Birthday Present for monicaop
Starting today I'll be giving out birthday presents, one a day for the next nine days, to people who signed up for them. My present today is for monicaop who wanted some Crack Fic.
Title: Too Much of a Good Thing
Genre: Crack!porn (but light on the porn)
Pairing: Clark and Chloe
Rating: R
Warnings: Naughty words. Adult situations
Timeline: Season 9, but only because I needed it to be ten years since something happened.
Word Count: 1,875
Too Much of a Good Thing
Chloe always knew that if she ever made love with Clark it would be the most amazing sexual experience of her life. After all, he was an alien, which automatically put him in the amazing category. He was also a fine specimen of a man, probably the finest specimen Chloe’d ever come across, with those long, lean legs, broad shoulders, bulging muscles and a face that would make Narcissus forget the mirror. Most importantly, even though he was the strongest creature on the planet, he had a tenderness to him, a deep, ingrained caring for others. For him sex wouldn’t just be a physical act. It would be two souls coming together. He would make sure that for his partner it was an amazing experience.
The problem was, now that they had actually done it, amazing didn’t begin to describe the experience.
“Wow.” Chloe fell back on the bed and stared at the dark spots dancing in front of her eyes. She gulped down air, trying unsuccessfully to catch her breath and steady her pounding heart. “That was… intense.”
“Yeah.” Clark panted next to her, his body drenched with sweat. “Intense.”
With all the strength left in her, she feebly rolled onto her side to face him. He looked at her, his eyes large and filled with fear.
“It was good,” she said. “Ever been that good for you before?”
“Nope, never,” he answered with a gulp. “You?”
”No.”
Chloe’s past sexual partners weren’t exactly varied, but she didn’t think there was anyone else in the world who could make love to her for two hours straight with a demanding, relentless rhythm, the whole time screaming her name. There probably wasn’t a creature in the universe able inundate her body with such pleasure she thought she was going to pass out, a pleasure that would inspire her to fight against losing consciousness so that she wouldn’t miss a single second of it..
“The thing is, Clark...” She thought about taking his hand in hers, but she didn’t have the energy to do it. “The thing is it was too good. I don’t think we should do it again.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, his voice filled with sadness as well as relief. “Probably not.”
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“Jor-El!” Clark raised his head and called into the frigid arctic air, “Jor-El, I have a problem.”
“Tell me about it,” a ghostly voice answered him. “You got lots of problems. It must come from your mother’s side of the family.”
“This has to do with Chloe.”
“Oh yeah,” Jor-El chuckled lasciviously. “She’s a bundle of problems wrapped up in a compact, squeezable package.”
“We…” Clark’s face reddened. Bashfully he toed the frozen ground with his foot. “We made love.”
“You what?”
“Made love,” he said again.
“Is that an Earth idiom?” the artificial intelligence that housed the conscience of Clark’s biological father asked. “How does one ‘make love?’ Do you mix flour, cornstarch, salt, water and a little food coloring in a bowl? Oh wait. That’s how you make playdough.”
“We had sex,” Clark clarified, “and it was good. It was really, really good. It was too good.”
“Too good?” Jor-El murmured as if he was scratching his non-existent chin. “Wild guess here, but was Chloe the first girl you ever kissed?”
Clark raised his eyes. “How’d you know?”
“Oh Kal-El,” Jor-El sighed. “Kal-El, Kal-El, Kal-El. It’s time we had a father son chat about the facts of life.”
“I already know the facts of life,” Clark protested.
“You know the Kryptonian facts of life?” Jor-El asked with a verbal smirk.
“Umm…” Clark thought about that for a moment. “I guess not.”
“Then shut up and let me chat.”
Obediently Clark silenced himself as Jor-El began to explain things.
“Kryptonians have… well, the best Earth word to describe it is ‘soul-mate,’ but that’s not exactly it,” he said. “The first person, outside of a family member, a Kryptonian kisses becomes his life partner. It’s a bond that can never be broken and sex should commence immediately.”
