WIP amnesty, part 2

[geekwriter143]

More WIP amnesty, (that is, things that I will never, ever finish, so here you go)

Smallville, Clark/Chloe

So, it's not like I was looking forward to kicking around in the caves, especially after that whole adrenaline parasite thing. Clark had told me that I didn't want to see it, that it was really gross, and I should have believed him. But of course I had to play investigative reporter and I got a guy I knew at the hospital's labs to send me pictures of the thing that had been inside me, living off my adrenaline, and as soon as I saw the pictures I knew that Clark had been right. I really, really didn't want to know that that thing had been living inside me, feeding off me. It was like something out of a nightmare, like that thing they sucked out of Keanu Reeve's stomach in "The Matrix," only worse, because it was real.

But I walked towards the cave anyway, tiptoed past the sleeping guard and wound my way through the entrance maze into the large vault where the walls were covered with ancient paintings. I was surprised at how easy it was to just waltz right in, considering the caves' federally protected status. Nothing like a sleeping guard to illustrate the wonders of our tax dollars at work.

The caves actually were relatively interesting, if anthropology was your thing. I mean, the majority of cave paintings had been found in Europe, and the fact that these were North American was a big deal in itself. Then, of course, there was the fact that these were the most detailed, most extensive cave paintings ever found. I could probably write a few pretty good stories just about the caves themselves, but that's not why I was there.

He was standing near the far wall with a flashlight shining up towards the ceiling. I knew he'd be there. I'd seen his truck on my drive home and decided to stop in and see how he was doing. And, you know, I kind of had to get my daily fix; if I went too long without seeing him I started to get depressed. I stood and watched him for a few minutes and he never moved, just stared. It made me want to laugh a little bit. I'd never figured Clark Kent for an anthropology geek.

"So, before I come any further, you have to promise me that any and all adrenaline-sucking parasites have been eradicated," is what I finally said. Not exactly smooth, I realize, but around Clark being smooth is extremely difficult.

Sure, I said that I just wanted to be friends, but I was so lying. I was trying to protect myself from getting dumped, which would happen the second Clark thought Lana might be free. I was also hoping that he'd disagree with me, that he'd say that he wasn't OK with being friends, that he liked me too much to pretend that he didn't. He didn't say that, of course. Apparently I was the only one with the delusion that Clark and I would make a great couple.

Anyway, when I asked Clark to promise me that the parasites were gone, I apparently scared the shit out of him. He whirled around and dropped his flashlight, then fumbled on the ground before shining it on me with a shaky hand.

"Chloe," he breathed. I was so pathetic for loving it every time he said my name. "You're not supposed to be in here."

"Neither are you," I said, holding an arm up to shield my eyes from the flashlight he was shining directly in his face. "Um, would you mind pointing that thing somewhere else? Unless you're planning on a CIA-style interrogation."

"Sorry." Clark dropped the beam down towards the ground.

I squeezed my eyes shut a few times but there were still green dots dancing in front of them. "So," I said, taking a few steps towards him, "how come you spend so much time in here?"

Clark shrugged and looked around. "It's…peaceful," he said lamely.

"Yeah. There are a hundred peaceful places around Smallville that don't require breaking federal laws in order to hang out in them. What's so special about this place?"

Clark's expression faltered. His full pink lips pressed into a tight line, his eyes became sad and faraway.

That's good, Sullivan-open mouth, insert foot. I'd forgotten about the wolf girl.

"You miss her a lot, huh?" I asked. Not exactly my journalistic best, but then again he put me off kilter and it was hard to think when I was around him.

Clark nodded and sat down on a ledge, shining his flashlight onto the bed of leaves covering the cave floor. "Kyla was…easy to be with," he said softly.

I sat down next to him and bumped his shoulder with mine. "Right. Because girls who randomly turn into murderous she-wolves always make for a laid back evening." Oh, Jesus, Sullivan, could you make things any worse?

"I'm sorry," I said immediately. "I've been working at The Torch all night, so my cynicism's on overload. Do you hate me?"

He turned and looked at me and smiled. Dear God, that smile was so powerful it should have been regulated by the FDA. My stomach flipped and my brain started to turn hazy and I smiled back at him, because when Clark smiles it's like the world stops and nothing could ever go wrong.

"Of course I don't hate you, Chloe," he said. He put his hand on my leg and patted it gently. It wasn't sexual. It was just a friendly pat but, Lord, it sent chills through me.

"I didn't mean to be a bitch," I said. "I just have to wonder how she broke through your defenses in a day, since I've been trying for years."

He shrugged. "We just understood each other, that's all."

Of course he wouldn't give me details. Of course his friendship with Kyla would remain a deep, dark secret. God forbid he admit the reasons that he fell for her. It hurt, knowing that the feelings he had for her were romantic, but I wasn't a journalist because I believed in lying to myself. The truth might hurt, but once you have the facts you can begin to deal with them. Or so I told myself over and over again. I had the facts, but I really wasn't doing a stellar job of dealing with anything.

So I decided to change the subject and break the tension. "What's the story with these paintings, anyway?" I asked.

"I slept with her," Clark blurted out. He, apparently, didn't want to change the subject or relieve the tension between us.

"I…really?" I couldn't think of anything else to say. I knew my voice sounded tight and high-pitched but I didn't…I couldn't…Clark had known her for less than a week and he'd fucked her? Her, of all people, the murderous wolf-girl who'd tried to eat his mom.

Clark cleared his throat and shone the flashlight up and to the left. "The paintings tell the story of Namun, who will fall from the sky in a rain of fire and become protector of the world."

Oh, like I gave a shit about the cave paintings. "You…" I realized that my eyes were tearing up and I wiped them impatiently with the back of my hand. I hopped down off the ledge and stalked away from him. I turned on my heel and crossed my arms over my chest as I stared at him. "Were you ever going to tell me?"

He looked stunned and a little worried by my reaction. "I just did."

"I mean, we're best friends, Clark. Or, at least we used to be. I tell you everything. I told you when Ben Parsons felt me up, didn't I? I told you everything I did with him."

Clark cleared his throat. "Yeah, Chloe, you did, but-"

"But what? But it's fine for me to share my most intimate secrets with you, but you're too good to share anything with me?"

"No, that's not it-"

"Or is it that I'm not trustworthy? I'm not good enough for you to trust the details of your life with?" I knew I wasn't being rational, but I didn't care. "I mean, you lose your virginity and you don't say a word to me about it? We always promised that we'd tell each other."

