Fantastic Fantasy - NC17 - Chloe/Johnny - OneShot
Title: Fantastic Fantasy
Category: Smallville/Fantastic Four
Genre: Humor/Romance
Ship: Chloe/Johnny
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 1,361
Prompt: 20 Heroes, 1 Heroine
Summary: “Only in your dreams...” She doesn’t know how right she is.
Fantastic Fantasy
His heart hammers as she walks by, his throat runs dry.
She doesn’t look back, doesn’t even send a flirty smile in his direction.
He chases her; has been chasing her for what seems like ages.
She looks up from a folder, out of the corner of her eyes, sees him and shakes her head. “Can I help you?”
“Depends on your definition of help,” he replies, smirking.
With a roll of her eyes, she purses her lips.
“What are you doing Friday?”
She turns her head, pins him with a stare that would make most men weak. “Not you.”
Reaching out, he tugs on a tendril of her hair, laughs as she smacks his hands away. “You can’t avoid me forever, Chloe.”
She cocks a brow. “Watch me, Johnny.”
And so he does, eyes taking in every inch of her beautiful body as she walks away from him.
…
She’s working; her brow furrows and her teeth dig into her lower lip.
He should be focusing on something else; anything else. But all he can think about is taking that lip of hers in between his own and soothing away her bite marks with his tongue.
“Stop staring,” she mutters without looking at him.
He grins. “You always know when I’m here.”
She frowns. “You’re hard to miss.”
Crossing the space between them, he leans on the back of her chair, hovering so close he can feel the warmth of her back against his chest. “So stop avoiding me and give in already.”
She snorts, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Ever heard the saying, no means no?”
He rests his chin on top of her shoulder, whispers against her ear, “But you really want to say yes…” Her eyes fall, staring at her paper, and he wonders if maybe, just maybe, he might’ve cracked a little of her shell.
She turns her head ever so slightly. “Only in your dreams.”
She doesn’t know how true that is.
…
She keeps saying no and he keeps saying yes… to his hand. His head can’t stop thinking of her; it conjures her face in the best and worst of moments. He’s tried other women; but every time he touches them, kisses them, he feels wrong. And then her face is in his head and he feels dirty, like he’s cheating on her. It’s ridiculous because she won’t give in and he won’t give up and in the end, he’s chasing and she’s not even aware there’s a race.
And so he tries to get by on what his head gives him, at least until he hope she’ll just hand in the towel and be with him already. His sister thinks it’s the unattainable that has him so interested. But he knows Chloe; he knows what makes her tick and why she is the way she is. He knows her favorite coffee, her favorite flower, and he can quote her favorite book for her. On the rare occasions she doesn’t completely brush him off, she talks to him, and he listens, and despite knowing that in the end the only thing he’ll get out of it is a smile, he doesn’t care. He just wants to be around her.
So when she pushes him away, he lets her, and he goes back to wishing things were different. He lays in his bed and wishes the sheets smelled like her, that she was there next to him. That she’d give in and let him kiss her and touch her and be with her in the way they both want to. He knows she feels it; somehow, just being near her, it’s like the fire inside him pulses. And he can see it thriving inside her; flickering and licking at her insides, wanting more. He wants to feed that flame; to be there, stoking the fire for as long as she’ll let him.
Until she gives in, he’ll cope with fantasies. Of those ink-stained fingers of hers touching his hot skin; trailing down his stomach and wrapping around his rigid shaft. The sheets are cool against his back and his hips lift, jutting into the air into that imaginary hand of hers that feels so real. He could smell her; lilacs and coffee. He wants to bury his nose and his fingers in her hair. Eyes closed, he can imagine her lips on his chest, trailing lower, teeth nipping along the coarse hair leading from his navel. And her hair, soft, tickling his stomach as her head ducks below.
Her tongue, soft, wet, hot, swiping along his cock. Her lips kissing him, wrapping around the aching head of him and swallowing him into the heat of her mouth. His jaw falls loose, a curse escaping him. He mindlessly mutters her name; imagining mirthful green eyes and pink lips curved in a grin. He wishes he could really touch her; slide his hands along her body, separate her thighs and just hold her, naked and bare, against him. Just to feel her; so warm and soft and real. But it was just him and his hand and his overactive imagination. If he tries hard enough he could pretend the tugging of his fingers is her tight walls hugging him. But in the end, he comes hard over the vision in his head, in a dry palm and not her welcoming heat.
He rolls over, buries his face in his pillow and wishes she’d stop avoiding the inevitable.
…
He bumps into her in the hallway, accidentally knocking her folders from her hands. Bending down, he helps her pick them up.
She pauses, stares at him funny. “You okay?”
“Huh?” He clears his throat. “Yeah… Just… Tired, I guess.”
Restless. Disappointed. Alone.
Her eyes are narrowed in worry and suddenly she’s cupping his face. He flushes and hopes she won’t look down because any contact with her is an instant hard-on these days. He hasn’t been with a woman in a long time and the only one holding his interest is currently touching him, so he can’t really hide his reaction.
She knows; smiles even. “Subtle,” she says.
He glares. “My dream-you is much nicer to me,” he tells her.
She chuckles. “I bet she is.”
“She doesn’t shy away from the obvious either,” he adds.
She nods. “And I’m sure she’d help you with your little predicament, too.”
His brows lift. “Since she’s the cause of it, yeah!”
Chloe grins. “I’m not whatever dream-me you’ve cooked up, Johnny.”
He glowers. “I’m not stupid, I know that… If you were, you’d be wearing less clothes and you wouldn’t turn me down half as much.”
She strokes his hair. “And if I told you it was better if it stayed that way.”
“You’re wrong…” He covers her hands against his cheeks, squeezes them. “We fit, you and me… You just don’t want to admit it.”
Her smile fades. “The last few men who fit with me died… Maybe I’d like you to see thirty.”
With a growl, he drags her closer, wraps an arm around her waist and cups her face so she can’t pull back. “I don’t need you to watch my back…” He tightened his grip on her until she was pressed so close his erection was hard to miss against her stomach. “We can keep doing this the hard way… and trust me… it’s getting harder every day… Or you can see what’s right in front of you and take it.”
She stares up at him, swallows hard and then she erases those few inches between them, her lips meeting his.
It’s softer than it is in his head; warmer and sweeter. His lips part, tongue reaching for hers, and then he feels like he’s falling and he’s taking her with him. Her folders are left on the floor, forgotten, and finally he’s taking her, the real her, into his bedroom. They’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for and he plans on keeping her so sated she never considers life without him.
His fantasies got him through the rough patch but the real her is gonna last him a lifetime.