Triangulation, Chapter 3

Clark- Kal/Chloe
Season 9
Rating: Adult. If you're under eighteen, please go elsewhere now.
Warning: Some slashy and threesome aspects and general weirdness.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and DC Comics, not to me.
Read Chapter 2 here.
Read Chapter 1 here.

He's helpless as Kal's dark head moves down their body. Kal's lips brush over his skin, with more gentleness than he'd credit the guy with, so lightly it almost tickles. Goosebumps pop out on their skin, and he shudders.

He's done this to Chloe before, a whole bunch of times. She's gone down on him plenty, too. But he's never had a guy's head moving down his abdomen, toward his...

Well, he doesn't have his usual equipment. He's sharing Chloe's. And what he does have is aching and throbbing for more. He feels really wet, which is sort of embarrassing, really. Their body's not just damp, like the little trickles of precome that come out of a guy. They're seriously wet.

Kal's hand is still between his thighs, massaging gently, and Clark feels himself being pushed higher and higher, until he can hardly stand it. His eyes-- Chloe's eyes-- slit open, and he watches Kal's head moving slowly down their abdomen.

Faster, damn it, faster...

Whenever Kal's in his head, he's always pestering Clark to go faster, to hustle to the end zone, but for some reason today he's taking it slow. Too slow. Clark's hands reach down of their own accord and slide into the thick, coarse hair, pushing down in a totally unsubtle way.

Kal laughs against his stomach, that low, lazy, evil chuckle that doesn't sound a thing like any laugh Clark has ever uttered. "In a hurry, farmboy?"

He wonders how the hell Kal knows it's him, and not Chloe. "Just do it," he mutters irritably.

Kal lifts his head. There's a cruel glint in his eyes. "You want it, farmboy?"

Clark tries to push his head down again. No dice. Kal is superpowered, and Clark and Chloe are not.

"Come on," he whines.

Kal's hand is still stroking him. And God, he is almost there. Almost. Just a few strokes of Kal's tongue, and...

Oh, God, he did not just think that. He did not just picture Kal doing that with his tongue. No, no, no. He doesn't want that, no, he only wants...

"Tell me to go down on you," Kal taunts.

Chloe takes over their mouth, somewhat to Clark's relief. "Kal," she says sharply. "Cut it out. Quit picking on him."

"You keep out of this, reporter." Kal flashes a wolfish grin at them. "This is between me and my alter ego."

Clark takes their mouth back. His voice must be lower, he guesses. "Quit kidding around, Kal. Just do it."

Kal's hand moves a little faster, and their body arches hard. "Do what?"

Clark can hardly force out words. "You... know... .what."

"You want me to go down on you." Kal's hand is moving in a rapid, steady rhythm now, and his eyes almost glow green, they're so hypnotic. "You want me to stroke your clit with my tongue. You want to know what it feels like, so badly..."

Beneath the assault of Kal's talented fingers, Clark writhes. He isn't quite sure what a female orgasm feels like, but he's damn sure he's on the edge of one. Something inside him is pulsing, in long, glorious waves, and the little aching bud just beneath Kal's fingers is throbbing relentlessly. The tension is unbearable.

"Please," he whispers. "Please."

Kal's eyes narrow, and then his hands move, and the panties are suddenly ripped in two and tossed aside. Clark almost sobs with relief. Now, now, now Kal is going to...

But Kal doesn't. His big finger moves away from their clit, circles through their moisture, and slowly slides into their body.

Clark jerks in surprise. This isn't what he was expecting. It isn't even what he wants, not exactly It feels good, and his body automatically clamps down on the finger, welcoming it. But it doesn't feel as intense as having their clit stroked, and he has a terrible feeling this isn't going to help them come.

Kal's finger begins thrusting, and it feels good enough that their hips rise automatically, in a hungry sexual rhythm.

"Please." He's begging now. "Please, Kal, you have to, you have to..."

"I don't have to do anything." Kal's tone is cruel again. "I don't have to satisfy you, farmboy. I can walk right out of here and go down on some other pussy. And I will, if you don't tell me exactly what you want."

"You do," Chloe growls, "and I'm going to kick your ass with kryptonite boots."

"I told you already, Blondie, stay out of this. Well, Boy Scout? Do you want it or don't you?"

Clark sobs. He can't stand the thought of Kal walking away now. If he does, Clark's going to implode into a black hole of unsatisfied sexual need and desperate craving.

"Please," he whimpers. "Go down on me. Please."

Kal flashes his triumphant, bad-boy grin, and then the dark head lowers.

There's a stroke of something wet and satiny over the aching bud of need, and Clark sobs with relief. Kal's tongue, caressing them. His finger continues to move in and out of their body, and Clark feels a rush of moisture. They're creaming all over Kal's hand, and the knowledge makes his cheeks heat in embarrassment. But he can't help his reactions.

