While You Were Gone - NC17 - Part 3/5
Title: While You Were Gone
Category: Smallville
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Chloe/Oliver
Warning(s): Sexual Content
Word Count: 3,979
Summary: With Clark and Lois gone Chloe is left to her own devices, but there’s someone else willing to help pick up the pieces and in the process, heal himself along the way.
Previous: Part I, Part II,
sarcastic_fina
III.
With an amused grin, Oliver narrowed his brows at her. “What are you doing?”
Chloe continued to roll the wine glass in her hand. “I’m pretending I know something about wine other than two glasses and I’m giggly…”
With a half-snort, half-laugh, he shook his head. “Do I want to know?”
Rolling her eyes, she leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “Without the boys around to drive me up the wall, I fell in love with the cooking channel…”
He quirked an amused brow. “As long as you don’t sip, swill and spit…”
Grinning, she shrugged. “So what were you doing on your off-time in Prague? Other than wishing I was there, of course.”
“Naturally,” he agreed, tilting his head acquiescingly. “I did some sight-seeing to keep the charade up and…” He frowned comically. “No, the rest of the trip was definitely spent pining for you.”
Laughing, she sipped her wine. “Well as long as your trip was eventful…”
“I did manage to kick some bad guy butt somewhere in between pining and sight-seeing.”
“Good work. Those muscles aren’t all just for show then.”
He flexed and winked, enjoying her chuckle. “So you’ve noticed then.”
“Hard to miss.”
“If I’m going to parade around in leather, I should at least look good…”
“Exactly.”
Their eyes caught and held as their smiles grew, a moment shared.
“Can I get you anything for dessert?” a waitress suddenly interrupted.
Distracted, they both looked toward her abruptly.
“Uh no… Thank you. Everything was great,” Chloe answered, clearing her throat as discomfort set in.
Nodding, the waitress picked up the remaining plates and assured them she’d return with their check.
Just about to break the silence, Chloe opened her mouth to say something only to have her eyes caught by a couple of familiar figures walking past the front window. Her brow furrowed, eyes narrowing. It couldn’t be… Suddenly, she was standing up from her seat and moving across the restaurant.
“Uh, Chloe?” Oliver asked after her, rising to follow.
Without reply, she hurried out the front door, searching the dark streets for the two faces she swore she’d seen. “I… I thought…” She shook her head. They were nowhere to be seen. But… Had she imagined it like so many times before? She’d seen a couple bickering; both tall, dark hair, wildly waving hands and stubborn expressions.
With a sigh, she turned to face Oliver. At her expression, his confusion melted away. Like always, he understood without needing her to explain and simply gathered her into his arms, hugging her close. She found comfort there, face pressed to his chest, inhaling the scent that so embodied him. His arms were strong, heavy around her, encasing her as if a shield against all else. He kissed her hair, murmured something unintelligible and in thanks she squeezed his waist with her arms, simply accepting this moment like all those of the past. She would see someone who looked just like Clark or so resembled her cousin that she abandoned all else to make sure, only to come up empty and have Oliver there to wipe away the sadness once more. How long would it be until she stopped seeing them in other people’s faces?
The moment was once more interrupted as the maitre d’ came calling for them to pay for dinner. Their coats were brought out as Oliver handed over a credit card and before long, they were walking back to Queen Towers, her huddled against his side with his arm wrapped around her shoulders. Nights like these were often spent reminiscing about their friends or in silence, escaping in a movie as they sprawled on the couch, watching some B-list flick to occupy their minds. The elevator rose slow and quiet and while she knew her own apartment wasn’t far and she could easily go home and eat a bucket of ice cream, she’d rather spent it with him.
It was as he knelt knowingly next to his collection of DVD’s that she came to a new conclusion. She didn’t want this anymore, didn’t want to ignore or pretend or continue living in a past that wouldn’t have her. Crossing the room, she came to a decision; one that she knew would change the very footing of all that she relied on. He rose, his brows furrowed questioningly.