“Huh,” Clark thought about that for a moment. “If the first person I had kissed had been a boy, would that have made me gay?”
“Nothing makes you gay,” Jor-El said with obvious annoyance. “You’re either born that way or you aren’t. If the first person you had kissed had been a boy you’d have bonded and should’ve had sex immediately, but you wouldn’t be gay. You’d be confused.”
“Right.” Clark nodded his head.
“I’m guessing you didn’t have sex with Chloe that first time you kissed her,” Jor-El said.
“We were only 13,” Clark balked. “We had sex for the first time last week. I would have come talk to you about it sooner, but it took me that long to recover.”
“Well, there’s your problem,” Jor-El said. “You’ve gone ten years without having sex with Chloe. It’s going to add up.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I shouldn’t have let you skip the chapter on sex education,” Jor-El muttered. “Once you’re bonded with your soul-mate your body expects to have sex twice a day everyday for the rest of your life and allots a certain amount of pleasure to each perspective encounter. If you skip an encounter that pleasure is dispersed among the remaining future encounters. Now do you understand?”
“Not really,” Clark said.
“You and Chloe are running a 7,300 fuck deficit,” Jor-El explained. “Your bodies are making up for the sex they haven’t had over the past ten years. They will continue to do so until you’ve made up that deficit.”
“You mean it’s going to be that good each time?” The thought of it made Clark’s heart race with anticipation as well as panic. “Chloe’s right. We can’t ever do it again.”
“I wouldn’t advise that, son.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re bonded and that bond can’t be broken.” Jor-El spoke in an urgent voice. “You’re going to be compelled to have sex again. If you put if off for too long, if you let the deficit get any bigger, the results could be tragic.”
“You mean, Chloe could… die?”
“Not just Chloe,” Jor-El said. “Here on Earth you may be invulnerable, but no one survives the orgasm from an 8,000 fuck deficit. Hell, only an athlete in peak physical condition can make it past 7,500.”
“We’re almost at 7,500 now.” Clark started to pace.
“You’re closer than you think,” the AI told him. “Every time you or Chloe had sex with someone else it added to the deficit.”
This was much more serious than Clark had realized. “Chloe’s in good shape, but she’s not an athlete. It’s way too dangerous for her.” He stopped pacing and stared accusingly at the Fortress around him. “Why didn’t you tell me before when I could have done something about it?”
“Because,” Jor-El moaned, “whenever I tell you to do something you do the opposite. It’s getting rather predictable. Now stop wasting time and go have sex with Chloe.”
“No.” Clark shook his head vehemently. “I don’t care if I do feel some sort of compulsion. I can control my urges. I won’t risk Chloe’s life. I will never have sex with her again.”
“Yeah,” Jor-El sighed. “See what I mean about predictable?”
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“Oh God,” Chloe whimpered as she clung to the floor of the Daily Planet. Maybe it was just the endorphins racing through her body that made the earth seem to dip and spin, but she wasn’t going to risk the chance. If she let go of the floor she could fly out into space. “That was even better than before.”
“I know.” Clark was trembling. His desk rattled from the tremors.
A month ago, when Clark had returned from the Fortress and said Chloe was right, that they couldn’t ever have sex again, she hadn’t questioned him about what Jor-El had said. What they had experienced before was so good it was scary. It was a torment of ecstasy. As much as she might crave it, she didn’t want to go through that torment again.
For the first week or so it’d been difficult. Every time she saw Clark she had an almost uncontrollable urge to push him down and tear his clothes off. Sometimes she thought she would die if she didn’t feel Clark inside her again.
But as the weeks passed it was easier to resist the pleasure of his body. All she had to do was remind her self that sex with him was too good. It was unbearably good. That made it easier to bear not having sex with him. The more she didn’t have sex with him the easier it got. Over the past few days she hadn’t experienced even a twinge of lust in his presence.
