Adult. If you're under eighteen, please go elsewhere now.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and DC Comics, not to me.
When Chloe Sullivan woke up, her hands were tied.
She stretched sleepily, but came abruptly awake as she realized someone had tied her wrists to the metal bedframe. Her eyes snapped open, and she looked around wildly.
Sitting on the edge of her bed was her best friend, Clark Kent.
"Clark?" Her voice came out as a startled squeak. Clark was a sweet, mild-mannered guy, and she knew perfectly well that he would never tie a girl to her bed while she slept.
But the way he was staring at her...
She looked into his gentle green eyes and saw a reddish glow there, and understanding flooded her mind even as fear gripped her chest.
Red kryptonite. Somehow he'd gotten exposed to red K.
"Um," she said, trying to get her voice back into its normal register. The squeaky thing was just not her, no matter how startled she might be. "What's this all about, Clark?"
He looked as gorgeous as ever, his finely honed, masculine bone structure shadowed by the faint light that shone through the dorm window. His dark hair was wet, plastered to his head, and that made her aware that rain was lashing against the windows. He looked down at her, and a small, cold smile curved his lips. He looked like a wolf contemplating a rabbit caught in a snare.
"I've decided to screw you," he said.
Oh, God. She'd pretty much figured that out, but even so, hearing it said in such blunt, crass terms... this was so not Clark. On some level, she had to admit she didn't mind the idea of having Clark make love to her. But she'd wanted it to be a surrender on both sides, not this. This would be rape.
And Clark would never, ever forgive himself for it once the red K wore off.
"Clark," she said, trying to sound authoritative. "Let me go."
The cold smile didn't waver. "In case you haven't noticed," he said, "you're not in charge."
"Clark." She let a hint of pleading creep into her voice. "Please. You don't want to do this."
"Oh, believe me, I definitely want to do this."
His voice was low, a predatory growl that sent tingles down her spine. Tingles of fear, and something even more primal. She tried to ignore her body's reaction and tugged at her ropes. Naturally, they were tied tightly.
Rain pounded against the window as he reached out for her. She couldn't do a thing to resist. His big hands caught her flannel nightgown and ripped it as if it were tissue paper. He tossed the shredded material aside, and stared at her with hot eyes.
"Clark..." She felt herself blushing from head to toe. She considered herself fairly sexually confident, but being stripped naked in front of her best friend and stared at like a steak was a bit on the embarrassing side.
"You should never wear flannel." His voice was low and sensual, brushing over her raw nerves like silk. "You should always be naked for me. From now on, every time I come here, I want you to be naked."
She shivered at the thought, whether from fear or arousal she wasn't sure. Maybe both. "Clark," she said, more urgently than before. "You don't want to do this. It isn't even you, not really. You've been exposed to red K."
He seemed oblivious to her words. His eyes were on her naked body, staring hungrily. He reached out with one big hand and brushed it over her left breast.
The nipple tightened instantly.
No... if she was going to be honest about it, the nipple had already been hard and crinkled with anticipation. The touch of his hand only made her arousal that much more intense.
She'd wanted Clark forever. She knew that. But he'd never wanted her, not really. He'd always been focused on Lana Lang, who'd been his girlfriend up till recently. A week ago, he'd broken up with her, afraid of hurting her any more than he already had.
That's what this is, she thought. Rebound-- red K style.
"Clark," she said, a little desperately, trying to ignore the feel of his fingers teasing her nipple. It wasn't easy. There was a deep throbbing between her legs. "What about Lana?"
He pinched her nipple, rolling it gently between his forefinger and thumb, and she was hard pressed not to writhe with pleasure. "What about her?"
"She's the one you really want."
"If she was the one I really wanted," he said, "then I'd have tied her down."
She blinked at him, recognizing the truth of those words. Clark on red K didn't need to seek her out because he was on the rebound. If he'd wanted Lana, then he would have gone to Lana.
Maybe on some level, he really wants me.
She tried to discard the thought, because it scared her. She didn't want to imagine that Clark was attracted to her. She'd been burned too many times before, had her hopes dashed too many times before. But it hung around the edges of her consciousness, tantalizing her.
Meanwhile, his hand kept toying with her nipples, squeezing and stroking and playing with them until the throbbing was one long, relentless ache. He had been staring at her breasts, but finally he lowered his gaze. She blushed at the direction of his gaze.
"You're wet for me," he said softly.
She wanted to deny it, but there wasn't a lot of point in it. She did try to close her thighs, but he caught her legs gently and pushed them apart again.
"Let me look," he whispered.
There was nothing she could do to prevent him from looking, but she was aware that she was enjoying being looked at. Clark had so rarely looked at her with visible lust in the past. But she could see the crimson tinge of lust glimmering in his eyes now, and even knowing that it was induced by red K...
Well, the way he'd explained it to her was that red K didn't cause him to do things he didn't want to do. It just loosened his inhibitions and freed him to do what he really wanted. If he'd really wanted Lana, then he wouldn't be indulging in rebound sex. He simply would have found Lana and tied her to a bed.
So on some level... he really wanted her.
The thought made her stomach melt.
He shifted position and bent over her. Her breath caught in her throat as his tongue gently slipped over one of her aching nipples. She barely managed to bite back a cry of pleasure.
"Go ahead," he said softly, every word a puff of air against her taut flesh. "Let me hear you."
She didn't want to let him know she was affected, but as his tongue swept over her nipple, over and over again, she found she didn't have much choice in the matter. Her head fell back, her mouth dropped open, and soft sounds of submission and pleasure rose from her throat.
And then he drew her swollen nipple into his mouth, suckling it gently between his lips, and she knew vaguely that she was crying out, and didn't care. She felt as if she were floating away on a cloud of pleasure, her body no longer her own, but his, all his.
His hand slipped between her thighs, finding her most intimate flesh. He delved into her slick moisture, then slid his finger over her clit. She gasped with shocked pleasure, and her hips jerked.
He was relentless, mouth on her nipple, hand on her clit, and she quivered helplessly, straining against the ropes, as the pleasure rose inside her like a tide, drowning everything else. She knew vaguely that she should be protesting, that this wasn't right, that Clark wasn't right, but all she could do was surrender to the sensations he was creating in her body.
Rain pounded on the windows, echoing the rush of blood in her veins. The waves of pleasure beat higher and higher. But just as the last wave was building... he stopped.
She lay there, quivering, unfulfilled. At last she cracked open an eyelid and looked at him. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at her. The gleam of lust was still there.
"Clark?" she said, hesitantly.
He grinned. It was a cynical flash of teeth, nothing like his normal warm smile. "You didn't think you were going to get it that easy, did you, sweetheart?"
She wanted to lash out at him-- I didn't ask you to come over here and tie me to the bedframe, asshole-- but she held her tongue, because Clark on red K wasn't just sexy. He could be dangerous, and it wasn't smart to piss him off.
"Um," she said, trying to ignore the desperate pulsing of her womb. "Maybe it's just as well you stopped. I mean, I know that you don't really want to... you're not really you, and..."
"We're not done yet," he interrupted.
"But I can't... Clark, you're not..."
His lips curved up in that sexy, almost cruel smile.
"We're a long ways from done, Chloe."
More to come...