Sparks

Clark/Chloe
Season 9
Rating: Adult. If you're under eighteen, please go elsewhere now.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and DC Comics, not to me.
Screencap from Dynamic Duo.

"Are you all right?"

Clark Kent lifted his head as his best friend Chloe Sullivan walked into his loft. He'd been slumped on the old red couch, his head in his hands, but he offered her a weak smile. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not." She walked over to him with her customary brisk, purposeful stride and frowned down at him. "You're sweating. You never sweat. And..." She put a hand on his forehead. "You're burning up."

Her hand, chilled by the January air, felt cool against his skin, and he could barely resist the impulse to turn his face into her hand. Instead, he shrugged. "It's no big deal, Chlo."

She dropped down next to him on the couch, and gave him her don't-lie-to-me-farmboy scowl. "What's going on, Clark?"

He sighed, knowing she wasn't going to let it go. "My heat vision is on the fritz."

"Your heat vision?" She cocked her head in her customary gesture of curiosity. "Why?"

"I don't know. I went to see Dr. Hamilton about it, and he thinks maybe it's due to how long I had to use it on that ice creature last week. He thinks I burned it out, but only temporarily."

She looked worried. "He's sure it's temporary?"

"Pretty sure. He has no way of knowing for sure, I guess. It's not like he has an anatomy book for Kryptonians lying around."

"So..." She lifted her hand and touched his cheek again. "What does this have to do with you sweating this way? You never sweat."

"Well..." He shrugged. "Obviously I generate a lot of heat, more than humans do. And the way my body gets rid of it is by heat vision."

She nodded. "So without heat vision... you overheat."

"Pretty much. It's been a week, and I must have built up a lot of heat. I guess my body is trying to take care of it by sweating, but I don't think it's working too well."

"No, I guess not. You have the window open, and you're still burning up. You must be miserable."

She still had her hand against his cheek, and he shifted slightly, feeling a certain discomfort that was not related to sweating. "Yeah, well, I don't know what else to do about it, Chlo. I don't know how to get my heat vision up and running again."

"I thought," she said softly, "that your heat vision had a hormonal component."

"Uh." His discomfort grew worse, and abruptly he identified the problem-- a hard-on. Great. He was getting turned on by his best friend's touch. Obviously his body was seriously screwed up right now. "Uh, well, sort of. But I... well, I don't..."

Her thumb began stroking the mole on his cheek, very lightly. "I might be able to help you with that, Clark."

His erection began throbbing, and he closed his eyes, trying to restrain himself from putting his hands all over her. Because yeah, there had always been a certain attraction between the two of them, some undeniable sparks, but they'd managed to keep things on the friendship level this long.

He was a status quo guy. He didn't like things to change.

And putting his hands all over her-- well, that would be a change, for sure.

"Uh," he said again. His voice sounded deep and gravelly even to his own ears. "I think I can... I mean, I think it's just a matter of... well, waiting it out..."

"But the first time it happened, it had a sexual component, right? You set that movie screen on fire while we were watching a sex ed video in science class, remember? You told me that was the first time your heat vision activated."

His cheeks flushed, and he felt hotter than before. "Yeah. But eventually I learned to do it without thinking about, uh..."

"Still," she persisted. Chloe Sullivan was nothing if not persistent. "It's related to thoughts of sex, isn't it?"

If she said sex one more time, he was going to spontaneously combust, right here on his couch. Her hand was still stroking his cheek, and he desperately wanted to turn his head and kiss the palm of her hand. He didn't know why, exactly, except that it was right there, and she was touching him so gently, and it felt so good...

He felt a shiver go through his body.

"Chill?" she whispered.

"Sort of." In fact he was hotter than ever. The shiver was, he was fairly certain, not temperature related.

"Maybe that's a good sign." She kept stroking his cheek, and he shivered again. And yet he was growing so hot he thought he might melt into a puddle any minute.

"Unnnnhhhh." The sound came out of his mouth involuntarily, and he blushed hotter than before. He got to his feet and stepped away. "Maybe... maybe this isn't such a good idea..."

