More Than Friends, Chapter 8

Clark/Chloe
Season 8, MHE for "Plastique"
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 7 here.

"Is it gone?"

Chloe stirred. She'd been sprawled on the mattress, inert, exhausted, practically boneless. But the soft rumble of Clark's voice brought her back to full awareness, and she focused. The presence in her mind was quiet, but she was fairly certain she still felt it there, crouching in a dark corner, malevolent and shadowy.

"I don't think so," she answered. "We hurt it, though. A lot."

He sighed, and wrapped a big arm around her, pulling her against his chest. "I hoped that would get rid of it," he said into her hair.

"I don't know if it's that easy, Clark."

"Things are rarely that easy." He hugged her against him. "But at least we hurt it. Maybe if we keep trying, we can get rid of it entirely."

She stirred against him. "Clark... about that..."

He stiffened slightly. "Don't tell me you've changed your mind, Chlo."

"Of course I haven't. But the thing is..." She adopted a light, teasing tone. "You promised me a whole lot, and so far you haven't followed through on your promises."

"Yeah, well..." He lifted his head, and she noticed with amusement that his cheeks were red. "I was just trying to get you really turned on, Chlo. I don't usually talk that way, but I figured..."

"It worked." She smiled at him. "I was really turned on."

"Well. Okay." He pressed his face back into her hair, whether as an affectionate gesture or to hide his blush she wasn't sure. "I guess we can... but I sort of figured I should, you know, let you recover a little first..."

"I'm recovered." She rolled over, pressed her body to his, and nuzzled his chest. "Give me everything you promised, farmboy."

*****

The pressure of her body against his seemed to drive away his sudden attack of shyness, and he responded eagerly. His mouth, hot and hungry, explored her throat, and his hands roved over her body as her fingers unbuttoned his flannel shirt and shoved it off. Beneath it he wore an old blue t-shirt, and she grabbed the hem and drew that off, too, with his eager cooperation.

Then he was leaning back over her, barechested, so beautiful it almost hurt to look at him.

She wanted to touch him. She needed to touch him. She lifted her hands, running them over the powerful muscles of his back, and he shivered and moaned.

His hands removed her panties, rather hastily, and then his finger was investigating her wet flesh, teasing, stroking lightly.

She shuddered, because she was still really sensitive there. Even so, she wanted more than light, teasing touches. A lot more. "Hey," she whispered. "You made some promises. Get busy."

He laughed softly, and then his finger slipped into her. She remembered his blunt words: I'm going to slide my fingers inside you and finger fuck you, hard.

Oh, God. She was so totally in favor of that.

He had big hands, and she could feel her body stretching as his finger filled her. He moved it in and out, very gently. Something stirred anxiously in the back of her mind, but she pushed it away easily, focusing on the movement of his hand. She sighed with pleasure, and her eyelids drifted shut.

"More," she whispered.

"Uh..." He sounded like he might be blushing again, although she couldn't bring herself to open her eyes to find out. "I haven't ever really done this, Chlo... I'm not sure I'm doing it quite right..."

She remembered how commanding he'd sounded earlier as he'd murmured blunt, dirty things into her ear, and couldn't help but smile at the funny contrast to his hesitant, uncertain tone now.

"You're doing fine," she answered. "But you promised me you'd do it hard, remember?"

"Yeah," he said gruffly. "I remember. But I'm really not sure..." He paused for a moment, then slid another finger inside her, stretching her further, and began moving his hand a little harder.

"Ohhhhhh." She heard the soft moan rise from her own throat, felt her head drop back on the pillow. Her hips lifted, meeting his hand eagerly.

"Is that good?" he whispered in her ear.

"Oh, God, yes, that's good. Very, very good."

He seemed reassured by her words, because his hand moved in her harder. Every thrust sent a stab of pleasure through her. She leaned her head back on the pillow, moaning, but there was a thread of frustration mixed in with the pleasure, because as good as it was, it wasn't... quite... enough...

He must have heard her frustration, because he moved his hand even harder, and his thumb began brushing over her clit. The effect on her was almost instantaneous. She came in a sudden rush of heat, her inner muscles contracting violently around his hand. She heard a voice distantly screaming, and wasn't sure if it was her, or the voice in her head, or both of them.

At last she collapsed back onto the sheets, suddenly aware that she was sweaty and flushed. She hadn't been this turned on in a long, long time.

And she'd never, ever been satiated like this.

She rolled her head on the pillow, gazing into the smoky depths of his green eyes, and gave him a sleepy smile of contentment.

"Hey," he said softly, stroking her hair. "Don't go to sleep yet."

"Why not?" she mumbled.

He grinned at her.

"Because," he answered, "I still have lots of promises I have to make good on."

Read Chapter 9 here.