Smallville Big Bang 2012
Human Nature
Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
Lois climbed the stairs with a tall crystal tumbler full of chilled homemade lemonade, Martha had insisted, jutting off into a spiel about the health benefits of organic produce and assured Lois that the sugar would do Chloe’ system good, providing sustainable energy that would allow her body to heal.
She shook her head. If she knew Chloe like she thought she knew Chloe, an intravenous line of quality Italian espresso would have seen her cousin up and functioning within the space of half an hour.
Lois licked her lips and savored the thought of her own two hands wrapped willingly around a steaming mug, the earthy aroma of ground Arabica beans stealing her senses as the froth from her cappuccino stuck to her nose and her snicker doodle cookie crumbled effortlessly upon her tongue.
She tiptoed across the landing at the top of the stairs, wary of the squeaky board beneath the plush carpet that had only recently been re-laid. She hadn’t expected the vision that welcomed her as she stepped across the threshold of the guest room. In hindsight, she figured that a shot of tequila could probably suppress any cravings that she might have had.
Chloe lay curled on her left side with her legs tucked up under her body. Her breathing was even and easy as she inhaled through her nose and exhaled through her mouth. Clark lay on his back, his long legs bent at odd angles, his arm thrown over his face to protect his eyes from the irritations of the afternoon sun. The fingers of his left hand had breeched the gap between himself and Chloe. The thick digits were curled into the fabric of her t-shirt like he needed the contact, only a whisper shy of skin on skin, a mere hairs breadth.
Lois placed the glass on the night stand and scratched around for a pencil or biro. A piece of scrap paper in the top drawer of the desk in the corner of the room served as a makeshift post-it note and she scrawled her memo onto the page and folded it in half. It flanked the lemonade, capital letters announcing the intended with their boldness.
Chloe,
Gone into town for a few things. Shouldn’t be gone too long. Don’t freak out if you wake up and I’m not here. I’ll stop by the Talon on my way back.
Lois x
She shuffled slowly to the door and pulled it closed behind her. A pang of jealousy caught her off guard as she tried not to jiggle the lock, fumbling like a clumsy child. Chloe and Clark had always been close. Why did it bother her so much to see them together? Clark was barely able to move. Friends, Lois reminded herself. They’re not lovers, just … friends.
The front door crashed behind her. Lois needed a drink. The vibration registered with Clark’s reflexes and he stirred and stretched, his hand bumping the bare skin of Chloe’s back where his grip on her shirt had bunched the thin cotton. He noticed her warmth and drew his knuckle along the line of her hip, tracing the curve of her figure, committing the shape to memory.
“Chloe,” he nuzzled the spot behind her ear and pulled his heavy body across the bed, trying to mold himself into the space that she provided.
“I need you,” he whispered, his top lip pressed against the shell of her ear. He tucked his legs up under the backs of her knees and draped his arm across her midsection. Chloe responded, pressing her bottom into his pelvis and sucking in a deep breath. Clark grew hard against the small of her back. He toyed with the ties of her sweats, his fingers working the knot that fastened the fleecy pants just below her hips. Chloe remained still, reminding herself to breathe.
Smooth, thick fingers grazed her silk panties, gathering the moisture that collected at the apex of her thighs. Chloe tried to stifle a moan, choking on the noise that she made deep within her throat.
“Tell me to stop, Chloe.” Clark was giving her an out, but her silence spoke the words that she could not.
Clark pulled Chloe onto her back and rolled so that he was on all fours. His knee gently parted her thighs and his body rested in their fleshy cradle. He held his weight above her as his free hand lowered his shorts and he toed them off to the side of the bed. Unshed tears threatened to spill as Chloe’s heart thundered beneath her ribcage. This couldn’t be Clark. It was just a dream.
Clark tugged at Chloe’s sweats and she lifted her hips, shifting her weight to accommodate his movements. As he drew each foot from the bindings, he lowered his head and pressed his lips to the inside of her ankle. He took note of her wide eyes and moved slowly back up the length of her body. He smiled and lowered his head to claim her lips.
Warm and wet, Clark’s tongue was warm as it traced the line of her lips. He cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand and eased her right hand down to cover his erection.
“You can say no,” he told her honestly, no hint of accusation tainting his voice.
Chloe shook her head, unable to form words, and Clark fought the urge to thrust his hips.
