Across the seasons
Rating: Adult. If you're under eighteen, please go elsewhere now.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and DC Comics, not to me.
Clark had been stripped of his powers by the capricious AI that now resided in the enormous crystal structure called the Fortress of Solitude. Truth be told, he didn't mind all that much, most of the time. Losing his powers felt like a huge weight off his shoulders.
But the farm had been ripped apart by the second meteor shower, and he'd been spending a lot of time doing hard physical labor-- rebuilding the house, helping neighbors build their barns-- as well as the ordinary work that went into keeping a farm running.
And without his powers, all that work made his muscles ache like crazy.
Chloe had stopped by on an evening when he was sitting in his loft, bent over and grumbling to himself. At her anxious inquiry, he'd grumpily informed her that he hurt all over, and she'd started rubbing his shoulders.
And dear God, it was heaven.
"Ohhhhhh." He was trying not to moan, but having his aching muscles rubbed was the most amazing sensation he'd ever experienced. "God... Chloe..."
She gave her soft laugh. "I guess they really were pretty sore, huh?"
"I've been working all day. It used to be a lot easier." Chloe knew his secret now-- not that it mattered, really. His secret was no longer relevant since Jor-El had taken his powers. But she knew he was an alien, and that he'd been superpowered, so she understood the kind of adjustments he was having to make.
"Yeah, I can imagine." Her hands slid down his back and rubbed hard at his shoulderblades, and that felt so good that another moan escaped him. "Look, Clark, if you lie down I can do this a little better."
Obediently, he stretched out on the couch. And then her hands were all over his back, rubbing and stroking through his t-shirt, and he buried his face in the cushions and tried not to moan too loudly.
Heaven. That was exactly what it felt like. Even sex couldn't possibly feel better than this.
He tried to banish the stray thought, because there was no reason for him to be thinking about sex. Chloe was his friend. He was dating Lana Lang, not Chloe, and there was no sane reason why Chloe's hands on his back should make him think about sex.
But it was like a door in his mind had opened, and suddenly he imagined Chloe's hands on his front, stroking and caressing and...
He moaned again, and her hands stilled.
"Is that enough?"
"Mmmmmfff," he said, and lifted his head a little. "I'm still kind of sore. Um, maybe if you sort of pulled up my shirt..."
"Okay," she agreed, shoving his shirt up. And then her hands were massaging his bare skin, and something inside him flared up like a bonfire, hot and irrepressible and out of control.
God. Could you come just from having your back massaged?
He clamped down on that thought right away, too. He wasn't going to come. He wasn't even hard. Well, not much. Okay, there was a sort of throbbing down there, but he wasn't going to come in his jeans or anything.
He might be just a little turned on, but... well, it was just Chloe.
Her hands stroked relentlessly, finding his aches and relieving them, and he couldn't stop his mind from wandering down forbidden paths. He imagined himself rolling over on his back, and her hand finding his biggest ache and stroking it till it was relieved.
He clenched his eyes shut and ground his teeth together and struggled to get the images out of his head.
Just Chloe, he told himself. It's just Chloe. You don't feel that way about Chloe. You don't.
"Okay," she said brightly, her hands stilling. "I hope that's enough, because my hands are about to fall off."
It wasn't enough. True, his muscles felt better. But he wanted her to keep touching him.
No. No, no, no. Of course he didn't.
"Thanks," he mumbled, cracking open an eye and smiling sleepily at her. "I think I'll just take a nap now."
She laughed, and ruffled his hair with platonic affection. "You do that, Clark. And take some aspirin tonight if you need it. See you later."
He watched her through his half-open eye. She went down the stairs, her butt rolling nicely in her jeans, and a moment later he heard her little VW Beetle start up. Alone, he flopped over onto his back and stared at the ceiling.
The throbbing hadn't stopped.
Not that he was hard, not really. But he was a guy, and being touched by a girl, any girl, had a certain... effect. He stirred restlessly on the couch, trying to get comfortable. But between the continuing ache in his muscles and the relentless throbbing, he didn't think he was going to be able to relax any time soon.
He reached down and ran a hand over the front of his jeans. Yeah... he was kind of hard, and the pressure of his hand there felt really good.
Kind of hard, he thought ruefully. Is that what you call it?
The honest truth of the matter was his cock felt like iron beneath his hand. He ran his hand up and down a little, and it pulsed eagerly. His head arched back, and he moaned again.
Of course, he reminded himself, this had nothing whatsoever to do with Chloe, specifically. He was just a normal teenage guy, and he had a lot of hormones floating around in his bloodstream as he adjusted to being without powers. That was all. He would have reacted to any girl touching him the exact same way.
He let his fingers curl around his erection, as much as possible through jeans, and his hand moved faster. His body moved with it, his back arching, his hips thrusting hungrily.
"Yesss." He hissed the word into the dimness of the barn, and moved his hand even faster. His cock pulsed and spasmed against his palm.
It felt incredible. But in a few seconds, he forced himself to stop, panting. He didn't want to come in his jeans. But he also didn't really want to admit that he was that turned on.
But he was. He was so turned on he couldn't stay still. He had to come, or he was going to explode.
But it had nothing to do with Chloe, he reminded himself.
His fingers fumbling with eagerness, he unzipped his jeans and shoved his boxers out of the way, and then he was wrapping his hand around himself. Another low moan tore its way out of his throat.
He wasn't thinking about Chloe. He wasn't thinking about her hands against his bare skin, caressing him, stroking him. He wasn't thinking about her hands moving down over his ass, or exploring his chest, or wrapping around his...
He came in a sudden hot rush, come spattering all over his t-shirt. He writhed on the couch, desperately choking back a noise that he was afraid would be significantly louder than a moan. His breath came in frantic gasps, and he felt himself shuddering all over, and his hand didn't stop moving until the last spasms of pleasure died away.
He sank back against the cushions, warm lethargy melting his muscles, and closed his eyes. An image of Chloe's smiling face drifted through his mind, but he pushed it away. Because that hadn't been about Chloe. Not really.
Any girl would have affected him the exact same way.
Read Chapter 4 here.