Taking a deep breath, she said, “Don’t hate me…”
“I could never-“
He was cut off by the impact of her lips against his. Her eyes were shut tight as if she expected shock and denial to reign heavy on his face and so sought to hide from it. But just as quickly as she’d kissed him, he began kissing her back. Her stiff body relaxed, melting forward into his. The steady form he made stood tall and strong as she used his to keep herself from falling into a graceless puddle at his feet. She’d imagined, more often than she’d admit to, that she’d wondered what it would be like to kiss him. He had beautiful lips; pink, soft-looking even when set in a firm frown. They were the kind of lips that knew what to do, how to kiss, how to caress and entice. All of this was speculation, of course, but now she knew for certain.
His hands cupped her cheeks before stroking her hair back and away, fingers burying at the nape of her neck. His mouth parted and she followed willingly, her tongue reaching, tangling and drowning in his. He tasted vaguely of the red wine they’d been enjoying but the heat of his mouth was overpowering, spreading from her tongue to her lips, fanning across her face and sliding sensually down her neck, scorching her spine with awareness. Her knees shook with the knowledge that she was about to be enveloped in the wildest of passions.
Somehow, her hands had found purchase on his shoulders, fingers playing with the collar of his coat. Encouraged into action, they slipped beneath and pushed up and away until the heavy fabric fell and slid down his arms, hanging limply from his bent elbows. Letting go of her, he shook his coat away and gripped her hips as their lips met in frenzied kisses while her hands worked on getting his dress shirt undone and off of him, stopping to stroke and explore his chest. Fed up and always impatient, he separated from her, breathing harshly as he simply tore open the last bit of his shirt and threw it to the ground before reaching for her once more.
Panting, she appreciatively buried herself against him once more. His mouth was diligently kissing her face, her neck, down her shoulder as he hastily drew her blouse off her shoulders, tearing it away and sending buttons flying carelessly. She couldn’t muster the indignation at having just lost her favorite red top seeing as she wanted it off as much as he did. His knuckles brushed against her stomach as he tugged the waistband of her skirt, yanking her up against him. His free hand cupped her ass and lifted her until her legs tangled around his waist, tight and possessive.
Arms hugged around his neck, she bent her head to kiss him once more, losing all sense of thought in the sensations of his lips pressed to her own, his teeth nibbling and his tongue dragging everywhere. Breathless, she drew away for a split-second. “Should we be--?”
He nodded vigorously, stumbling toward his bedroom. “I’ve waited… We’ve waited… Long enough… Right?” He stared up at her, stopping in the threshold of his room. His neck was strained, his hair in disarray from her fingers running through it, his lips swollen and breath coming in thick pants. He was beautiful. And scared… Worried that what she started was going to end…
One year, two months… Since Jimmy, Davis, Clark and Lois… Since he entered her life looking for redemption and gave her the chance for her own… Since she got up and faced the world again, with him at her side… She still thought of Jimmy, still wondered what it might’ve been like if he’d lived, if she’d done something different. But the truth of it was, they wouldn’t have lasted, not as either of them wanted to and while she missed him, regretted her part in his death, she’d moved on. And she loved him, she did, but… But it was a different kind of love than what it had been.
She stared into Oliver’s eyes, found just what she was meant to and smiled. “Yeah…” Stroking his neck, she leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his. “Yeah.” Letting go once more and knowing now that it was right and okay to do so, she kissed him, slow and gentle.
Shakily, he took that step forward and accepted the consequences in doing so. The door was kicked shut haphazardly as they reached the bed. He laid her back, following to cover her with his much larger body. She looked up at him, half-smiling. Excitement and desire built in her stomach, spreading throughout her like a slow burning fire. He knelt between her parted legs, bent forward and reached out, brushing her bangs from her forehead. His hand lowered, rubbed a lock of her hair wonderingly before his knuckles traced her neck and his fingers spread as his palm slid down the center of her body, stopping at the valley of her breasts. She lifted up on her elbows, their faces aligning as he took his cue to reach around and undo the clasp. The plain white fabric that covered her chest fell easily away from her, laying useless against her stomach. He tossed it away, cupping her ribs, thumbs lightly brushing along the underside of her breasts. Her breath caught, her head falling back.
