Red Hottest

Kal/Chloe
Season 6
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.

Clark tosses Chloe down on the bed, none too gently. She sprawls on the dark green coverlet and looks up at him, seeing that he's staring at her with hot eyes. Literally. She can see the orange gleam of heat vision in his irises, can feel the warmth of his stare as he looks her over.

The warmth of his gaze slides over her abdomen, then up to her breasts. The warmth flowing over her nipples feels awesome. But as he stares at her, his eyes begin to grow so hot that it all but burns her.

"Clark," she says, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. "Take it easy with the heat vision."

Clearly startled, he jerks his head up and blinks a few times. "Sorry," he says gruffly-- and she's willing to bet Clark has never before said that word while under the influence of red K.

"It's okay," she says softly. "I kind of liked it, before it got too hot."

He lifts an eyebrow, like it never occurred to him heat vision could be used for foreplay, and then he's looking back down at her body. She can sense him concentrating, sense him working to keep his power confined within safe bounds. She knows what his heat vision can do, how hot it can get, and she knows it's dangerous, but she trusts him not to hurt her. Even on red K, she trusts him.

She feels the warmth move down her abdomen and over her thighs, and it somehow relaxes her muscles and turns her on at the same time. And then he's reaching down with his big hands and stripping off her nightshirt, then capturing her thighs and pushing them apart, so she's completely exposed to him once again.

The warmth of his gaze flows over her, moving from her pussy to her clit and back again, and it's almost like he's touching her there. The sensation makes the walls of her cunt squeeze with violent need, and she can feel a pulsing deep in her body. Her womb is aching for him. She got pretty turned on earlier, and now she's starting to tremble with the intensity of her desire.

She shifts on the bed, her hips moving, her body arching just a little. She's enjoying it, but at the same time she needs something more... direct. "Clark," she whispers. "Touch me."

He looks like he's considering the matter. There's a blur of motion, and a silk scarf appears in his hand. She realizes he supersped over to her dresser, rooted through her drawers, found it, and came back to the bed, all in a fraction of a second.

She remembers the way he responded to being touched through the fabric of her nightshirt, and apparently he remembers, too. He lifts the scarf and begins trailing it, very lightly, down her arm.

It almost tickles, but not quite, and goosebumps pop up all over skin as the silk caresses her. Her clit throbs, even though the scarf is only touching her arm. She squirms, and a soft moan of need rises up out of her throat.

The scarf lifts, then caresses her other arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps there, too. She can feel her nipples hardening, stiffening until they ache, and hot moisture spills out of her, wetting her thighs.

And then he lets the scarf drift over her left nipple, very lightly, and she sobs and writhes, her hips jerking convulsively upward. Her body wants to be filled, very badly, and she can't help herself from straining toward him, even though he's just sitting there on the edge of the bed, watching her reactions.

"You like that," he says softly.

"Ohhhhhhh."

She can't get any real words out, but he seems to understand what she's saying well enough. The scarf caresses her other nipple, very lightly, and she can feel herself getting wetter. Much wetter.

He's staring at her wet flesh, his eyes glowing again, and she's not sure if the heat she feels is coming from his eyes, or from somewhere deep inside her body. Maybe both.

He strokes her nipples with the silk, over and over again, and she can't hold back her responses. Her hips move in a steady rhythm, and a warm dew wets her thighs.

She manages to force her eyes open and looks at him. He's still wearing jeans, unfortunately, but she can see a decided bulge in them, can see his red boxers through the rip in the fabric. If his t-shirt didn't cover his waistband, she thinks she might be able to see the tip of his erection peeking out, and the thought just about kills her dead.

She wants him so much. She wants his body moving in hers with rough violence. She wants him filling her up inside with that huge, hard cock. She wants him more than she ever imagined she could want a man.

She remembers the way he filled her mouth, the taste and the texture of him. She remembers the sensation of him moving, carefully but urgently, between her lips, the way he roared with pleasure as he came, and she gets hotter than before.

She wants to make him come again, but this time she wants to feel his heat spurting deep inside her body.

But he's still teasing her, the silk drifting over her breasts and her abdomen, and only slowly moving toward where she aches. It seems to take forever, but at last he lets the corner of the scarf slide over her clit.

