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 8 here.
Clark's mouth brushed over her ear, sending tingles through her, and she wiggled, pressing right up against him. A voice whispered in her head, very distantly.
He doesn't really want you. He doesn't find you attractive, not in the least. Run... run...
She turned her face against his throat and spoke, her voice muffled. "We still have company."
"Damn." His hand tightened possessively in her hair. "Persistent bastard, isn't it?"
"Yes. But it sounds really... far away. I think we're having an effect, Clark. Honestly, I do."
He chuckled, a low, wry sound.
"Let's keep working at it," he said.
Moments later, he'd stripped off the remainder of his clothes, and his mouth was on her thighs, caressing and exploring the sensitive skin there. She found herself sprawled on her back, her legs wide open for him. A sweet lassitude still filled her, but she managed to force her eyes open and looked down, seeing his dark head between her legs.
It was just as hot a sight as she'd imagined.
His lips and tongue trailed over the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, and she fell back against the mattress, closing her eyes, letting him do anything he liked to her. He kissed her, slowly and thoroughly, and she heard a low growl rise from his throat.
"God, Chlo, you smell good... you smell like sex..."
See, he wants me, she told the distant voice defiantly. So fuck off.
His head moved a little higher, and then he was brushing kisses right over her clit. The lassitude faded away, and she gasped and moaned as sparks seemed to shoot through her body. The sparks built up inside her, creating heat, generating a fire that burned deep inside her body.
And then his big hands reached up, parting her, opening her, and he stroked his tongue lightly over the sensitive bud of flesh there.
She jerked violently, and the memory of his low, sexy voice filtered through her mind: I'm going to go down on you, Chlo. I'm going to lick your clit until you're begging for mercy.
She was already tempted to start begging for mercy, and he'd barely started.
A few moments ago, she'd been quietly enjoying his ministrations, comfortable and warm and boneless, but he'd somehow set off a conflagration inside her. Her body ached with a fierce need, and the blood seemed to be boiling in her veins. She'd already come twice tonight, and yet she was as turned on as if she hadn't had sex in months.
His tongue caressed her again, with careful thoroughness, and her hands slid down and sank deeply into his hair, demanding more.
He acceded willingly to her demand. His tongue explored her a little faster, a little more intimately, and it was so, so good...
She felt herself melting into the mattress, a helpless puddle of goo, unable to do a thing but quiver and moan and clutch his hair harder.
"Unnnhhhh." She heard him make a little noise of hunger and need, and suddenly she realized he was just as turned on as she was. Maybe more so. He hadn't come earlier, after all, and he'd been taking care of her needs repeatedly while ignoring his. He was probably hard and aching and desperate for release...
At the image that thought put into her head, she was suddenly hungrier for sex than she'd ever been in her lifetime.
"Clark," she whispered. "Make love to me."
She heard a low laugh. "I thought that was what I was doing."
She opened her eyes, looking down at the dark head between her thighs. "You know what I mean. Fuck me, Clark. You promised."
In her mind, she heard his voice: I'm going to fuck you till scream for me. She really liked that idea.
But he shook his head and glanced up at her. In his green eyes, she saw a glint of mischief.
"I told you already," he said softly. "I'm doing this till you beg for mercy."
He lowered his head again, and then his tongue was stroking her faster, in a rapid, relentless rhythm that made her inner muscles clench. She could feel herself growing wetter, could feel hot moisture beginning to slick the inside of her thighs. The pleasure build higher and higher, until she was writhing wildly, her hips rising to meet his mouth with a frantic desperation.
"Ohhhhh," she moaned. "Oh, yes..."
She was going to come again, and this time it was going to be unbearably good. She could feel her thighs trembling, could feel her skin growing damp with sweat. Her heart beat a frantic tattoo in her chest, and she couldn't seem to draw in enough oxygen. She'd never been so turned on in her life.
But he slowed down the pace a bit, somehow holding her back from climax, keeping her balanced right on the edge, trembling and dizzy and unsteady but unable to fall over the precipice into the dark abyss below. Her hands dug into his hair, hard, and she whimpered.
"Please, Clark... please..."
"You want to come," he whispered. He somehow managed to speak without any apparent interruption in the movement of his tongue, and she guessed it had to do with superspeed, but her mind was too filled with pleasure for her to analyze it much. "Don't you?"
"Soon," he promised softly. His tongue kept stroking, relentlessly, and she quivered all over, frantic for release.
"Clark... please... I have to... I can't..."
"You can wait." His hand had been resting on top of her thigh, but now he moved it, and two of his fingers slid into the depths of her body. She jerked and moaned. "I've been waiting all this time, Chlo. If I can wait, so can you."
He licked her, and his fingers thrust into her, and she felt her womb squeezing, deep inside, and she knew she was going to come all over his hand. She threw her head back and wailed, giving in, surrendering to him utterly.
But once again, just as the pleasure inside her built to a peak, he lifted his head, and the movement of his hand stopped.
"Clark." She whimpered again. She couldn't help it. "Please, Clark, please please please..."
