Manip by aqgalaxy. Used with permission.
Season 2, after "Rush"
Rating: Adult. If you're under eighteen, please go elsewhere now.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and DC Comics, not to me.
He couldn't forget.
He'd tried and tried to forget about everything they'd done together, but with no success. His memories were driving him crazy. The feel of her hands against him... her mouth against his... her tongue on his skin...
Clark Kent sighed and rolled over in bed, every bit as restless as he'd been the last three nights. Maybe even more so.
A bar of moonlight illuminated the ceiling above his bed. It was late, almost one in the morning, and he was going to be totally exhausted tomorrow if he didn't get to sleep soon.
He tried, really hard, to focus on the thin ribbon of moonlight above, but despite his efforts to empty his mind, he couldn't stop thinking about the way she'd smelled, the way she'd felt against him, the sound of her voice...
He gritted his teeth against a moan. He was only sixteen, and barely sixteen at that. He didn't have much experience with girls. He'd kissed a couple, very chastely, but that was the full extent of his experience. He'd certainly never engaged in a hot makeout session with one.
Until this week, anyway.
He stirred uncomfortably against the sheets, feeling hot and twitchy and jumpy. The images that flowed through his mind didn't help any.
The way she'd felt. God.
His hips moved restlessly, almost of their own accord. He wanted... wanted...
Well, he wasn't sure what he wanted.
Yeah, he was. He might be only sixteen, but he wasn't stupid.
Chloe Sullivan didn't remember any of it, of course, because she'd been under the influence of a rather nasty-looking parasite. Once it had been removed, her memories of the incident had gone with it.
He couldn't say the same. He'd been under the influence of red meteor rock, and even after the rock had fallen out of his pocket, his memories of that afternoon remained firmly engraved in his brain.
Hands on skin. Mouths exploring. Bodies moving together. So close to sex... so close...
Damn it. He squirmed under the covers, more restless than before. He ordinarily slept in a t-shirt and boxers, but his clothes were bugging the hell out of him for some reason. His skin felt weird and itchy and sensitized, and he couldn't stand the sensation of cloth against him another minute.
He kicked the covers off, then peeled off his shirt and boxers. The night air eddying in from the open window cooled his skin, bringing him some small measure of relief.
But he needed something more than a light breeze against his skin. He needed to be touched.
He needed her touch.
No, he told himself firmly. Can't happen. She doesn't even remember any of it.
Chloe was just a friend, anyway. If he came onto her, she'd think he was crazy, especially since she didn't remember making out with him in the back of a car, and again in the Talon. To her, any interest he might display would seem to be coming out of nowhere. He couldn't throw their friendship out of whack, just because they'd had a hot makeout session.
Well, two hot makeout sessions, actually.
More like three, if you counted what they'd done in the barn...
This is not helping, he told himself firmly. Think about something else.
He tried, very hard, to go over the facts he needed to know for his history exam tomorrow-- well, today-- but the facts just kept melting out of his brain, to be replaced with a wide smile and blonde hair and the feel of her hands stroking over his chest...
He shivered at that memory. Her hands had felt exquisite against his skin. So freaking good. She'd run her hands up along the middle of his chest...
He couldn't quite help himself. He let one of his own hands retrace the path hers had taken. It felt awesome, so pleasurable he arched his head back and squirmed a little more.
He remembered everything she'd done with perfect clarity, and he let his mind drift back over the memories. Her hand had slipped to the side, just a little...
He moved his hand, brushing his fingers lightly over his own nipple, and it felt so good he could barely bite back a cry of pleasure. His parents were asleep, right down the hall, and the last thing he needed was for them to wake up and hear him, well...
Not that he was doing anything to be embarrassed about. Not really. He was just kind of remembering things that had happened.
And, well, reenacting them, just a bit.
She'd taken his nipple between her thumb and finger and pinched it just a little, and that had felt incredibly good. He did that now, pinching his own nipple, and his hips moved again, harder this time.
Oh God oh God Chloe...
Under the influence of the red rock, he'd been totally free of restraint or embarrassment, and he remembered himself moaning and sobbing and growling, uttering sounds he'd never make under ordinary circumstances. At least he thought he wouldn't, although it was true that his experience with girls and sex was severely limited. For all he knew he'd react the exact same way even when he wasn't on red meteor rock.
What she'd done to him had driven him crazy.
Thinking about it now made him even crazier.
The problem was that he'd been thinking about it for the past three nights, and the need just kept building inside him. He'd tried really hard to stop the images from flashing in his mind, but he just couldn't. It had been a pretty overwhelming experience for a sexually naive, virginal sixteen-year-old, and he simply couldn't seem to forget about it.