She sobs, because it feels like the first gentle kisses he pressed there, so soft and perfect she feels her womb clench.

He strokes her with the scarf, over and over again, slowly and lightly, until she's twisting helplessly on the bed, little sounds of agonized pleasure rising out of her throat. He's getting turned on, too. She can tell not just by the bulge in his jeans, but by the rough sound of his breathing, by the faint gleam of sweat on his forehead, and by the heat that continues flowing over her breasts and belly and thighs as he stares at her.

At last she can't take any more of being teased. "Clark," she whispers. "Fuck me. Please."

"I will." His voice is low and gravelly. "I'm going to fuck you all night, Chlo. I'm going to make you come until you pass out."

The blunt words sound almost like a threat, and they make her shiver, make her ache worse than before. But he's still touching her lightly with the scarf, and it's not enough. Not nearly enough.

She reaches up, catches his hand, and pulls it down to her belly.

He takes the hint and lets the scarf go, and his big hand splays out over her abdomen, rough and strong and so good against her skin. She wants to feel him touching her everywhere, the way he did earlier. And then she wants him to strip naked, so she can feel his bare body, muscular and sweaty and hot, straining against hers.

She wants him deep inside her, soothing the ache that he's created.

His hand moves over her with the same impossible gentleness she noticed earlier. She can feel the power in his hands, but he doesn't exert a thousandth of his inhuman strength while touching her, and the knowledge thrills her on a deep level. Even when he's under the influence, even when he's turned on... his first impulse is to protect her.

His hand moves everywhere, exploring her arms and thighs and breasts. She can feel the heat vision following his hand, warming her skin, making her quite literally hot. She's not sure why the heat vision turns her on so much, but it does. Maybe it's the knowledge that he could burn her, but he has to control that, too. Regardless, the sight of Clark staring at her intently with his irises glowing orange is one of the sexiest things she'd ever seen.

"Roll over," he whispers.

Ordinarily she might snark at him for the lack of please, but tonight she's promised him anything and everything, so she rolls over on the bed without argument, pressing her face into the pillow. She hears his quick intake of breath.

"God, Chlo," he says softly. "You have the most beautiful ass."

She's a little self-conscious about her rear, and worries that it shows the effects of her secret love for Rocky Road ice cream. So the honest, pure approval in his voice warms her even more than his heat vision does. His hand drops onto her shoulder and traces down her spine, slowly and softly, and then he's tracing the curves of her ass, and she finds herself squirming, thrusting her hips against the coverlet.

And then he's leaning over her, his lips brushing lightly over the nape of her neck, his tongue tracing delicate patterns on her skin. He's moved, stretched out over her, so his body is right against hers. He's bearing his weight on his hands, but he's pressed right up against her, and she can feel the bulge of his erection against her ass. He's still wearing clothes, but there's no mistaking his arousal.

She changes the pattern of her movements somewhat, pressing her hips back against him rather than against the bed, and he groans. His mouth is still against her neck, and the groan seems to reverberate through her whole body. She pushes against him harder, and he responds, rubbing against her. His teeth sink into the nape of her neck, very lightly, and she whimpers. Not with pain, but with sheer pleasure.

Feeling the rough denim of his jeans abrading her skin is sexy, but what she really wants is to feel the smooth satin of his cock against her skin. If she were facing him, she'd reach down and unfasten his jeans herself. But she's not really in a position to do that right now.

"Clark," she whispers. "Take your clothes off."

A little shudder runs through him, and he nibbles her neck again. His voice is low. "I can't, Chlo. The red K..."

"Forget about it." Right now she doesn't care whether he's on red K or not. She just wants him, all of him, his naked body covering hers, his bare skin against hers. "Just take them off."

There's a brief moment of hesitation. She can feel his breath against the nape of her neck, but he's very still and very quiet. And then he pulls back and sits up, for just a second, and when he leans back over her she can feel that he's yanked his shirt off.

His bare chest feels good against her back. His skin is hot, almost feverishly so, and damp with sweat, and he leans over her again, pressing kisses to her shoulders. Their bodies press together, and it feels like everything she ever wanted.