"I know, and I meant to, but-"

"God, was it even your first time? You've probably been fucking 100 girls behind my back and-"

"Chloe," Clark grabbed my arm. It startled me since I didn't know he was that close to me. "Will you calm down? Please?"

I stared up at him wordlessly. His grip on my arm was tight and it hurt a little, but I didn't say anything because I didn't want him to stop touching me. "How could you do it with her?" I whispered, hating myself for crying in front of him.

"Oh, Chloe," he whispered. He let go of my arm but I didn't mind because he reached up to wipe my tears away. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I was just…what do you say when the only girl you've ever been with dies after trying to kill one of your best friends?"

I took a deep breath and choked back a sob. I'd been so selfish. Of course Clark didn't want to talk about it. Of course it hurt him. I'd had my heart broken by enough Wall of Weird nominees that I should have understood.

"I'm a freak," I said, wiping at my cheeks. I turned away from him and took a deep, steadying breath. "I'm sorry, Clark. I didn't mean to go all 'Fatal Attraction' on you there. I'm just…I'm having a rough time with that rave article, and I'm PMS-ing, not to mention that I asked one of my sources at the hospital to send me pictures of the parasite and I'm more than a little freaked out by how gross and huge it was and-"

"Chloe," Clark said, touching my arm again. This time he was gentle. "It's OK. I'm sure your body's still recovering from the parasite so your hormones are already out of whack, and then with the, uh…well the…"

I looked up at him and smiled. He was blushing and couldn't even bring himself to say PMS. "Pre-menstrual syndrome, Clark," I said, grinning at the flush that turned his already pink cheeks a shade of dark cherry.

"Yeah," he said. "That."

"You know, for a man who's had intimate contact with a girl's sexual organs you're still pretty freaked out by what goes on down there."

He looked away from me, smiling an embarrassed smile. "Am not."

"Fine. Repeat after me: fallopian tubes."

Clark hunched his shoulders in. "Jeez, Chloe."

"Uterus," I said, and he cringed. I chuckled. Pete had told me that Clark freaked at the mere mention of girl parts, but I hadn't really believed that he was quite that square. "Vulva. Cervix. Clitoris."

"Stop it," Clark said, laughing.

"Cunnilingus, fellatio, coitus interruptus." Being able to mortify the world's most prudish teenage boy was putting me in a great mood.

"God, I don't even know what that means."

"Coitus interruptus?" I asked. "It's when the guy pulls out at the last minute so he doesn't come inside the girl."

"Oh." He sat on the cave floor and set the flashlight next to him. "What about that other stuff?"

"Vulva?" I asked.

He sighed. "No, I know that. I did take health. The stuff you said before coitus interruptus."

"Oh." I smiled at sat down next to him. "I love that you've had sex and yet you're still as innocent as a 19th-century virgin."

"Fuck you," Clark said.

I laughed. It always sounded so funny when he cursed, since he did it so rarely. "Cunnilingus and fellatio are just the Latinate terms for oral sex. Cunnilingus is when a guy goes down on a girl, and fellatio is a blow job."

Clark nodded, but I got the distinct impression that he was still confused.

"Clark, I know you're a prude, but even you have to know what a blow job is."

"Oh, of course I do," he said. "Pete's brother talked about getting them all the time. I just, uh…that other part. The, uh, I mean, you're allowed to do that?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean a girl would really let you put your mouth on her…um…"

"Vulva."

"Yeah. Girls let you do that?"

"Girls love when you do that, Clark," I said.

He looked at me with a quizzical look on his face. "Really? They don't think it's gross? Because I've thought about it, you know but I didn't…oh, I didn't mean that I thought…"

"It's all right. You're totally allowed to think about sex, you know."

"Yeah, but, I've never talked about it with anybody. Well, kind of with my dad, but, you know, his advice was more about how to control myself, not on, like, techniques or anything."

"So you never went down on Kyla?"

"What? No!" he seemed horrified that I suggested it. "No, we just did normal stuff."

I laughed. "Getting and/or giving head is normal, Clark. Even I've done it."

Clark's jaw literally dropped as he stared at me. "But…you're such a liar. You said you told me everything."

I smiled weakly at him. "Busted," I admitted.

He shifted and pulled his knees up to his chest, but before he did I noticed that he was getting a hard-on. Not that I could hold it against him, since I was starting to feel a little horny myself. "So you…I mean, you let Ben do that to you?"

I shrugged. "I wish. Other way around."

"What…? Oh." He stole a quick glance at my mouth, and I knew what he was thinking. He was thinking about how my lips had been wrapped around another guy's cock. If I was lucky, he was also imagining them wrapped around his cock. "You didn't mind it?" he asked.

"Not really. It's kind of sexy, to tell the truth."

"But, I mean, it doesn't feel good for the girl when she does that, does it?"

"Not in the same way it does for the guy, but the thought of it is a turn on. Plus, you're making him feel good, and that's always hot. You think going down a girl is sexy, even though you wouldn't get physical pleasure out of the same way she did. It's the same thing for a girl going down on a guy."

Clark rubbed his hands over his face and murmured something that sounded like, "Thank God for scarecrow practice."

"What?" I asked.

He shook his head. "N-nothing."

Maybe it was a left-over adrenaline rush, maybe it was that the darkness of the cave let me feel almost anonymous, maybe it's just because I get really horny the week before my period. Whatever the reason, I was bold enough to reach out and place my hand against Clark's taut stomach. I stroked him gently through his button-down shirt, ran my hand in small circles. God, you could do laundry on his abs.

I guess I expected that he'd laugh or push me away. I thought he'd be uncomfortable but I didn't care because sometimes I just had to touch him, had to feel his hard, warm flesh, feel the muscles that he hid beneath so much plaid.

What I didn't expect was that he'd reach for me, slide his fingers through my hair and pull my head towards his. I didn't expect him to crush his mouth against mine, so rough and tender at the same time. I didn't expect him to taste so much like he smelled-clean and pure with an undercurrent of sex.

I didn't expect him to press me onto my back, lay over me with his erection rubbing urgently against my hipbone. I didn't expect him to pin my wrists above my head with one hand while he kissed me so expertly. Jesus, where had he learned to kiss like that? I was supposed to be the worldly one, the city girl who knew more than him, the naïve farm boy. I knew that I'd been his first kiss. I kissed him the first day I met him, but he hadn't kissed me like that the first time.

His tongue slid over mine and teased it, inviting my tongue into his mouth. He sucked on my lower lip, which drove me insane and I could feel myself getting wetter and wetter as he used his free hand to stroke my face, my neck, my breasts. I struggled against him, but only because it felt so good to have him hold me down.