“It’s going to hurt. Just go quickly,” Chloe mumbled, and her hands gripped his arms to the point of pain. It spurred Clark on, adrenalin coursed through his veins and he felt dizzy and euphoric. Chloe was whole and intact, she was for him, giving herself to him of her own free will. He blinked and stared at Chloe, flabbergasted.
“Chloe, you’re a virgin?” He stated the obvious, and then wanted to one up himself for his own stupidity. “I mean, of course you are. You’re not that kind of girl. I mean … Chlo, are you sure?”
Chloe pressed her lips together in a smile and raised her hips to meet his. It was like instinct, even though he fumbled like the inexperienced first timer that he was. He caressed the inside of Chloe’s thigh and sunk himself deep into her warmth. He felt like a terrible person the instant she cried out. If he’d felt the give, it had been far worse for Chloe.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m here. I’ve got you.”
Chloe buried her face in Clark’s neck and inhaled a shaky breath. A lone tear rolled down her cheek and it broke his heart as it pooled at the base of his throat. He moved slowly and reverently, like he had a plan, like every move he made served a higher purpose. Her heat engulfed him, her touch burned like flames fueled by years of longing. Below him, around him, he couldn’t escape it. And when her back arched up off the bed and her ankles locked around his waist, Clark knew that Chloe Sullivan would be his greatest sin.
And when the tips of her fingers brushed the curls from his face and she smiled up at him, Clark gasped. Her walls clenched around him and with a strangled cry ripped from the back of his throat; he offered her everything. He lost himself inside of her. He watched her, watched the way her lips parted in surprise and she threw her head back bearing the arc of her neck. His head fell forward and he kissed the space above her clavicle, panting heavily, the breath having been knocked from his lungs. He stroked her arm, clumsy sweeping hands that struggled to brush her skin. Up and down. He repeated the motion.
“That was. Wow,” Chloe spoke as she fought to catch her breath.
“That was something special,” Clark agreed, the tips of his fingers still grazing her salt -licked skin.
For a moment they did not move. They remained basking in the effects of their coupling. They did not need words to explain what they meant, each to the other. The weight of Clark’s body was comforting. He remained sated inside of her and it caused sparks to ignite deep in the depths of her belly.
Chloe sighed. “I guess we’d better get up. I don’t really want your mom or Lois to find us together.” The doubts had been creeping, like traitors, nagging, trying to sabotage her progress with Clark.
“Yeah, I guess I probably need to take a shower,” Clark frowned.
Clark eased himself up onto his haunches and Chloe hissed. For a moment, he did not move. She was laid bare before his gaze, and he took the time to focus on the woman in front of him. He realized that this was the first, and quite possibly the last time, but the aftermath was sacred, something that he could truss up with fine twine and a big silver bow, something to be recalled at a later date.
“Why don’t you take a picture, Clark? It’ll last longer,” Chloe rolled her eyes and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her thighs quivered, such delicious torture left her muscles aching and the prolonged dull pain a faithful reminder of her time spent with Clark. She swayed precariously on her feet; Clark watched her bob from side to side before he offered his hand and pulled her back down to the edge of the mattress.
“Take it easy, Chlo. Give your body time to adjust,” Clark began to fret, fearing the worst. He wondered if his body had hurt her, he’d lost his powers, sure, but he was still strong, he could still overpower her. He’d been dominant. She had been pure. He had tarnished her innocence? He scrubbed his broad hand over his stubbly cheek and looked at her. Was it his fault that she was hurting? He was too afraid to ask, too ashamed of his selfish actions.
“So,” Clark pointed towards the door of the room, “I’ll go and shower, you just stay here for a while.”
“Right,” Chloe agreed, too distracted to otherwise disagree. She pulled on her panties and leaned back against the rustic timber headboard. With her knees tucked up under her chin she mused silently, so much so that she’d missed Clark step into his shorts and slip out the door without a fuss.
Against the distorted clamor of her mind the resonating hum of the shower registered as the sweltering spray bore down upon his tired frame. If she closed her eyes she could see him slumped against the wall of the cubicle, one arm supporting the bulk of his weight, his head inclined, his forehead pressed against the contrast of the refreshing cool tiles.
Chloe was forced to stifle a whimper as her fingers skimmed her inner thigh, sticky with the proof that Clark had been between her knees, suspended like a flurry of images frozen in freeze frame. A tremor stole through her nervous system, rendering her body useless.
By the time she could recover some semi-sentient stage of decorum the echo of steady droplets had diminished into a fine mist of fog that came away from the folding glass partition when she rubbed her knuckles across the smudgy surface. Clark was long gone, but the water was soothing.