He remembered her hand stroking down over his belly. They'd been in Pete's car, but a lot of what she was doing with her hands had been hidden from Pete, who was driving. At least Clark hoped it had been hidden. Not that it mattered, because Pete had been infected by a parasite, and he didn't remember a thing that had happened, either. But still, the thought of his best buddy looking on while he and Chloe engaged in heavy petting was beyond embarrassing.
He put Pete out of his mind, and traced lightly along the path of her hand had taken with his fingers. Down over his abdomen, and then just a little lower, right over his jeans.
Except he wasn't wearing jeans now. He wasn't wearing anything.
His cock practically jumped into his hand, hard and hot and desperately needy. He couldn't stop his fingers from wrapping around it, the way she'd wrapped her hand around him. She'd been touching him through jeans, but it had felt awesome, even so. She'd begun running her hand up and down...
His hand began pumping, in a rhythm he had no control over, a rhythm he was absolutely helpless to stop.
He could feel his body responding, could feel his hips lifting, driving his cock into his own hand eagerly. He touched himself in a way he'd discovered he liked, letting his thumb brush lightly over the head. It was wet already, precome welling from the little slit there, and he used his thumb to slick the moisture over the head as his hand continued to pump.
He imagined her touching him this intimately, with no jeans in the way, her hand right against his aching flesh, and heat swelled inside him.
Chloe Chloe God Chloe...
He remembered the scent of her hair, the scent of her arousal. The sweet and spicy fragrance that he somehow instinctively knew was moisture building between her legs, wetting the insides of her thighs, making her ready for him to screw her.
No. He didn't like that phrase. He wasn't the kind of guy that screwed girls. He preferred to think of it as making love. Anyway, they were friends, and he'd never...
Oh, God, yes he would.
In that moment, all he'd wanted to do was screw her. Hard and fast and violent, right there in the back of Pete's car.
He imagined himself falling back against the cushions, her hands undoing his jeans and pushing them out of the way, then stripping her own shorts off. He imagined her lowering herself onto his body, hot and wet and so damn good...
"Ohhhh." He couldn't keep himself quiet, any more than he could slow the violent jerking motion of his hand. "Ohhhhh, yes, yes..."
He'd never had sex, but his imagination was able to fill in the gaps in his knowledge pretty damn well. In his mind, he was screwing her hard now. No, fucking her, fucking in a hard, relentless rhythm, driving into her moist, hot depths and feeling her body surrounding his. Squeezing his, because didn't girls' bodies kind of... contract when they came?
He was pretty sure they did. He thought about that, thought about heat and pressure and violent thrusts, thought about two bodies straining together for release, and a noise came from his throat that was so desperate and frantic he could hardly believe it. It was a long wail of frustrated need, a wail he just couldn't hold back.
He imagined coming deep inside her, in a rapturous explosion of heat, and suddenly he felt his cock jerking hard in his hand, and come spurted all over his belly, hot rush after hot rush, so good he writhed and shuddered as his voice rose in a long, inarticulate series of cries.
God. So good. So fucking good.
This was ecstasy, an intense, overwhelming pleasure he'd never known before. He'd come before, but never like this, never this sensation that broke over him like a wave of flame, filling him from head to toes with fiery rapture.
It was so good that for this moment, he didn't even care if his parents heard. Parents or no parents, there was no freaking way he could keep himself quiet.
At last the frantic spasms of his cock died into stillness, his cries fell to gasps, and he felt his marble-hard erection beginning to soften in his hand.
He released himself and sank back against the bed with a low moan, a noise of mingled pleasure and frustration. Pleasure, because it had felt so very good.
And frustration, because despite the intensity of his climax, he still wanted Chloe so much it hurt.
He lay there, gulping in oxygen, straining to hear any sounds that might indicate his parents had heard him. There was only silence, and he relaxed a little. He might be an alien, but the thought of being caught jerking off by his parents embarrassed him as much as it embarrassed any other teenager.
Even though he still wanted Chloe, on some deep inner level, a peaceful sensation was beginning to eddy through his muscles, warming them, loosening them. He felt truly relaxed, for the first time in three days, and his eyes began to slide shut.
Slowly, he drifted into sleep.
But despite the way he'd climaxed, despite the way he'd burned off the most urgent flames of sexual need, his dreams were filled with memories, with the touch of her hands and the caress of her lips and the feel of her body against his.
His dreams were filled with her.