Wednesday, January 02, 2008
Rating: Adult. If you're under eighteen, please go elsewhere now.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and DC Comics, not to me.
"I'm so sorry, Chlo."
"It's all right." Chloe Sullivan spoke evenly, but she still looked pretty freaked out. Which didn't surprise Clark Kent at all, because when he was near red K, he was crazy and irrational and hard to deal with.
Thank God she'd realized what was happening. The two of them had been in the woods together, taking Shelby for a long hike cross country, and Shelby had dragged him into the bushes in pursuit of a squirrel. The next thing he knew, he'd let go of Shelby's leash and put his hands all over Chloe.
Fortunately, Chloe had realized what was happening. Apparently there was a pretty good-sized lode of red K there in the woods, and he'd had the misfortune to step right on top of it. She'd managed to lure him away from that particular spot, with promises she clearly didn't intend to keep, and once he was a few feet away, he'd gone back to normal.
They'd walked Shelby back to the house, but he was still shaking.
"No," he answered. "It isn't all right. I shouldn't have manhandled you that way. The red K isn't an excuse. I could have hurt you. I'm really sorry."
"You're not responsible for what you do on red K," she said evenly. "Forget about it."
The problem was that it wasn't that easy to forget about it. Once the red K was removed, the worst of his antisocial tendencies went with it. But it always took a while for the adrenaline rush the kryptonite gave him to die down, and today it was worse, because he hadn't just been exposed to a small chip of the stone, but to a pretty big lode of the stuff.
His nerves were still buzzing with excitement, and his heart was pounding, and his muscles were taut. He felt alive with energy, and desperately in need of...
Well. There was no need to go there. He'd broken up with his girlfriend Lana Lang a few weeks ago, and Chloe was his best friend. He didn't have a convenient outlet for his needs right now. And he sure as hell wasn't going to use Chloe, just because she was standing right here in his loft, looking sexy in a skimpy green tank top and denim shorts, and smelling like vanilla, so good that he wanted to bury his face in her hair and...
He choked off that thought before it could go any further down the wrong path. He could handle this on his own. He'd cope the way he always coped with the aftermath of red K.
He just needed to take a long run and burn off some energy that way, and maybe stop to jerk off somewhere along the way. He could handle this on his own.
But some of his hunger must have been reflected in his eyes, because Chloe frowned, then moved toward him.
"Clark?" she queried softly, laying a gentle hand on his arm. "You all right?"
At the touch of her hand, he jerked violently. It felt like every nerve in his upper arm had just been overwhelmed with sensation. Even through his red t-shirt, it felt unbelievably good.
"Yeah," he muttered, trying to cover the reaction. "I'm fine."
"No, you're not." Her arm began to rub his bicep, in what she probably meant as a reassuring gesture, but God the touch of her hand was so good against his skin. He could barely stop himself from grabbing her and rubbing against her. "You're all jumpy."
Jumpy was one word for it. A more accurate description would be horny as hell. He desperately wanted to make love to her.
He wanted to fuck her.
And he didn't ordinarily think of any girl in those terms, let alone his best friend. But right now, he couldn't help it. All he could think about was her hands on him, not just on his arm, but all over his chest and back and legs, touching him, exploring him. He imagined her kissing him, licking him...
Whoa, Kent. With a violent mental effort, he reined in his imagination, because what he wanted to do with her... well, it was just plain wrong.
He seriously needed to get out of here.
A long run would work wonders for his physical and mental state. So would a quick, solitary orgasm behind someone's barn. There was no need for him to use Chloe the way he was thinking.
He'd just fantasize about it while he was jerking off.
"I told you," he said, trying to keep the growl of need out of his voice. With a supreme mental effort, he took a step back. "I'm fine."
"You are not. You're shaking." She followed him, looking worried. "Are you sure I got rid of all the red K?"
"Yeah." He tried to get rid of the telltale shaking, but it wasn't easy, not with this much energy pumping through his veins. "It's just... afterward. There's all this... I don't know, adrenaline, I guess, inside me. I feel really..." Horny. "Restless."
