Rose Red, Chapter 9

Kal/Chloe
Season 7
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 8 here.
Read the story from the beginning here.

Chloe felt herself gaping. Clark Kent had just planted one on her. And as far as she could tell, there was no red K anywhere to be seen. It was just him.

Must be a residual effect from the roses, she thought, and squinted at him suspiciously.

"Are you sure you're okay, Clark?"

"I'm fine," he answered, sounding a little impatient. "But I think I'm through with being just friends with you, Chloe."

"Just because we had wild and crazy sex when you stumbled across some red kryptonite?"

"No." He shook his head, looking very serious. "For a lot of reasons, Chlo. Because we have fun together. Because you always drop everything for me, whenever I need your help. Because you drag me out of the barn when I'm moping, and make me live."

She opened her mouth to speak, but he powered on right over her. Apparently he felt it was his turn to monologue, and he wasn't going to be interrupted.

"You're the best thing in my life right now," he told her, staring straight into her eyes. "If I'm going to be honest about it, you've been the best thing in my life for a long time. You're the only person who really makes me smile. You're the only person who really makes me happy. And when I think about that, I realize it's because we're more than just friends. Not because of what happened in the woods, but because that's the way things have been for quite a while now."

"Clark..."

"Now I know why Lana and I broke up," he went on as if she hadn't even spoken. "Because I was way more into you than I was into her, and she finally realized it."

Chloe felt her eyes smart with tears. Clark had been crazy about Lana for years, and the idea that he'd finally realized that his best friend meant more to him than Lana did, well...

She didn't quite believe it. But she wanted to believe it.

She stared up at him for a moment longer, then stood on tiptoe and planted one on him.

*****

Yes.

Clark wrapped his arms around Chloe and hauled her against him, hard. Her lips were soft against his. Too soft. He didn't want sweet, gentle, close-mouthed kisses. He didn't want anything that could be mistaken for platonic affection. He wanted heat and moisture and fire.

He wanted Chloe.

He kissed her a little harder, so that her head fell back and her lips parted, and his tongue delved into her mouth. Ordinarily he would have been a little shy about sticking his tongue down his best friend's throat-- but after what they'd done together this morning, he figured the time for shyness was in the past.

She made a tiny little whimpering sound in the back of her throat and surrendered to him, the tip of her tongue stroking his. At the shy, almost tentative touch of her tongue, lust and need exploded inside of him, and he sank down onto one of the kitchen chairs, dragging her into his lap.

The sturdy old oaken chair didn't even creak beneath their combined weight. He lowered his hands, digging his fingers into her hips and pulling her closer, so that she was pressed right up against him, straddling him the way she'd done earlier, in the woods. He was hard again, so hard he couldn't believe it. And God, yes, she felt so good against him, so good...

Their hands were all over each other, their bodies moved together fiercely, and he couldn't seem to stop kissing her. He was shocked to realize he wanted her just as desperately as he had on the red K. Maybe more so.

Her body moved on his, driving him closer and closer to a pinnacle, and the chair started to creak beneath them, just a bit. He began stripping off her clothes, because at this point it really seemed like the logical thing to do. She yanked off his t-shirt, too, and a second later they were both naked from the waist up. She pressed her bare breasts into his chest, and he heard himself groaning like she was killing him.

"Chloe." He finally managed to pull his mouth away from hers. His lips trailed down over the beautiful curve of her breast, exploring the soft, warm, abundant flesh, just as he'd done earlier. She'd always worn low cut shirts, and he'd had fantasies of kissing her breasts for years-- not that he ever would have admitted it. Her skin tasted sweet, like peaches, and he could taste the salty flavor of her sweat, too. He couldn't stop himself from opening his mouth and licking at her nipple, just a little.

She'd liked it last time, and she seemed to like it this time, too. She convulsed in his arms, crying out sharply, and he drew her nipple between his lips and sucked on it. Her body moved against him harder than ever, twisting so wildly that he thought she was going to push him right over the edge. He could feel the aching tension in his cock, his balls were so taut they hurt, and he could feel precome welling from him. And with every movement of her body, his desire intensified.

Lowering his head that way while seated made for an awkward position, so at last he straightened up and pressed his mouth to hers again. Her hands trailed down his chest, caressing his nipples, tracing his muscles and ribcage, and the next thing he knew she was unfastening his jeans.

He was so swollen with need that the mere touch of her fingers through denim made him groan. His hips jerked, and the chair creaked ominously beneath them.

And then she unzipped his jeans, and began to caress him through his boxers, and he sobbed with pleasure.

"Chloe-- don't-- no, I can't... ahhhh..."

Despite his broken words, she didn't stop. Her questing fingers slid up and down, caressing the shaft and the sensitive head, stroking up and down, over and over again, until he quivered all over.

She brought him right to the knife edge of orgasm. And then she drew back her hand, just in time, leaving him frantic with desire.

His hands fumbled desperately at her shorts. Seconds later she was sliding out of her shorts and panties, and then settling back into his lap, naked. She pressed right up against him, and even through his boxers he could tell she was very, very wet, and he lowered his head and buried his face against her shoulder in an effort to smother his moans.

And then she was shoving his boxers down. He lifted her just a bit, and slid right into her.

They both groaned in unison at the sensation. Clark felt his head drop back, felt his spine arch, heard a long, agonized sound rise from his throat, as he sank deep into her body.

"Oh, yes," she whispered against his throat, more articulate than he was. "Clark... God, Clark, I've always wanted to do this with you..."

He'd always wanted to do this with her, too. He thought back over all the fantasies he'd had over the years, and he knew that deep down, he'd always wanted to make love to her. He'd just been afraid of screwing up their friendship.

But he was sorry he'd never gone for her before now, because God, this was just amazing. The sensation of her body against his was beyond anything he'd ever imagined. He'd thought their encounters out in the woods had been hot, but this-- this was something else again.

This was real. And it was incredible.

It occurred to him that they'd forgotten to use protection again, but he figured that horse was already out of the barn and running loose across the plains, anyway. It was too late to worry about it today. Anyway, he didn't want to use a condom. The feel of her wet body surrounding his bare flesh was unbelievably intense, and he didn't want to do anything that might mute it, even a little.

He tried to move slowly, but it felt so good he couldn't. He thrust upward into her hot cream, and she moved on him, so hard that the chair creaked a little more loudly.

And then they were rocking together, really fast and really hard, both of them crying out wildly.

He could feel her body twitching, deep inside, and then he felt her coming in long, hard, relentless spasms, and he couldn't bear the ache any more. He thrust into her violently, and climaxed in a long hot rush, his voice raised in a hoarse shout of ecstasy.

The old chair shattered beneath them, and they collapsed to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs, but Clark was so transported he hardly noticed.

Read Chapter 10 here.