Between Love And Hate- AU Smallville fic
Title: Between Love And Hate
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Chlark; mentions of Chimmy
Spoilers: Savior.
Disclaimer: If I owned Smallville, *I* would be in charge of writing this season. NUFF SAID.
Summary: After years of an intense, complicated relationship, Chloe and Clark have come to realize that there's a fine line between love and hate. But a single moment of weakness may make them cross it.
Warnings: READ: This is for mature audiences only. To be blunt, it's smutty, people. If you're not into that, then don't read. You have been warned.
Notes: AU take on a scene from Savior, complete with massive angst and pretty hardcore sex. Thanks to lilbreck for the beta, and marikology for her help with the summary. Dedicated to ellyfanfiction, because her awesome fic never fails to keep me inspired, and keep me going in this fandom. Feedback is certainly loved. <333
Love and hate.
They both feel it.
Two conflicting emotions, compacted, compressed, into one tight, complicated bundle.
It flows through their veins, as sure and as quick as the blood that sustains their lives. Hers, human. His, Kryptonian.
It's pushed them, to this point, to this place, and has turned into something neither of them ever expected.
Passion.
Not even a minute ago, they were locked in a heated verbal battle, their tension and anger filling the night air.
And now, they're locked in a heated embrace, his mouth practically devouring hers.
She's not sure who made the first move.
She's not even sure she cares.
Their bodies suddenly just seemed to collide, her hands tangling in his messy dark hair, his arms wrapping around her like they hadn't in ages.
As her back hits the cold wall next to the door that leads back down into the Watchtower, she finds that she can hardly breathe, much less really think.
She loves him.
She's always loved him, from the very moment that she saw him.
Even while she was loving another man. Even after she'd married that man.
Her love for him has never stopped, and it never will.
No matter how many times he may hurt her, how he may rip out her broken, bruised heart, she knows that she will love him until the day her final breath escapes her.
He feels her moan into his mouth, feels her body tremble against his.
It feels like a wanton cry for attention, a sure sign of desperation and need.
He doesn't even surprise him that he feels that same need. He needs her, too, so badly, and he feels his body react almost automatically.
He loves her.
It's a fact that took him so very long to realize.
And when he finally did, it was too late. She belonged to someone else.
He chose to remain silent, and stand back, and let her marry a man he wasn't so sure was worthy of her.
It never changed how he felt.
It never took that love away.
When the kiss finally breaks, they're both breathing heavily, though he has no reason to. His forehead comes to rest against hers, and she can't help but realize it's probably the most intimate he's ever been with her.
She's still trying to catch her breath when she feels his lips brush over her cheek, then slowly start to slip down the side of her neck. She moans softly at the feather-soft movements, even as little inklings of thoughts re-enter her brain.
And when his big palm brushes over her left breast, that's what brings her back to herself, and she opens her eyes to look at him with anger.
"Get your filthy hands off me, you bastard."
Venom laces every single word as they leave her lips, and she shoves at his shoulders, trying her best to push him away.
She doesn't even want to look at him right now. Why would she want him to touch her?
She hates him.
She hates him for all the years of ignorance, the abuse, and yes, even the secret-keeping. She's done everything for him, everything in her power to help him. She's always done everything he's ever asked of her. And for what? For nothing. Nothing at all. She's taken years of his bullshit, and she's sick and tired of it.
And she's sick and tired of being the one who's there for him, and yet he's never there for her. Sure, he may save her life on a regular basis, but he's not there when she needs him the most. She needed him three months ago, and what did he do?
He walked out on her.
He abandoned her.
And she hates him for it.
"Make me." he hears himself growl at her, with just as much venom.
His hands move faster than she can even blink, grabbing her wrists, holding her still.
As his face nears hers again, he's not sure what's aching more, his heart, or the rapidly hardening erection hidden under his black denim.
He hates her.
He hates her for being so weak, so human. He hates her for making him so weak, for making him human. She's made him the man he's become. With her words, and her prodding, and her guidance. She is the reason that he is who he is.
And he hates her for loving another man, for choosing that little camera-toting geek over him nearly three years ago. She's had a choice, more than once, and she kept choosing the man who eventually became her husband. Time and time again, she's pushed him to the side.
And he hates her for it.
"Let go of me!" she growls back at him, squirming, trying to get out of his all-too-strong grasp.
His blue eyes are as cold as ice staring into hers, with the slightest twinge of red around the pupils, a sure sign of his anger. Those eyes look nothing like the man she once knew, and with a glare of her own, she tells him as much.
"It's just great that you've embraced your Kryptonian side... because there is nothing human about you anymore."
Her emotions are heavy in her voice, and for a moment, he just stares at her.
