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 the story from the beinning here.
Read Chapter 2 here.
She felt Clark's violent reaction the instant she touched him. Even through jeans, he felt hard and hot, and his cock jerked powerfully as her fingers stroked him. His body stiffened, his head dropped back, and she opened her eyes to see his face contorted into a mask of rapture, his eyes clenched shut, his mouth open, the lips drawn back in a snarl of pleasure.
She unzipped his jeans and shoved his boxers out of the way, then took his erection into her hand. He made a sobbing noise, and thrust hard against her palm.
She lifted her other hand and began to tease him, very lightly, stroking her thumb over the wet slit very slowly, tracing around the head with a finger. He bucked up against her, making a feral sound that she could only describe as a growl.
"Soon," she whispered.
"Now," he demanded hoarsely.
She laughed softly and refused to let him have what he wanted, only continued to caress him, sliding her fingers up and down his aching shaft, toying with his balls. His spine arched and a terrible noise rose from him, a sound of raw animal need.
"Now," he panted harshly. "Now, goddamnit."
She continued to slide her fingers up and down, and suddenly his control broke. His big hands fell to her hips, and suddenly her jeans and panties were lying in shreds on the floor.
And then he grasped her by the hips, lifting her and shoving her roughly against the wall, and slammed into her.
She gasped with shock and pleasure at his onslaught. He opened his eyelids a crack, as if it was an immense effort, and looked at her through glowing ruby eyes.
"Yes," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "I'm fine."
And it was true. Somehow she was as turned on as it was possible for her to be. She wasn't sure if it was pheromones, or simply that seeing Clark so aroused had turned her on, but she was wet and soft and ready for his body despite the lack of foreplay.
As he began to move in her, she trembled. She turned her face into his throat.
"More," she mumbled against his hot skin. "Faster."
A low groan reverberated in his chest, the tortured sound of an out-of-control man fighting hopelessly to restrain himself. "Chlo... I might hurt you..."
"No, you won't." She clung to him fiercely. "Give it to me, Clark."
He shuddered all over, then surrendered. Ordinarily Clark was a wonderful lover, careful and slow and thoughtful. She understood that at least some of the caution was due to his very legitimaate concerns that he could hurt a human woman, but some of it was due to a simple desire to please her.
But red K stole his self-control, leaving him at the mercy of his basest desires, helpless to fight his own physical needs.
He thrust into her, hard and deep, and groaned again.
"Chlo... yes, Chloe, yes..."
She let her hands slide down his muscled back and shoved his jeans and boxers down around his thighs, then dug her fingers into his ass, urging him to do it again. He didn't try to argue any more. He thrust again, harder than before.
And then he was moving in her with violent urgency, so that her whole world narrowed to him, and the sensations he was creating inside her. She could hear the ragged sound of his breathing, smell the musky scent of his sweat, feel the muscles in his ass bunching and rolling beneath her fingers as he moved. Her lips brushed over his throat, tasting the salty heat of his skin, and he trembled.
"Fuck." His voice was gravelly. "Fuck, yeah."
She wrapped her legs around him, digging her bare heels into his thighs, and let her inner muscles clench him tightly, knowing that the sensation always drove him wild. He sobbed and gasped, and she felt him spasm inside her.
He kept moving inside her, faster and faster, and suddenly her inner muscles were clenching with no effort from her, squeezing him relentlessly as ecstasy rolled over her in long, luxurious ripples, filling her with a rapturous warmth.
"Ahhhhhhh," he moaned, and then his whole body shook as his steady, rapid rhythm faltered and he thrust erratically, a long wail of pleasure rising from him. She felt his heat spurting deep inside her, felt his every muscle stiffen against the unbearable ecstasy that contorted his features.
And then, slowly, he relaxed, and sank against her, squashing her against the wall.
This was exactly why he sometimes fell off the wagon.
Clark sagged against Chloe, sweet, warm, post-orgasmic lassitude filling him, making him weak. Orgasms on red K were incredible, a heated rush of flame and rapture that was almost unbearable in its intensity.
It was totally worth it.
Through his warm glow, he realized that something was shoving against his shoulders. He pried open his eyelids and figured out that it was Chloe, trying vainly to get unwedged from between him and the wall.
"Could you... give me... a little space?" she gasped.
He grinned, and backed off, so that there was at least a quarter of an inch between them.
"Thank you. I couldn't breathe."
"Breathing is overrated," he responded cheerfully.
She looked up at him and sighed. "Your eyes are still red."
"Of course they are. I had two slices of pie." He grinned. "And I'm going to have more."
"No, Clark." Her fingers dug into his biceps. "No, no, no. We need to get you... detoxed."
"I don't want to get detoxed. I want some more of you. With a side helping of cherries."
"Clark." She tried to wiggle out of his grasp, although not, he thought, with much sincerity. "Haven't you had enough?"
"Are you kidding?" He chuckled. "That was just an appetizer, baby. Now it's time for the real meal."
She sighed again, and then smiled a little bit while rolling her eyes, as if she found Kal, Clark's red K alter ego, exasperating and amusing at the same time.
"Okay," she agreed. "Let's have some cherries."
Read Chapter 4 here.