"Yearning" (Chlex one-shot): NS Adult Fanfic Challenge Entry (R)
TITLE: Yearning (NS Monthly Adult -themed Challenge- #1 January 2010 “Hunger”)
AUTHOR: Lexie aka lillianschild
SUMMARY: Chloe's decided to make a drastic change in her life and how she's living it. It's high time she found the woman she lost along the way and a certain billionaire is ready to give her a hand.
RATING: R
A/N: Post-Season 7 ficlet but doesn’t require any knowledge of the latest seasons to be read. It was written before "Close Your Eyes", but I had to wait for the month of the challenge to be over on NS.
"YEARNING"
I embrace the yearning.
Want and need fill me,
obliterating in frenzy
all conscious thought.
I wait for the yearning...
And pray for it
to never end.
I yearn to be...me.
Cheryl Kaye Tardif
It’s been months since she was looked at as someone other than just a search engine or a convenient shoulder to cry on. She’s forgotten what it’s like to be touched and actually feel something other than this numbness. Her marriage was a mistake from the start, born out of desperation to be with someone who found her desirable and saw her as a sexual being. The photographer’s inexperienced caresses never stirred in her the all-consuming passion that the mere touch of His lips on hers had provoked the summer of her seventeenth birthday. A few months ago her yearning to recapture that burning sensation led her to the arms of a tortured soul very much like His, but it was short-lived and only succeeded in thickening the impenetrable armour she now craves to shake off.
Standing freshly-showered in front of the full-length mirror of her bedroom, she observes her naked body with a critical eye. Her hair’s longer than in her Torch years. She’s quite pleased with her wavy hairstyle for her blonde tresses and her haircuts have always been a symbol of her rebelliousness- one that she’s surrendered along the way and that she yearns to reassert. Her emerald eyes, deprived of make-up, stand out and distract from the slightly crooked nose. Her well-shaped mouth, which rarely smiles now, is hungry to be tasted again.
She brushes her lips with trembling fingers and closes her eyes to obliterate the world around. She can still remember the electricity when their lips came together for the first time and He teased her to open her virtually virginal mouth to the invasion of his talented tongue. She parts them now and pants a little when the memory of his advances and retreats comes rushing back. Suddenly parched, she licks them and her taste buds are overwhelmed by the flavour of vintage bourbon, a ghost from the past.
As she flutters her eyelids open, she’s surprised at the woman reflected in the mirror. Pupils dilated and dark, fuller breasts crowned by tight rosy peaks that now seem two ripe berries ready to be plucked, a slightly rounded tummy, curved and strong hips which compensate her somewhat short legs with the perfect shape that men have always equated with fertility and, then, a blond thatch at their apex guarding the core of her womanly essence- the centre of both sensual pleasure and miraculous life. Did Jimmy ever see her the way she does now? Has He ever imagined her like this?
She grabs the bath towel from the bed and starts drying her flushed but still damp skin, experiencing a tug in her long anesthetised centre when she accidentally grazes her pebbled peaks. She takes a couple of deep breaths and fetches the long tight-fitting dress she’s chosen to wear to the reception. It’s a shade of green that compliments her Irish eyes and has a low-cut back that makes it impossible to wear a bra or anything other than a provocative thong underneath. Clark’s sidekick would have never considered donning such a garment; however, Chloe Sullivan wants to reenter the world she’s alienated herself from and be noticed for herself. She yearns to leave her old insecurities behind, to stop feeling inadequate when compared to the Lana Langs of this world. It doesn’t matter she’s got the intellectual advantage over more than 99.9% of the brunettes He’s ever courted, married or bedded; not even her irony’s ever been able to disguise or bury her emotional vulnerability.
Half an hour later her ablutions are done and she climbs into the old wrought-iron lift. During the descent she tries to empty her mind, to focus all of her on this night and this step she’s taking to satisfy a hunger that’s been haunting her of late, a yearning to find her lost identity, a craving to feel alive and a woman again.