But not quite. Because she wants to feel his body naked against hers everywhere.

His lips are on her shoulderblades, then trailing down her spine, brushing over her lower back. She can feel his tongue darting out to taste her skin, and she moans beneath him, arching her head back.

"Clark," she whispers. "Please."

She hears the thud of his workboots hitting the floor, and then the metallic rasp of his zipper. And then he's leaning over her again, his body bare, and his cock is pressing urgently into the soft skin of her thigh, so hot it all but brands her.

She buries her face in the pillow, gasping. The red K was in his clothes somewhere, so now it's just plain Clark-- and he's still here. He hasn't backed away, or reverted to her best friend who stammers and looks awkward whenever they get too close.

But then he moves up over her body again, bracing his hands on either side of her, and she sees his right hand is clenched into a fist. She realizes he's holding the red K in his hand.

She knows she can't get it away from him, so she doesn't try. She just melts into the bed as his body moves against hers, his cock rubbing against her thigh, his mouth all over her back, his hands on her shoulders. She can feel the moisture spilling out of him, so his cock moves more smoothly against her skin, and she knows she's getting wet, too. She can feel her thighs growing damp, and she's pretty sure that despite his size, she's so wet she could take him inside her very easily.

She's certainly more than willing to find out.

His cock gives an urgent throb against her leg, and he utters a soft growl and flips her over. Suddenly she feels his erection pressing at the entrance to her body, so hot and huge and solid that a fresh rush of moisture spills from her. She whimpers, her hands sliding down to his hips and tugging.

His face is pressed against her throat. "I promised you everything," he whispers harshly.

"Oh, yes," she whispers, her fingers curling, digging gently into the tight curves of his ass. "Please, Clark."

He pushes against her, a little harder, but he doesn't slide inside. She whimpers again, this time with disappointment, because she wants him inside her so badly, and it doesn't seem to be working somehow.

He reaches down, captures her thighs, and pushes them apart, spreading her wide open. His hips flex again, and suddenly the head of his cock is inside her, stretching her so much it almost hurts. She gives a soft sob of mingled pleasure and distress.

He freezes. She can feel the tension in his body under her hands, but at her little noise, he stops instantly. "Are you okay?"

She is and she isn't. The truth is, he's so big it's a little uncomfortable. And yet she doesn't want him to stop.

God, no, he can't stop now.

"I think so," she says, her teeth clenched.

He lifts his head and looks at her carefully.

"No, you're not." He pulls out of her, despite the desperate clutch of her fingers on his ass. "You're supposed to be enjoying this, Chlo, not just suffering through it."

"It's just that... well, you're kind of big."

"Yeah." He flashes his arrogant grin. "I am."

She rolls her eyes. "And your ego is even bigger."

"No kidding." He lowers his head and bites gently at the rounded swell of her breast. She moans again, and her hands lift automatically to his dark hair, which is wavier than ever, and damp with sweat.

"You have beautiful breasts, Chlo," he whispers between soft bites. "I could kiss them all night."

She shivers convulsively. She's in favor of that, although she has some other things in mind, too. He moves a little lower, and suddenly he's sucking on her nipple, hard, and her hips begin moving of their own accord. She can feel heat and moisture and electricity building inside her like a cumulonimbus in the summertime. Dew gathers on her thighs, and the walls of her cunt squeeze rhythmically with need.

He doesn't stop suckling at her breast, but she feels his hand sliding down her belly, and then his finger slides into her body, just a bit.

She moans, remembering the way he made her come, over and over again, with his fingers and mouth. But this time he doesn't move the finger inside her, just makes a little sound of satisfaction and pulls it out of her body.

"Now," he says softly. "Now you're ready."

And then he shifts, and his cock is pressing into her again, only this time it slides into her more readily. It still isn't perfectly easy, because he's so big, but this time there's no pain, only the immense satisfaction of being filled up with him. He pushes into her very slowly, and she groans and gasps and clutches at his shoulders, hanging onto him, because she feels like she might somehow fall, even though she's pinned between him and the mattress.