She didn't listen to him. She stood up and followed him, and her hand reached up and slid around to the back of his neck. She began caressing him there, and he dropped his head back a little and moaned again.

"Is that helping?" she whispered.

"Actually..." He had to struggle to get the words together. "I think it's making it worse."

"Okay," she said in a no-nonsense tone. "So the thought of sex makes you hot. Literally hot. The heat vision must be just a side effect."

She sounded so detached, so clinical, that some of his arousal drained away. He opened his eyes and glared at her, frustrated and annoyed.

"If you're going to put your hands all over me," he said in a low growl, "I think I should be entitled to do likewise."

He put his hand on her cheek, stroking her the way she'd stroked him, and her eyes went wide. Her cheek felt like satin under his fingers, soft and warm and silky, and he wondered if she felt like that everywhere, if she was that soft on her belly and her legs and her...

God. He was so hot.

Sweat was pouring from him now. It was kind of embarrassing, really. He was used to not having to deal with sweat or body odor, but he figured he probably kind of reeked right now. And yet here he was putting the moves on a girl.

Well, not just a girl. On Chloe.

She didn't seem to mind the way he smelled, though. Her eyelashes fluttered, and then her eyelids drifted shut, and she swayed toward him.

He took a step toward her, too, because he couldn't quite help himself, and then her face was against his throat, and his nose was buried in her hair, and their bodies were pressed together all the way down.

He was so hot he wanted to take his clothes off.

Well, okay, so maybe heat wasn't the whole reason he wanted to take them off.

He thought about her naked form pressed up against his wet, sweaty body, and the thought made his erection throb with a new and compelling urgency. His hips moved against her, in an instinctive motion, and she rubbed against him, and a little sound came out of his mouth. This one was less like a moan, and more like a squeak.

Great. He was squeaking. How very... manly.

He tried very hard to put a muzzle on the squeaking, but she pressed against him again. His eyes began to itch, and his cock throbbed, and another little squeak escaped him despite his best effort. His cheeks flared hotter than before.

In fact, all of him was hotter than before.

He was amazed he wasn't scorching her, but she seemed able to touch his skin. She was caressing him other places now, her hands trailing over his back, stroking him through the old t-shirt he wore, stroking over his ribs, and then his chest, brushing lightly over his nipples and his abs...

God, he needed his heat vision. He'd never realized how important it was to the proper functioning of his body till now. He was overheating so damn badly, and there wasn't any way to dissipate the heat...

His hands were on her now, too, exploring her back, the curve of her waist, the flare of her hips. She wore an old Planet sweatshirt and jeans, because it was pretty chilly out for humans, and he was suddenly immensely frustrated because he couldn't feel the texture of her skin through the thick material of the sweatshirt. So he shoved it up and delved beneath, running his palms eagerly over her back.

She gave a little gasp, and he moaned again, because her skin was just as satiny and warm and soft as he'd imagined. Not that he'd ever imagined this before today, because she was just his friend.

Yeah, a little voice jeered inside his head. You've never jerked off to the fantasy of touching her. Oh, hell no, of course you haven't.

Shut up, he told the snide inner voice, and let his hands explore some more.

She slipped her hands inside his shirt, too, and he moaned and quivered, feeling more perspiration break out on his already damp skin. God, he was a sweaty mess. But she didn't seem to mind.

"Let's take off this shirt," she murmured. "Maybe that will help cool you off a bit."

He had a feeling it wouldn't help cool him off in the least, but he didn't argue. He just lifted his arms and let her strip the t-shirt off. And then she was touching him, kissing him, licking him, and he sank back down onto the couch, pulling her into his lap.

Her body moved on his, and he responded eagerly, pressing his aching erection against her. Every brush of her body against his took his breath away. His eyes began to burn, and he rubbed them against her shoulder.

"Heat vision?" she whispered.

God, if only it was. He desperately needed to get rid of some of this heat. He'd never fully understood how important to his physical well-being his heat vision was. He lifted his head and looked to the left, struggling to activate his heat vision.

His eyes burned and smarted and practically sizzled, but nothing happened.

He gave a little whimper of despair and dropped his head back onto her shoulder. She stroked his hair in gentle reassurance.