I wondered if an errant parasite had invaded his brain and was now feeding off his adrenal gland, but if it had I didn't really care. I was just thankful for whatever was making Clark kiss me, touch me, grind his hard cock against me.

"God," he whispered against my cheek, his breath so hot it seared my flesh. "I missed this so much."

OK, that's not exactly what a girl wants to hear the first time she makes out with a guy.

I shoved him off me and stood. He looked up at me with a puzzled expression on his face, then he started to look horrified as he realized what he'd done.

"You missed it?" I asked. "You missed what, Clark? Fucking around with Kyla down here in your caves? So I'm just a substitute for that? Therapy to help you get over her?"

"No," he reached out for me and caught my hand in his just as I started to turn around. "Chloe, no, I meant that I missed kissing you."

I raised my eyebrows. God, I felt so stupid. "Hard to miss something you've never done before, fumbling eighth grade experimentation aside. Or maybe you're referring to how we almost kissed at the spring formal before you ditched me for Lana."

"Chloe, I didn't…" He sighed and tugged on my hand. "Will you just sit down and listen to me?"

I hated how much I liked that he was holding my hand, even if he was a pig like every other guy on the planet. I jerked my hand away from his and sat down three or four feet away from him. "Listen to what?"

"Chloe," he whispered, looking down at his hands in that adorable shy way he has of not making eye contact when he's nervous. "I didn't mean to say that, not out loud, because I promised that I wouldn't tell you what we did when you were under the parasite's influence. I know it wasn't really you, and I didn't want you to be embarrassed about it."

"Oh, my God," I whispered. My lips had felt puffy and chapped when I woke up, like they always did after I'd been kissing someone for a long time. And I'd had what could have been a hickey on my collarbone, or it could have been just a bruise sustained during my rush seeking, which is what I decided it was. "Clark, we didn't…you know." It figures I'd lose my virginity and not even remember it.

"No," Clark said. "No, we didn't do anything except make out. I promise. I just…" He sighed and looked up at me with his sweet puppy dog eyes. "Even though I know that it wasn't really you kissing me, I think about it. A lot. And I was thinking about how good it felt to be kissing you again. That's what I meant when I said that I'd missed it."

"Oh." I licked my lips and smiled at him. "Well, that's OK then, I guess." I scooted closer to him and reached up to touch his lips with my fingertips. "What was I like? Was I all sexy and seductive?"

I expected him to laugh at the thought of me being seductive but he just kissed my fingertips. "Yeah," he whispered.

"And did you like that?"

He nodded and reached for me. He pulled me into his lap so easily, as if I weighed nothing. I slid my fingers through his hair as I kissed him. I could feel his hard-on against my thigh and I wiggled against it, making him gasp and squeeze me even closer against him.

He dropped his hand to my thigh and he stroked it slowly, kneading my flesh through the fabric of my corduroy skirt. He was kissing me so expertly, his mouth so gentle and confident against mine. He slid his hand up my thigh, then over my hip, then down to squeeze my ass.

I couldn't think straight. All I could think was that he smelled so good, tasted so good. His hands were so strong as he stroked my flesh. My hands were shaking as I unbuttoned his shirt, then spread it open and slid it over his muscular shoulders.

Clark pulled away just long enough to pull the shirt off and toss it aside. His arms circled around my back and he lifted me and lowered me to the ground so gently. He stretched out above me and gazed down into my eyes as he played with a strand of my hair. I looked back up at him, trying to catch my breath, feeling up the strong muscles of his bare back. I wanted to make a crack, maybe something about him being the cure for frigidity but I couldn't think of the exact right words and I knew, anyway, that making a joke wouldn't be appropriate. I wasn't supposed to break the tension because it was good tension. I was supposed to let it build and lose myself in it.

Only, I think too much and I very rarely lose myself in anything, so even as Clark was kissing me again I wasn't able to let go completely and experience nothing but the moment. I was thinking a million different things.

I was thinking: oh, God, his hand's going under my skirt and my panties are damp, will he go that high? And if he does will he know that they're damp because he's making me so horny? There's a rock poking me in the back. Should I move? Because it's only kind of uncomfortable and I don't want him to think that he has to stop and maybe if I just roll a little bit, yeah, that's much better. Farm work should be the newest celebrity work out, because if it makes Clark look and feel like this…Jesus, his cock feels big, I wonder how big it is. I wonder if he wants to fuck me. If he wants to fuck me right now, should I let him? What was it that Aunt Georgia used to say when she was still single? "I'm not easy, but I can be." I'm not easy, either, but I will be if Clark wants me to because, God, he's touching me. His fingers are right there and oh…oh, that's the spot right there.

I shivered as Clark's fingers brushed against my panties. He pressed his fingers against me through the thin cotton and he was rubbing me in just the right spot. How did he know to do that? How did he know where to touch me?

"Clark," I moaned against his mouth as we parted for breath.

"Is this OK?" he asked in a throaty whisper.

"Mmm," I nodded.

"Chloe, I want…can I…?"

I looked up into his deep green eyes and for a moment I didn't understand what he was asking. Then I understood and I smiled softly and touched his mouth with my fingers. "Yeah, Clark. Of course."

"You're sure?"

"I want you to," I told him, and it was the truth.

I closed my eyes and stretched my arms up above my head as Clark started kissing his way down my body. With his hands he was sliding my skirt up to my hips and with his mouth he was nibbling and sucking gently at my collarbone, my nipples, my bellybutton.

He hasn't taken my panties down when he first presses his mouth against my sex. I feel like maybe I should tell him, like maybe he doesn't know what he's supposed to do, but then as I feel him tonguing me through the cotton I decide that he knows exactly what he's doing. It's his fantasy, I'm just the lucky one helping him play it out.

I lifted my hips when I felt his fingers tugging at the waistband and I let him pull my panties down and off. I wonder which ones I'm wearing. I can't remember, I just hope they're sexy ones. I lift my head up and watch as Clark dips his head down between my legs again. I see that I'd been wearing my light blue cotton string bikinis. Not the sexiest color or material, but definitely a sexy cut and then I stopped caring about how sexy my panties were because I felt Clark's fingers spread me and felt his tongue dart out tentatively to taste me.

I lay back and cover my face with my hands as I feel him explore me. His fingers are slick against me, and his tongue is hesitant at first. I can feel the tip of his tongue tracing along my labia, then up around my clit, which makes me shiver. Then I feel his fingers spread me further and the flat of his tongue against me as he begins to really lick and suck at me. I feel his tongue press against my hole and dip inside and I slide my hands up so that I can grip my hair in my hands as I stare at the ceiling in mild shock. Even though it's happening, I can't believe it. Clark's eating my pussy, and from the moans I can hear and feel against his lips he's really enjoying it.