He withdrew his hand, and then he was shifting position, moving up over her body, levering himself up off the bed with one arm on either side of her. She felt something hard and hot pressing against her inner thigh, and she sobbed with need, clutching desperately at his shoulders.
"You want me," he whispered in her ear. "And I want you. You know that, don't you, Chlo?"
She nodded. There was no voice whispering in the back of her brain now, neither Brainiac nor her own insecurities. There was no room left in her mind for doubts or fears. She wanted Clark, and he wanted her, and she knew it with a certainty she never could have imagined before today.
They belonged together. They belonged right here, joined intimately together in bed, arms and legs wrapped around each other, mouths fused together, bodies moving in unison.
Brainiac couldn't keep the truth from her any longer. She and Clark were meant to be together. They always had been.
Her hands slid down the strong muscles of his back, settling on his ass, and then her fingers dug into him, asking wordlessly for what she needed so badly. His spine flexed, and then he was sinking into her, slowly, endlessly, and she lifted her legs and wrapped them around his hips, letting him have all of her.
"Ahhhhh." Another primal sound of hunger and longing fell from him. He slipped into her, all the way to the hilt, and then held still, trembling beneath her hands.
"Clark." She squirmed. "You promised. Fuck me."
"I promised... to fuck you... until you screamed." His voice was rough and uneven. "But I'm not sure... I can wait... long enough..."
"You don't have to wait." Her hands squeezed the taut muscles of his ass. "Please, Clark. Now."
She heard an indrawn breath, almost a gasp, and then he withdrew, and plunged into her hard. He moved in her violently, and at his sudden onslaught, she shuddered, overwhelmed by a pleasure that was almost too great to bear.
An incredible release spilled through her body, driving away her fears and her insecurities and anything else that might be lurking inside her. There was no room in her mind for fears, because she was consumed by an intense ecstasy that filled her as completely as Clark did.
She heard herself screaming. Herself, and only herself. Inside her head, there was a blessed silence.
Clark gave a low, ragged groan. His hips jerked erratically, and she felt his body shaking as he exploded deep inside her, spilling his come into her in long, hot spurts, burying his face against her throat and whispering her name over and over again.
And then there was only silence, inside and out.
The companionable silence filled the room for a long time. Clark had shifted so that he was lying beside her on the bed, his big body sprawled out so that it took up much of the available space. She didn't mind, because it was an excuse to cuddle up near him.
"So," he said at last. "Is it gone, do you think?"
She listened, very intently. "I don't know," she said at last. "It's quiet. I can't feel it there. But... that isn't proof it's gone."
"No. But it's a good sign."
"Yes." She reached down and curled her fingers around his. "But I don't think we can afford to become complacent about it, Clark. That might be what it wants."
"Hmmmm," he said thoughtfully, as if considering the problem. "You'll know if it comes back, won't you?"
"I don't know." She held onto him. He'd always been her lifeline in times of trouble, and that was more true than ever now. "It might be smarter this time. It might figure out a way to take me over without letting me know it's there."
"Yeah," he agreed. "If it's still there, it might."
"So... Clark, you have to keep an eye on me, all the time. I don't want it to... to use me. If it tries, you have to stop me somehow. Okay?"
He was silent for a long moment. "Chlo, you don't think it could make you..."
"I don't know what it could make me do," she answered. "For all I know it could make me hurt people, or even kill them. It already managed to get me to agree to marry a man I didn't love, and to keep me away from the man I did love, all by playing on my insecurities--"
"Hold it. Could you rewind a bit there?"
She smiled against his chest. "My insecurities?"
"A little more. What's this about the man you love?"
"Did I say that?"
"You did. Do you mean me?"
At the note of delighted astonishment in his voice, she couldn't hold back a chuckle. "Clark. Are you really that surprised to know I love you?"
"Uh... yeah. I knew you had a crush on me in high school, but I sort of thought that was all in the past..."
"A crush?" She craned her head back and looked up at him, glaring into his eyes with mock ferocity. "I never had a crush on you, Clark. I loved you. Practically from the day we met. I still do."
He looked back into her eyes, and she saw his eyelashes fluttering as he blinked hard. "Oh," he said, very softly. "I didn't know that."
"Then you're dense."
Some of the seriousness melted out of his expression, and he flashed his wry smile. "Surely that doesn't come as a surprise to you."
"No. Not really." She squeezed his hand. "I guess I'm dense, too. I lied to myself for a long time, Clark. But Brainiac knew how I felt."
"I've lied to myself a long time, too." He brushed a kiss over the top of her head. "I love you, Chlo. And if Brainiac's still with you... I'll watch you. I swear, I won't let you do anything you shouldn't."
Some of the weight lifted off her shoulders. She couldn't feel or hear the alien presence in her head, so it was possible they'd destroyed it. If not, they'd weakened it badly. And if the AI was still lurking inside her somewhere, waiting to use her again, Clark would protect her.
She didn't have to cope with this alone any more. She had Clark.
No, she reminded herself. She'd always had Clark. He'd been her best friend for eight years now. But now, at long last, he was more than just a friend.
And with him at her side, holding her hand, she thought she could cope with anything.