pulls his jeans up, zips them, and then bends and catches her up in his arms. She squeals as he tosses her over his shoulder and heads for the bed.

"Everything," he answers softly.

-The End-

Read the sequel, Red Hottest.