I reach down and stroke his hair, wrap my legs around his shoulders, which tilts my pelvis up at a better angle for both of us. I shudder every time he flicks his tongue over my clit and he must know how much I like it because he starts to concentrate on and around that exquisite bump. His fingers are stroking me, and then he slides one inside me. It surprises me how good it feels since when I touch myself I prefer just stroking the outside of my pussy.

It's not just the act itself that drives me so crazy, not just the physical sensations that bring me so close so fast. It's the whole idea of it, everything put together. Not only am I with Clark, but his cock's rock hard and he wanted to eat me out, had thought about doing it and wanted it so much that his voice shook when he asked for it.

I arched my back and ground my hips up against his face and then I exploded, came so hard and so easily I could hardly believe it. Even when I was alone and completely relaxed it usually took me at least twice as long to come. But I was coming and crying out. I knew I was making noises that I'd be embarrassed to make in front of another person if I'd been thinking straight. But I didn't care because Clark was making me come, and even as I came he continued to suck on my clit, continued to slide his fingers in and out of me and as I was just starting to come down I felt like I was suddenly jerked up onto a higher plane and I came again, screaming and slamming my fists onto the leaf-covered ground.

I nearly passed out from the intensity of the sensation, and when I finally managed to open my eyes Clark was looking down at me with a concerned expression, his fingers still stroking me lazily. "I didn't hurt you?" he asks, and I want to laugh because he's serious.

"No," I say. I shiver. It's like an aftershock. I reach up for him and we kiss and I realize that it's me I taste on his lips, on his tongue. It's not bad, really, a little sour but not as terrible as I'd assumed it would be for whatever reason.

"Was that…I mean, did you…?" he asks.

I nod. "Yeah." I reach for his waist and he doesn't argue as I unbutton his jeans, unzip the fly and then slide his jeans down along with his boxers. All he says is, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I said, and then he was over me and I felt him, felt his cock rubbing against me. I reached down and gripped him. His eyes fluttered closed as I did. I guided him to the right spot and took a deep breath as he slid inside of me.

Even with how wet I was, it hurt. I closed my eyes and placed my hands on his shoulders. I took another deep breath as I felt him settle against me.

"Are you OK?" he asked against my ear.

"Yeah," I whispered. I didn't want him to know it hurt. I knew it would break him to know he was causing me pain.

It wasn't the tearing pain I'd expected. I could stand it, could pretend for him that it wasn't there. It was more like being stretched to an uncomfortable degree, like burning. If the feeling was all I had to go on, I would have said Clark's cock was the size of a baseball bat, though I knew it wasn't true. I'd seen it for just a moment as I pulled his jeans down and though it was far larger than Ben Parsons', it was hardly freakishly huge. It just felt that way.

Clark moaned in my ear as he began to pump his hips. I slid my hands down his back and gripped his ass, trying to concentrate on the way it flexed as he thrust into me.

"Wanted," Clark whispered. "God, Chloe…wanted…ever since…so good…"

I reached up and ran my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. "Yes, Clark," I whispered. "So good."

He shuddered and moaned and I knew that he was lost in it, that he had let go completely. It felt nice to hold him, to know that I was causing him so much pleasure that he couldn't even form coherent thoughts.

"Baby," he groaned, and I loved hearing him call me that. "Chloe, baby, sorry," he whispered.

"Sorry for what, baby?" I asked.

"Have to…going to…can't wait…" He jerked his hips quickly a few times then froze and I felt it, could actually feel him coming inside me. He collapsed down on top of me and instead of feeling trapped I felt safe and protected. I stroked his sweaty back, wrapped my legs around his hips and held him close against me.

After a few minutes Clark propped himself up on his elbows and gazed down at me. He was softening, but he was still inside me.

"Hi," I whispered, reaching up to stroke his cheek.

"Hi," he said. He swallowed and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I wanted to last longer. I tried, but it felt too good."

"It was perfect," I said, and it was the truth.

Clark looked away from me and hitched his pants up quickly. We'd been in such a hurry that we hadn't even gotten undressed. I reached for my panties and pulled them on over my boots, up my thighs. I stood and smoothed my skirt down, untwisted my shirt from around my waist.

"You've um, you've got leaves on your back," Clark said softly. He brushed them off and I shivered at his touch. He pulled his hand away quickly and finished buttoning up his shirt.

He shifted from foot to foot, then reached down to snatch up the flashlight. "Um, we should probably get out of here," he said. "Before somebody finds us."

I think that if my screams of pleasure didn't wake the guard up and bring him running then nothing short of a nuclear explosion could. I just say, "Yeah."

I follow Clark out of the cave. He goes ahead and lets me know that it's clear, that the guard's still asleep. As if I couldn't have guessed it. The guy was not only still asleep, he was snoring and drool was leaking out of the corner of his mouth and dripping onto his rent-a-cop uniform.

When we get up to where my car is parked next to his truck, Clark hesitates. He turns and looks at me, then takes a step towards me. I expect him to embrace me, but he doesn't. "I'll see you later," he whispers. He does kiss me, but it’s a chaste kiss without any tongue. "Night, Chloe."

I shrug and fish my car keys out of my purse. "Um, night," is all I can think of to say.

Ever the gentleman, he waits until I'm in my car and it's started until he gets into the truck. He lets me pull out first, and he follows me through the dark country roads until I've reached the turn to the well-lit housing development where I live. His truck drives on past the turn and I look in the rearview mirror and see him wave at me.

What the fuck was that? Post-coital guilt? It's a definite possibility, considering how repressed he is. It's not that far fetched to think that he's just freaked out and feeling like he took advantage of me or something. Or else he's disgusted that he was horny enough to fuck someone as gross as me. Or maybe he feels guilty because he was imagining Kyla the whole time. Or, worse yet, Lana.

I'd have focused on those questions forever but I had another problem. My pussy was killing me. It had started to tingle on the drive home, and by the time I pulled my car into the garage it was throbbing and burning and I could feel every centimeter of my vagina. He was big, but not that big, I didn't think. Maybe I'd just been really tight, since I never put anything inside me when I masturbated and didn't even like using tampons.

"Fuck me," I whispered as I got out of the car and shut the door behind me. I leaned against the VW for a moment and took a deep breath. It felt warm and wet between my legs, but not normal wetness. I wondered if I was bleeding and hoped to hell that I wasn't.

