Rating: Adult. If you're under eighteen, please go elsewhere now.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and DC Comics, not to me.
Sequel to Purple.
"She knelt in front of him, staring at the enormous marble column of his manhood..."
"Yeah, because nothing is as sexy as comparing a guy to parts of a building. Clark, where did you get that book?"
"Used book store. Check out the cover. She's wearing green eye shadow."
"Yeah. I see. What's with you and the obsession with bad, ancient romances?"
"Hey. It's literature."
"Uh-huh. So what is she going to do with his marble column? Or should I even bother to ask?"
"Um... she's opening her lips and, uh, taking it into the moist cavern of her mouth."
"He better be careful. A guy can get mildewed that way."
"Ha. Quit interrupting, Chlo. I bought this because I thought it might give us some ideas."
"What, you don't think I can figure out what to do with your marble column on my own?"
"Well, I figure a little inspiration never hurts."
"Farmboy, the only thing these books inspire in me is laughter."
"Yeah, me too. But that's not a bad thing, I guess. I mean, laughing over one of these things is how we wound up together in the first place. Anyway, want to hear about the way he gets mildewed?"
"Um... as appealing as that sounds..."
"Of course you do. He thrust his mighty manhood into the fiery oven between her lips..."
"Can I just interrupt you to say ow?"
"Yeah. Reading this makes me glad I'm invulnerable. Heat crackled around him, scorching him..."
"Can marble be scorched?"
"I'd really rather not think about it."
"Well, you're the one who brought that silly book over, so don't stop now. Go ahead, finish it. What happens after she scorches him?"
"Uh... he shouted aloud as he shattered into a million pieces in the hot kiln of her mouth."
"Poor guy. I bet he was expecting something a little better."
"Yeah. That's gotta hurt. Um, Chlo, listen..."
"Stop right there, farmboy. I'm working the late shift, and I have to get to work. I don't have time to toast your marble column in the kiln of my mouth, or whatever horrible jumble of metaphors you had in mind."
"Stop it with the eyes."
"And the whine! Ack! Stop it!"
"Admit it. You don't have any self-control where I'm concerned."
"It's not you, farmboy. It's the violet prose. It really does something to the writer in me. It... it inspires me."
"To make love?"
"No, to never use another metaphor as long as I live."
"Come on, Chlo. You can't tell me you weren't a little turned on by all that."
"Oh, yes, Clark. I was totally turned on. Oh, Clark, your marble column is so incredibly massive..."
"So hard. So smooth. So... columnar."
"You're mocking me, aren't you?"
"Just trying to add a little poetry to our sex lives, Clark."
"Do you think maybe you could talk a little less, and scorch me a little more?"
"What part of I have to get to work did you fail to understand?"
"Come on, Chlo. You know I can get you to Metropolis in three seconds flat. Anyway, the truth is... I'm kind of turned on."
"Oh, my God. You really are. Were you seriously turned on by that crap you just read to me?"
"Hell, no. I'm turned on by you, Chlo."
"Aw. That's sweet."
"So do you think maybe you could get around to some scorching?"
"Sure, farmboy. Invulnerable or not... you'll need a fire extinguisher when I'm through with you."