And then she says the three words that seem to set him on fire even more.
"You disgust me..."
The red tint in his eyes grows, but no flames emerge.
"You're full of shit..." he murmurs, his teeth gritted. "Because I can smell you..."
Her brows furrow, and she starts to speak, but before she can, he lifts her leg around his waist.
And even through two pairs of jeans, she can feel him. She can feel how hard he is, and it makes her gasp.
She looks up at him with wide eyes, and before long, they begin to fill with one thing.
Lust.
In an instant, he's released her wrists, and her fingers are back in his hair, yanking his face back to hers, and she's kissing him with more hunger and need than she's ever felt in her entire life. He groans at her, rubbing against her, his hands moving along her sides until they reach her breasts.
With a single quick movement, he's pushed part of her top and bra back, revealing one rosy little peak to the brisk night air. His thumb brushes over it, and a moan catches in her throat.
She breaks the kiss at that moment, refusing to let him stay in control for very long.
Before he can really say a word or do anything, she reaches up, pushing the black trench coat off his big, broad shoulders. The slightest movement of his arms, and it hits the rooftop with a light thwack. Her hands then start to tug at his shirt, yanking and pulling at it, until finally, he, too, becomes so frustrated with it that he comes to her aid. With a loud splitting sound, the ugly black shirt rips down the middle, down the big silver S on the front, and it falls away.
His hands are back on her in an instant, and another rip fills the night air, as his hands fill with pieces of her jeans. The scraps of denim hit the rooftop, soon followed by her panties.
Faster than almost even he can blink, her hands are at his zipper, working it downward, as his hand touches her chin, raising her head for another hot kiss. He groans into her mouth when she releases him from the confines of his dark jeans, and her little hand wraps around his stiff, aching cock.
He moves almost in superspeed, lifting her up against the cold, dark wall, and her legs raise, wrapping around his hips in the seconds before he enters her.
The almost gentle way he pushes the broad head of his big, thick cock into her is the only thing that's slow about his actions. It's as if he wants to savor this moment, to freeze it in time. She has no idea how long he's waited for it, how much he's wanted it, how much he's wanted her.
His first hard, quick thrust makes her cry out, and makes her legs move higher, around his waist. Her ankles meet and lock around the backs of his lower thighs, and when he thrusts into her the second time, it's so deeply, she can't even tell where he ends and she begins. She soon finds her hips arching up to meet his, thrust for thrust, jagged, hard, rough, and with her arms wrapped around his shoulders, she struggles to hang on for dear life.
There's something downright animal, primal about their joining, as it continues. She calls him a bastard, a son-of-a-bitch, a big dumb alien. Each derogatory whisper in his ear just makes him thrust into her that much harder, which makes her cry out in both pleasure and in pain. In a way, she wants to hurt him, make him suffer, for all the pain he's caused her over the years, and she knows her words will hurt him the most, even in the midst of this heated union. And in some ways, it still gives her a sense of control. It's not just all him calling the shots, even if he does have her literally backed against the wall, nearly fucking her brains out.
"I hate you." she finds herself whispering. Tears begin to fill her eyes in the moments after she says the words. Her voice shakes as she speaks again. "You rotten alien bastard..."
He can hear the pain in her voice all too clear. He takes in everything she's saying, even though it does hurt him, so much more than she knows. He takes it because he knows, that on some level, he deserves it. He deserves the names, and her hate. He knows he's ruined her life, and nothing will change his mind about that. And in this moment, that makes him hate himself.
He pushes his inner hate outward, thrusting hard against her again, making her scream in torturous delight.
"Hate you..." he mutters back at her, his nose brushing hers, as he feels himself begin to near his climax. "Hate that I'll never have you like this again..." He tries to hide the emotion in his voice, but it's hard to miss.
Very hard to miss.
In fact, it makes her open her eyes, and stare at him for a long moment, before, finally, she presses her lips to his, kissing him with just as much passion as before, if not more.
He groans into her mouth, and slides home one last time. He shudders violently, exploding into her, his fingers digging hard into her hipbones. She lets out a muffled cry, shattering around him, trembling in his arms.
The rooftop is silent, then, save for the sound of their breathing.
Slowly, her eyes open, and she raises a hand to brush her fingers over his cheek.
"C-Clark..." she whispers, a bit hesitantly.
She soon learns that she was right to be hesitant.
He raises his head, and looks her right in the eye, with a sad, solemn look. That same look he'd given her when he'd left her months before.
Before she can say a word, or even blink, he's gone. Half-naked and alone on the rooftop, she has only his ripped, discarded shirt to keep her company.
A single tear falls from her cheek, and in that moment, she's not even sure which emotion she feels.
