Chlark Fanfic: Incredible (Oneshot) NC-17
Yooo-hoo! Anyone in the mood for some Chlark smut? My Muse is on a roll here! ;)
For those of you who’ve read Indelible, I have a question for you. While Clark was looking at Chloe’s bikini pictures and gettin’ his freak on…what was Chloe getting up to? Hmm?? ;) Naturally, the fanfic wheel in my head started turning, and this little smutlet was born. The answer lies this way. :-P
Enjoy! Story is rated NC-17, so no minors, please. :)
Mad props to m_strangchild for the smoulderingly hawt banner, which I’ve had to put under a cut due to its hotness. Thanks, Miranda! :) Banner is R-rated and not work-safe. No naughty bits are showing, though…which, in my humble opinion, is a real darned shame. :(
Title: Incredible
Author: BabyDee1
Pairing: Chlark
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Smut, Wank!fic
Timeline: Circa Season 3; sequel to Indelible. Part of The Sacred Series
Disclaimer: All characters belong to the CW & DC comics.
Summary: Chloe’s thinking about Clark in his swim trunks. And getting to grips with herself while she’s at it. ;)
Feedback: …always welcome. :)
Incredible
Losing the debate hadn’t been the plan.
Chloe sighed as she let herself into the house she shared with her father and Lana. It was silent, as she’d expected. Lana was spending the rest of the weekend with her Aunt Nell, and her father was supervising the graveyard shift hand-over at the Granville Plant and wouldn’t be home for at least other hour, so she had the place all to herself for a while. She locked the door, turned on the lights and headed upstairs, a slight frown marring her brow.
It should have been so easy. She was the Smallville High’s undefeated debating champion; or had been, up until yesterday. Public speaking and conversation-building came naturally to her, so when she’d picked Clark’s name out of the hat for the last verbal battle of the term, she’d thought victory would be a walk in the park; so much so that when Clark had challenged her confidence in her victory, she’d immediately agreed to the terms of a very, very auspicious bet. She’d banked on winning with a slam dunk, and had gleefully anticipated watching him cringe as he mumble-rapped Snoop Dogg’s Aint Nuthin’ but a G Thang in front of the entire school in a hand-picked, customised outfit.
So losing to him in the closing argument was a major upset, to say the least.
She got to her room and dropped her backpack on the floor, then wearily toed off her sandals.
She’d never lost a debate before. It sucked. Especially when losing meant that Clark was off the rapping hook, and she’d had to honour her end of deal and go out in public in a two-piece bathing suit.
Which, if she were to be honest, hadn’t been that bad. She smiled to herself as she finished undressing. It had been an amazing feeling stepping out into the sunshine in the peach bikini Clark had picked out for her, and stunning the entire 9th Grade class into silence. She’d been the topic of the day.
Which she often was, but not like this; never like this. Usually she got talked about for her scathing, brutally honest school newspaper articles, and considering the fact that she was arguably the school’s most notorious whistleblower, the things that people said about her were not often very nice. More than once she’d had footballs and other missiles thrown at her head for having slagged off the Crows in her sports review after a disappointing match.
Now, however, she was in the unfamiliar position of being the object of the attention of said jocks. For the first time in her life, she’d been noticed for her body rather than her brain. And at the risk of inflaming the wrath of every feminist in existence…she’d revelled in it.
Fully undressed, she headed for the bathroom and turned on the shower, stepping in once the water had turned warm. Idly she soaped up her sponge and massaged her tired muscles, closing her eyes as the warm water cascaded over her and soothed her skin.
It had certainly been worth seeing the look on Clark’s face when she’d emerged from the changing room. He’d gazed at her with hot, hungry eyes, and she was hoping they’d have gotten a chance to spend more time together as the afternoon wore on; but he hadn’t wanted to monopolise her when she’d been in such hot demand, so they hadn’t really had much time to talk.
But she wished they had. As much as she was enjoying everyone’s attention, her real focus had been on Clark, and his very interesting bathing attire. Because he’d traded in his baggy board shorts and invested in a red and blue pair of itty-bitty swim trunks that showed off his best bits to perfection.
A cheeky smile appeared on her face as she bathed. Best bits was a horribly inaccurate way to describe Clark’s package. Best bulge was more like it. She’d tried not to stare too obviously at his crotch, but damn. There was some impressive girth under there. Those red and blue man panties clung snugly to his hips and left very little to the imagination, and her very fertile imagination was having no trouble at all filling in the blanks.
The sheer beauty of Clark’s body had stunned her. They’d gone swimming at Crater Lake practically hundreds of times. How had she not noticed just how incredibly buff her best friend had become? His chest and abs were all solid muscle under rippling, sun-bronzed, skin; his thighs and legs were solid and firm, and if she got started on his perfectly toned buns, she’d be here all day. She didn’t like to admit it, but Clark was one very sexy seventeen-year old.
And the look in his eyes when he saw her in that bikini indicated he thought the same about her, although much like her, he’d probably never admit it. Too afraid of upsetting the applecart and ruining their friendship, best to leave things as they are…blah, blah, blah, the usual spiel.