My dad was asleep on the couch, the TV tuned to the country music channel. Lana was nowhere to be found. She was probably in bed. I went straight to the bathroom and turned on the water.

I hated to shower, didn't want to wash Clark off me, but I knew that I smelled like sweat and sex and I didn't need my father noticing it or, God forbid, Lana.

She was still awake when I slipped into our room, wrapped in just a towel. I'd stashed my clothes in the hamper, wrapping the blood- and semen-stained panties up in a washcloth and stuffing them to the bottom of the hamper. I hadn't bled much, and it wasn't like Lana or my dad inspected my panties for cum stains, but I wanted to keep them hidden just in case.

"You put it to bed?" Lana asked absently, not even looking up from the Carson McCullers novel she was reading.

"What?" I asked, startled.

She looked up at me. "The paper. Did you put it to bed?"

"Oh, uh, no. Not yet. Still have that rave article to finish." I opened my dresser and pulled out a clean pair of yoga pants. I didn't usually worry about getting dressed in front of Lana-a few days as roommates had rid both of us of any remaining modesty-but what if Clark had left a mark on me? What if Lana saw it? What if she found out?

I pulled on a tank top and let the towel drop as I did. I picked it up off the floor and draped it over the back of my desk chair, then made my way slowly towards my bed.

Lana had apparently noticed how slowly I was moving. "Are you OK?" she asked softly, laying her book down.

"Yeah," I said. "Just fine." What was I supposed to tell her? That I was sore because I'd just gotten fucked for the first time? I probably would have told her that, actually, if it hadn't been with Clark. No matter what we told each other, we both knew that Clark was going to be a major problem in our relationship eventually.

"Chloe, seriously," she said, and I hated how sincere she was in her concern. It made me feel even worse for sleeping with the guy she was in love with. "What happened to you? Did something attack you?"

I shook my head. "No, Lana. I just…" I sighed. She could have had Clark if she really wanted him. Was it my fault that she kept making excuses and finding fault with him for every little thing? "I have to tell you something."

Lana tucked her hair behind her ears and leaned forward expectantly.

"I kind of…" I didn't know how to say it, knew there wasn't really any way to say it to make it sound better than it was. And she'd been good enough to tell me the truth back when she and Clark had almost had a real date. "I slept with Clark," I whispered.

Lana blinked rapidly and sat up straight. "You…you mean you…?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Do you hate me?"

"No," she said quickly. "No, of course I don't." She fixed a smile on her face, and I wondered if she knew that everyone could tell that when she smiled like that she was faking it. "I'm really happy for you."

The shitty thing, I think, is that she meant it. As much as it hurt her, she was happy for me. If it had been the other way around, I wouldn't have been happy for her-not one bit.

I groaned and fell back on my bed. If only I had other close girlfriends to talk to. I mean, I basically had three friends, Lana, Clark, and Pete. And it wasn't like I could talk to Pete about this. He'd probably think it was funny, would want to know all the gory details.

"Did you take any Tylenol?" Lana asked.

I shook my head and watched silently as she left the room. I heard her in the bathroom, heard water running and when she came back she was holding a paper cup in one hand and three Tylenol in the palm of the other. "Here," she said, sitting on the edge of my bed. "This will help."

I sat up and took the pills from her. I was tempted to swallow them dry just to show off, but I didn't. She was trying to be nice after I'd just nailed the boy she had a crush on. She was a way better person than me. A week ago I'd been saying the same things she was saying, but I hadn't meant them, not even halfway, and she meant them all. Jesus, had it really only been a week since the cave rave? It seemed like anything before Clark had kissed me was a million years ago. I closed my eyes and swooned, actually swooned at the memory of his fingers inside me, of his mouth and tongue pressed against my most secret spot.

"Are you bleeding?" she asked softly. "Because if you are, you shouldn't use a tampon. Use a pad instead."

"When'd you become the expert on lost virginity?" I asked after finishing the cup of tepid water she'd given me.

She shrugged and smiled weakly. "When I lost mine."

"Oh, I, uh, I didn't know that you…"

"Whitney," she said, saying his name the way she always did, so that you could hear the exasperated smile in her voice. Christ, both she and Clark had lost their virginities to people who were now dead. I didn't like the way it connected them, made them seem like maybe they were meant for each other after all. "Nell went postal, of course," she said, her eyes shining with unshed, bittersweet tears.

"How'd she find out?"

"I told her." She shrugged. "I needed to tell someone, and even though I knew she wouldn't take it well she was the only person I had to talk to."

"I know the feeling," I whispered.

"It only hurts like this the first time," she said. "After that you get used to it."

I nodded, staring numbly at the wall. "I don't know if there will be a second time," I whispered.

"Yeah?" And she didn't even sound excited at the idea that Clark and I'd had one fling and were now over.

"He was weird afterwards," I said. I couldn't believe I was telling her this. But if she didn't want to know then she could just tell me to shut the fuck up. "Distant."

Lana nodded and fiddled with the cuff of her pajama pants as she thought for a moment. "I think," she said softly, "that's to be expected with him. After all, he's always so secretive."

"Yeah, but how can he be secretive when we just-"

"That's exactly what I mean," Lana cut me off. "When you sleep with someone you're completely open, completely vulnerable. Clark's not used to that. He's so reserved that it's probably even scarier for him to open up like that than it is for most people."

I looked at her sweet, earnest face. "How come you're being so nice to me? I wouldn't be this nice to you if our roles were reversed."

Lana smiled and nodded. She sighed. "Clark and I had our time," she said. "And he managed to make it abundantly clear that I wasn't the one he really wanted." She shrugged. "That made me realize that he wasn't who I wanted, either. I wanted the dream, you know? I was just being the little fairy princess waiting for her prince to come save her. But there are no princes in this world and I'm glad I realized it, even if it was a painful lesson. Even if the two of you hadn't gotten together, things still would have been over between Clark and me. But that doesn't make it any easier to let go of."

"Maybe he's having a hard time letting go of you, too," I whispered. "Maybe that's why he tuned me out after he got what he wanted. Or maybe it's just that he wanted sex and didn't care who it was with."

"Do you really believe that?" Lana asked. "Do you really think Clark would use a girl just for sex?"

"Well, maybe the whole noble, repressed, hero-type thing is just an act," I said. "Maybe he just pretends to be like that so he can get laid."

Lana laughed. "That's a theory that wouldn't even make your weird wall. You know him better than that."

"Yeah, well, I prefer to be prepared for the worst case scenario," I said.