He had a couple of drinks before leaving the penthouse in his limo; he’ll never call it Dutch courage- it’d be beneath his reputation as a fearless Luthor- but that’s what it is. He’s placed his pieces on the board, started the game and is now eagerly awaiting the other player’s move. Although having that invitation sent to her was a gamble, considering how things stood between them when he disappeared in the Arctic, a lot of water has run under the bridge. And, judging by the circumstances of her widowhood and the hundreds of hours of footage he’s watched, this broken-though- in-appearance-rougher Chloe Sullivan needs someone to help her reassemble the passionate soul she once was.
He ends his third bourbon and puts the snifter away to adjust his cufflinks and the bow tie he hasn’t worn in two years. He hasn’t been this nervous since his parents entertained and Lionel dragged him away from the shelter of the nursery to have him socialise. This reception isn’t unlike any of the hundreds he’s attended in his thirty years and yet it feels altogether different because she’ll be there and her reaction to his comeback’ll show him if he’s still able to read her moods and know what she needs- an art their former best friend Clark’s never mastered. Her friendship with the farm boy’s suffered greatly in recent times and she’s swallowed the bitter pill of betrayal and disillusionment after having sacrificed so much to protect the boy’s secret- a state of affairs which gives the billionaire hope.
The reception’s in full swing when he strides in, making it effortlessly clear he’s the one who owns the room. Conversation dwindles and surprised faces turned around as he advances wearing a urbane smile- unbeknownst to them they’re enjoying his champagne and are there to provide the appropriate environment to drag Chloe out of her defensive shell. Although a business announcement will be made, the social event at The Planet could have been forgone and a press conference organised instead. It’s only the need to make her feel safe in a public setting what convinced him to dress up to the nines and return to a world he’d rather forget for its only revealed the worst in him.
He grabs a flute of Bollinger to control his restlessness, scanning the room in search of her blonde hair. The mutation of Lois Lane’s deadly glare into one of wide-eyed disbelief puts a satisfied smile on his face. He takes another sip and engages in some inane conversation with the new chairman. Chloe deserves this moment, it is hers and he’ll let her have it. The ball’s in her court now and he respects her enough to allow her to play the game by her own rules. He yearns for the minute she’ll enter his field of view to see with his own eyes that which has left Lois speechless and tinged Clark’s face beetroot. And the opportunity arrives when the head of the board excuses himself and Lex’s eyes alight on the vision in green standing a few metres away.
Chloe feels several dozen pairs of lustful masculine eyes on her as well as the novelty of being the object of other women’s jealousy and experiences the rush of being empowered by her own sensuality- one she’s denied herself for far too long. She notices Lois’ dumbfounded look and Clark’s evident discomfiture, wondering if either of them has ever really seen her. She’s spent three quarters of her life in someone else’s shadow, anonymous and still secretly craving to be someone, yearning to be seen as more than just a loyal sidekick or a keeper of secrets. For years she’s put her life on hold to protect her best friend and help him fulfil his destiny, denying herself the possibility of being happy and maybe of saving a soul in the process, only to see him entrust the secret of his Kryptonian origins and powers to a bunch of virtual strangers. It’s taken her years to come to terms with the fact Clark’s never really trusted her, and that makes her feel closer to Him .
She cocks an eyebrow at the dynamic duo as she accepts a flute from a waiter’s hand. It’s at that moment her body registers Him and his scorching gaze; this is what she’s come here for. Although they’ve been enemies for almost four years, she knows He’s the only one who’s ever known her and the one person with whom she can be the Chloe Sullivan she’s sacrificed at Clark’s altar. Clark’s been the one and only reason Lex and she started to drift apart and now that He’s discovered Clark’s secret much in the same way she once did- through a third party’s intervention- the insurmountable wall standing between them’s no longer there. She still resents Him for having experimented on her without her consent and sickly yearns for a viable explanation to justify that one morally questionable deed because then, she wouldn’t feel so guilty about dressing up for Him and about craving His touch.