She loves the feel of his bare body against hers, and she loves the feel of him inside her even more. He's slick and smooth, and as hard as granite. She's wanted desperately to be filled, stretched, and now at last she's getting what she wanted. And it feels so good.

She's had sex before, of course, but it's never felt like this, never made her crave more and more, never made her whimper with pleasure at every additional inch. She can feel herself growing wet with cream, can feel herself pulsing with need deep inside.

He pushes her thighs apart again, and slides into her steadily. He moves very slowly, but at last he's all the way inside her. And then he freezes.

She moans and claws at his back, trying to get him to move, and she hears a low laugh.

"Take it easy, Chlo." His voice is as seductive and dark as midnight. "Don't worry. I'm going to give you exactly what you need."

The smug self-satisfaction in his voice irritates her. She'd like to retort that she doesn't need him, but it would be a lie, and a very transparent one, because she's so desperate for him she can't stop herself from squirming.

"God-- Clark--"

"Still not quite enough," he says softly. His big hands are on her knees again, pushing them even further apart, and then he slides into her a little more deeply. The head of his cock bumps gently against her womb, and she sighs with pleasure.

And then he flexes inside her somehow, and suddenly she feels the head of his cock brush against that exquisitely sensitive place deep inside.

Her head jerks back, and she gives a broken sob.

"That's it," he whispers.

"Oh, my God." She can feel him moving inside her, probing her, the same way his fingers did earlier. She's pretty sure a cock ought not to be able to move like that. Involuntary twitching is one thing, but this is a deliberate movement. "How are you doing that?

He withdraws, almost all the way, and grins down at her.

"I have a lot of hidden talents," he says, and slams into her again.

He's not gentle about it. He thrusts hard, and at the apex of every thrust his cock flexes, stroking her g-spot, and the combination of sensations makes her totally crazy. She sobs, her hips rising to meet his, her lungs laboring for oxygen. She was already close to the edge, and now she's very close to losing it entirely.

He slams into her, fucking her hard, and pleasure swells inside her with every movement. And then she's coming, wave after wave of mind-blowing ecstasy that reduces her to a mindless puddle of sensation. He doesn't stop, either with the thrusting or the flexing, and she climaxes over and over again, the walls of her pussy rippling in fierce spasms, her womb contracting, her clit throbbing.

She hears someone screaming, really loudly, and it occurs to her very vaguely that it's her, but she can't seem to stop.

At long last the ecstasy fades, and she falls back onto the mattress in a sweaty, gasping, boneless heap. He's still inside her, as hard as ever, and she forces her eyes open and looks at him quizzically.

"What, wasn't that good for you too?"

"It was fine," he says, looking at her with eyes so hot they glow. "We're just not done yet."

"I'm done," she answers, still gasping for breath.

"No," he says softly. "You're not. That was definitely the sexiest thing I've ever seen, Chlo. I want to watch you again and again."

The idea that he was watching her, watching her responses, as she came makes her flush a little. It's embarrassing to think he was observing her facial reactions, listening to her scream. But she pushes her embarrassment aside.

"I'm not sure I can do that again. But it was awesome, Clark." She smiles up at him. "Now let's make it awesome for you."

*****

God. Why hasn't he done this before?

Kal is more convinced than ever that Clark is an idiot. Fucking Chloe is even better than being sucked off by her. Why on earth hasn't Clark screwed her before now?

But Kal isn't inclined to spend too much time worrying about Clark and his inexplicable naivete. Now that Kal's in charge, he's enjoying this a whole hell of a lot. He's enjoying it way too much to finish quickly. He's glad he let Chloe go ahead and take the edge off earlier, because now he feels like he could fuck her all night. He's still moving in her, but very slowly, and she's still very relaxed, satiated, practically boneless beneath him.

She's a little too satiated, really. Despite her words about making this awesome for him, she's gotten very quiet, and he has a feeling she's about to drift off to sleep. And Kal might be something of a pervert, but he doesn't have a lot of interest in sex with Sleeping Beauty, so he decides to wake her up. He reaches down and squeezes her nipple, pretty roughly.

She jumps, and her eyes snap open. "Hey. Don't bruise the peaches, buddy."

He can't help grinning at her snark. "Just making sure you don't pass out."