Briefly she let herself consider what it might be like if Clark did admit it; just, for once, follow his teenage boy instincts and make a play for her. She wouldn’t say no. Oh, what it would be like to have that gorgeousness, that incredible perfection to herself…to have those big, strong hands all over her, caressing her, drifting up her midriff…
The steam of the shower rose gently in the air, creating a warm mist. Chloe’s eyes drifted shut and in a quiet corner of her mind, an image of Clark materialised in the fragile fog surrounding her. He was standing behind her, naked; his body pressed up against hers, the firmness of his chest and legs giving her support. The movements of her arms slowed as her hands became his, travelling higher and higher until they got to her aching, heavy breasts. The sponge fell from her fingers as her hands wrapped around the firm flesh and gently squeezed.
A low moan emanated from her throat as her nipples tightened instantly. She could feel Clark pressing harder against her, the thick ridge of his erection heating the soft flesh of her backside. He caressed her breasts at a leisurely pace, his fingers brushed over her areola in slow, lazy circles, moving ever closer to the straining buds at the centre.
His thumbs grazed her nipples, and a whoosh of air rushed from her lungs as a staggering jolt of arousal blazed through her, pooling in her groin. She squeezed her eyes shut and immersed herself in the fantasy as Clark continued to tease her nipples, rolling the tight nubs between his thumbs and forefingers.
It was electric. Sensation flooded her, and she bit her lip to try and quell the strange, eager sounds coming from her throat. It was all so real. She could almost see him through the mist, leaning down to brush tender kisses on her neck as he increased the pressure on her nipples with his fingers, pinching them hard.
Chloe sobbed as another flash of white heat coursed through her. There was a fire building between her legs; she was throbbing, aching for some direct stimulation.
“Touch me, Clark,” she whispered, sliding one hand down over her stomach down towards the place where she needed his touch.
He didn’t keep her waiting. His fingers slid into the downy fuzz protecting her sex and teased and tickled, brushing the coarse hairs lightly before spreading the moist soft folds with his fingers, exposing the glossy pink nub nestled within.
“More,” she begged. “Please.” He smiled against her neck, nipping it lightly and then soothing the spot with his tongue. His other hand tightened on her breast, teasing the nipple relentlessly. Chloe cried out, writhing and shivering with need, her knees wobbling as his fingertip finally brushed over her aching clit.
She howled and sagged against the wall; or rather, against the solid support of his chest. Two fingertips moved in pressing circles over and around her intimate flesh, causing her to tremble violently as passion and pleasure built within her at an alarming speed. Clark held her against him and from behind slipped his throbbing cock between her legs, the hard length nestled snugly at the apex of her thighs. He began to thrust in earnest, sliding urgently through the slick wetness that had nothing to do with the water cascading from above.
His hand continued to work her needy flesh, pinching and twisting her nipple almost painfully hard whilst his other hand rubbed her clit with increasing speed. His fingers delved lower and suddenly he jammed three fingers into her moist warmth and thrust hard, fucking her with his hand.
“Oh, God!” she wailed as the spiralling pleasure burst and exploded within her in a shattering orgasm. Warm water rained down on her as she bucked against the wall, powerless to control the pulsing pleasure assaulting her limbs. She gritted her teeth and hissed as the pleasure slowly dimmed, leaving her limbs weak and wobbly. With a feeble moan, she slid down the wall and landed on the shower floor in a crumpled heap.
“Chloe?”
She stiffened and her head snapped up sharply at the intrusion of reality.
“Dad?” she breathed in growing horror.
He rapped gently on the other side of the door. “Are you okay? I heard a thud or something when I came in; it sounded like you fell. Are you alright?”
“Um…” she swallowed and tried to steady her voice as she reached up and shut off the water. “I’m fine…I just had a little slip, is all,” she managed.
“Huh. Well, as long as you’re okay,” he replied. “But be careful; you know how slippery it gets in there when it’s wet.”
Chloe gulped and glanced down at herself, her cheeks burning with shame as she was confronted with the sight of her own fingers still inside her thrumming body. Slowly she withdrew them, her face burning even hotter as they emerged with a wet, squishy sound. She lifted her hand and stared, weirdly fascinated by the slick, creamy moisture coating her fingers.
Her father’s footsteps receded as he walked down the hall. Her legs were still unsteady but she got to her feet, leaning on the wall for support. Quickly she turned on the shower again, yelping as the now chilly water sluiced all over her head and down back.
Ah, well. It was no more than what she deserved. After using her best friend as fantasy material and touching herself until she came, it was poetic justice that she now be punished with a cold shower.
Not that it was actually doing anything to cool her ardour for Clark. She gritted her teeth and washed up, hoping her perverse behaviour wasn’t visibly detectable. She was a reasonably good liar, but she’d hate for Clark to take one look at her and know what she gotten up to in her spare time. Cool, calm and professional; she could maintain the façade around him.
When she was alone, however…well, that was a whole other story.
***
The End.