She could feel his breath skitter across her bare skin as he moved nearer, lips pressing against the flutter of her heartbeat in her throat, tongue flicking out. Her hands wrapped around his biceps as she laid back and relaxed, feeling every sensation to its fullest. The flex of his muscles vibrated in her fingers as she held on tight, using his strength to keep her steady. His mouth lowered, torturously slow, exploring her fast moving chest, nose brushing her breasts, lips following. She watched his descent with bated breath, swallowed tight as his eyes lifted and caught hers. His chin slid along her nipple moments before his mouth clasped around it, tongue swirling and teeth scraping. He was methodical in his every keen touch, making her feel it in the roots of her hair down to the tips of her toes.
While his mouth enticed her breasts his hands were working her out of her skirt, drawing the confines of black material and lacey panties over her hips and down her thighs so she could kick them away. Naked entirely, she felt more comfortable now than she had ever before in similar situations. The way he touched her, looked at her, made her feel like there was nobody more beautiful, more exquisite than herself, as if he was entranced by her every inch.
She could feel the heat stirring between her thighs, the damp need that furthered with each kiss of his lips and touch of his hands. Her knees shook, legs falling further apart as he pressed against her, his hardness straining his pants and rubbing against her with enough friction to make her want more and yet not enough to bring her where she wanted desperately to be. Her hands gripped his shoulders, wandered down his back, squeezing, kneading, before finding the waist of his pants and tugging restlessly at them. She managed, with shaky hands, to undo his belt and push the material down slightly but before she could reach inside and wrap her fingers around him he’d unlatched from her breast and was kissing down her stomach. Her gut tightened, clenching as his mouth drew near to her slit.
One long stroke of his tongue along her folds had her legs falling impossibly apart and her body straining to arch. She felt herself quiver from the outside in, perched on the edge of oblivion, beautiful ecstasy so near and so far. His thumbs spread her for him before his mouth buried against her, suckling and tasting her as if the finest of delicacies. He held her down with his arm across her waist as she couldn’t help but buck against his attentive mouth. His finger slid inside her, long and thick, curved just right as he circled her clit with his tongue. She muffled a whimper, her eyes flying wide and then shutting tight as lights seemed to blur and explode in her vision. “God, Ollie…” she gasped as he sent her into a fit of spasms, shaking her with intense pleasure.
He licked her in slow strokes that brought her down from heaven and back to the moment. She felt weightless, dazed, beyond perfection. With a grin of smug satisfaction, he kissed her belly button affectionately before crawling up her body and burying his face against her neck, making her laugh effortlessly as he blew raspberries against her skin.
Lighthearted, she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her fingers in his hair, kneading his neck as he spread his body on top of hers and sighed.
“If you’re thinking of doing the chivalrous thing and saying that’ll be enough for tonight, rethink your plan,” she told him, lifting her brows knowingly.
He grinned. “You’re sure you can keep up?”
She tilted her hips, the contact of her heat against him making his smile wane and his jaw tighten. As his forehead fell to her shoulder, lost to the torturous beat of her rubbing, she whispered against his ear. “It’s not me you should be worrying about.”
With wanting precision she pushed his pants down, taking his boxer-briefs with them, and he had enough sense to kick them away. One large hand spread across her hip, lifting her up toward him for the taking. Their faces met, lips a breath apart. Even as the logistics were working in their lower halves -hips tilting, hands guiding- their eyes locked intimately, their lips came together gently. He thrust deep and her gasp had her lips parting for him, his tongue delving forward to intricately tangle with hers. Shared breaths, bending bodies, hands holding, stroking slick flesh. She felt him everywhere; his length deep inside, his fingers across her breasts, his body flexing, chest surging up and down in heavy rhythm with her own.
She remembered nights of just holding him, of listening to stories of his mischievous youth, of sneaking cookies from the kitchen and playing hide-and-go-seek with the maids. Those were nights where she cherished knowing the great Oliver Queen like she would any of her closest friends. He shared in grave detail all of the pitfalls of his life, so honest that she nearly felt as if she’d been there with him, feeling that anger and loss and fear.