"It's that kind of preparation that made you break up with him after the spring formal," Lana said. "I think you need to start preparing for the best case scenario."

"Like you did? You said yourself that you caught him making out with another girl on your date. I mean, Jesus! If that's not proof that he's as much a pig as any other guy-"

"Chloe," Lana said firmly. "He didn't want me to tell you this, but the girl I caught him with was you. It was a you I didn't recognize, you under the influence of the adrenal parasite, but it was you and Clark wasn't under anything's influence. He wants you, not me. And that's…" She smiled again, this time a real smile, albeit sad. "I think it's really great. The two of you are great together."

I sighed. Damn her for being a better person than I could ever be.

The next morning I toke a hot bath and more Tylenol and I felt fine by the time I needed to get to school. I was a little sore, but it was more of a nagging ache instead of true pain. Lana left early because she had an organizational meeting for the library's book drive, so it was just me, alone, walking through the halls not sure if I was dying to see him or if I never wanted to see him again.

I did see him, of course. He was at his locker and my first thought when I saw him was, "Fuck you, Clark Kent." Because, really, he could have at least looked like shit if he was going to break my heart. But, no, of course not. Of course he looked amazing. He was wearing a pair of jeans that hugged his ass and my favorite t-shirt of his. It was light blue and old so that the cotton was thin and so, so soft, and it hung against his body as if he were sculpted of marble, which of course he was. I knew he was, since I'd had a chance to touch him everywhere the night before. The memory made my cheeks flush.

Then he slung his red backpack over his shoulder and turned and shut his locker in one smooth motion. Then he saw me. His expression was unreadable for a moment, then he blushed, then he smiled. It was a sincere, pleased smile. "Hey, Chloe," he whispered.

"Hey, Clark," I said. I reached up to touch his cheek. I wanted him to take me in his arms and kiss me passionately right there in the hall. I wanted him to press me up against the lockers and make my knees turn to Jell-O as I clung to him, but of course he didn't.

"So, uh," he cleared his throat and looked away from me. He took a step back. "How's that rave article coming?"

I don't know why I was surprised. "My usual sources are balking. They're all worried that I'm out to crucify them because of the accident at the caves last week."

"Well, most raves are illegal. I can see why they're skittish." He looked over his shoulder, then at his watch. "I, uh, I have to get to class."

I nodded. "Yeah. Me too. See you?"

He nodded and shrugged and walked away from me. No kiss, no hug, no declaration of undying love.

Best case scenario my ass.

Clark ignored me the rest of the day. Lana didn't ignore me, exactly, but she was chipper and cheerful in that way of hers that indicated that she was in severe denial or severely depressed, possibly both.

After school I tried to work on The Torch but couldn't concentrate. I ended up outside on the picnic tables, scarfing down my secret stash of M&Ms and potato chips.

"What's with all the carbs?" came a friendly voice from behind me.

I turned and smiled at Pete. "Hey," I said, offering him the bag of chips I'd been inhaling.

"Nah, man, all that salt's bad for your sex drive," he said.

I laughed as he sat down next to me. "What?"

"Well, you know, I got a date tomorrow night with Kelly Brinker." He grinned at me. "Don't want to do anything to screw it up."

"Oh, right," I said. I turned back to the combination of overwhelming salt and sugar. "Are you sleeping with her?"

Pete didn't answer right away. "Well, I, you know," he sputtered. "It's our first date tomorrow so, you know, I haven't had the chance or anything."

"Have you ever had sex?" It wasn't something we typically talked about. We made jokes, sure, and we talked about who we thought was hot, but when it came to the reality of sex we talked around it, not about it.

"I've had plenty of sex," Pete said defensively, positively identifying himself as a virgin. "I mean, I've have plenty of chances. Girls dig me, you know."

I smiled at him. "I know."

"Just because a guy doesn't take advantage of every girl he sees doesn't mean he's not a stud," he said.

I couldn't help but laugh. He was so cute. He was annoyed by my laughter, but I reached out to run my hand over his hair and he smiled at me grudgingly.

He smirked suddenly. "Why you so interested in my sex life all of a sudden, huh? You finally given up on wonder boy and decided to go after a real man?"

"Wonder boy," I said, picking M&Ms out of my hand and tossing them towards the bushes one by one. "Because he always makes you wonder what the fuck is going on with him."

"What's going on with you?" Pete asked. "I haven't seen you eat this much junk food since you and Ben broke up."

"Since Ben dumped me on my ass, you mean," I corrected him.

Pete shrugged. "He's a dog, anyway. I heard he got herpes from some Granville slut last year."

I laughed. Pete always knew how to cheer me up.

"But seriously, what's wrong?"

"I slept with wonder boy," I said, tossing another M&M at the bushes.

"Hold up. You mean you watched movies over at his place and fell asleep next to each other, right?"

"No, I mean that we did the deed," I said.

To his credit, Pete didn't make any jokes. He didn't say anything for a few minutes, actually.

"Pete?" I asked finally.

"No, I just…I'm just a little…"

"Surprised?"

He nodded. "Shocked is probably the best word to describe it. I mean, props to Clark for finally going after what he wanted, I just never thought he would."

"You and Lana both seem convinced that I'm what he wants," I sighed.

"And you're not?"

"Considering that he's been avoiding me all day, no I'm not."

"You want me to talk to him?"

I shook my head. "Hell no. I'll…I'll try to talk to him eventually, I guess. Lana's theory is that he's freaked out at how vulnerable he was with me and has to find a state of equilibrium between that and his usual secretiveness."

Pete nodded. "Chloe, I know Clark digs you. I mean, he's never said it in so many words, but that's just him. He never talks about girls, not like other guys do. He's not really…he's not like other guys."

"No shit."

"No, I mean…" He sighed. "There are things you don't know about him."

"Once again, no shit, Sherlock."

"I know he's secretive, but he has good reason to keep his secrets secret, you know?"

"Why, do you know what they are?"

He shrugged. "Some of them."

"And…?"

He shot me look and shook his head. "Not a chance, Sullivan. If he wants to tell you, fine, but I'm not gonna go blabbing. Not even to you."

I frowned and dropped the bag of M&Ms onto the tabletop. "You think there might actually be a chance that he likes me?"

Pete laughed. "Are you insane?"

I snatched the bag back up and dug my hand inside. "You're right," I said before shoveling a handful of M&Ms into my mouth. "I just…we shared something so intimate, you know? So perfect. It's hard for me to believe that he didn't feel the same things I felt, even though I know he didn't."

