Wet

Clark/Chloe
Season 4
Rating: Adult. If you're under eighteen, please go elsewhere now.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and DC Comics, not to me.
Screencap from Dynamic Duo.

Rain sluiced over Clark Kent, drenching him until his dark hair felt glued to his head, and his white Go Crows! t-shirt was just as plastered to his chest. Beside him, his best friend Chloe Sullivan was equally soaked. She giggled breathlessly as the two of them ducked under the cover of the bleachers.

She'd been interviewing him on the school's last football game, which the Crows had won handily. Friday's winning game had only been his second effort as starting quarterback, and Chloe had insisted on interviewing him. "To find out what your secret is," she'd said with a sly little smile.

He'd gone into the locker room and changed, then come out and met her on the field so she could take some pictures of him with the goalpost in the background. Unfortunately, as they stood there together on the football field, a light rain had begun to fall.

It was an unusually warm day, and the rain was warm too. Even though it was late September, it felt like a summer shower.

Even so, Clark didn't want to get soaked. He'd grabbed Chloe's hand and pulled her toward the bleachers. He could have whooshed into the school instantly, of course, but since he was with Chloe, he'd had little choice but to travel at human speed. Which meant he had to get wet.

And wet he certainly was. The rain had grown heavier as they'd raced across the field together, and by the time they got to the bleachers it was beating down fairly hard. In the semi-shelter of the bleachers, he shook his head, spraying water everywhere, and she squealed and held up her hands.

"Don't! You're getting me all wet!"

"You're wet already," he answered, unable to hold back his grin at the sight of her. She was just as soaked as he was, her short blonde hair flattened against her skull, rivulets of water streaming down her face.

"The bleachers," she complained, "are not doing much good."

And it was true. As the wind picked up, the rain started falling sideways, and water began to blow in under the benches, drenching them worse than ever.

"Maybe we can make it to the school without getting too wet," he said dubiously, peering out into the deluge. It was really beginning to come down hard now.

"I don't think I could get any wetter," she answered.

He reached out and shoved the wet bangs out of her eyes with a big hand, still grinning. "You look like a drowned rat."

She growled. "You're not exactly dry yourself, Kent."

"Here," he said, and wrapped an arm around her, hauling her against his chest. He turned so his back was getting the worst of the rain blowing through the bleachers and bent his head over hers protectively.

"Your shirt is soaked," she grumbled.

"Complaints, complaints." He was suddenly aware that she was pretty wet too, and the Go Crows! t-shirt she wore, a smaller version of his, was, well, sort of transparent. He could see the white bra she wore beneath it on her back. If she weren't pressed up against him, he figured he could have seen it through the front of her shirt, too.

And that thought led to another realization, the dawning consciousness that she felt nice and soft and warm against him. Wet, but very, very warm.

The rain poured down even harder, so heavy it looked like a solid gray sheet around them. They might as well be alone out here, he reflected. No one could possibly see them.

And that was good, because the whole school knew Clark and Chloe were just buddies, and if anyone saw them holding each other this way, they might possibly get the wrong idea. He wouldn't want to subject Chloe to gossip or anything.

But still... with the rain coming down this hard, he thought, they could do anything they wanted. No one would know.

The thought made his body stiffen, which didn't make him at all comfortable. He was a normal teenage guy-- well, except for the whole alien-heat-vision-x-ray-vision-superspeed-superstrength-superhearing thing. Aside from those minor details, though, he was perfectly normal. And he knew his reaction was a normal physical response to holding a small, warm, pretty blonde in his arms.

He'd experienced the reaction before in her presence. When their hands happened to brush together, or she gave him a friendly hug, or she wore short shorts... well, he'd definitely reacted this way before. Because Chloe was a very pretty girl, and he wasn't blind.

But this time it was different. Because their bodies were pressed together, very, very close, and... well, he was kind of worried she could feel his reaction.

And if she could, that would be really embarrassing.

It wasn't like she'd never felt that reaction from him before, of course. A few weeks ago she'd accidentally gotten dosed with a love potion, and she'd come onto him wearing nothing but his football jersey, and he'd... well, he'd reacted. And she'd definitely noticed, because she'd put her hand right there, and then crawled into his lap and rubbed against him.

But that had been different. She'd been under a foreign influence, and she'd wanted to make him react that way.

This time, she wasn't trying to seduce him. He was just reacting this way because his body was stupid.

And thinking about the way she'd come onto him wasn't helping matters, unfortunately. He remembered the touch of her hand, the way she'd straddled his thighs and pressed up against him, and his problem just got that much... bigger.

Her arms wrapped around his waist, and she moved even closer, and he could barely hold back a groan. The muted roar of raindrops pounding against the metal bleachers drowned out most sounds, but he figured she might just hear a groan, considering her ear was pressed right against his chest.

Wind gusted, and he felt raindrops spraying over his shoulders. She lifted her head, wrinkling her nose at the onslaught of rain, and the droplets sprayed all over her face. She looked so adorably cute, her hair soaked, her eyelashes dark and spiky, her pale skin sparkling with raindrops, that he couldn't hold back his reaction another instant.

He lowered his head and kissed her.

That was not at all what he'd meant to do.

But God, he liked it.

Buddies, he reminded himself, pressing his body against hers urgently, as their lips brushed lightly together. Buddies, he assured himself as her tongue slipped over his lips and his mouth opened in automatic response. Buddies, he told himself firmly as their tongues touched, shyly at first, then with more confidence.

