Wednesday, August 08, 2012

Heated, Chapter 2

Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chlark
Rating: Adult. If you''re under eighteen, please go elsewhere now.
Warnings: Sexual content, underage sexual activity
Summary: After "Heat," Clark doesn't have quite as much control over his heat vision as he thought he did.
Written for the Secret Chlark gift exchange. Based on a prompt from elenarain. Chloe helps Clark to master his heat vision with multiple sexual training sessions and some kind of road trip adventure, with an actual car, not Clark using his speed

Once Chloe Sullivan had made up her mind about something, it couldn’t be altered, even by a superpowered alien. And so an hour and a half later, she was still in his truck, and they were still headed for Metropolis. Eventually Clark got tired of driving, and they stopped for lunch in a little diner in a town even less impressive than Smallville.

Reddick, Population 1200, the old faded sign proclaimed proudly as they entered the town limits. Reddick, Kansas possessed no stoplight, but there was a small cluster of buildings, including an old-fashioned general store and a single-pump gas station, as well as the obligatory diner marked EATS. The whole town looked like it had been plucked out of the nineteen fifties and plopped down here, except that up close, the peeling paint of the buildings gave away the town’s age.

Clark had decided to stop because he was starving, and anyway, a small diner in a tiny town wasn't the sort of place where he was likely to find temptation in the form of beautiful women. This wasn’t Hooters, and the waitress here was probably some middle-aged, plump woman named Flo. He got out of the truck, and Chloe bounced out the other side—and when she bounced, she really bounced-- and trotted around to him. He sighed.

He couldn't very well avoid temptation. He was carrying it around with him in his truck.

She headed for the diner, and he fell into step behind her, watching her rounded butt move smoothly beneath the denim. God, those shorts were short. He could almost see the bottom of her butt cheeks, and didn’t have the slightest difficulty imagining what he couldn’t quite see. She'd get kicked out of school if she tried to wear something that short in the hallowed halls of Smallville High-- which was, he supposed, why she was wearing them on a weekend. But honestly, she ought not to be wearing them at all. It looked for all the world like she'd outgrown them over the summer. And no wonder, because her butt was a lot rounder than he remembered.

But round in a good way. A very good way.

He blinked hard, trying to hold back the heat vision. Damn it, he must have rocks in his head. He should have insisted Chloe get out and walk back to Smallville, the very minute she’d climbed into his truck.

But the truth was he’d never won an argument with Chloe Sullivan yet. Anyway, he'd figured she was safe enough. After all, she was just Chloe.

Only she wasn't, not exactly. Through some mysterious process he couldn't quite understand, she'd become... a girl.

He reached out a long arm, snagged the diner’s door handle, and held it open for her automatically, because his dad had drilled courtesy into him until it was an instinct. She sashayed into the dim interior of the diner, her hips swinging, and he carefully did not look down. Much.

To himself, he admitted that he'd noticed she was a girl the other day, at Lex's wedding reception. She'd been dressed up like a princess in pink, her hair up in a fancy style, and he'd thought she looked very pretty.

But pretty was one thing. Pretty was safe. Ordinary. Everyday.

The way she looked now... well, it wasn't safe. Not in the least.

His eyes burned, and he rubbed at them, hard, and followed her into the dimness of the diner.

The place was empty, and they sat in a booth with a metal-edged formica table and fraying vinyl seats. It was a very small booth, and his long legs seemed to brush up against her bare ones no matter how he arranged himself. His eyes itched dangerously, and he took refuge in conversation.

"What's your dad going to think if you don't come home tonight?"

"I don't know if he'll even notice," she said, twiddling the ancient, grease-stained menu and carefully not looking at him. "He got himself a new girlfriend over the summer. He's kind of... engrossed right now."

Clark frowned. His parents weren't perfect, but they definitely noticed if he went missing. "What do you mean, engrossed?"

"I mean, he's spending most of the nights at her apartment. I've hardly seen him since I got back from Metropolis."

"That sucks."

"Tell me about it. I can't cook, and I'm getting really tired of macaroni and cheese for dinner." She tried for a perky smile, but Clark could see the hurt beneath the perkiness. He could understand it. She’d stayed with her uncle and cousin in the big city all summer, interning at the Daily Planet, and now that she’d come back home… well, she must feel really abandoned. He reached out and patted her hand.

"I'm sorry."

"Thanks." She flipped over her hand and squeezed his. It was just a normal friendly gesture between them, but right now his hormones seemed to be in high gear, and the touch of her hand set off something inside him, something dangerously hot. His eyes began to burn fiercely. He blinked hard, but the sensation didn't go away, and he knew he was about to set this ancient diner on fire.

"Excuse me," he muttered. He yanked his hand away and ran for the door, as fast as he possibly could without setting off Chloe’s weirdar.

Outside, behind the diner, there was an empty lot, and he blasted a perfectly innocent patch of grass and weeds into charcoal. He stood there for a few moments, breathing heavily, then wiped the sweat from his forehead, and turned and walked back into the diner. The old vinyl bench creaked beneath his weight as he dropped himself back down into the booth.

"Sorry," he said, as casually as he could manage. "My stomach was feeling kind of queasy. I guess I'm hungry. Shouldn't've skipped breakfast."

She looked dubious, but didn't comment. He noticed she didn't put her hands on the table again, and wondered if maybe he'd hurt her feelings. If maybe she thought he'd wanted to puke because she'd touch him. But that was silly. She wouldn't think that, would she?

He looked at her downbent head, at the way her shoulders sagged, and decided she might just think that. She was obviously feeling pretty rejected right now, and considering what was going on with her dad, he didn't really blame her.

"Hey," he said gently. "What are you ordering? I thought I'd get a burger."

"Yeah." She sighed, sounding totally disinterested. "A burger sounds fine."

The waitress-- who was precisely as Clark had imagined, except her tag read Gertrude-- took their orders. Two Cokes were delivered to the table in due course, and Clark sipped his. It was a little flat, but not too bad.

"I'm sorry about your dad," he said, looking at her downbent head. "You know, you shouldn't have to be alone. If you want, you could come stay with us any time your dad's out."

She lifted her head and blinked at him. "Stay with you?"

"Sure, Mom wouldn't mind. I could bunk on the couch, and you could have my bedroom."

All of a sudden he imagined her sleeping in his bed, on his sheets, her skin pale against the navy blue sheets, her golden hair all rumpled on his pillow. He imagined climbing into bed after she’d been there, imagined smelling the scent of her, breathing in the faint apple fragrance that clung to her, and the more subtle scent of her skin, and--

Suddenly his eyes were burning more fiercely than before. More fiercely than they ever had. Oh, God. He needed to get out of here, before he incinerated the diner completely. He jumped to his feet and fled out the door without so much as a word.

In the field behind the diner, he let the heat go. And this time, it just didn’t want to stop. It went on and on for a long time before it fizzled out, and by the time he’d finished, he’d fried a huge patch of weedy grass. He stood there, panting, trying to get hold of himself.

Must have destroyed a quarter acre, he thought grimly, staring at the devastation. It was only a bunch of weeds, but if he'd been inside--

"Well," a voice said behind him. "When you said you felt queasy, this isn't quite what I imagined you meant."

Clark gave a startled yelp and spun around. Behind him, Chloe stood there, watching him with her calm, unflappable gaze.

"Chloe," he squeaked.

She looked over the blackened grass.

"So this is why you're running," she said.

Read Chapter 3 here

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