"Chloe, I called you crazy because it's obvious that Clark does like you. I mean, a year ago I would have said that you didn't stand a chance, but things have changed. He doesn't spend his days pining after Lana anymore."

"Sure," I said. "We shared the most intimate thing two people can last night, and today he can't even look me in the eye."

"Look, when he had that crush on Lana what did he do?"

"Either ran from her or avoided her like the plague. And he couldn't get within five feet of her without turning into a babbling freak."

Pete shrugged and smiled like he'd just made his point. He grabbed a handful of potato chips out of the bag and crunched one noisily.

"What about your sex drive?"

"Oh, who am I kidding? Like Kelly Brinker's gonna sleep with me. Even if she wanted to, a little salt's not gonna kill my sex drive, trust me. I think I'd need massive doses of nuclear radiation to put a dent in my urges."

I laughed and bumped his shoulder with mine.

"I can't believe you and Clark actually did it."

"What? You don't think I'm pretty enough to have guys want me?"

"No, I just always figured you'd end up with some college guy or something."

"Really?" The idea flattered me, though I wasn't sure why.

"Sure. Maybe even a professor. Somebody really mature and worldly. I guess I always thought Clark was a little prosaic for you."

"Prosaic," I said. "You've been using that Word-A-Day calendar I got you."

He shrugged. "I figured it might help me on my SATs. Come on, pass that over. Don't bogart the M&Ms, girl."

My intention was to drive straight home and get a head start on my trig homework, but of course that's not what happened. Of course I drove straight past my turn and continued on further into the country until I got to the Kent's farm.

Mrs. Kent was outside pulling weeds when I got out of the car. She smiled and waved, which kind of surprised me. But then I realized that she didn't know how I'd corrupted her little boy the night before. She had no reason to dislike me; no reason that she knew of, anyway.

"Clark's out in the far pasture mending fences," she said.

"Oh," I said lamely.

"He should be back in a little while." She stood up and brushed dirt off her knees. "You up for some lemonade? It's homemade."

Of course it was. Martha Kent made Martha Stewart look lazy. "Um, sure," I said. I followed her into the house, which smelled clean and warm, like baking bread. I wasn't surprised when I saw four loaves cooling on a rack near the stove.

Martha poured me a glass of lemonade before making me a plate of warm, freshly sliced bread slathered with melting butter and strawberry jam. Jesus. She'd probably picked the strawberries, milked the cow, made the jam, and churned the butter herself.

"How do you do it?" I asked after swallowing the most delicious bite of bread, butter, and jam I'd ever tasted in my entire life. "I can't even make Macaroni and Cheese without burning it."

Mrs. Kent shrugged as if it was nothing. "Everybody's got their talents."

"But you grew up in Metropolis, right?" I asked. "Did you ever picture yourself as a farm wife?"

She laughed and shook her head. "Never. Not until I met Jonathan. Then I knew there was nothing I wanted more in the entire world."

I tried to picture myself in her place, married to Clark, living in Smallville for the rest of my life. I liked the mental image, thought for a moment that I could actually do it, could actually marry him and be happy as a housewife. Jesus. We'd fucked once and already I was imagining happily ever after, like some mentally-deficient pom-pom girl who thought getting married was the only way to have an identity.

"What's that smile for?" Mrs. Kent asked with a smile of her own.

So, fine, I'd blabbed to two people already, but there was no way I was going to tell Clark's mother that he'd gone down on me not 24 hours earlier.

I shrugged. "Just thinking. What were you studying before you left school?"

"Pre-law," she said. "And I didn't leave school."

"Oh, I thought that…I mean, I thought that when you got married…"

She smiled and shook her head. "No. I wanted to. I told Jonathan that I didn't care about graduating, but he wouldn't hear of it. You know how he is. He wanted to make sure I didn't make a rash decision and regret it later. He insisted that I finish school before we married."

"God, that's sweet."

She shrugged. "He's stubborn as a mule, but his heart's in the right place."

Just then Clark came in through the back door carrying three baskets piled high with apples, carrying them as easily as if they were made of feathers. "I had some trouble with the rails in the west pasture, but I just pried the old nails out and…" He spied me and quickly set the baskets down. "Uh, Chloe," he said. "Hi."

"Hey, Andre," I said. "As in The Giant?" I asked when he looked confused. "You're so strong you could have a serious career in professional wrestling."

Mrs. Kent pursed her lips, but Clark just forced a laugh. "I don't think spandex tights are really the look for me," he said. He shot a quick glance at his mother, then looked back at me. He didn't look exactly happy to see me, but at least he was making eye contact. "I…what are you doing here?"

"Thanks for the welcome."

"Oh, I didn't mean…I just…"

"I thought we could get a head start on all that trig homework," I said. "Wanna work on it in the loft?"

Mrs. Kent had started peeling apples but I could see her looking at us out of the corner of her eye. Jesus, why did I feel so dirty when I thought she might suspect?

"Um…" Clark looked at his mother again. "Um, yeah, sure."

I followed Clark out to the barn, and if he noticed that I didn't have my books with me he didn't care enough to comment. Clark walked to his telescope and began to toy with it. Classic Freudian redirect. I sat on the couch and crossed my legs, then just looked at him.

"You gonna come over here or not?" I asked finally.

He shrugged and looked down at the floor. We were back to the no eye contact thing.

"Look, this isn't exactly comfortable for me either, but we have to talk about what happened."

Clark sat down on the couch as far away from me as he could. He was practically sitting on the arm.

"Do you regret it?" I asked. I was afraid of his answer, but I figured I might as well get the heartbreak out of the way.

"D-do you?" he asked.

Classic Clark. He didn't want to commit to anything until he knew everyone else's opinion, then he just went with the flow. He seemed to have a normality complex.

And I had a thing about psychoanalyzing people when I was feeling anxious. "No, Clark," I whispered. "I don't regret a single thing."

And then he was on me, kissing me, pressing me back onto the couch. The combination of his weight suddenly on me, and my surprise took my breath away. And then there were his kisses, warm and hungry and searching. His hands seemed to be everywhere, and then they were beneath my shirt, pushing it up, and his tongue was in my mouth and he was moaning against me and I could feel how hard he was. He was rubbing against me so frantically it almost hurt.

"Clark," I said, trying to get his attention.

Clark groaned and began to tongue my ear. Oh, man, that was good. Who knew the earlobe was an erogenous zone? Of course, he made me feel like every inch of my body was an erogenous zone.

"Clark, stop, we need to talk."

"Why?" He was literally panting, and his fingers had found one of my nipples and he was pinching it and rolling it between his fingertips. "You didn't regret it, and I didn't regret it, so why talk?"