She tilted her head, processing that. "So you're still kind of high?"
"A little." A lot. "I just need to go out for a run..."
"But we walked all the way back here."
"Yeah." He heard the hoarseness in his own voice. "It's not really enough. I need to go into superspeed..."
Her hand dropped onto his arm again. This time her fingers brushed over his forearm, right against his bare skin, and he barely held back a long moan of need. This was what he needed. Not a run, and not a solitary jacking off session. He needed to be touched, so badly his skin tingled with the need.
"I can touch you if you want," she said, very softly.
He wanted it, all right. He wanted it so much his knees shook and his nerves shimmered beneath his skin. But even though he was dealing with the aftermath of red K, he didn't have the kryptonite itself as an excuse. He was fully in control of himself, and he couldn't let himself use her. Chloe Sullivan was his best friend, and he just couldn't.
But God, he wanted to.
"I don't think that's a good idea," he answered. His voice sounded gravelly and hoarse even to his own ears. "I just... I just need a run. A run will get me back to normal, Chlo."
"But you really want to be touched," she said softly, stroking his arm with her fingertips. "Don't you?"
He could barely restrain himself from dropping his head back and crying out with pleasure. The light caress of her fingers against his arm was so perfect, and he couldn't help but think how good it would feel to have her hand elsewhere. Like against his chest. Or his abdomen.
Or pressing against the huge bulge in his jeans.
Her fingers slid downward, brushing over the sensitive skin of his wrist, and this time he couldn't quite hold back his moan. He was shaking harder than ever, needing this so damn badly...
"Shhh," she whispered, stroking back and forth over the skin of his wrist until he thought he'd go crazy. "Relax, Clark. Let me do this for you."
He wondered exactly what she was offering to do, wondered if she understood just what it was he wanted. But it didn't matter, because anything would help. Her touch helped ease his craving, helped satisfy his needs.
Her hand began to stroke him a little more firmly, from wrist to inner elbow and back again, and he closed his eyes and tried to control the strained rasp of his breathing.
"Does that feel good?" she whispered.
He opened his mouth, and the first thing to come out of it was a long moan. He felt himself flush. "Yeah," he answered hoarsely. "But I really ought to..."
"Quit worrying, Clark. You worry too much. I'm not letting you run off in this condition, okay?"
Slowly, her hand drifted to the side. She placed her hand in the center of his chest and began to rub in circles. Even through the t-shirt, it was exquisite, and heat blossomed inside him. He fought to keep back a cry of pleasure, and only succeeded in holding it back to an odd, strangled noise.
"That's what you want," she whispered.
"Yes." His voice was a raw rasp. "Yes, Chlo. But the t-shirt..."
She took the hint. Her hand reached under his shirt, and then her hand was rubbing him in the same place, only right against his skin, and fire lit up his nerves like lightning. He arched his spine in an involuntary reaction, and a desperate cry rose from his throat.
"Oh, yes, yes..."
Vaguely it occurred to him he sounded like he was having sex, when all she was doing was touching his chest. But his body was so wound up that he couldn't help it. The adrenaline still pounded through his veins, hotter and more irresistible than ever, and dark, sexy images flashed through his mind.
She caressed his chest for long moments, at first with one hand, then sliding the other hand up under his shirt. He shuddered and moaned and trembled as she touched him. When her thumbs brushed over his nipples, he thought he'd come right then and there. His cock jerked hungrily, and his balls tightened, and he gave another of those long, frantic cries.
And then she was pushing up his t-shirt, and her mouth found one of his nipples, and it was so good that he could barely stand it. She licked him gently, then drew the nipple into her mouth and began to suck, and a long series of whimpers and groans and cries rose from his throat.
"God, Chlo... oh, yes... please... please..."
Very vaguely, it occurred to him that he shouldn't be letting his best friend touch him this way. Touching his bicep was one thing, and sucking on his nipples was another. It wasn't exactly the same thing, and even through the sensual haze that clouded his mind, he knew they were headed toward something very much outside the boundaries of friendship.
But God help him, he just couldn't bring himself to object.
More to come...
Posted by Meg at 6:04 AM