Rating: Adult. If you're under eighteen, please go elsewhere now.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and DC Comics, not to me.
"Hurry up, Clark."
Clark Kent laughed softly into his girlfriend's hair. "There are three little words you don't often hear a woman say during sex."
"I'm serious. I just started back at the Planet last week. If Perry catches us screwing in the supply closet--"
"Ohhh. You worry too much."
"I do not... ah, yes, do that some more. Bosses tend to frown upon coworkers sleeping together, Clark. We can't get caught."
"I know," he answered. His hands closed on her ass, holding her to him as he thrust harder. "They frown even more upon coworkers sleeping together during working hours. But I just... needed... this..."
"I know," she said softly. "You had a rough night last night."
The movements of his body slowed, then stopped, and he pressed his face more deeply into her hair. "I came so damn close to losing that kid, Chlo."
"I know," she said again, stroking the nape of his neck in a gentle, reassuring caress. "But you didn't. You got there just in time, and she's fine. You can't let it upset you, or freak you out."
"Chlo." His voice was rough. "One second more, and she would have been blown to bits. What kind of person would I be if that didn't scare me a little?"
"Yeah. I can understand that. That's why I love you, Clark, because you care. You've always cared. But if you care too much, you'll drive yourself crazy."
"Maybe. Or maybe I'll just learn to do better. Get there faster. Not cut it quite so close."
"Clark." She ran her hand through his hair. "No matter how hard you try, you can't save everyone. You saved that little girl, but you're not always going to save everyone. You know?"
"I know." His voice fell to a whisper. "But I hope I never stop being sorry about losing people."
"You won't. You're my hero, Clark. And now you've become the hero for a whole lot of other people, too. You're doing a great job, believe me."
He closed his eyes, looking more peaceful, as if her words had comforted him, helping him find a path through his anxiety and self-doubt. For a moment the two of them just stood there, holding each other.
And then he leaned forward, resting his forehead against the cinderblock wall, and began thrusting fast and hard.
Ecstasy rippled through her, in long, slow waves, and she clenched her fingers in his hair and ground her teeth together to avoid crying out. He stiffened, his body quivering beneath her hands, and then he slowly relaxed.
"Feeling better?" she whispered.
She almost laughed at his sleepy response, but instead she gave him a little shove.
"Come on," she said. "Time to get back to work."
He pushed himself away from her with visible reluctance, zipped up his slacks, and moved away. She pushed down her skirt and followed him toward the door.
Just outside the door, they encountered Perry White.
"Looking for supplies?" he asked.
"Uh..." Chloe cursed herself for walking out of the supply closet without so much as a paper clip. "I, uh..."
"We needed some staples." Clark held up a box of them, and Chloe wondered if he'd had it all along, or if he'd actually blurred back into the closet to get it. You never knew about Clark.
"Sounds like the punchline to a bad joke. How many basement reporters does it take to get a box of staples?"
Clark's cheeks turned red. "We were just, uh, talking..."
"Kent," White said, "I know the two of you have been friends for a long, long time. Back when I was working the City desk, I'd see you coming in here to see Sullivan every day, sometimes twice a day. It always amazed me that two people could find so much to talk about."
Clark's cheeks went redder than before. The irony, of course, was that back then they had been talking. Now, however... well, things had changed. A lot. "Mr. White," she said, "we tend to bounce ideas off each other..."
"Yes, I believe you were bouncing off each other. Ideas, I mean. Be that as it may, I want to make sure that the two of you aren't... talking... at the expense of working. Do I make myself understood?"
"Yes, sir," Clark said meekly, and Chloe nodded.
"I don't care how much the two of you talk when you're not working. But around here, I want you focused on your jobs. Got it?"
"Got it," they chorused.
"Good. Now get back to work."
They scurried back to their desks. Chloe felt like a chastised schoolgirl, and she had a feeling Clark felt the same way, judging from the droop of his shoulders. She felt bad for him, knowing (as Perry had no way of knowing) the emotional stresses that had sent him into her arms.
"It's okay," she whispered.
He dropped into his desk chair, which creaked under his weight, and smiled a little. "It's more than okay, Chloe. It was worth it. I wouldn't care if Perry fired me. But I don't want him firing you, so I guess we better straighten up and fly right."
"Or," she suggested, "there's this little thing called superhearing. You could try using it."
"Yeah." He grinned. "I guess I could, at that."
"So," she said. "Don't feel guilty..."
"Just be more careful?"
He chuckled as he went back to work.
"I love the way you think," he said.
"I love the way you kiss."
"I love the way you..." He flashed her a quick grin.
"Yeah," she said. "Me too."
He looked at her for a moment, and his expression grew more serious. "Chlo," he said softly, "thanks. I really don't know what I'd do if I didn't have you to help me deal with... with stuff."
"That's what I'm here for," she said perkily, typing. "Along with work. And right now, I think I'd better focus on work."
"Yeah," he agreed, turning back to his own monitor. "For now, work. But later..."
She laughed softly.
"Later," she said, "I have this strange feeling I'm going to need more staples."
"What a coincidence," he said, typing away. "I think I will, too."