He seemed to make a lot of sense. Of course, I could have been biased because of how good his lips felt against my neck.

I managed to push him up and roll out from under him. I ended up on my knees in front of the couch and Clark turned and looked at me, his green eyes full of more hunger than I'd ever seen.

I sat back on my heels. I wanted to lunge forward and kiss him again, but I controlled myself. "What's with the hot and cold, huh? You didn't even look at me in school today."

He sighed and sat up. "Chloe," he whispered. Funny how I never thought my name sounded sexy until he said it. He reached for me and pulled me towards him and then I was on his lap, my legs across the couch, my arms around his neck. He kissed me again, then again and again. "Baby," he murmured.

Oh, shit, who was I kidding? We needed to talk like Lex Luthor needed another Porsche.

"I looked at you all day long," he whispered in my ear before flicking at my earlobe with his tongue. "You were driving me crazy. Do you have any idea how good you look in that top?"

Well, I did think it accented my cleavage quite nicely, but I never thought he'd noticed.

He kissed me, sucked on my lower lip as he pulled away. Fuck, I loved that.

"You looked so hot," he whispered, "and I kept thinking about touching you, about tasting you. I had to ask Miss Jameson for a pass during biology so I could lock myself in the boys bathroom and jerk off."

I'd noticed his exceptionally long bathroom break during biology, but I'd assumed it was because he didn't want to be in the same room with me.

"You were bending over your lab table and all I could think about was how I wanted to touch you right there in front of everyone. I kept remembering the way you tasted," he nuzzled his face into my hair.

Oh, I could have let him nuzzle and caress me until the end of the world, but I made myself sit up straight and think. I placed my hands against his chest and pushed him back. "Wait," I said. "So, the reason you completely ignored me today was because looking at me made your dick hard?"

He blushed and closed his eyes. "I…yeah."

He slid his hand up my thigh and I wished I'd worn a skirt.

"I mean," he whispered, "you have before, but now…now when all I can think about is being inside you…" His voice faltered and he clenched his arm even tighter around my waist. His fingers dug into my hip.

It was stupid logic, but I was used to Clark not making sense.

"So, you liked it," I said.

"Mmm." He nodded.

"And you like me."

"A lot."

"And you want to do it again?"

"So much." His voice was thick and husky and his fingers were between my legs, rubbing me through my jeans.

This was, of course, the moment Mrs. Kent chose to enter the barn. "Hey, you two," she called. "Is Chloe staying for dinner?"

Clark and I pulled apart at nearly the speed of light. Clark cleared his throat. "Um…I don't know." He looked at me and I shrugged.

Mrs. Kent began climbing the stairs to the loft and I quickly grabbed Clark's backpack and dug through it to find his trig book. Clark pulled a pillow over his lap and tried to look casual.

If Mrs. Kent noticed anything strange between the two of us, she didn't let on. "I'm making chicken and scalloped potatoes," she told me. "Corn, asparagus, fruit salad, baked beans, and apple pie for dessert."

"If I'm not mistaken, that's a seven course meal," was the wittiest thing I could think of to say.

Mrs. Kent smiled and shrugged. "Well, you know how Clark eats, and Jonathan's nearly as bad. We've got plenty if you want to stay."

"She'll stay," Clark answered for me.

"I'll stay," I echoed.

Mrs. Kent looked pleased. "It'll be ready in about ten minutes. You should wash up."

Once she was gone I looked at him. "That woman must have superpowers," I said. "No normal human being can cook like that. Maybe the meteor rocks mutated whatever gene is responsible for gracious living."

Clark threw the pillow at me. "My mother is not a candidate for the Wall of Weird," he said.

"I know, I was just kidding. You, on the other hand…" I eyed the sizeable bulge in his jeans. "You think that thing'll go down in ten minutes?"

Clark shook his head. "With you around? Not a chance."

"Well, can't you just think about baseball or something?"

"Um, no. Because then I'll be thinking about first base, second base, third base…"

I smiled at him. "Hitting a home run?"

He nodded.

I dropped his trig textbook and walked over to the couch. "I've always been confused about the bases," I said. "I know making out is supposed to be first base, but what's second base?"

"Feeling a girl up, I think," Clark whispered as I straddled him.

"Hmm. That doesn't seem quite right. I mean, isn't that just part of making out?" I slid my hands down his chest and rested them lightly at the top of his jeans. "And if that's second base, then what's third base?"

"I don't know," he admitted. He swallowed hard as I began to unbutton his fly. I liked button-fly jeans-it was much sexier to pop the buttons one by one than to slide down a zipper. "Oral sex, maybe."

"Maybe," I said. I reached through the fly of his boxers and gripped his cock. Clark groaned and his hips bucked up against me. "But if oral sex is third base, then I think hand jobs must be second base."

Clark closed his eyes. "Makes perfect sense," he whispered. He bit his lower lip as I pulled his cock out through the fly of his boxers, freeing it from its cotton and denim prison.

Not that I was super expert girl when it came to guys members, but Clark's cock was the most beautiful one I'd ever seen. Out of two. Well, three if you counted Kyle Wilson, but since he'd only flashed me to freak me out I didn't count it.

Clark's cock was hot, the skin silky, then beneath that a spongy softness surrounding a rod of steel. In the dark of the cave I hadn't noticed his girth, but as I stroked him my fingers barely made it the entire way around his shaft. No wonder I'd been so sore. I still was, a little bit, but I barely noticed it.

His shaft was dark, the head of his cock even darker-the same red as his lips. There was a drop of iridescent precum blossoming at the tip and I ran my thumb over the slit, making him moan and shudder.

I brought my hand up to my mouth, licked my palm, then returned it to his cock. I began stroking him faster, jerking my fist over his cock the way I'd been told guys liked. Clark definitely seemed to like it. He'd dropped his head back against the couch and his eyes were closed and his mouth was open as he panted for breath, his pink tongue wetting his lips and running over them before returning to the moist cave of his mouth.

I felt a surge of something new and addictive as I watched his face. It was something I'd only felt before when I'd written an especially amazing article, and now it was even more intense. I felt power. Here Clark was, panting, moaning, all because of me. He was lost in the pleasure I was giving him, and any second I wanted to I could stop and take it all away.

I wasn't going to stop, didn't want to stop, but the sudden realization that I could sent a thrill through me.

Clark reached his hand up and closed it over mine, guided me, jerking his cock even harder than before and suddenly his breath caught in his throat, his neck arched back, his hips bucked up and he was coming.