The reception goes by in a blur. The newspaper property changes hands in a brief ceremony, the new CEO’s introduced, toasts are made and Chloe’s approached by the newly-appointed editor of The Daily Planet, Perry White, who offers to take her back with a higher salary and her own column. All the while she’s aware of Him in the same room and tries to focus on her interlocutor without much success. The gentle friction of the dress, which hugs her curves like a second skin, is sweet torture as she walks under his unwavering gaze; her breasts have grown heavier and she can feel the warm and creamy evidence of her arousal pooling in her centre. She then shakes hands with Perry and meets Lex’s intense blue-grey eyes for the first time. She can read hunger in them and something else she doesn’t dare give a name to since it might make her falter. She leaves her flute on a tray and takes the first decisive step towards Him.
She’s never been more aware of her womanhood than at this moment when she’s openly admired and wanted by the most powerful and attractive man in the room. The idea that she has that kind of power over Him when he’s always been the one in control exhilarates her and heightens the arousing effect the erotic movement of the tiny scrap of material she’s wearing underneath is having on her nether regions. She sees the smug look on His face and can tell He knows it. She trembles as she walks past Him on the way to the lift she’s certain they’ll ride together. He’s surprised her yet again by selling the paper and paving the way for her to get back her job. The gentlemanly gesture of making sure she doesn’t see the promotion as payment for what’s to happen between them gives her hope for the man she fell in love with as a seventeen-year-old, but also unsettles her for this is no longer about Clark and the yearning she sees in Lex’s eyes is more than just desire.
She leans against the railing of the elevator with her eyes closed and hears the doors ding close. Her feverish skin breaks out into goose pimples as the air stirs around her, and her core clenches sensing his proximity. He nuzzles her neck and draws a moan from her lips by sucking gently at her rapidly beating pulse as his hands slide down her bare back to cup her luscious bottom and bring her flush with his pulsing arousal. And then he claims her mouth in a searing kiss and drowns in her emerald eyes the minute they flutter open. They’re just Chloe and Lex now. They’re finally who they’ve ever craved to be.
THE END
AUTHOR: Lexie aka lillianschild
SUMMARY: Chloe's decided to make a drastic change in her life and how she's living it. It's high time she found the woman she lost along the way and a certain billionaire is ready to give her a hand.
RATING: R
A/N: Post-Season 7 ficlet but doesn’t require any knowledge of the latest seasons to be read. It was written before "Close Your Eyes", but I had to wait for the month of the challenge to be over on NS.
"YEARNING"
I embrace the yearning.
Want and need fill me,
obliterating in frenzy
all conscious thought.
I wait for the yearning...
And pray for it
to never end.
I yearn to be...me.
Cheryl Kaye Tardif
It’s been months since she was looked at as someone other than just a search engine or a convenient shoulder to cry on. She’s forgotten what it’s like to be touched and actually feel something other than this numbness. Her marriage was a mistake from the start, born out of desperation to be with someone who found her desirable and saw her as a sexual being. The photographer’s inexperienced caresses never stirred in her the all-consuming passion that the mere touch of His lips on hers had provoked the summer of her seventeenth birthday. A few months ago her yearning to recapture that burning sensation led her to the arms of a tortured soul very much like His, but it was short-lived and only succeeded in thickening the impenetrable armour she now craves to shake off.
Standing freshly-showered in front of the full-length mirror of her bedroom, she observes her naked body with a critical eye. Her hair’s longer than in her Torch years. She’s quite pleased with her wavy hairstyle for her blonde tresses and her haircuts have always been a symbol of her rebelliousness- one that she’s surrendered along the way and that she yearns to reassert. Her emerald eyes, deprived of make-up, stand out and distract from the slightly crooked nose. Her well-shaped mouth, which rarely smiles now, is hungry to be tasted again.