She tasted awesome, fresh and sweet and spicy, like raindrops, like cinnamon, like something exotic he couldn't even name. He kissed her more deeply, loving the taste of her, wanting more.

And then he was kissing her ferociously, long, deep kisses that were as warm and wet as the rain drenching his shoulders, and there was no possible way he could make himself believe that they were just buddies any more.

Sometime in the last two minutes, they'd quit being buddies, if that was really all they'd ever been, and moved on to something else. Something he liked even better than friendship.

Her body moved against his, sinuous and sensual and irresistibly soft and wet, and his hands started moving all over her, because there was no possible way he could be this close to her and not touch her. Everywhere.

Her hands were on him, too, running over his t-shirt. It was so wet it had kind of adhered to his skin, but she peeled it away and pushed it up, and then her hands were stroking the wet skin of his back, exploring the contours of his muscles, and he gave up trying not to groan. Her hands felt so good he couldn't help groaning.

They were kissing frantically now, her fist clenching in his hair and his hands curled around her hips, and his body ached like it had never ached before. He rubbed against her belly, wishing he could just strip off her clothes and... well.

But they were both soaked, and he had a feeling getting their jeans off would be next to impossible. Besides, they were in public, even if the rain seemed to screen them from view. The shower might taper off at any moment, and if they took their clothes off, that could be a problem. He didn't need to get suspended, not when the football team was depending on him.

Besides, if he was caught naked with a girl under the bleachers, his parents would never let him leave the house again. Anyway, he was too young for... well, he just wasn't ready for that.

But even if they couldn't go all the way, he needed something more. He bent his knees, trying to shift their position a bit, and Chloe practically climbed up his front, twining one of her legs around him and clinging to him.

"Clark," she whispered, her mouth on his throat, licking away the droplets there. "Clark, oh, Clark, oh, Clark..."

The sound of her voice saying his name over and over again made him crazier than ever. He liked the way she was trying to climb up him, so he helped, cupping her ass in his big hands and lifting her.

And then she was wrapping her arms and legs around him and moving against him, hard and fast, and there was nothing in the world he could do to prevent himself from moving too. She felt wet and hot against him, and he had no idea how much of it was the rainstorm and how much of it was her. But the thought that she was probably wet inside and out made him move harder than ever.

His hips slammed against her, and the wind gusted, sending a spray of warm rain over their straining bodies, and he came in a violent rush of heat.

God, it felt good, so good he couldn't stop himself from crying out. Thank God for the rain that pounded against the bleachers, muffling any noises he might make.

There were no thoughts left in his head, nothing but sharp spikes of ecstasy hammering through him and rain spraying his shoulders and the sound of her voice crying out as she climaxed, too. Their bodies clung together for a long, ecstatic moment, and then every muscle in his body slowly relaxed.

He lowered his head and buried his face against her hair, aware that his cheeks were flaming. She didn't say anything as he lowered her to the ground, just pressed her face into his throat and stood quietly, and he had a feeling she felt just as weird and awkward as he did.

What exactly were you supposed to say to your buddy when she made you come in your jeans?

Thank you for the awesome orgasm didn't sound quite right. I'm so, so sorry was the sort of thing he was most inclined to blurt out in awkward situations, but the blunt truth was, he wasn't sorry at all.

Let's do that again, just as soon as possible was closer to what he really wanted to say.

But he didn't quite have the nerve to say it.

The sound of the rain began to grow softer, and she looked out at the football field, carefully avoiding his gaze.

"I think the rain is slowing down," she said.

He decided to take his cue as to how to behave from her. Apparently they were going to pretend nothing had happened. Okay. He could do that. He didn't really like it, but if it was the only way to get past this awkwardness, he was willing to follow her lead.

Buddies, he told himself firmly. They were just buddies.

"I think you're right," he answered. "In a couple of minutes, I think we can go inside the school and finish up the interview."

"Yeah, well..." She shrugged. "I think I have enough information. I mean, my notes are kind of soaked, but... well, it's late. It's almost dinnertime."

"Yeah," he agreed. "I guess I need to get home. If you want, I could come by your house later, and we could talk." She lifted her head and looked at him, and something wary in her expression made him stammer out, "I m-mean, about the interview."

"Right," she said softly. "Just business."

He looked into her golden eyes, and all of a sudden he knew he couldn't pretend this hadn't happened. It had happened. It had been great. And he wanted it to happen again.

Okay, not necessarily the soaking-wet-under-the-bleachers part. But he definitely wanted to get... wet... with her again.

"No," he answered. "Not just business."

She looked up at him, and then smiled, a slow, sexy smile that made his heart turn over in his chest.

"You have something else in mind?"

"Yeah," he said, very firmly. "I want to kiss you again."

"You can do that now," she whispered, and drew his head down to hers.

So he did, heedless of the fact that the rain had slowed down, and that they could almost certainly be seen. He no longer cared much what kind of gossip they might generate by necking under the bleachers. Because somewhere in the midst of a rainstorm, something had changed.

Everything had changed.

He kissed her, long and hard, and smiled against her mouth at the mingled taste of raindrops and cinnamon.

Clark Kent and Chloe Sullivan were very definitely not just buddies any more.

-The End-

Read the sequel, Rain.