She had thought they were in the free and clear. She had thought wrong.
Chloe wasn’t sure what Clark had done to seduce her tonight, when they were alone in the basement of the Daily Planet. It wasn’t what he’d said. (“You hungry for chicken wings? I want chicken wings.”) It wasn’t his tone of voice, which had been a little on the whiney side at that moment. And it certainly wasn’t that he’d been doing anything sexy, scratching him self like that. The only possible answer was that she’d let her guard down. They’d both let their guard down.
When she jumped on him, wrapped her legs around his middle and moaned, “Now Clark. Do me now,” he had instinctively known what she was talking about. He wasted no time shredding their clothes and lowering her to the floor with a forceful plop. Somehow they managed to wedge themselves under his desk, Chloe demanding more, Clark bobbing his head up and down, knocking into the desk and creating dents that would make it impossible to ever open the drawers again.
It had been amazing, spectacular, out of this world extraordinary. It had been too good.
“I’m serious, Clark,” she gasped now, four hours after they had started. “We can’t do it again.”
“No, Chloe.” His breath exploded from his body in violent puffs. “We have to do it again. Our lives depend on it.”
“But it’s too good,” she protested.
“And it’s just going to get better,” he growled. “If we don’t keep at it, it’ll get so good it will kill us.”
“Kill us?” Chloe repeated. “I don’t understand.”
“We’re running a deficit,” he explained. “We have to lower the deficit. If we do it three times a day without fail for the next 20 years we should be fine.”
“Three times a day?” she gulped.
“We could do it four times a day and get it over in ten years,” he said, “or six times a day and get it done in five. But I figure we do it that much it’ll be a habit and we’ll keep at it. Then we’ll get ahead of ourselves and things will start getting tired and predictable. Then we’ll stop and run up another deficit. It could be a vicious cycle. It’s better to stick to the 20 year plan.”
“Okay,” Chloe hesitantly agreed.
For the next 20 years life was going to be too good. It was frightening. It was daunting. It was something to look forward to.
The End
Title: Too Much of a Good Thing
Genre: Crack!porn (but light on the porn)
Pairing: Clark and Chloe
Rating: R
Warnings: Naughty words. Adult situations
Timeline: Season 9, but only because I needed it to be ten years since something happened.
Word Count: 1,875
Too Much of a Good Thing
Chloe always knew that if she ever made love with Clark it would be the most amazing sexual experience of her life. After all, he was an alien, which automatically put him in the amazing category. He was also a fine specimen of a man, probably the finest specimen Chloe’d ever come across, with those long, lean legs, broad shoulders, bulging muscles and a face that would make Narcissus forget the mirror. Most importantly, even though he was the strongest creature on the planet, he had a tenderness to him, a deep, ingrained caring for others. For him sex wouldn’t just be a physical act. It would be two souls coming together. He would make sure that for his partner it was an amazing experience.
The problem was, now that they had actually done it, amazing didn’t begin to describe the experience.
“Wow.” Chloe fell back on the bed and stared at the dark spots dancing in front of her eyes. She gulped down air, trying unsuccessfully to catch her breath and steady her pounding heart. “That was… intense.”
“Yeah.” Clark panted next to her, his body drenched with sweat. “Intense.”
With all the strength left in her, she feebly rolled onto her side to face him. He looked at her, his eyes large and filled with fear.
“It was good,” she said. “Ever been that good for you before?”
“Nope, never,” he answered with a gulp. “You?”
”No.”
Chloe’s past sexual partners weren’t exactly varied, but she didn’t think there was anyone else in the world who could make love to her for two hours straight with a demanding, relentless rhythm, the whole time screaming her name. There probably wasn’t a creature in the universe able inundate her body with such pleasure she thought she was going to pass out, a pleasure that would inspire her to fight against losing consciousness so that she wouldn’t miss a single second of it..