Kal's tongue sweeps over them again, slow and sweet and incredibly pleasurable, and a wave of near-rapture breaks over Clark. He hears their voice raised, hears his own words and Chloe's words mingled together in an incoherent babble, and he knows she's loving this just as much as he is.

He wonders if he's as good at this as Kal is, but tries to push the thought aside. The last thing he needs is to be jealous of his alter ego's sexual abilities. It's weird enough having an extra passenger in his head-- well, sort of-- without getting envious of the guy.

Kal's finger thrusts harder, and his tongue moves a little faster, and a bubble of pleasure/pain seems to swell inside Clark, filling him, inflating him until his skin feels too tight. He's going to burst any second now. He arches his head back and wails aloud.

And Kal stops.

Clark pants for breath, and his eyes open. He glares at Kal.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he rages. "Goddamn it, don't stop there, or I'll-- I'll--"

"You'll what?" Kal smiles his less-than-pleasant smile. "There's not a damn thing you can do about it, Boy Scout."

"Now, damn it, now!"

Kal laughs, a low, soft rumble, and then his head lowers again. His tongue flickers out, teasing their clit with soft, light touches. Inside Clark, something clenches hard, like a fist.

God, he hates Kal. He hates him. He hates that smug smile and those cruel eyes and the way he's making Clark feel so damn fragile, so helpless, so out of control. Bastard.

Kal teases them for long moments, then shifts, and moves up the bed. He strips off his clothing, every stitch of it, in a blurred instant of superspeed, then looms over them, a heavily muscled arm on either side of them.

There's that word again. Looming. It's crazy, because Clark knows that ordinarily, he's exactly Kal's size. But Kal seems so damn big. Even...

He glances down and shudders, not exactly with pleasure. Jesus, that thing is not actually going to fit, is it?

No matter how turned on he is, Clark is always really careful to enter Chloe slowly, gently, to make sure he doesn't hurt her with his superhuman strength. But Kal doesn't care about anyone but himself. Kal could rip them apart. Kal might just rip them apart. As long as Kal comes, would he really care what happens to them?

Clark wiggles suddenly, trying to back away, up the bed. Kal catches his arms effortlessly, grinning down into his face.

"Naughty farmboy," he says with a grin. "I'm not letting you get away."

Clark is suddenly so panicked that their heart thunders in their chest. Chloe takes over their mouth, for the first time in a while.

"Clark," she says gently. "Take it easy. It'll be fine."

"No." Clark tries to get away, but Kal has their wrists, gripping them like a vise. Clark twists, imagining their wrists snapping in Kal's hands like twigs, so fragile, so vulnerable...

"Scary, isn't it?" Kal's voice is cold. "I could rip you both in two. I could hurt the hell out of you. Not because I want to, but just because I'm not paying attention. I'm about a thousand times stronger than you. It's terrifying, isn't it?"

Clark can't get words out past the constriction of fear in his throat, but he manages to nod.

Kal lowers his head and whispers.

"You're exactly as strong as I am, farmboy," he says into their ear. "You could hurt the reporter, just the way I could hurt you. You could rip her to bits. And yet she trusts you. She trusts you enough to be with you, over and over again. She loves you enough to trust you with her life, every damn time you make love."

Clark blinks up at him, stunned. Kal lifts his head and glares into his eyes.

"And yet, as much as she loves you, as much as she trusts you, you've started taking her for granted. You've quit making love to her every time you get a spare moment. You've let your so-called real life get in the way. What the fuck is wrong with you, Boy Scout? She loves you enough to risk her life for this, every single time, and you don't even appreciate it."

The point Kal is trying to make is finally dawning on Clark. And as surprising as it is to have it made clear to him that he's been neglecting his girlfriend, he's even more surprised to realize that Kal is trying to make a point.

He'd thought this was all about sex, because Kal is always all about sex.

But apparently there's a little bit more to Kal than he realized.

*****

The farmboy gets it. I can see it in his eyes. He finally realizes he's been a giant flaming asshole.

About time, is all I can say.

And okay, I know this looks like it might be sort of... selfless. Like I care about the farmboy and the reporter. But trust me, it's all about me. I'm just trying to get laid more often, okay? Since I'm stuck in the farmboy's head most of the time, when he's celibate, I'm celibate.

And I hate celibacy.

Anyway, the farmboy seems to have finally figured out the problem. He's dumb as a stump, but he can get a point if you stab him with it enough. So he's gotten it.

And that means we can all get laid.

Life is good.

*****

If there's one thing Chloe hates, it's being caught between two stubborn and not-too-bright guys.

