Season 7 (spoilers for "Persona")
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 1 here.
Chloe was dripping wet when Clark sped into the room.
The truth was, she was often wet around Clark. But this was a whole different sort of wet. Her hair was dripping, and droplets glistened all over her skin. She'd just stepped out of the old-fashioned, claw-footed tub in her apartment, and she'd just begun toweling her hair dry when a gust of breeze alerted her to Clark's presence. She lowered the towel and squinted through the foggy air.
Clark had come to a halt right in front of her. And he was staring.
She wrapped the towel around herself in an automatic, defensive gesture. Because yes, she and Clark had been engaged in a cautious, slightly awkward mating dance ever since she broke up with Jimmy and he'd discovered that Lana was just using him to get at Lex. Things had changed between them, and she'd begun seeing emotions in his eyes she'd never seen before.
It had become obvious to both of them that as soon as he was free of any sort of entanglement, they'd acknowledge the intimacy that had developed between them, and embark upon a new sort of intimacy. They'd skirted the issue, conversationally speaking, but they'd definitely said enough to know they were both on the same wavelength. They weren't just friends any more. There was something raw and sexual between them, something that neither of them could ignore any longer.
But still, it was totally out of character for him to stand staring with hot eyes when she didn't have any clothes on. Clark was a pretty shy, modest guy, and he really didn't have a lot of experience with women. Usually the sight of boobs scared the hell out of him.
"Hey," she said, slightly annoyed. And seriously turned on. "This is the part where you start blushing and stammering."
"Screw that," he answered, and stalked toward her. There was something very predatory about his movements, something graceful and fluid and almost dangerous. It struck a chord of familiarity somewhere deep in her mind, but she didn't have time to give it a lot of thought right now.
Startled, but not at all displeased, by the expression in his eyes, she went backward, and found herself up against the wall.
His big body leaned into hers, pinning her, and suddenly she could feel the heat of his skin, could feel his erection pressing into her belly. Even through his jeans she could feel the shape and size of it. It felt like granite.
"Hey," she said, lifting her hands and pushing at his chest half-heartedly. "You're going to get wet."
He grinned down at her.
"I sure hope so, sweetheart."
Another little flicker of concern lit at the back of her mind, because Clark never called her endearments, and he certainly never made double entendres. But he rubbed against her, and the concern dropped away. Her mind went blank, because he felt so good. She'd wanted this for a long, long time, and lately she'd wanted it even worse.
She and Clark had had quite a few close encounters lately. They'd hugged a little too long, or brushed up against each other and hesitated, staring into each other's eyes, or clutched each other's hands during a scary movie and forgotten to let go until the movie was over. And once he'd come so close to kissing her that her lips tingled just thinking about it. But he'd been grimly determined to get Lana out of his life before he made any other decisions or commitments.
So the fact that he was here, pressing against her this way-- well, the only thing she could figure was that he'd broken it off with Lana.
And that worried her, because it was too soon.
"Okay," she said, forcing words past the dryness in her mouth. "What's going on, Clark? Did you and Lana fight?"
"Sort of." He grinned cheerfully. "I told her I knew all about what she was doing. And I told her to get the hell off my farm. I'm free, Chlo."
Anxiety curled inside her. "But that's not good, Clark. You were supposed to try to get out of her clutches without letting her know you knew everything, remember? The way you did it-- she's going to be really mad, Clark."
"She was already mad. Mad as a hatter. Trust me on this."
"I don't mean that kind of mad. I mean, she's going to be angry, especially if she figures out you and I--"
"Actually," he said, his voice still vibrant with that strange cheerfulness, "I told her I was going to have sex with you."
"What?" She knew her voice was loud, but she didn't much care. "Haven't you been paying attention, Clark? When Lana's angry and hurt, she goes straight for vengeance. If you pissed her off, she'll go straight to Lex, and one or both of us will wind up in the LuthorCorp labs, being dissected."
He bent his head and looked straight into her eyes, and the humor drained from his expression. Suddenly he looked very intense.
"Don't worry," he said softly. "I won't let anyone hurt you, Chlo. Ever."
"Well, that's very reassuring. Or it would be, if I didn't think you'd wind up strapped to a table, too. Come on, Clark, your brain isn't just there to hold your ears apart. Use it, okay? She knows... your... secrets!"
"Yeah. Whatever." He sounded totally and uncharacteristically bored, and once again that little sense of familiarity niggled at her. Something was going on here, something that she'd seen before, but couldn't quite put her finger on right now. It worried her.
He talked right over her. "Right now," he said, "I don't want to think about Lana, okay? I want to think about you."
His big hand reached up, caught her towel deftly, and tossed it aside. Now he had her pinned against the wall, completely naked, and her body responded with a rush of wet warmth that had nothing whatsoever to do with her recent shower.
She ached for him, in a way she'd never ached for anyone. Even so, she made one last effort to stop this. "Clark. Come on. We planned your exit strategy so carefully, and now you're just throwing it away..."
"I told you, I'm tired of talking about Lana." He bent his head and nipped at her ear gently. "Every time I'm with you these days, it seems like all we talk about is Lana. I want to talk about us."
"Yeah, but if she--"
"I'm through with Lana," he said, very softly but very intensely. "I'm through thinking about Lana. Tonight, I just want to make love to you."
He turned his head slightly, and his lips brushed across hers, and all the arguments in her brain suddenly faded. Really, there was nothing more to be said.
Because if Clark really wanted to make love to her... she certainly wasn't going to stop him.
Read Chapter 3 here.