Chloe’s damp hair was swathed in a soft towel, coiled turban style in a sloppy mound that sat high upon her head. Her neck and her décolletage glistened as the stray tendrils let down their tiny beads. She rolled her sleeves up to her elbows and ran her tongue along the front of her teeth for good measure. She had to talk to Clark, she had to face him and voice her frustrations. She knew words, a lot of words. Her vocabulary was all that she needed, and Clark, well he had ears. Surely Clark could listen.
Her bare feet padded across the hardwood floor downstairs and as she moved through the living room a familiar voice carried through the thin walls of the old farm house.
“ … Honestly, I’m feeling fine now. I’ll be okay, there’s no need to fuss.”
Chloe smiled; obviously Martha Kent was up to no good, thrusting pie upon her son and forcing him to eat for his own good. Chloe turned through the arch that divided the two rooms and turned abruptly. Her feet came to a stop and she felt herself backtracking, retracing the steps that she had just taken.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll just go. I’m really, really sorry about that,” She choked out as she fled.
Lois stood on tippy toes; her lips were pursed and pressed against Clark’s. His left hand gripped her hip while the other clutched the kitchen bench, forcing his hip into the rough laminate and faux timber cabinets.
“Chloe, wait.” Clark found his feet and pulled away from Lois’ embrace.
“She’ll be fine, Clark, just give her some time,” Lois leaned forward and touched his shoulder, but Clark shook his head vehemently. He raised his voice.
“No, Lois. Not this time. Nothing is fine. How could you do that?”
“Well,” Lois played coy, shrugging her shoulders. “Your hand was on my hip, what the hell am I supposed to think?”
Clark threw his hands up in disbelief. Of all the selfish things to do, of all the possible people to hurt, it had been Chloe. “I needed a balance and you know it.”
“Okay, so maybe I embellished. But seriously, Clark, this is Chloe we’re talking about. She obviously doesn’t want you. Why let a good thing go to waste? We’re good together, you know, we’re Lois and Clark.”
“Chloe,” Clark called as he stumbled away, trying to pick up his feet, willing his long legs to take him away at full stride. “Chloe, come back. Chloe?”
Chapter 5
Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
Lois climbed the stairs with a tall crystal tumbler full of chilled homemade lemonade, Martha had insisted, jutting off into a spiel about the health benefits of organic produce and assured Lois that the sugar would do Chloe’ system good, providing sustainable energy that would allow her body to heal.
She shook her head. If she knew Chloe like she thought she knew Chloe, an intravenous line of quality Italian espresso would have seen her cousin up and functioning within the space of half an hour.
Lois licked her lips and savored the thought of her own two hands wrapped willingly around a steaming mug, the earthy aroma of ground Arabica beans stealing her senses as the froth from her cappuccino stuck to her nose and her snicker doodle cookie crumbled effortlessly upon her tongue.
She tiptoed across the landing at the top of the stairs, wary of the squeaky board beneath the plush carpet that had only recently been re-laid. She hadn’t expected the vision that welcomed her as she stepped across the threshold of the guest room. In hindsight, she figured that a shot of tequila could probably suppress any cravings that she might have had.
Chloe lay curled on her left side with her legs tucked up under her body. Her breathing was even and easy as she inhaled through her nose and exhaled through her mouth. Clark lay on his back, his long legs bent at odd angles, his arm thrown over his face to protect his eyes from the irritations of the afternoon sun. The fingers of his left hand had breeched the gap between himself and Chloe. The thick digits were curled into the fabric of her t-shirt like he needed the contact, only a whisper shy of skin on skin, a mere hairs breadth.
Lois placed the glass on the night stand and scratched around for a pencil or biro. A piece of scrap paper in the top drawer of the desk in the corner of the room served as a makeshift post-it note and she scrawled her memo onto the page and folded it in half. It flanked the lemonade, capital letters announcing the intended with their boldness.
Chloe,
Gone into town for a few things. Shouldn’t be gone too long. Don’t freak out if you wake up and I’m not here. I’ll stop by the Talon on my way back.
Lois x
She shuffled slowly to the door and pulled it closed behind her. A pang of jealousy caught her off guard as she tried not to jiggle the lock, fumbling like a clumsy child. Chloe and Clark had always been close. Why did it bother her so much to see them together? Clark was barely able to move. Friends, Lois reminded herself. They’re not lovers, just … friends.