Love, or hate.
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Chlark; mentions of Chimmy
Spoilers: Savior.
Disclaimer: If I owned Smallville, *I* would be in charge of writing this season. NUFF SAID.
Summary: After years of an intense, complicated relationship, Chloe and Clark have come to realize that there's a fine line between love and hate. But a single moment of weakness may make them cross it.
Warnings: READ: This is for mature audiences only. To be blunt, it's smutty, people. If you're not into that, then don't read. You have been warned.
Notes: AU take on a scene from Savior, complete with massive angst and pretty hardcore sex. Thanks to lilbreck for the beta, and marikology for her help with the summary. Dedicated to ellyfanfiction, because her awesome fic never fails to keep me inspired, and keep me going in this fandom. Feedback is certainly loved. <333
Love and hate.
They both feel it.
Two conflicting emotions, compacted, compressed, into one tight, complicated bundle.
It flows through their veins, as sure and as quick as the blood that sustains their lives. Hers, human. His, Kryptonian.
It's pushed them, to this point, to this place, and has turned into something neither of them ever expected.
Passion.
Not even a minute ago, they were locked in a heated verbal battle, their tension and anger filling the night air.
And now, they're locked in a heated embrace, his mouth practically devouring hers.
She's not sure who made the first move.
She's not even sure she cares.
Their bodies suddenly just seemed to collide, her hands tangling in his messy dark hair, his arms wrapping around her like they hadn't in ages.
As her back hits the cold wall next to the door that leads back down into the Watchtower, she finds that she can hardly breathe, much less really think.
She loves him.
She's always loved him, from the very moment that she saw him.
Even while she was loving another man. Even after she'd married that man.
Her love for him has never stopped, and it never will.
No matter how many times he may hurt her, how he may rip out her broken, bruised heart, she knows that she will love him until the day her final breath escapes her.
He feels her moan into his mouth, feels her body tremble against his.
It feels like a wanton cry for attention, a sure sign of desperation and need.
He doesn't even surprise him that he feels that same need. He needs her, too, so badly, and he feels his body react almost automatically.
He loves her.
It's a fact that took him so very long to realize.
And when he finally did, it was too late. She belonged to someone else.
He chose to remain silent, and stand back, and let her marry a man he wasn't so sure was worthy of her.
It never changed how he felt.
It never took that love away.
When the kiss finally breaks, they're both breathing heavily, though he has no reason to. His forehead comes to rest against hers, and she can't help but realize it's probably the most intimate he's ever been with her.
She's still trying to catch her breath when she feels his lips brush over her cheek, then slowly start to slip down the side of her neck. She moans softly at the feather-soft movements, even as little inklings of thoughts re-enter her brain.
And when his big palm brushes over her left breast, that's what brings her back to herself, and she opens her eyes to look at him with anger.
"Get your filthy hands off me, you bastard."
Venom laces every single word as they leave her lips, and she shoves at his shoulders, trying her best to push him away.
She doesn't even want to look at him right now. Why would she want him to touch her?
She hates him.
She hates him for all the years of ignorance, the abuse, and yes, even the secret-keeping. She's done everything for him, everything in her power to help him. She's always done everything he's ever asked of her. And for what? For nothing. Nothing at all. She's taken years of his bullshit, and she's sick and tired of it.
And she's sick and tired of being the one who's there for him, and yet he's never there for her. Sure, he may save her life on a regular basis, but he's not there when she needs him the most. She needed him three months ago, and what did he do?
He walked out on her.
He abandoned her.
And she hates him for it.
"Make me." he hears himself growl at her, with just as much venom.
His hands move faster than she can even blink, grabbing her wrists, holding her still.
As his face nears hers again, he's not sure what's aching more, his heart, or the rapidly hardening erection hidden under his black denim.
He hates her.
He hates her for being so weak, so human. He hates her for making him so weak, for making him human. She's made him the man he's become. With her words, and her prodding, and her guidance. She is the reason that he is who he is.
And he hates her for loving another man, for choosing that little camera-toting geek over him nearly three years ago. She's had a choice, more than once, and she kept choosing the man who eventually became her husband. Time and time again, she's pushed him to the side.
And he hates her for it.
"Let go of me!" she growls back at him, squirming, trying to get out of his all-too-strong grasp.
His blue eyes are as cold as ice staring into hers, with the slightest twinge of red around the pupils, a sure sign of his anger. Those eyes look nothing like the man she once knew, and with a glare of her own, she tells him as much.
"It's just great that you've embraced your Kryptonian side... because there is nothing human about you anymore."
Her emotions are heavy in her voice, and for a moment, he just stares at her.