Especially when it's really only one guy. It's a weird situation she never really expected to find herself in.

But after all, this is what you get when you have an alien for a boyfriend. She figures she should be grateful he doesn't lay eggs in her abdomen or something. His having an annoying alter ego that gets out and walks around every now and again doesn't seem too bad, when you consider the alternatives presented in horror movies.

She's grateful that their little power struggle seems to be over. Kal moves over them again, and lowers himself. She can feel their body shaking with fear and anticipation, and she knows Clark is still scared, but he can't fight the physical desire any more.

Clark's easy, even without Kal in his head.

The head of Kal's cock slides into their body. To Chloe, it feels comfortable and familiar, like coming home after a long day, like sitting down in her favorite chair, like sipping a cup of coffee. But she remembers her experience as a guy, and knows that to Clark, it's not familiar, but new and startling... and hopefully amazing.

*****

Oh God.

Kal's body-- no, his body, that's his body damn it and he's going to get it back right after this no matter how damn good being a woman feels-- slowly slides into their... um, you know. Woman parts.

Jesus, Kal is right, he is a Boy Scout. The word is cunt. He's a big boy-- well, except when he's a girl. Still, he should be able to say that. Anyway, Kal shoves himself right into it, hard and hot and...

God. There's more. Kal's filling them, stretching them, and it's so hot and it's exactly what he needs and oh God he can't breathe. Their legs wrap around Kal's ass, their heels resting on his thighs, and he doesn't know if he did that or if Chloe did but suddenly Kal is slipping all the way inside, until the head of his cock bumps against something deep inside, and oh God is that good.

He hears himself whimpering and can't stop, can't make himself be quiet even though it's embarrassing to be making these high-pitched little noises in the back of his throat. Kal starts to move in them, slowly at first, a long easy stroke of satin and steel, so good, exactly what he's been craving, and they're creaming all over Kal and something inside them is squeezing, convulsing, and then...

Kal's moving hard now, hard and fast and relentless, and the something inside them suddenly blows up like fireworks on the Fourth of July, exploding in burst after burst of sparks. The heat swirls through his body and over his head and it's drowning him and he can't breathe, can't do anything but writhe helplessly. He hears himself crying out, or maybe it's Chloe, or both of them. He isn't sure and doesn't care. They're in this together, after all.

And they always should be. Not in this body together, but in everything together. He gets that now.

Kal growls out a long string of obscenities, and then he's slamming into them, yelling things that never come out of Clark's mouth when Clark is driving. His big body tenses for a long moment, then slowly relaxes.

He's silent on top of them. Clark's too wiped out to speak, too. As usual, Chloe's the only one who can talk. She can always talk.

"Okay, Kal," she says, sounding like a strict teacher Clark had in the third grade. "Ready to let Clark come home?"

Kal lifts his head. It looks like an effort. His eyes are heavy-lidded.

"Do I hafta?" he whines.

"Yes." The stern teacher voice doesn't waver. "You do."

Kal sighs, then reaches down and grasps the necklace around their neck in his big hand. Chloe wraps their hand around his.

And then--

And then--

*****

He's lying on top of Chloe, pretty much squashing her. He realizes that can't really be comfortable, so he rolls off her. At the same instant he snaps the pendant around her neck and flings it away.

"I'm back," he says, smiling at her. "Back over here, I mean."

"I figured," she answers, her bright smile lighting her face. "I don't think Kal really meant to keep your body, this time. He was just making a point."

"And it was a good point," he says, reaching over and stroking her hair. He loves these moments with her in bed after sex. He suddenly realizes he's missed them. "I have been kind of taking you for granted, Chlo. I'm sorry. I just got so busy with work and patrolling and stuff..."

"It's okay," she assures him. Her hand caresses his chest in an affectionate gesture that makes him want to roll onto his back and let his tongue loll out, and just let her pat him there all day long. He'd make a good dog, really. "I didn't realize how much I missed it, honestly. Kal's right, Clark. I love you. I love you a lot."

"I love you too, Chlo." Still lying on his back, he flashes her a lascivious grin, as Kal-like as he can make it. "But now that we know we miss making love, we need to make up for lost time."

"Oh, Clark..." She glances at the clock, for the first time since all this began. "I really have some stories I need to work on..."

"Chlo." He shakes his head at her reprovingly. "Just once more."

"Um..." He can see her weighing all the work she has to do against the tempting notion of more sex. "Well. Hmmm. What does Kal think I should do?"

He cocks his head and listens to an inner voice, then grins at her.

"He thinks you should screw my brains out."

She chuckles, then pounces, landing on top of him.

"Kal," she says solemnly, "is a smart guy."

-The End-