She brushes her lips with trembling fingers and closes her eyes to obliterate the world around. She can still remember the electricity when their lips came together for the first time and He teased her to open her virtually virginal mouth to the invasion of his talented tongue. She parts them now and pants a little when the memory of his advances and retreats comes rushing back. Suddenly parched, she licks them and her taste buds are overwhelmed by the flavour of vintage bourbon, a ghost from the past.
As she flutters her eyelids open, she’s surprised at the woman reflected in the mirror. Pupils dilated and dark, fuller breasts crowned by tight rosy peaks that now seem two ripe berries ready to be plucked, a slightly rounded tummy, curved and strong hips which compensate her somewhat short legs with the perfect shape that men have always equated with fertility and, then, a blond thatch at their apex guarding the core of her womanly essence- the centre of both sensual pleasure and miraculous life. Did Jimmy ever see her the way she does now? Has He ever imagined her like this?
She grabs the bath towel from the bed and starts drying her flushed but still damp skin, experiencing a tug in her long anesthetised centre when she accidentally grazes her pebbled peaks. She takes a couple of deep breaths and fetches the long tight-fitting dress she’s chosen to wear to the reception. It’s a shade of green that compliments her Irish eyes and has a low-cut back that makes it impossible to wear a bra or anything other than a provocative thong underneath. Clark’s sidekick would have never considered donning such a garment; however, Chloe Sullivan wants to reenter the world she’s alienated herself from and be noticed for herself. She yearns to leave her old insecurities behind, to stop feeling inadequate when compared to the Lana Langs of this world. It doesn’t matter she’s got the intellectual advantage over more than 99.9% of the brunettes He’s ever courted, married or bedded; not even her irony’s ever been able to disguise or bury her emotional vulnerability.
Half an hour later her ablutions are done and she climbs into the old wrought-iron lift. During the descent she tries to empty her mind, to focus all of her on this night and this step she’s taking to satisfy a hunger that’s been haunting her of late, a yearning to find her lost identity, a craving to feel alive and a woman again.
He had a couple of drinks before leaving the penthouse in his limo; he’ll never call it Dutch courage- it’d be beneath his reputation as a fearless Luthor- but that’s what it is. He’s placed his pieces on the board, started the game and is now eagerly awaiting the other player’s move. Although having that invitation sent to her was a gamble, considering how things stood between them when he disappeared in the Arctic, a lot of water has run under the bridge. And, judging by the circumstances of her widowhood and the hundreds of hours of footage he’s watched, this broken-though- in-appearance-rougher Chloe Sullivan needs someone to help her reassemble the passionate soul she once was.
He ends his third bourbon and puts the snifter away to adjust his cufflinks and the bow tie he hasn’t worn in two years. He hasn’t been this nervous since his parents entertained and Lionel dragged him away from the shelter of the nursery to have him socialise. This reception isn’t unlike any of the hundreds he’s attended in his thirty years and yet it feels altogether different because she’ll be there and her reaction to his comeback’ll show him if he’s still able to read her moods and know what she needs- an art their former best friend Clark’s never mastered. Her friendship with the farm boy’s suffered greatly in recent times and she’s swallowed the bitter pill of betrayal and disillusionment after having sacrificed so much to protect the boy’s secret- a state of affairs which gives the billionaire hope.
The reception’s in full swing when he strides in, making it effortlessly clear he’s the one who owns the room. Conversation dwindles and surprised faces turned around as he advances wearing a urbane smile- unbeknownst to them they’re enjoying his champagne and are there to provide the appropriate environment to drag Chloe out of her defensive shell. Although a business announcement will be made, the social event at The Planet could have been forgone and a press conference organised instead. It’s only the need to make her feel safe in a public setting what convinced him to dress up to the nines and return to a world he’d rather forget for its only revealed the worst in him.
