Rating: Adult. If you're under eighteen, please go elsewhere now.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and DC Comics, not to me.
Story based on manip above, by wander_lust_79. Art used with permission of the artist.
"Is that a noise of approval?"
Clark Kent blinked at the blonde in front of him. "It's more like the noise a guy makes when his eyeballs have just been knocked out of their sockets."
Chloe Sullivan smiled and struck a pose, and he stared. He'd walked right into her apartment without knocking, same as he always did, but he hadn't expected to see this. Her curvy body had been poured into an extremely tight black leather bodysuit, and her long legs were encased in orange stiletto-heeled boots that rose up over her knees.
He stared some more, and didn't say anything at all. His tongue didn't seem to be working... maybe because it was hanging out.
"So," she said at last. "You like my superhero outfit?"
He tried very hard to get his brain to come back online. "Your whuh?"
A faint smile curved her lips. "My superhero outfit," she repeated. "I don't think it's fair that everyone gets the glory, and all I get to do is sit in the Watchtower. I mean, you're the Red Blue Blur. Lana's the Black Cat. Even Lois got a shot at superheroism, with the whole Stiletto thing."
"Which went really, really badly."
"Still. For a couple of weeks, everyone knew her name. Maybe I'd like to grab a bit of the limelight for once, too."
"Um..." He wished his tongue would work. He really needed a drink of water. Or maybe whisky. Not that it would help. "What's with the high heels?"
She shrugged, making her breasts bounce in a really distracting way. "Every female superhero I've met wears them. The Angel. Black Canary. Even Lois and Lana. They don't seem very practical, but they're apparently de rigeur for superheroines."
"Uh..." He tried not to stare at her breasts, or her legs, or the sweet curve of her hips. Look at her face, Kent. Just the face. "What's your superpower going to be?"
"Well, I hadn't gotten that far yet. I figured I'd get my costume together first."
"Okay." He blinked at her very bare, very sexy thighs. Beautiful, soft, slim, touchable thighs... "Honestly, I don't think you'll have any problems with male criminals. They'll all just fall over when they see you coming."
She smiled, and flipped her long blonde hair over a shoulder. "You think?"
"Oh, yeah. Totally."
"Okay. So my superpower is...?"
He stepped forward and put one hand on her waist. He really couldn't help himself. He had to touch her. "Pure, one hundred percent, undistilled sexiness, I guess."
Her smile brightened as she looked up into his eyes. "Awwww, Clark. I thought you'd never notice."
"Believe me," he said gruffly. "I've noticed. You don't have to wear skin-tight leather for me to notice."
"But it helps."
"Well... I'm not complaining."
She lifted her arms and placed her hands on his chest, running them upward. Beneath the black leather, her breasts bounced just a bit. He struggled to remember how to breathe.
"Did you react to Lois' outfit this way?" she asked softly.
For a moment, he couldn't even remember who Lois was, let alone what her "superhero" outfit had looked like. But a vague memory filtered through his befogged brain, and he shook his head.
"She didn't look like this," he answered.
She smiled, looking pleased. "It's the thigh-high boots that do it, I think."
He thought it was the body in the leather that did it, but he forebore to say so. He'd always known Chloe was sexy, but once she and Jimmy Olsen had started dating, he'd struggled to ignore that fact. But once she and Jimmy had gotten an annulment, he'd let himself notice again, and for the last six months, he'd been having a hell of a hard time keeping his feelings for her contained.
She pressed closer, and he felt his heart begin to pound.
He was definitely close to losing containment.
"Um," he said. "Listen, Chlo, do you think we should really..."
One hand slid up to the nape of his neck and began stroking the sensitive skin there. He tried not to shiver, with limited success.
"Why not?" she asked softly.
"Um," he said again. He tried to delve into the depths of his brain and come up with a logical response, but all logic seemed to have deserted him. All he could think about was her warm, curvaceous body, pressed right up against his, uh...
She had a point. Why the hell not?
"We, uh, we're friends," he managed to mumble. "And co-workers, besides. I mean, you're Watchtower, and I'm..."
"True." She nodded, very seriously, and lifted a leg, wrapping her deliciously bare thigh around him, so that she was pressed right up against his aching hard-on.
And it was definitely aching. Oh, God, was it ever.
"So," she said, leaning forward and brushing a kiss over his throat. He dropped his head back, granting her access. "You don't think this is the kind of thing friends and coworkers should do?"