"Maybe we shouldn't..." she whispered. "I mean, I thought this might help. But I think it's just making it worse."

It was definitely worse. And yet he really didn't want to stop.

He caught her by the hips and ground into her, an emphatic declaration that stopping was not on his personal agenda. Her hands dug into her shoulders and she lowered her head, and suddenly they were kissing, long hot kisses that made his cock ache and his eyes burn like embers.

It was chilly in the loft, but he couldn't stop himself from stripping off her sweatshirt and tossing it to the floor.

Beneath it, she wore a black lace bra. Through the fragile lace, he could see the pale flesh of her breasts, and the darker circles of her areolae. Unable to resist, he lowered his head and drew one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking on it through the bra.

She moaned and clutched at his hair, dropping her head back and arching her back. Her body moved on his hard, and he shuddered, because he thought he might just lose it entirely.

He imagined coming in his jeans as she rubbed against him, imagined the heat and pleasure of climaxing with her against him, and the sparks burning in his eyes built to intolerable levels.

He lifted one of his hands and rubbed furiously at his eyes, and Chloe drew back a little. "You okay?"

"I just want to claw my eyeballs out," he grumbled.

"Oh, that's sexy. Thank you for sharing."

"I can't help it. They're driving me crazy, damn it."

"I'm sorry. If you want to stop..."

"I don't want to stop. But I don't want my eyeballs to explode, either."

"Maybe," she suggested, "if we keep going, the problem will correct itself."

He wasn't sure that was going to work, but he definitely liked the idea of continuing. He lowered his head and kissed her again, while his hands went to work on her bra. A moment later he was tossing the flimsy lace and satin garment to the floor, and his hands were exploring her breasts, until she writhed on his lap.

He groaned. "Chlo... you need to quit moving around..."

"Then you need to stop playing with my nipples," she retorted.

Easier said than done, unfortunately. He'd wanted to touch them for so long. He'd fantasized about touching them, kissing them, licking them...

He squeezed a plump, swollen nipple, rolling it between his thumb and index finger, and she squirmed again. His cock jerked fiercely, his balls tightened, his eyes burned, and he gave a long, heartfelt groan.

"Chloe."

"You're close," she whispered.

Close was, he thought, a serious understatement. He was teetering on a cliff, metaphorically speaking, with one foot over the edge and the other on a banana peel. But he didn't say so. At this point, he couldn't seem to say much of anything anyway.

Well, except unnnhhh, which really didn't contribute much to the conversation.

She moved away from him, somewhat to his dismay, and began to kiss her way down his chest. He felt her hands unbuttoning his jeans, and given the direction she was traveling, his mind instantly leapt ahead, to some extremely explicit images.

She was not going to-- seriously, no, she couldn't. She was his friend.

Oh, sure, the sneering inner voice answered. Like you haven't imagined this over and over again.

Well, okay, maybe he'd imagined it, once or twice...

Or, like, a million times.

The snarky inner voice was a little closer to the truth than he wanted it to be. Okay, so he fantasized about Chloe. Of course he did. She was a gorgeous, stacked blonde, and he wasn't blind. But she was his friend, and friends just didn't do this kind of thing together...

Except apparently they did. Because she dropped to her knees in front of him, and then her lips were brushing over the tip of his cock, the really sensitive part right around the slit, and he sure as hell wasn't saying no. In fact he wasn't saying much of anything at all. There were some pretty weird sounds coming out of his mouth, noises he'd never heard himself make before.

"More?" she whispered.

God yes oh God please more more more...

In his head, he pleaded desperately for more. Aloud, all he managed to utter were more of the strange noises.

She seemed to take that as the affirmative he intended, because her tongue was tracing the head of his erection, sliding down the shaft, caressing him wetly, until he trembled, until his cock pulsed with a violent need, until his eyes burned so badly he could barely stand it.

He was hot all over, covered in sweat, every muscle taut, and every touch of her tongue sent a shower of sparks through him. He needed release, or he was going to burn up.

And then her lips parted, and she took him into the moist heat of her mouth. He jerked violently.

