Season 7, MHE to "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 3 here.
Read the story from the beginning here.
Chloe made a little noise, a faint whimper deep in her throat, and Clark froze.
"You okay?" he whispered.
"I'm fine." Her fingers curled into his hips, clutching him. "Go on."
"But..." Sweat beaded on his forehead, but somehow he managed to keep himself still. "I don't want to hurt you, Chlo."
"You're not hurting me. Trust me."
"I've always known I could hurt a woman, and the last thing I'd want to do is--"
"Clark." Her fingers dug into the muscles of his ass with increasing desperation. "Please. Stop talking."
"I just want to make absolutely certain that--"
"Oh, God." She threw back her head and spoke irritably to the ceiling. "For crying out loud, Clark, I'm fine. Except for the fact that I'm about to die of sexual frustration. Other than that, everything is just peachy."
The primitive, animal part of him clamored for him to move, to thrust, to make love to her. But the more intelligent part of his brain-- what was left of it-- was still worried about hurting her, no matter how many times she reassured him. He gritted his teeth, gathered all his self-control, and thrust into her very, very gently.
Even that was almost enough to send him over the edge. His self-control frayed even further, and he ground his teeth harder and froze again. She'd clenched her eyes shut at his movement, but now she opened them and glared at him.
"What exactly are you doing?"
"Making... love... to... you," he said through his teeth.
"Making love involves moving, Clark."
"Once! Moving once is not making love!"
"I'm trying to keep it slow..."
"There's slow," she said, sounding genuinely irritated, "and then there's making love like a snail."
"Uh..." He thought about that. "Do snails make love?"
"Please. Clark. You are killing me here."
"That's exactly what I'm worried about," he said under his breath.
"Clark." Her annoyed expression softened. She lifted her hands, wrapped her arms around his neck, and gazed into his eyes. "You won't hurt me. I know you won't. I trust you, okay?"
He lowered his head, bumping her nose with his gently. "I wish I trusted me."
"It'll be okay," she whispered, and gently kissed him.
Just like the last time, the kiss started out soft and chaste, but it grew rapidly in intensity. Her lips parted, and he let his tongue thrust into her mouth in a sexual rhythm, the way he longed to thrust into her hot depths.
Her body strained against his, and he could smell the fragrance of her arousal, and the vanilla scent of her perfume. Suddenly he couldn't hold himself back any more, couldn't keep still another instant.
His body began to move in hers, tentatively at first, then with more assurance. And then he was thrusting into her in a steady, confident rhythm, as they moaned into each other's mouths.
Her hands caressed him everywhere, and he reveled in it. After a month of being locked away in ice, a month of no human contact, a month of missing her terribly, making love to her this way was beyond ecstasy. It was the fulfillment of everything he'd longed for, everything he'd dreamed of over the past month.
Little whimpers rose from her throat, and her inner muscles began to quiver and pulse around him, driving him to a faster pace. He began moving harder, so hard he was half afraid he might hurt her.
But he couldn't stop, because something powerful and wild was gathering inside him, something that was totally beyond his ability to control.
Being out of control was what he most feared, and he struggled to stop his violent movements, or at least slow them down. But her wet, soft body spasmed around his, squeezing him hard, and he couldn't stop, couldn't regain any sort of control.
He plunged into her, hard and fast, all his muscles trembling. As her body convulsed beneath his, he surrendered, letting himself go. Their voices rose as their bodies moved together, and his cock jerked wildly inside her, spilling his come deep in her body in a long burst of rapture.
Afterward, he collapsed on her, breathing hard. He'd been pretty brutal toward the end, but he didn't seem to have done her any harm, much to his relief. Her hands stroked over his back, sliding up and down his spine in an affectionate, gentle caress, and he sighed with pleasure as warmth and peace suffused him.
He wanted to slide quietly into sleep, but it dawned on him that he was too heavy to sleep on top of her. He rolled over, and she moved, settling her head onto his shoulder. He wrapped both arms around her.
A memory drifted through his head, the memory of lying in his own bed earlier, right next to Lana, and yet a million miles away from her.
He'd never felt as close to Lana as he felt to Chloe right now. Never.
And he suspected Lana felt the same, because otherwise she surely wouldn't have convinced herself that his evil twin was the same guy she'd known for years. She'd apparently fallen for his doppelganger because Clark hadn't been giving her everything she needed, everything she wanted.
But he couldn't give her that. Because he simply wasn't the guy Lana really wanted.
The truth of the matter was that he and Lana just weren't that close. They wanted different things out of life, and no amount of trying to make things work could ever fix that. No matter how much he'd tried to convince himself that he and Lana were meant to be together... they'd just never understood each other the way he and Chloe did. He and Chloe were on the same wavelength somehow.
Somehow, he thought wryly, the last half hour had clarified things in his head in a way an entire month of enforced thinking hadn't. He knew what he wanted now. He knew what he needed.
And it wasn't Lana.
Oblivious to his thoughts, Chloe snuggled up against him warmly. "You better go," she said, her voice blurry and indistinct with drowsiness. "You need to get back."
"No," he said softly. "I'm not going back to her, Chlo."
She lifted her head and blinked at him. "Huh?"
"Tomorrow," he said, "I'm going to ask her to leave the farm."
"Oh." She thought about that for a moment, and he saw guilt in her gold-green eyes. Lana had once been one of her closest friends, but they'd drifted apart lately. Still, he understood where the guilt was coming from. He felt it too.
"It's better this way," he told her. "I just don't feel that way about her, Chlo. And she doesn't feel that way about me, either. We've both been trying to fix our relationship... but the truth is, there's nothing there to fix. Maybe there never was."
She dropped her head back onto his shoulder and cuddled a little closer. "Are you sure?"
He closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of her body against his, the warmth that earlier had seemed to radiate straight into his heart, melting away the remnants of the ice he'd been frozen in. Her arms had felt right around him when she'd hugged him, and they felt right now. He couldn't imagine sleeping next to another woman, ever again.
Chloe was the one who belonged in his arms.
"Yes," he answered, holding her a little more tightly. "I'm sure."