Rating: Adult. If you're under eighteen, please go elsewhere now.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and DC Comics, not to me.
Chloe Sullivan: You didn't have to wait till the last second, you know.
Clark Kent: What fun would that be?
Even at my worst
I'm best with you
-"I'll Be There For You," The Rembrandts
"So did Ross and Rachel ever get together?"
Clark sat right next to Chloe on the bed. Her dorm room was a tiny single. After a year of living with her cousin, she didn't mind having a room that was roughly the size of a broom closet if it meant she could have the place all to herself. The problem was there wasn't a lot of seating to be had. She had a desk chair, but her bed definitely constituted the most comfortable seating.
She and Clark often spent Friday nights together, watching TV or just hanging out. Until recently, they'd spent their time at the Kent farm, but now that Clark's Kryptonian cousin Kara had moved in, it was harder to get time to talk. Not that they needed privacy, exactly. They weren't dating or anything.
But they were best friends, and if they didn't get some quality face time in every couple of days, they both went into withdrawal.
So tonight, Clark had come over to her dorm room. She'd popped in one of her "Friends" DVDs, and Clark had settled down right next to her on the bed.
In the small room, he seemed very close. Very, very close. Not that she was really aware of his big, solid body next to hers. She was totally used to hanging out with him, and it didn't turn her on to be this close to him. The fact that her thigh was almost pressing against his, on a bed, meant nothing to her.
"Ross and Rachel get together at the very end," she answered. "The last episode."
He frowned at the TV, where Ross and Rachel were having sex in the middle of a natural history museum exhibit. "That's like years after this, though. How come it took them so long?"
"I don't know. Things kept coming between them. Other people and breakups and failures to communicate. Stuff like that."
He rolled his eyes. "That's stupid. They're obviously totally in love. If it wasn't a TV show, they would have gotten together in like the third episode. People on TV shows are dumb."
"Oh, right," she answered, very seriously. "People in real life never act that way."
He turned his head and lifted an eyebrow. "Are you mocking me?"
"Noooo. I'd never do that."
"You are so. You're poking fun at me. You know, just because Lana and I took six years to figure out we weren't right for each other..."
"Hey, nobody's perfect. It took me almost a year to figure out that my relationship with Jimmy wasn't going to work out."
He snorted disdainfully. "I figured that out the day you introduced us."
"Yeah, well, I knew you and Lana weren't right for each other eons ago, too. Maybe people in a relationship just can't see what their friends see because they're, I don't know, too close to the situation or something."
"Maybe." He looked back at the TV, where Ross and Rachel were waking up to the curious stares of small children. "But Ross and Rachel must be morons if they can't tell how they fell about each other after this."
She thought about a night, almost two years ago, when she'd kissed him passionately, and then pretended that it meant nothing when she saw him again. She'd never forget the bewildered, hurt expression on Clark's face. "Maybe. But I think people in real life can be pretty dumb about stuff like that, too."
He turned his head again, looking into her eyes, and suddenly she realized they were very, very close. Not just emotionally-- they were always close emotionally-- but physically. His nose was only a few inches away from hers.
His lips were only a few inches away from hers.
He stared at her a long moment, very intently, and she saw a new understanding begin to dawn in his eyes. He leaned toward her, so close she could feel his breath against her lips.
"You're right," he answered at last. "People in real life can be pretty damn dumb, too."
Suddenly his arms were around her, and his mouth was devouring hers. She kissed him back, twining her arms around his neck and digging her fingers deep into the thick waves of his hair.
The feel of his lips on hers, the sensation of his tongue caressing hers, felt so good she wondered hazily how she'd survived all these years on so few Clark kisses. She'd been deprived of his kisses, starved for them, all these years... and she hadn't even realized it.
She'd never let herself admit how much she wanted to kiss him. But suddenly kissing him felt like a necessity, like something she couldn't possibly live without. Like water, or air, or Rocky Road ice cream.
His hands began to roam over her body in a very intimate way. She found her clothes being removed, and she decided it would be polite to remove his, too.
Clothing flew all over the tiny room. Seconds later they were totally naked, and his big, hot, bare body was pressing hers into the coverlet. He felt heavy and solid, so heavy she should have been uncomfortable beneath him, yet she reveled in the sensation of his body against hers.
"Chloe," he whispered in her ear, his hips moving eagerly against her, so that his erection burned against her inner thigh. "Why the hell did we wait so long?"
Her fingers curled into his hair. "The truth is," she answered in a soft voice, "I didn't even realize we were waiting."
"Me either. But I guess I'm stupid, because I've definitely been waiting for this."
He shifted position a little and slid into her body, like he just didn't have the willpower to wait. Despite the lack of foreplay, she was already wet for him, so wet that he slipped into her easily. She raised her legs and wrapped them around his waist, and he sank all the way into her, making little murmuring sounds of pleasure.
He answered with a long, heartfelt groan.
He felt so good inside her that once again she wondered how she'd survived all this time without him. She dug her fingers into his tight ass, urging him to move faster. He obliged her, driving into her hard and fast, every thrust punctuated with a soft gasp. She found herself gasping too, her heart pounding so fast that she needed oxygen desperately.
The TV was still on, but she was totally oblivious to it. "Friends" was the farthest thing from her mind right now. She was completely tuned in to one particular friend, a friend who was making love to her with an uncharacteristic ferocity.
His hands moved over her body, his mouth brushed kisses over her cheeks and ears and shoulders, and his body moved in hers hard, like he was trying to meld their bodies together somehow.
She didn't mind. She wished the two of them could be linked this way forever.
As he thrust roughly, heat swelled in her, making her eyes sting with tears, making her skin damp with sweat. She clung to him, sighing and moaning, as he moved even harder. Pleasure spiraled inside her in a taut coil, knotting her insides into a tangle of desperate need.
Suddenly ecstasy broke loose inside her, spinning her helplessly in its grasp. A long, powerful orgasm pulsed through her entire body, so intense her back arched and her toes curled.
And then he was gasping out her name, his body shivering, and she felt the hard, erratic movements of his hips as he came inside her in long, hot spurts.
For a long moment, he rested on top of her, perfectly still except for long, deep breaths. At last he slowly rolled off her and fell onto the bed, closing his eyes.
"God," he whispered. "I wish we'd done that before. Over and over again."
"Yeah," she answered softly. "Me too."
"I'm a moron."
He opened his eyes and looked wryly at the television. "I hate to say it, but we make Ross and Rachel look brilliant by comparison. At least they knew they were in love, even if they didn't have the guts to go for it." He was silent a long moment. "I didn't know how I felt about you, Chlo. I honestly didn't know."
She rolled toward him and put a hand on his chest. "Me either," she answered. And it was true. She'd known she had a crush on Clark from time immemorial, but she hadn't realized how deeply she loved him until this moment.
"Well," he said. "At least we finally figured it out."
"And it only took us seven years."
"Almost eight, actually." He grinned wryly. "But I guess it could have been worse."
"I guess so. But I'm glad it wasn't." She ran her hand down his arm and slipped her fingers into his. His hand wrapped around hers possessively.
"Yeah, me too," he answered, very quietly but very sincerely. "I love you, Chlo."
"I love you too, Clark."
"I've loved you for years."
"Yeah. Me too."
He put his arms around her and spoke into her hair.
"I want to make love to you again."
She laughed at the eagerness in his voice, and wrapped her arms around his waist.
"Me too," she answered.