"Chloe," he moaned, panting. "Oh God you need to stop I can't I can't Chloe I can't stop..."

She didn't seem inclined to listen. She took him in, deeper and deeper, and he felt his hips begin to move, drawn into a helpless response by the intense pleasure. He thrust into her mouth, trying desperately to keep it gentle enough not to hurt her. He wanted to dig his fingers into her hair, but he was afraid of smashing her, so he forced himself to drop his hands to the side.

God, it felt good. So damn good. No one had ever done this to him before, and he'd never truly imagined Chloe Sullivan, his best friend since middle school, would be the first.

But he was certain it wouldn't feel this awesome with anyone else.

The tension grew to an unbearable peak, until something suddenly snapped inside him. Unbearable heat flooded his body, and he arched his head back as reflex forced his eyes open. His cock jerked as he came in long, drawn-out spasms, and at the same moment heat flared from his eyes in what felt like an endless burst.

It was an incredible release, a release of the sexual tension that had built up inside him, a release of the unbearable heat that had built up inside his body over the past week. He writhed helplessly, animalistic sounds coming out of his mouth, his hands clenched into fists at his side, as come spurted from his body and heat streamed from his eyes.

And then he collapsed back against the cushions, panting.

His muscles were water and his brain was Jell-O. He wanted to just sprawl here, inert, for an hour or so. But she lifted her head and looked up.

"Hey," she said. "The rafters are on fire."

He growled a bit under his breath, because after an experience like that, a guy needed a little time to get himself pulled back together. Reluctantly, he pried his eyes open, looked up, and blew hard. The flames flickered out.

"I guess you got it back in working order," she said.

Yeah, he was in working order, all right. Totally and completely.

He blinked the last of the itchiness from his eyes and looked at her. Suddenly he realized she was still kneeling between his knees, her beautiful torso totally bare. Awkwardness fell over him like a blanket, smothering him.

"Uh..." he said.

Her mouth curved in what looked like a sad smile. "Glad I could help with the problem," she said softly, and began to get to her feet.

He realized with a sudden stab of panic that she was going to walk away from him. She was going to pretend that nothing had changed between them, that they were still only friends.

After what had just happened, he couldn't let her do that.

The status quo be damned. The truth was that there had been sparks between them for a long, long time-- maybe since the day they'd met. He was done trying to pretend the sparks didn't exist, damn it. He was done trying to pretend he only saw her as only a friend.

He reached out and grabbed her arms. "Wait," he said.

She looked surprised. Which figured, since every other time something had happened between them, one or the other of them had blown it off and reset their relationship to the friend level. It was something of a mutual tradition.

But he wasn't going to let that happen. Not this time. Screw tradition.

"What about you?" he said.

She blinked at him. "What about me? This was just about getting your heat vision to work, remember?"

"Crap," he said bluntly. "It was about a whole lot more than that."

Her gaze lowered, and she looked at the floor. "Look, Clark... we've been here before. We both know... we know this won't work."

Actually, they'd never been here before, not exactly. She'd certainly never gotten down on her knees and-- well. He dragged his veering mind back onto topic and reached down, putting a finger under her chin and tilting her face up. He stared right into her eyes.

"I don't know that," he said. "In fact, I'm pretty sure it would work, if we'd both just give it a real shot. That's always been the problem, Chlo. One or the other of us is always too scared to give it a fair chance."

"I just don't want to mess things up," she whispered. "We're such good friends, Clark..."

"Chlo." He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Do you really think we can go back to being just friends after that?"

A faint smile curved her mouth. "I guess it might be a little difficult."

"It'd be totally impossible, and you know it. So..." He lifted her into his lap. "We might as well go for it."

She looked seriously into his eyes. "Are you sure?"

He nodded, just as seriously. "I need you to keep my heat vision working, Chlo. I wouldn't want it to go on the fritz again."

"Good point. We'd better keep working on it, just in case." She grinned, and leaned forward to kiss his throat. "So... what next?"

"I figure it's my turn to make you hot," he said, nuzzling her hair. "Really, really hot."

She chuckled softly into his throat.

"This time," she said, "let's get hot together."

-The End-