And then she says the three words that seem to set him on fire even more.
"You disgust me..."
The red tint in his eyes grows, but no flames emerge.
"You're full of shit..." he murmurs, his teeth gritted. "Because I can smell you..."
Her brows furrow, and she starts to speak, but before she can, he lifts her leg around his waist.
And even through two pairs of jeans, she can feel him. She can feel how hard he is, and it makes her gasp.
She looks up at him with wide eyes, and before long, they begin to fill with one thing.
Lust.
In an instant, he's released her wrists, and her fingers are back in his hair, yanking his face back to hers, and she's kissing him with more hunger and need than she's ever felt in her entire life. He groans at her, rubbing against her, his hands moving along her sides until they reach her breasts.
With a single quick movement, he's pushed part of her top and bra back, revealing one rosy little peak to the brisk night air. His thumb brushes over it, and a moan catches in her throat.
She breaks the kiss at that moment, refusing to let him stay in control for very long.
Before he can really say a word or do anything, she reaches up, pushing the black trench coat off his big, broad shoulders. The slightest movement of his arms, and it hits the rooftop with a light thwack. Her hands then start to tug at his shirt, yanking and pulling at it, until finally, he, too, becomes so frustrated with it that he comes to her aid. With a loud splitting sound, the ugly black shirt rips down the middle, down the big silver S on the front, and it falls away.
His hands are back on her in an instant, and another rip fills the night air, as his hands fill with pieces of her jeans. The scraps of denim hit the rooftop, soon followed by her panties.
Faster than almost even he can blink, her hands are at his zipper, working it downward, as his hand touches her chin, raising her head for another hot kiss. He groans into her mouth when she releases him from the confines of his dark jeans, and her little hand wraps around his stiff, aching cock.
He moves almost in superspeed, lifting her up against the cold, dark wall, and her legs raise, wrapping around his hips in the seconds before he enters her.
The almost gentle way he pushes the broad head of his big, thick cock into her is the only thing that's slow about his actions. It's as if he wants to savor this moment, to freeze it in time. She has no idea how long he's waited for it, how much he's wanted it, how much he's wanted her.
His first hard, quick thrust makes her cry out, and makes her legs move higher, around his waist. Her ankles meet and lock around the backs of his lower thighs, and when he thrusts into her the second time, it's so deeply, she can't even tell where he ends and she begins. She soon finds her hips arching up to meet his, thrust for thrust, jagged, hard, rough, and with her arms wrapped around his shoulders, she struggles to hang on for dear life.
There's something downright animal, primal about their joining, as it continues. She calls him a bastard, a son-of-a-bitch, a big dumb alien. Each derogatory whisper in his ear just makes him thrust into her that much harder, which makes her cry out in both pleasure and in pain. In a way, she wants to hurt him, make him suffer, for all the pain he's caused her over the years, and she knows her words will hurt him the most, even in the midst of this heated union. And in some ways, it still gives her a sense of control. It's not just all him calling the shots, even if he does have her literally backed against the wall, nearly fucking her brains out.
"I hate you." she finds herself whispering. Tears begin to fill her eyes in the moments after she says the words. Her voice shakes as she speaks again. "You rotten alien bastard..."
He can hear the pain in her voice all too clear. He takes in everything she's saying, even though it does hurt him, so much more than she knows. He takes it because he knows, that on some level, he deserves it. He deserves the names, and her hate. He knows he's ruined her life, and nothing will change his mind about that. And in this moment, that makes him hate himself.
He pushes his inner hate outward, thrusting hard against her again, making her scream in torturous delight.
"Hate you..." he mutters back at her, his nose brushing hers, as he feels himself begin to near his climax. "Hate that I'll never have you like this again..." He tries to hide the emotion in his voice, but it's hard to miss.
Very hard to miss.
In fact, it makes her open her eyes, and stare at him for a long moment, before, finally, she presses her lips to his, kissing him with just as much passion as before, if not more.
He groans into her mouth, and slides home one last time. He shudders violently, exploding into her, his fingers digging hard into her hipbones. She lets out a muffled cry, shattering around him, trembling in his arms.
The rooftop is silent, then, save for the sound of their breathing.
Slowly, her eyes open, and she raises a hand to brush her fingers over his cheek.
"C-Clark..." she whispers, a bit hesitantly.
She soon learns that she was right to be hesitant.
He raises his head, and looks her right in the eye, with a sad, solemn look. That same look he'd given her when he'd left her months before.
Before she can say a word, or even blink, he's gone. Half-naked and alone on the rooftop, she has only his ripped, discarded shirt to keep her company.
A single tear falls from her cheek, and in that moment, she's not even sure which emotion she feels.
Love, or hate.