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
"You're a meteor freak."
Anyone else would have been backing away from him in horror, but Chloe just looked fascinated as she looked at the blackened grass. "Wow. You're not the first one we've met who's pyrokinetic, but Coach Arnold didn't shoot fire out of his eyes that way."
"Uh..." He wasn't about to explain to her that he was actually some sort of alien, because she'd probably think he was nuts. But he didn't want to lie to her, either. Fortunately, he didn't have to. Chloe Sullivan, reporter extraordinaire, never stopped asking questions.
“Does it hurt?”
“No.” In fact it was the opposite of painful, but he didn’t want to talk about that, because it made him blush. “And it’s not fire. It’s heat.”
She must have taken his terse response for anxiety, rather than embarrassment, because she patted his arm. "You don't have to worry about me outing you," she assured him. "You know I'll protect your secret. And I wasn't snooping, either. Really, I wasn’t. I just thought you were getting sick out here, so I thought I should come hold your head while you puked." She looked at the blackened grass with a wry expression. "I think it's a good thing I wasn't holding your head."
Clark snorted. He couldn't help it. Chloe had always been able to make him laugh.
"So," she said. "How long have you been able to do this?"
"Only a few days," he admitted. "And it's sort of... well, it's kind of tied in with my hormones somehow."
"You mean--" She looked at him, and humor sparkled in her hazel eyes as she began putting the events of the past week together in her head. "I see. You get near girls and--"
"Yeah. Boom."
“Oh.” She looked as if a light had just dawned. "That day in class, when the screen caught on fire. Was that--"
"Yeah. That was me."
She tilted her head on one side, thinking about it. "I wonder if Desiree's supercharged pheremones somehow activated your meteor talent."
"I guess they might have," he admitted. "But I think maybe it would have developed sooner or later, anyway."
She didn’t ask why he thought that. She just looked up at him, her eyes glowing with interest. Her fascination with the weird and bizarre was going to make her a great reporter one day, he was certain. "So it really doesn’t hurt?"
“Um…” He thought about the blast of heat, the violent release of tension, and gave a shaky laugh. It definitely didn’t hurt. “No,” he said at last, and blushed despite himself. "Actually, it feels kind of good."
She made a sound that he suspected was a repressed giggle. "So you took off and left Smallville behind because... you were setting everything on fire?"
"Pretty much. I figured the sheriff would have to arrest me again, sooner or later. I need to figure out how to control this, Chlo. I can't go through my whole life avoiding women. There are an awful lot of them in the world."
"Have you tried to learn how to control it?"
"Sure. I practiced a lot. I'm just fine-- until I get near a girl. Then my control goes all to hell."
He’d worked hard at trying to master this power, learning to incinerate a scarecrow on cue, then learning to hold back the heat, so that he could release it in little increments. He’d managed to pop popcorn with his eyes, and he’d thought he was pretty well under control.
But the events of the past few days had shown him otherwise. Just walking past a pretty girl in school was enough to set him off. Walking past a group of cheerleaders in skimpy skirts made him go ballistic. And Chloe—well, he thought, looking ruefully over the blackened grass, Chloe had somehow made his heat vision even worse than before. Which was weird, because she was just… Chloe.
Only she wasn’t. Since she’d come back from Metropolis, he’d been vaguely aware that she was different somehow, and when he’d seen her by the side of the road today, his awareness had rocketed to whole new levels.
She wasn’t the sweet little girl who’d kissed him a year and a half ago, and told him she was just getting it out of the way so they could be friends. She wasn’t even the girl who’d gone to the Spring Formal with her. That girl had been pretty enough, but now…
Well, now she was sex on a stick.
“I have to figure out how to control this,” he said hoarsely.
"Maybe," she said, moving a little closer, "you need to practice controlling it while you're near a girl."
He looked down at her. Despite the massive blast of heat he'd just released, his eyes itched. "Are you volunteering?"
She grinned up at him.
"I guess I am."
*****
They were in the middle of nowhere.
They’d gone back into the diner and eaten their burgers-- which were surprisingly good, if you didn’t mind a little grease—then gotten back into the truck and kept driving. This part of Kansas looked a lot like home. Flat, empty, and pretty damn dull.
"We need to make sure we're far away from any sort of civilization," Chloe said as they drove. "You're kind of destructive."
He was kind of destructive like she was kind of sexy, but he didn’t say so. "I don't want to destroy anyone's crops, either. Or start a forest fire."
Since he was pretty well fireproof, he could put out a fire with his hands afterward, but didn't particularly want to unless he had to. Meteor freaks rarely possessed more than one ability, and if Chloe noticed his numerous and varied talents, she might begin to wonder.
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, but he’d been keeping secrets for a long time now, and it was a matter of habit with him. Anyway, Did I mention I’m an alien? was an awkward conversation to have with anyone, even your best friend. Maybe especially with your best friend.
Eventually he spotted a rutted dirt road. He turned down it, and the truck jolted along until they found a fallow field surrounded on three sides by old-growth trees, and partially screened from the road by underbrush.
"That looks good," Chloe said, but he was already pulling over.
He got out of the truck and looked around. They seemed to be alone, but for the birds singing in the trees and the insects humming. He headed across the field, and Chloe followed.
Near the trees, he came to a stop. "Uh," he said, looking down at the tall grass, rather than at her. "Um, how did you want to..."
"What sets it off, exactly?"
He shrugged. Pretty much anything having to do with the opposite sex. "Sexy girls, I guess."
"Well, I suppose that excludes me." She spoke under her breath, but he heard her clearly enough.
"Hey," he said, reaching out, putting a finger under her chin, and tilting her face up so she looked into his eyes. "You're sexy, Chloe. You really are."
"Yeah, right."
"You are," he insisted. He thought it best not to mention that he'd never really noticed until today. That didn't reflect on her; it was the fact that he'd somehow been seeing her as the little girl he'd met in middle school, rather than the curvaceous, hot-bodied blonde she'd grown into.
He'd been blind and stupid. He hadn't noticed what she’d become... but his body apparently had.
He could tell she didn’t really believe him, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she looked up into his eyes. "Okay, then," she said. "Control it."
She reached up and pressed her palms against his chest.
Even through the fabric of his blue t-shirt, he could feel the heat of her hands. She smelled good, too. The fragrance of her hair was subtle and summery, like a breeze through an apple orchard. He breathed in the scent of her, felt the press of her hands against him, and heat flared through him. He jerked his head to the side, and blackened a substantial patch of grass.
She pulled her hands back, stared, and then shook her head with a faint smile.
"Apparently,” she said, “we have a lot of work to do."
Read Chapter 4 here
No comments:
Post a Comment