Promise Me, Chapter 6

Clark/Chloe
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 5 here.
Read the story from the beginning here.

Clark wanted to make love to Chloe, so badly it hurt. But all the images that had haunted him for months rose up in his mind. He imagined the sound of her bones snapping as he held her too tightly, imagined himself setting her on fire, imagined her crying out in agony, and fear rolled over him.

But the fear wasn't as strong as the need that burned inside him. Drawn by an irresistible lust, he took a step toward her, so that their bodies pressed together. She felt so good against his hard-on that all the breath was knocked right out of him.

"Chloe."

The word was dragged out of him, a bare whisper of need and lust... and love. It was only one word, but it was filled with such a wealth of emotion that he was almost embarrassed by it.

He lowered his head and kissed her, very lightly. But this time he didn't back away. He couldn't have backed away if the ceiling had started to cave in. His mouth brushed against hers, over and over again, until her lips parted in surrender.

Suddenly his tongue slipped into her mouth, and they were kissing deeply and intimately.

A low sound rose from his chest, a rumble of want and desire. Her arms twined around his neck, pulling him even closer, and he tilted his hips forward, pressing against her urgently.

God, she felt so good. Her body moved, her abdomen rubbing against his erection. It felt so incredible that his cock spasmed hard, and his eyes started to burn fiercely. He whimpered into her mouth, a sound of surrender and need, and his hands began to slide all over her. She began touching him, too, and the feel of her hands on his body made his heart pound violently, especially when her hands slid right up under his jacket and shirt and stroked over the bare skin of his back.

He couldn't fight this. He couldn't deny the truth any more. He'd wanted her to touch him like this for months. Maybe years.

He pulled his mouth away from hers and pressed his face against her throat, gasping for breath. "Chloe," he whispered. "I've wanted to do this forever."

"Now's your chance," she answered, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

Her hands pushed his jacket to the floor. He shoved hers off too, his hands sliding up under her shirt. The feel of her soft, satiny skin under his hands undid him entirely. Her skin was soft and smooth and damp with sweat, and he wanted to spend hours caressing her. He wanted to touch her everywhere.

And apparently she wanted to touch him everywhere, too. Because her hand slid down, right over his jeans, and her fingers gently closed around the bulge of his erection.

He heard himself make a sound that was totally unlike any sound he'd ever made before, and his hips jolted forward, shoving his cock hard against her soft, warm palm. She took the hint, kept squeezing and stroking, and he gave a low, resonant growl and thrust harder, falling into an instinctive, sexual rhythm.

His eyes burned worse than before as the desire to activate his heat vision grew to almost unendurable levels. One of his hands moved upward, pretty much of its own accord, and started caressing her nipple through her bra, stroking until she moaned, too.

"Chloe." This time the word was a soft, desperate growl of need. His hands slid down, and he began fumbling at her slacks. He wasn't much good at undressing women, due to a lack of practice, but her hand was driving him crazy, and if he didn't get her clothes off, right now, he was going to cream his jeans.

And as good as her hand felt moving against him, he wanted to come inside her. He needed to come inside her.

He'd waited for her too long to settle for less.

Her hands began undoing his jeans, too. He was lost in a sensual haze, all his senses tuned to Chloe. He was almost entirely engrossed in the sounds she made and the way she smelled and the way she felt. And yet somewhere in the depths of his mind, he was barely aware of the sound of shoes scraping lightly against the stone floor.

It occurred to him, very vaguely, that they weren't alone. He should probably look around and see who was in the cellar with them.

But he was so wrapped up in Chloe that he just couldn't seem to open his eyes.

Suddenly there was a terrible crashing sound. He jolted, startled out of his haze, and his eyes snapped open of their own accord. He twisted his head over his shoulder and saw Lana Lang fleeing out of the cellar and up the stone staircase. A puddle of red wine spread slowly over the stone floor.

He turned back toward Chloe and saw her staring at the staircase, a look of pain in her eyes.

"She was watching us," she said softly.

He shook his head, and lifted a hand to rub absently at his burning eyes. The idea that Lana Lang had been watching them while they-- well, it didn't quite add up. Lana was a lot of things, but she wasn't a pervert. In fact, she was pretty well sexually repressed. He didn't believe for a minute she'd been hiding back there and watching them because it turned her on. It just didn't make sense.

He frowned. "Why was she back there in the first place?"

"Isn't it obvious?" She looked up at him, her eyes filled with dismay. "She's the one who locked me in here, Clark. She obviously wanted to know your secret badly enough to trick us both."

Clark thought about that. He remembered what he'd done to get Chloe out of the wine cellar, the powers he'd casually and carelessly used to rescue her, and a cold sensation crawled over his skin.

"I guess she got what she wanted," he answered, his voice dark. "If she was there the whole time... she knows an awful lot about what I can do."

Read Chapter 7 here.