Her body was rubbing against his, but he managed to force out words in irregular bursts. "I just... don't want... to screw up... our friendship... or our working relationship."
"Maybe if we just keep it casual," she suggested.
Their bodies were moving together in a way that he did not find even remotely casual. The sharp point of one heel dug into the back of his thigh, and he quivered all over.
"Unnnnhhh," he mumbled. He seemed to be doing a lot of mumbling. It was like his tongue was tied in knots. "I'm just not sure..."
She sighed, and began to disentangle herself. "Well, if you're not interested..."
His tongue suddenly untied itself, and he spoke in a sudden desperate rush. "HeywaitIdidn'tsaythatI'mtotallyinterested."
"Oh." She smiled up at him, and leaned into him again. "Then why are we arguing?"
He thought about it for a moment.
"I have no idea," he answered at last.
She lifted her leg, and this time he caught her thigh in one big hand and pulled her toward him. His hips tilted forward, and he found himself grinding against her, in a blatantly sexual way that was totally unlike him. He'd never touched her this way before.
Well, okay, there had been one time, when he'd been on red kryptonite and she'd been high on the adrenaline produced by an alien parasite. But they'd never touched each other like this when they were both in their right minds.
Maybe he wasn't in his right mind. Maybe the sight of Chloe in black and orange leather had made him lose his sanity or something.
Which was fine. He didn't need sanity. Sanity was highly overrated.
He let his fingers tighten on her leg. His other hand slid around and cupped one of her beautifully curved buttocks. Her warm, soft flesh filled his palm, an abundant handful, and he sighed with pleasure, tugging her against him.
A soft groan broke from his throat, and he stumbled back a few steps, needing support. The back of his knees hit her couch, and he practically fell onto it.
And she fell on top of him.
There might be better things than a lapful of sexy, leather-encased blonde, but he'd be damned if he could think of one. He lowered his head, pressing his face into all that abundant blonde hair. Ever since he'd known her, she'd kept her hair short, but recently she'd begun letting it grow out, and he'd had more than one fantasy lately about touching it, caressing it, letting his fingers run through it...
He lifted a trembling hand and slid his fingers into the depths of her hair, feeling the silkiness of it, and he heard himself groaning again.
Her fingers were deftly at work, unbuttoning his plaid shirt as if she divested guys of flannel shirts every day of her life. She shoved it off and tossed it to the floor, and then stripped off his t-shirt just as quickly. He blinked, befuddled. Really, he had no idea how she'd gotten him halfway naked so fast. It was like she had superspeed or something.
She leaned back and looked him over, an approving glint in her eye, and then she was lowering her head, and her lips brushed over his shoulder.
The sensation of her mouth against his bare skin sent a shudder through him. Suddenly his mind was awash in images, thoughts of her kissing his chest, his stomach, his...
His brain didn't have much of a chance to explore that fantasy, because her mouth trailed downward, across his chest, and everything in his head disappeared in a puff of smoke. A wash of sensation flooded him, and he fell back against the cushions, panting.
Her lips neared his nipple, and his hands tightened in his hair.
"Easy there," she said softly. "I've spent a while growing that out. If you rip it out, I'll be very annoyed with you."
He consciously relaxed his hands, finger by finger. "Sorry," he mumbled.
"It's all right. I'm glad you like." Her mouth brushed a very soft kiss across his nipple, and his back arched helplessly. His eyes slammed shut and his mouth fell open, and a long, low sound emerged.
Her lips teased him for long moments, and then her tongue slipped out, caressing him there, and he writhed against her. He dropped his hands away from her head, for fear of doing her some real damage, and lowered them to the cushions, clenching them into fists.
His body strained against hers, his hard-on throbbing fiercely, and he didn't think he could hold back much longer.
"Chlo," he whispered. "Chlo... we need to... we need to..."
The word stop wouldn't quite make it out of his mouth. The truth was that he didn't want her to stop. The throbbing was too intense, and a hungry need had him by the balls and wouldn't let go. There was no way he could stop.
Impatient, desperate, he shoved her over onto her back on the cushions and settled down on top of her. He was still wearing jeans, and she still wore her bodysuit, but even through the material, pressing against her felt like heaven. He let his body do what it wanted, let his hips jerk against hers, let the rhythm grow rough and hard and violent.
She was trembling now too, quivering in his arms, her face buried in his neck. Her legs rose, wrapping around him, and the stiletto heels dug into his ass, so hard it might have hurt him if he weren't invulnerable.