She grins back. "You told me you were going to do it till I passed out."

"I meant until you fainted," he retorts. "Not until you started snoring."

His thumb begins stroking her nipple, a little more gently, and his body continues to move gently in hers, and slowly she begins to respond, her hips moving against his. She's very wet and soft, relaxed inside and out, but as he caresses her nipple, he begins to feel little shimmers of response inside her, a little quiver of her inner muscles, and he knows she's starting to wake up.

He moves inside her a little faster, and at the same time he flexes his cock, moving it in a kind of side to side motion. She jumps, and stares at him.

"How do you do that?"

He shrugs. "It's just one of those terrifying alien abilities, I guess. I possess the ability to reduce objects to ash with my eyeballs, the ability to destroy a tank single-handededly, and the ability to wag my cock the way Shelby wags his tail."

She bursts out in giggles. He does it again, and she laughs harder.

"I get the impression I'm failing to terrify you."

"I'm afraid so." She's laughing against his shoulder, and he rolls his eyes, although he can't quite stop himself from smiling.

"Seriously, Chlo, this is supposed to feel good."

"Oh, it does." She whoops with laughter. "I just wish you hadn't put that particular image into my head. Oh, God."

He flexes inside her, stroking the place he found earlier, and her laughter abruptly cuts off. She clutches his shoulders. "Oh, God," she says again, only this time her tone is completely different. She sounds breathless, and totally turned on again.

He pushes into her, sinking into her all the way to the balls, and she shivers, and then suddenly her hands are roaming over him. She was clutching him earlier, but now she's touching him, caressing him, with a sweet affection that makes Kal a little uncomfortable. Because she's just a cunt, after all. Just a random woman he happens to be having sex with. She might mean something to Clark, but she doesn't mean a damn thing to him.

He remembers the sound of her laughter, the way it made him smile, and he knows he's not being honest with himself. No matter what he calls himself... Chloe means a whole lot to him.

Being inside her this way feels really good, but he's still pretty much in control of himself. He pulls out, almost all the way, and thrusts and flexes again. Her cunt squeezes around him tightly, and suddenly he discovers he's not quite as much in control as he thought he was. He groans and thrusts again, a little more roughly.

Her body responds again, whether automatically or by conscious design he's not sure, and suddenly he finds himself gasping against her shoulder, sweat breaking out on his skin.

"Chloe," he whispers. "Chloechloechloe..."

Her hands slide down over his body again, stroking his bare ass. The skin there is kind of sensitive, almost ticklish, really, and he responds with another involuntary thrust. Suddenly he's pretty sure he's about to boil over inside her. And he doesn't want to do that, damn it, because he was planning on fucking her all night long.

His cock flexes inside her, stroking her intimately, and she squirms and sighs and moans, and her movements feel so good they almost send him over the edge. He grits his teeth, holding back fiercely. Her body convulses around his again, and now he's so close he can't think, can't move except to thrust into her again. Another low groan rumbles from his throat.

She feels so good, heat and moisture and soft, throbbing flesh. She smells incredible, like flowers and spices and sweet, pure sex. And he loves the sound of her voice in his ear, gasping and murmuring and moaning. His senses are all filled up with her, and he can feel heat welling up in his own body in response.

He's slamming into her hard now, with rough, violent thrusts, and he's totally lost control of the whole flexing thing. He can't seem to do anything but drive straight into her, but she doesn't seem to mind. Her hands dig into his hips, asking for more, and he gives it to her, even harder than before.

He can't control the noises coming out of his mouth, either, soft growls and cries of pleasure and all sorts of weird noises in between. Clark would probably be embarrassed, but Kal really doesn't care. All Kal cares about is that it feels awesome.

He never knew fucking could feel this good.

He's pretty sure it feels so good because he's fucking Chloe. Not just any woman, but Chloe. He doesn't really want to think about that, but he can't help himself. Because the smell of her and the feel of her and the sound of her voice are all he's aware of. She feels so good, her hips rising to meet his, her hands digging into him, her voice sobbing with pleasure.