“The thing is, Clark...” She thought about taking his hand in hers, but she didn’t have the energy to do it. “The thing is it was too good. I don’t think we should do it again.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, his voice filled with sadness as well as relief. “Probably not.”
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“Jor-El!” Clark raised his head and called into the frigid arctic air, “Jor-El, I have a problem.”
“Tell me about it,” a ghostly voice answered him. “You got lots of problems. It must come from your mother’s side of the family.”
“This has to do with Chloe.”
“Oh yeah,” Jor-El chuckled lasciviously. “She’s a bundle of problems wrapped up in a compact, squeezable package.”
“We…” Clark’s face reddened. Bashfully he toed the frozen ground with his foot. “We made love.”
“You what?”
“Made love,” he said again.
“Is that an Earth idiom?” the artificial intelligence that housed the conscience of Clark’s biological father asked. “How does one ‘make love?’ Do you mix flour, cornstarch, salt, water and a little food coloring in a bowl? Oh wait. That’s how you make playdough.”
“We had sex,” Clark clarified, “and it was good. It was really, really good. It was too good.”
“Too good?” Jor-El murmured as if he was scratching his non-existent chin. “Wild guess here, but was Chloe the first girl you ever kissed?”
Clark raised his eyes. “How’d you know?”
“Oh Kal-El,” Jor-El sighed. “Kal-El, Kal-El, Kal-El. It’s time we had a father son chat about the facts of life.”
“I already know the facts of life,” Clark protested.
“You know the Kryptonian facts of life?” Jor-El asked with a verbal smirk.
“Umm…” Clark thought about that for a moment. “I guess not.”
“Then shut up and let me chat.”
Obediently Clark silenced himself as Jor-El began to explain things.
“Kryptonians have… well, the best Earth word to describe it is ‘soul-mate,’ but that’s not exactly it,” he said. “The first person, outside of a family member, a Kryptonian kisses becomes his life partner. It’s a bond that can never be broken and sex should commence immediately.”
“Huh,” Clark thought about that for a moment. “If the first person I had kissed had been a boy, would that have made me gay?”
“Nothing makes you gay,” Jor-El said with obvious annoyance. “You’re either born that way or you aren’t. If the first person you had kissed had been a boy you’d have bonded and should’ve had sex immediately, but you wouldn’t be gay. You’d be confused.”
“Right.” Clark nodded his head.
“I’m guessing you didn’t have sex with Chloe that first time you kissed her,” Jor-El said.
“We were only 13,” Clark balked. “We had sex for the first time last week. I would have come talk to you about it sooner, but it took me that long to recover.”
“Well, there’s your problem,” Jor-El said. “You’ve gone ten years without having sex with Chloe. It’s going to add up.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I shouldn’t have let you skip the chapter on sex education,” Jor-El muttered. “Once you’re bonded with your soul-mate your body expects to have sex twice a day everyday for the rest of your life and allots a certain amount of pleasure to each perspective encounter. If you skip an encounter that pleasure is dispersed among the remaining future encounters. Now do you understand?”
“Not really,” Clark said.
“You and Chloe are running a 7,300 fuck deficit,” Jor-El explained. “Your bodies are making up for the sex they haven’t had over the past ten years. They will continue to do so until you’ve made up that deficit.”
“You mean it’s going to be that good each time?” The thought of it made Clark’s heart race with anticipation as well as panic. “Chloe’s right. We can’t ever do it again.”
“I wouldn’t advise that, son.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re bonded and that bond can’t be broken.” Jor-El spoke in an urgent voice. “You’re going to be compelled to have sex again. If you put if off for too long, if you let the deficit get any bigger, the results could be tragic.”
“You mean, Chloe could… die?”
“Not just Chloe,” Jor-El said. “Here on Earth you may be invulnerable, but no one survives the orgasm from an 8,000 fuck deficit. Hell, only an athlete in peak physical condition can make it past 7,500.”