For some reason, the sensation of her heels pressing into him made him hotter than ever. Broken words fell from him, every word rising in pitch. "God... oh... Chlo... yes..."
She didn't say anything. She only moaned, a long sound that started low and grew into a soft, breathless cry. Her body shuddered, and she sobbed against his throat, her hips moving wildly against his.
A rush of fire suffused him, and his own voice lifted in a cry as his climax overwhelmed him, rolling through him in long, hot bursts.
At last he fell onto her, panting. She lay beneath him, breathing just as hard, and for a long while there was only silence. At last she tilted up her head and smiled at him.
"There," she said. "See? That was perfectly casual."
He lifted his own head and gaped down at her. There were many words he could think of to describe their encounter, but casual was not one of them. Even though they hadn't actually had intercourse, even though they hadn't even kissed, it had been far and away the most intimate experience of his life.
"Huh?" he said at last. "Casual?"
She snickered, and it dawned on him that she was teasing him, just a little. He relaxed, and felt the corners of his mouth curve up in a smile. She had that effect on him a lot.
"It was nice," she said, stroking his hair, which he suddenly realized was damp with sweat. "I don't know why we haven't done it before. I guess I should have donned leather more often."
"It's not the leather."
She lifted a golden eyebrow, and he shrugged, offering her a rueful smile. "Well, okay, it is, sort of. I mean, the way you're dressed-- and the way your boots-- and the way the leather kind of--"
"So you're into leather. Got it."
"No," he said, a little desperately. "I mean, Lois dressed in something like this when she was playing at being a superhero, and I didn't go for her. I didn't even like her outfit. I thought it made her look trampy."
She laughed. "But a black leather bodysuit and thigh-high boots make me look sophisticated? Come on, Clark."
He grinned down at her.
"Trampy's a good look on you, Chlo."
She grinned back, then turned her face into his neck. In a muffled voice, she said, "Can I make a confession?"
"I don't really want to be a superhero."
"And if I was going to take a stroll on the super path, I'd rather do it in jeans and a t-shirt, like you."
"Makes sense." He lifted his head and looked down at her. "So what's with the outfit?"
"I just wanted to know what it would feel like to be sexy," she said, her voice very low.
He blinked at her. "Huh? Chlo, you are totally sexy."
"No," she said softly. "Most of the time, I'm just a technogeek. Guys look right past me. It's like I'm invisible, or maybe an old maiden aunt with my hair in a bun. I guess... I guess I'm tired of being overlooked."
A knot tied itself in his chest at the realization that he'd probably contributed to her conviction that she wasn't sexy. He definitely thought she was sexy, and had for a long time. But even after she and Jimmy split up, he'd done his best to avoid thinking of her that way so that he could maintain his friendship with her. He'd tried really hard to keep his eyes to himself, to never glance at her rack or stare at her legs or check out her ass. It hadn't been easy, but he'd done his best to keep things on a friendly footing.
And in so doing, he'd given her the idea that he didn't see her at all. Until today, when he'd seen her in a sexy outfit and had fallen like a rock.
Which probably made her think that it was all the outfit, not her.
"You're sexy," he said, more firmly. "You've always been sexy, Chlo. And I haven't overlooked you, not ever. I've just tried to keep things platonic because you're my friend, and I wanted to keep you that way."
She gave him a tremulous smile. "And now?"
He thought about the incredible climax that had wracked him, and wondered how intense it would be like to actually make love to her.
"And now," he said, "I think I must have been stupid to even try."
The smile grew more confident. "I still don't know how to tell," she said, and he was relieved to notice a touch of flirtatious teasing in her voice. "If it's me or the leather, I mean."
"That's easy enough to take care of," he answered. "Let me take you out to dinner tonight. You wear a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt. If I still want to make out with you afterward, you'll know it wasn't just the leather."
She nodded, very seriously. "That makes sense."
A warmth filled his chest and spread outward till it reached his fingers and toes. "So you'll go out with me?"
She smiled at him. "Yes," she answered softly. "I'll go out with you."
He smiled back. She looked radiantly sexy in tight leather, but he knew she'd look just as sexy in old sweats and a t-shirt. He'd been fighting against her sexiness for a long time, struggling to keep his hands off her, but he'd finally lost the battle. She was just too sexy for him to resist.
He decided never to resist again, and bent his head to kiss her.