The front door crashed behind her. Lois needed a drink. The vibration registered with Clark’s reflexes and he stirred and stretched, his hand bumping the bare skin of Chloe’s back where his grip on her shirt had bunched the thin cotton. He noticed her warmth and drew his knuckle along the line of her hip, tracing the curve of her figure, committing the shape to memory.
“Chloe,” he nuzzled the spot behind her ear and pulled his heavy body across the bed, trying to mold himself into the space that she provided.
“I need you,” he whispered, his top lip pressed against the shell of her ear. He tucked his legs up under the backs of her knees and draped his arm across her midsection. Chloe responded, pressing her bottom into his pelvis and sucking in a deep breath. Clark grew hard against the small of her back. He toyed with the ties of her sweats, his fingers working the knot that fastened the fleecy pants just below her hips. Chloe remained still, reminding herself to breathe.
Smooth, thick fingers grazed her silk panties, gathering the moisture that collected at the apex of her thighs. Chloe tried to stifle a moan, choking on the noise that she made deep within her throat.
“Tell me to stop, Chloe.” Clark was giving her an out, but her silence spoke the words that she could not.
Clark pulled Chloe onto her back and rolled so that he was on all fours. His knee gently parted her thighs and his body rested in their fleshy cradle. He held his weight above her as his free hand lowered his shorts and he toed them off to the side of the bed. Unshed tears threatened to spill as Chloe’s heart thundered beneath her ribcage. This couldn’t be Clark. It was just a dream.
Clark tugged at Chloe’s sweats and she lifted her hips, shifting her weight to accommodate his movements. As he drew each foot from the bindings, he lowered his head and pressed his lips to the inside of her ankle. He took note of her wide eyes and moved slowly back up the length of her body. He smiled and lowered his head to claim her lips.
Warm and wet, Clark’s tongue was warm as it traced the line of her lips. He cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand and eased her right hand down to cover his erection.
“You can say no,” he told her honestly, no hint of accusation tainting his voice.
Chloe shook her head, unable to form words, and Clark fought the urge to thrust his hips.
“It’s going to hurt. Just go quickly,” Chloe mumbled, and her hands gripped his arms to the point of pain. It spurred Clark on, adrenalin coursed through his veins and he felt dizzy and euphoric. Chloe was whole and intact, she was for him, giving herself to him of her own free will. He blinked and stared at Chloe, flabbergasted.
“Chloe, you’re a virgin?” He stated the obvious, and then wanted to one up himself for his own stupidity. “I mean, of course you are. You’re not that kind of girl. I mean … Chlo, are you sure?”
Chloe pressed her lips together in a smile and raised her hips to meet his. It was like instinct, even though he fumbled like the inexperienced first timer that he was. He caressed the inside of Chloe’s thigh and sunk himself deep into her warmth. He felt like a terrible person the instant she cried out. If he’d felt the give, it had been far worse for Chloe.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m here. I’ve got you.”
Chloe buried her face in Clark’s neck and inhaled a shaky breath. A lone tear rolled down her cheek and it broke his heart as it pooled at the base of his throat. He moved slowly and reverently, like he had a plan, like every move he made served a higher purpose. Her heat engulfed him, her touch burned like flames fueled by years of longing. Below him, around him, he couldn’t escape it. And when her back arched up off the bed and her ankles locked around his waist, Clark knew that Chloe Sullivan would be his greatest sin.
And when the tips of her fingers brushed the curls from his face and she smiled up at him, Clark gasped. Her walls clenched around him and with a strangled cry ripped from the back of his throat; he offered her everything. He lost himself inside of her. He watched her, watched the way her lips parted in surprise and she threw her head back bearing the arc of her neck. His head fell forward and he kissed the space above her clavicle, panting heavily, the breath having been knocked from his lungs. He stroked her arm, clumsy sweeping hands that struggled to brush her skin. Up and down. He repeated the motion.
“That was. Wow,” Chloe spoke as she fought to catch her breath.
“That was something special,” Clark agreed, the tips of his fingers still grazing her salt -licked skin.
For a moment they did not move. They remained basking in the effects of their coupling. They did not need words to explain what they meant, each to the other. The weight of Clark’s body was comforting. He remained sated inside of her and it caused sparks to ignite deep in the depths of her belly.
Chloe sighed. “I guess we’d better get up. I don’t really want your mom or Lois to find us together.” The doubts had been creeping, like traitors, nagging, trying to sabotage her progress with Clark.