He can't stop himself from moaning her name. He thrusts harder, faster, and the truth comes spilling out of him. Kal really isn't one for lying to himself, and he's bluntly honest in a way Clark isn't. And deep down, Kal knows why he came over here tonight-- and it wasn't just for sex.

"Chloe," he whispers against her throat. "I love you, Chlo."

Her body jerks in surprise, and then suddenly she's coming, her body clutching his in violent tremors. He can feel every ripple of her cunt around his cock, and one last hard thrust sends him over the edge, too.

His voice rises in a yell as pleasure rips through him, so sharp-edged it almost hurts. His cock jerks hard, his come erupts into her in long, ecstatic bursts, and his body shudders frantically. It's so good, the best thing he's ever felt, so hot he can hardly bear it.

In fact, he can't bear it. He's screaming for mercy, but it doesn't stop. The ecstasy keeps spilling through him, growing more and more intense, and it's too good, too much, and it won't end, and he's screaming so hard he can't even draw a breath...

Helpless against the flood of rapture, he tumbles into darkness.

*****

"Clark." Her voice is soft and gentle, calling him back. "Are you okay?"

His eyelids feel like they weigh a ton, but he manages to pull them open. He remembers promising he'd make her come till she passed out, but evidently he's the one that passed out.

He's lying on his side, and she's next to him, stroking his hair and looking into his eyes with concern. He realizes that she must have managed to roll him off her somehow. And a good thing, because he outweighs her by close to a hundred pounds, and he might have squished her otherwise.

But he feels different all of a sudden. Less confident, less cocky. He remembers putting the red K underneath his leg. It has to be right up against his skin to work, and he'd wanted his hands free to touch her, so he'd shoved it under his thigh, and now that he's moved...

"Yeah," she says, reading his expression. "I found the red K. And I tossed it."

His cheeks heat till they're almost as red as the little chip of rock was. He wants to scramble to his feet, throw his clothes on, and run away. Because Chloe's his friend, and friends don't screw each other, or perform oral sex on each other, or do any of the other things they've done tonight.

"I'm sorry," he says, very softly. "I didn't mean to mess things up this way, Chlo. I was just, I don't know, lonely, and I..."

"Shut up." She frowns at him, and he shuts up, because she looks dangerous. "Don't be stupid, Clark. I'm not upset, and I don't think things are messed up. I mean...I enjoyed this. Didn't you?"

Enjoy isn't exactly the word he'd use to describe everything they've done tonight, let alone an orgasm that knocked him senseless. But he knows what she means. "Yeah," he admits.

"So why are you getting all twitchy and nervous on me now?"

He sighs. "Because it wasn't really me that came over here, Chlo. It was Kal."

"So? Are you really sorry you're here?"

He looks down at their bodies, stretched out together on the bed, entirely naked, and remembers the sensation of his body inside hers. That's not a memory that makes him feel sorry in the slightest. "No," he admits, and moves his leg so it's draped over hers in a possessive kind of way.

"Then shut up and go to sleep."

He can't help but smile at her words, and her practical attitude. He knows she's right-- like his dad would have said, once the horses are out of the barn, it's too late to close the barn door. There's no point in pretending all this didn't happen now. Whether he's Kal or Clark, he wants Chloe Sullivan, and he can't pretend differently any longer.

"I meant what I said earlier," he whispers into her hair. "I love you, Chlo."

She rolls over and presses her face into his throat. "I love you too, Clark. Now go to sleep, okay?"

He thinks sleep is a really good idea, and sleeping with Chloe in his arms is an even better one. But as he moves closer to her, his body twitches a little at her nearness. She opens her eyes and stares at him.

"Good grief, Clark, aren't you worn out yet? How many times do we have to do it, anyway?"

"You did it with Kal," he says, smiling a little. "Now it's Clark's turn."

She sighs. "And I suppose after that Kal will be rested, and he'll want another turn."

"Probably."

"God," she says, rolling her eyes. "Am I ever going to get any sleep tonight?"

"I might let you sleep an hour or two." He rolls her onto her back and grins down at her. "Eventually."

"But not any time soon?"

He lowers his head and kisses her throat. Despite her grumbling, her hands dig eagerly into his hair, and he smiles against her.

"No," he answers. "Definitely not any time soon."

-The End-