Season 6, "Promise"
Rating: Adult. If you're under eighteen, please go elsewhere now.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and DC Comics, not to me.
Read Chapter 4 here.
Read the story from the beginning here.
Lana waited for Clark to tell Chloe he wasn't into her that way, that he wasn't just pretending to be in love with Lana. His love for Lana was much, more more than just an attempt to keep himself at a safe distance from Chloe. She was certain of that.
Sure, he'd kissed Chloe, but that had just been a friendly kiss. And the fact that the touch of Chloe's hands made him look like he was about to fall to his knees at her feet and worship her-- well, she must just be imagining that.
Clark was not turned on by Chloe. Couldn't be, she thought.
But the two of them continued to stare at each other, gazing into each other's eyes, and something cold and bitter twisted inside of Lana.
At last Clark took a step forward, and suddenly he was right up against Chloe, pressing her into the wall in a way that Lana couldn't convince herself was friendly. He whispered her name, and lowered his head again.
And then they were kissing again. The kiss started out as another light brush of lips, but it rapidly turned into something a lot hotter. She could see their bodies beginning to move together, could hear them making the soft little noises of people who were seriously turned on.
The coldness inside her grew to Arctic levels, until she could feel her heart freezing in her chest.
Clark's big hands were moving all over Chloe, stroking her breasts and her back and her rear, and she was touching him, too, her hands sliding down over his back. The red jacket he always wore was apparently in the way, so she slid her hands up beneath it, and he jolted and gave a muffled little moan of such sheer pleasure that Lana felt her stomach melt. She would have given anything to make that sound come out of his mouth herself.
She'd made love to Clark twice, and it had been beautiful and perfect and sweet. And hot, very hot. But she didn't remember him making those noises of raw need, didn't remember him being so turned on just from kissing her, or just from having her caress his back.
At last he pulled his mouth away from Chloe's. Good, Lana thought, with immense relief. He's come to his senses and realized he doesn't want her that way.
But instead he bent and pressed his lips to her throat, and she buried her face in the thick, dark waves of his hair.
"Chloe," he whispered, his voice so low and intimate Lana could barely hear it. "I've wanted to do this forever."
Lana could see a smile curving the part of Chloe's mouth that wasn't hidden in Clark's hair.
"Now's your chance," she said softly.
Chloe's hands began to push off Clark's jacket. It fell to the floor, and he shoved Chloe's off jacket, too. Their hands continued to roam over each other, their mouths were everywhere, and Lana realized with a terrible sinking sensation that if she didn't sneak out in the next sixty seconds, she was going to have to watch them actually make love.
No. She was going to have to watch them have sex. She was certain love had nothing whatsoever to do with it. Clark was just using Chloe to ease his heartbreak over Lex and Lana's wedding. That was all.
She was still quite annoyed with him, but she could understand the impulse. She'd slept with Lex out of a similar impulse, driven by the hopeless need to forget Clark. So she could forgive Clark for this transgression if she had to.
But she couldn't stand here and watch.
Chloe's hand moved right over the front of Clark's jeans, caressing the unmistakable bulge there, and Clark uttered a sound of pure pleasure and total surrender, his hips surging forward, so that he was thrusting right into Chloe's hand.
Lana had never touched Clark that blatantly. The two of them had been virgins, and she'd been pretty hesitant and uncertain. She'd let him touch her, shyly and awkwardly, and confined her touching to his shoulders and back, the way nice girls did.
But Chloe obviously wasn't either a virgin or a nice girl. She very clearly knew what she was doing, and wasn't restricting herself to touching Clark's back. Her hand continued to move against Clark's jeans, squeezing him, stroking him, until he moaned with need. His own hand was on her breast, his thumb stroking her nipple, and Chloe's moans echoed his, an octave higher.
The two of them were so bluntly sexual, so physical, so carnal, that it made her feel dirty to watch.
Clark groaned Chloe's name again, his voice low and dark and sensual, and then he was fumbling at her slacks, trying to unfasten them, and Chloe was doing the same to his jeans.
Oh, God, Lana thought, unable to pretend this wasn't happening any longer. It very clearly was happening. I have to go. I can't watch this.
Their eyes were closed, and they were totally focused on each other, totally lost in each other. She thought she could probably get out of the cellar without either of them noticing. Even if she couldn't-- she had to go. She just had to.
She sidled around the side of the rack nearest the door. As she edged around the corner, her arm brushed against a wine bottle, and it fell to the stone floor with a huge crash. She knew they couldn't possibly be so involved with each other that they'd fail to notice that, so she gave up all effort at secrecy and bolted for the stairs.
She was embarrassed to have been caught watching them, embarrassed that they'd probably figure out she'd trapped Chloe in the first place in order to discover Clark's secret. Even so, as she fled up the stone staircase, the embarrassment was tempered by a certain measure of satisfaction.
Because now Clark would realize how much he still meant to her, how important he was to her. He'd realize how deeply interested she was in everything about him. And he wouldn't continue on with Chloe if he knew that. He wouldn't have sex with Chloe if he thought he could have her instead.
Clark, she was certain, would follow her out of the wine cellar.
Read Chapter 6 here.