Season 7, MHE for "Cure"
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 2 here.
Read the story from the beginning here.
Clark realized Chloe was pulling off his jacket and his t-shirt, and he wasn't objecting. Far from it. He helped, shrugging off the jacket and lifting his arms over his head so she could get the shirt off.
And then he was falling back in the grass, half naked, her body on his, and he was yanking off her yellow and white shirt with the same desperate urgency he'd use to rescue someone from a burning building.
She lowered herself onto him, pressing against him, and the fact that Chloe Sullivan was sprawled on his bare chest, only a plain white bra between them, made his brain melt some more. She rubbed her torso against his, making little sounds of pleasure, and even through the bra he could feel that her nipples were rigid in the cold. A little moan escaped him.
Her mouth was all over him, brushing over his neck and shoulders and chest, and he found himself writhing in the grass, saying her name over and over again.
His hands reached up and undid her bra, with no input whatsoever from his brain. It was like his hands were on autopilot, moving with a sureness and confidence that was sort of odd for a guy who'd unfastened very few bras in his lifetime. He got the bra unfastened in two seconds flat, threw it aside, and pulled her against him harder, his hands sliding all over her warm skin.
She was rubbing her breasts against him, but the rest of her was starting to rub against him too. Her thighs were spread, on either side of his, and their bodies were in very close contact despite the jeans, and it felt so good he thought he might just burn up like a shooting star falling through the atmosphere. He could feel heat scorching him from the inside out, until his skin felt far too hot. And too tight. His skin definitely felt too tight.
Or maybe that was just his jeans.
She seemed to recognize the problem about the same time he did, because her hands slid down between their bodies and began unbuttoning his jeans. He sighed in mingled pleasure and dismay. He wanted to feel her against him more than he'd ever wanted anything, and yet he couldn't stop himself from opening his big dumb mouth.
"Chlo," he whispered. Even his whisper seemed too loud in the silence of the night. "Maybe we shouldn't..."
"Of course we shouldn't." Her mouth was on his chest, licking and kissing. "You have a girlfriend. I have a boyfriend. We need to stop, right now."
"Yeah." He wiggled beneath her as her tongue slid over his nipple, and remembered his earlier thoughts, his realization of who meant the most to him. "But the problem is I'd rather do this with you than with my girlfriend."
She kept unfastening his jeans. "I know what you mean," she answered, her voice soft. "I want you more than I want my boyfriend."
He heard the soft rasp of a zipper, and then she was pushing his jeans aside and straddling him again, and with only boxers in the way, the sensations were intensified, so much sharper and better he could hardly restrain a cry of pleasure. His hips pressed upward, pushing eagerly against her jeans.
He tried to drag his mind back onto the conversation. "This is kind of a problem, Chlo," he said, his voice harsh. "I mean, we're both... attached. We really need to take a step back and look at the situation."
"Right. A step back." Her hips moved against his harder. "Take my jeans off, Clark."
He couldn't say no to her. He'd never been able to say no to her. His hands dropped to her jeans, and then he was fumbling with the button and zipper and pushing them off, and she helped.
And then she was back on top of him, wearing absolutely nothing but a pair of panties. She rubbed against him, and he couldn't smother his cry this time.
"You feel so good," she whispered, moving against him with slow, deliberate movements. The friction made him crazy, and he dropped his head back into the grass and arched his back, hard, thrusting against her. His eyes opened, and he stared up into the starry vault of the sky.
He was definitely seeing stars.
"This," he said softly, "is not taking a step back."
"Well." Her hips moved a little faster. "Maybe we need to talk about it."
"Yeah. Talk." He ground into her harder. "Um, yeah. Okay. So the thing is..."
"Right. That's exactly the issue, right there."
"Uh-huh. And besides, I kind of figure..."
"Ohhhh. Well, there is that."
"Yeah. You're absolutely right. Ahhh, God, Chlo."
"You know what I think, Clark?"
"I think you're not listening to a word I'm saying."
He closed his eyes, letting himself enjoy the feel of her body sliding against him. "Call me crazy, but I don't think you're listening to me, either."
"Maybe not." She kissed his throat. "So maybe we should have this conversation a little later."
"Yeah. And we could take a step back then, too. Later would be a good time to take a step back."
"Sounds good to me." She rubbed against him harder, and he felt himself throbbing against her. He remembered his earlier thoughts about going through eternity with her, and smiled a little.
Yeah, he thought. An eternity of doing this with her was definitely something to look forward to.
Her movements grew faster, and their hands and mouths were all over each other. Even with their underwear still in the way, it was the best thing he'd ever felt, the best sensation he'd ever imagined. His body burned, inside and out, and he moaned and writhed.
"Oh, God, Chlo."
He felt her trembling under his hands, heard her soft little gasps of pleasure, and he knew she was coming, right on top of him, right against him, and he couldn't hold back any more.
He threw his head back and arched up against her and let the heat flood him in long, drawn-out waves of ecstasy.
Read Chapter 4 here.