He grabs a flute of Bollinger to control his restlessness, scanning the room in search of her blonde hair. The mutation of Lois Lane’s deadly glare into one of wide-eyed disbelief puts a satisfied smile on his face. He takes another sip and engages in some inane conversation with the new chairman. Chloe deserves this moment, it is hers and he’ll let her have it. The ball’s in her court now and he respects her enough to allow her to play the game by her own rules. He yearns for the minute she’ll enter his field of view to see with his own eyes that which has left Lois speechless and tinged Clark’s face beetroot. And the opportunity arrives when the head of the board excuses himself and Lex’s eyes alight on the vision in green standing a few metres away.
Chloe feels several dozen pairs of lustful masculine eyes on her as well as the novelty of being the object of other women’s jealousy and experiences the rush of being empowered by her own sensuality- one she’s denied herself for far too long. She notices Lois’ dumbfounded look and Clark’s evident discomfiture, wondering if either of them has ever really seen her. She’s spent three quarters of her life in someone else’s shadow, anonymous and still secretly craving to be someone, yearning to be seen as more than just a loyal sidekick or a keeper of secrets. For years she’s put her life on hold to protect her best friend and help him fulfil his destiny, denying herself the possibility of being happy and maybe of saving a soul in the process, only to see him entrust the secret of his Kryptonian origins and powers to a bunch of virtual strangers. It’s taken her years to come to terms with the fact Clark’s never really trusted her, and that makes her feel closer to Him .
She cocks an eyebrow at the dynamic duo as she accepts a flute from a waiter’s hand. It’s at that moment her body registers Him and his scorching gaze; this is what she’s come here for. Although they’ve been enemies for almost four years, she knows He’s the only one who’s ever known her and the one person with whom she can be the Chloe Sullivan she’s sacrificed at Clark’s altar. Clark’s been the one and only reason Lex and she started to drift apart and now that He’s discovered Clark’s secret much in the same way she once did- through a third party’s intervention- the insurmountable wall standing between them’s no longer there. She still resents Him for having experimented on her without her consent and sickly yearns for a viable explanation to justify that one morally questionable deed because then, she wouldn’t feel so guilty about dressing up for Him and about craving His touch.
The reception goes by in a blur. The newspaper property changes hands in a brief ceremony, the new CEO’s introduced, toasts are made and Chloe’s approached by the newly-appointed editor of The Daily Planet, Perry White, who offers to take her back with a higher salary and her own column. All the while she’s aware of Him in the same room and tries to focus on her interlocutor without much success. The gentle friction of the dress, which hugs her curves like a second skin, is sweet torture as she walks under his unwavering gaze; her breasts have grown heavier and she can feel the warm and creamy evidence of her arousal pooling in her centre. She then shakes hands with Perry and meets Lex’s intense blue-grey eyes for the first time. She can read hunger in them and something else she doesn’t dare give a name to since it might make her falter. She leaves her flute on a tray and takes the first decisive step towards Him.
She’s never been more aware of her womanhood than at this moment when she’s openly admired and wanted by the most powerful and attractive man in the room. The idea that she has that kind of power over Him when he’s always been the one in control exhilarates her and heightens the arousing effect the erotic movement of the tiny scrap of material she’s wearing underneath is having on her nether regions. She sees the smug look on His face and can tell He knows it. She trembles as she walks past Him on the way to the lift she’s certain they’ll ride together. He’s surprised her yet again by selling the paper and paving the way for her to get back her job. The gentlemanly gesture of making sure she doesn’t see the promotion as payment for what’s to happen between them gives her hope for the man she fell in love with as a seventeen-year-old, but also unsettles her for this is no longer about Clark and the yearning she sees in Lex’s eyes is more than just desire.
She leans against the railing of the elevator with her eyes closed and hears the doors ding close. Her feverish skin breaks out into goose pimples as the air stirs around her, and her core clenches sensing his proximity. He nuzzles her neck and draws a moan from her lips by sucking gently at her rapidly beating pulse as his hands slide down her bare back to cup her luscious bottom and bring her flush with his pulsing arousal. And then he claims her mouth in a searing kiss and drowns in her emerald eyes the minute they flutter open. They’re just Chloe and Lex now. They’re finally who they’ve ever craved to be.
THE END