“Yeah, I guess I probably need to take a shower,” Clark frowned.
Clark eased himself up onto his haunches and Chloe hissed. For a moment, he did not move. She was laid bare before his gaze, and he took the time to focus on the woman in front of him. He realized that this was the first, and quite possibly the last time, but the aftermath was sacred, something that he could truss up with fine twine and a big silver bow, something to be recalled at a later date.
“Why don’t you take a picture, Clark? It’ll last longer,” Chloe rolled her eyes and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her thighs quivered, such delicious torture left her muscles aching and the prolonged dull pain a faithful reminder of her time spent with Clark. She swayed precariously on her feet; Clark watched her bob from side to side before he offered his hand and pulled her back down to the edge of the mattress.
“Take it easy, Chlo. Give your body time to adjust,” Clark began to fret, fearing the worst. He wondered if his body had hurt her, he’d lost his powers, sure, but he was still strong, he could still overpower her. He’d been dominant. She had been pure. He had tarnished her innocence? He scrubbed his broad hand over his stubbly cheek and looked at her. Was it his fault that she was hurting? He was too afraid to ask, too ashamed of his selfish actions.
“So,” Clark pointed towards the door of the room, “I’ll go and shower, you just stay here for a while.”
“Right,” Chloe agreed, too distracted to otherwise disagree. She pulled on her panties and leaned back against the rustic timber headboard. With her knees tucked up under her chin she mused silently, so much so that she’d missed Clark step into his shorts and slip out the door without a fuss.
Against the distorted clamor of her mind the resonating hum of the shower registered as the sweltering spray bore down upon his tired frame. If she closed her eyes she could see him slumped against the wall of the cubicle, one arm supporting the bulk of his weight, his head inclined, his forehead pressed against the contrast of the refreshing cool tiles.
Chloe was forced to stifle a whimper as her fingers skimmed her inner thigh, sticky with the proof that Clark had been between her knees, suspended like a flurry of images frozen in freeze frame. A tremor stole through her nervous system, rendering her body useless.
By the time she could recover some semi-sentient stage of decorum the echo of steady droplets had diminished into a fine mist of fog that came away from the folding glass partition when she rubbed her knuckles across the smudgy surface. Clark was long gone, but the water was soothing.
Chloe’s damp hair was swathed in a soft towel, coiled turban style in a sloppy mound that sat high upon her head. Her neck and her décolletage glistened as the stray tendrils let down their tiny beads. She rolled her sleeves up to her elbows and ran her tongue along the front of her teeth for good measure. She had to talk to Clark, she had to face him and voice her frustrations. She knew words, a lot of words. Her vocabulary was all that she needed, and Clark, well he had ears. Surely Clark could listen.
Her bare feet padded across the hardwood floor downstairs and as she moved through the living room a familiar voice carried through the thin walls of the old farm house.
“ … Honestly, I’m feeling fine now. I’ll be okay, there’s no need to fuss.”
Chloe smiled; obviously Martha Kent was up to no good, thrusting pie upon her son and forcing him to eat for his own good. Chloe turned through the arch that divided the two rooms and turned abruptly. Her feet came to a stop and she felt herself backtracking, retracing the steps that she had just taken.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll just go. I’m really, really sorry about that,” She choked out as she fled.
Lois stood on tippy toes; her lips were pursed and pressed against Clark’s. His left hand gripped her hip while the other clutched the kitchen bench, forcing his hip into the rough laminate and faux timber cabinets.
“Chloe, wait.” Clark found his feet and pulled away from Lois’ embrace.
“She’ll be fine, Clark, just give her some time,” Lois leaned forward and touched his shoulder, but Clark shook his head vehemently. He raised his voice.
“No, Lois. Not this time. Nothing is fine. How could you do that?”
“Well,” Lois played coy, shrugging her shoulders. “Your hand was on my hip, what the hell am I supposed to think?”
Clark threw his hands up in disbelief. Of all the selfish things to do, of all the possible people to hurt, it had been Chloe. “I needed a balance and you know it.”
“Okay, so maybe I embellished. But seriously, Clark, this is Chloe we’re talking about. She obviously doesn’t want you. Why let a good thing go to waste? We’re good together, you know, we’re Lois and Clark.”
“Chloe,” Clark called as he stumbled away, trying to pick up his feet, willing his long legs to take him away at full stride. “Chloe, come back. Chloe?”
Chapter 5