“We’re almost at 7,500 now.” Clark started to pace.
“You’re closer than you think,” the AI told him. “Every time you or Chloe had sex with someone else it added to the deficit.”
This was much more serious than Clark had realized. “Chloe’s in good shape, but she’s not an athlete. It’s way too dangerous for her.” He stopped pacing and stared accusingly at the Fortress around him. “Why didn’t you tell me before when I could have done something about it?”
“Because,” Jor-El moaned, “whenever I tell you to do something you do the opposite. It’s getting rather predictable. Now stop wasting time and go have sex with Chloe.”
“No.” Clark shook his head vehemently. “I don’t care if I do feel some sort of compulsion. I can control my urges. I won’t risk Chloe’s life. I will never have sex with her again.”
“Yeah,” Jor-El sighed. “See what I mean about predictable?”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Oh God,” Chloe whimpered as she clung to the floor of the Daily Planet. Maybe it was just the endorphins racing through her body that made the earth seem to dip and spin, but she wasn’t going to risk the chance. If she let go of the floor she could fly out into space. “That was even better than before.”
“I know.” Clark was trembling. His desk rattled from the tremors.
A month ago, when Clark had returned from the Fortress and said Chloe was right, that they couldn’t ever have sex again, she hadn’t questioned him about what Jor-El had said. What they had experienced before was so good it was scary. It was a torment of ecstasy. As much as she might crave it, she didn’t want to go through that torment again.
For the first week or so it’d been difficult. Every time she saw Clark she had an almost uncontrollable urge to push him down and tear his clothes off. Sometimes she thought she would die if she didn’t feel Clark inside her again.
But as the weeks passed it was easier to resist the pleasure of his body. All she had to do was remind her self that sex with him was too good. It was unbearably good. That made it easier to bear not having sex with him. The more she didn’t have sex with him the easier it got. Over the past few days she hadn’t experienced even a twinge of lust in his presence.
She had thought they were in the free and clear. She had thought wrong.
Chloe wasn’t sure what Clark had done to seduce her tonight, when they were alone in the basement of the Daily Planet. It wasn’t what he’d said. (“You hungry for chicken wings? I want chicken wings.”) It wasn’t his tone of voice, which had been a little on the whiney side at that moment. And it certainly wasn’t that he’d been doing anything sexy, scratching him self like that. The only possible answer was that she’d let her guard down. They’d both let their guard down.
When she jumped on him, wrapped her legs around his middle and moaned, “Now Clark. Do me now,” he had instinctively known what she was talking about. He wasted no time shredding their clothes and lowering her to the floor with a forceful plop. Somehow they managed to wedge themselves under his desk, Chloe demanding more, Clark bobbing his head up and down, knocking into the desk and creating dents that would make it impossible to ever open the drawers again.
It had been amazing, spectacular, out of this world extraordinary. It had been too good.
“I’m serious, Clark,” she gasped now, four hours after they had started. “We can’t do it again.”
“No, Chloe.” His breath exploded from his body in violent puffs. “We have to do it again. Our lives depend on it.”
“But it’s too good,” she protested.
“And it’s just going to get better,” he growled. “If we don’t keep at it, it’ll get so good it will kill us.”
“Kill us?” Chloe repeated. “I don’t understand.”
“We’re running a deficit,” he explained. “We have to lower the deficit. If we do it three times a day without fail for the next 20 years we should be fine.”
“Three times a day?” she gulped.
“We could do it four times a day and get it over in ten years,” he said, “or six times a day and get it done in five. But I figure we do it that much it’ll be a habit and we’ll keep at it. Then we’ll get ahead of ourselves and things will start getting tired and predictable. Then we’ll stop and run up another deficit. It could be a vicious cycle. It’s better to stick to the 20 year plan.”
“Okay,” Chloe hesitantly agreed.
For the next 20 years life was going to be too good. It was frightening. It was daunting. It was something to look forward to.
The End