One year, two months of just the two of them; fighting to live for and with both each other and themselves. Nights where he would hold her as she cried her heart out, of when he would laugh with her until her sides hurt. Countless conversations, stories, dinners that resembled dates but went untitled as such. Evenings spent with a bowl of popcorn and some movie that was meant to be an action/adventure and had no idea what the truth really was; what heroes were really like. He was there when she said goodbye to Jimmy for good, when she begged for her cousin to come home, when she wished Clark would quit being his big dumb alien self. He was there when she went to sleep, woke up, or if he couldn’t be, he was on the phone, the voice that never waned, was never heard saying goodbye for good. Like all the great men of her life, he would lay his life down for her own and she knew she’d do the same for him. Except, unlike the men before him, he was unwilling to walk away, for any reason.
He asked the hard questions and gave the honest answers. Picked her up when she fell and held her close when she needed it. He loved and cherished her when there was no one else and he didn’t expect anything in return except the friendship she freely gave. Where Clark had been her best friend, hugging her as no other could, Oliver had stood up and taken the position of protector and friend when Clark no longer would. He hugged her differently, yes, but with the same level of comfort and adoration. He took her hand when they walked together as if to remind her he was always there and she held tight, never wanting to let go. She was his first call when he returned from missions and the first face he wanted to see. The pain of Clark leaving still hurt but the knowledge that she had Oliver, that he wouldn’t make the same mistake, kept her going.
When he kissed her, she felt it to the deepest recesses of herself. Like a long-lost lover coming home he held her, caressed and loved her like no one else ever had or could. His hands gripped her hair as his body shook and withheld; as he prolonged the inevitable time and again to bring her to that desired end. She came around him twice, as his mouth suckled her breast and his fingers drew figure eights on her hip. She rolled onto her stomach, arched into him as he gripped her spread thighs and plunged in from behind, sinking in to the hilt, rubbing against her heavenly g-spot.
Elbows dug in against the bed, she cried out his name, singing it like hallelujah. He leaned over her, kissing her shoulder as he cupped her breast, massaging and squeezing while pumping faster, harder. He drew out as she was rocked once more, her body tightening and lifting for what seemed like agonizing moments of incredible euphoria. Even as she was gasping for air, fighting to keep her eyes open, he was pulling her into his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist. So sensitive and yet she wanted more, needed him again and again. Her arms were heavy on his shoulders, her forehead pressing damply against his own. He kissed her breathlessly; hands wrapped beneath her thighs, moving her on to him, up and down, slow and steady.
Her name was escaping his parted lips like a mantra. A bead of sweat escaped from his temple, down his cheek; without thought her tongue reached out and licked it away before she nuzzled his face with her nose and dragged her teeth along his jaw line. His breath hitched, his hands tightening around her and suddenly he was moving quicker, plunging deep inside her until she felt it reverberating through out her thrumming body.
His hands moved up her back, spread out to hold her as she leaned back, her breasts forced forward. He caught her nipple with his mouth, bit down just enough to have her cry out and clench around him. He moaned, his fingers digging into her skin. Running her hand up and down his neck, she pleaded, “Come for me… Please… O-Ollie… I wanna feel you… I need to…”
Words no longer existed for her after that. The air thinned, the room dimmed, all that was left was him, all around and inside her. Her body freely moved in every conceivable direction, taking the waves of pleasure while so overwhelmed she nearly tried to pull away. But he held tight, still thrusting, filling her with all of him. Slowly, the high began to fade, but still riding it, she barely felt it as he laid her back on the bed, hands rubbing at her legs and arms as if to bring feeling back. She laid spent, exhausted and thoroughly satisfied beyond understanding. She moved willingly into his arms as he tugged her close, wrapped himself around her and tossed a thin sheet across their bodies. She listened to his heart hammering in his chest, tried to calm her own as she processed all that just happened.
His fingers tangled in her hair, stayed there as he kissed the top of her head lingeringly.
“Sidekick?”
“Yeah,” she managed, voice quaky.
“Too early to tell you I love you?”
She smiled lazily. “I’m starting to think we’re both slow on the uptake…” She shook her head. “How exactly did we ignore this for a year?”
He laughed, his hand taking hers and holding on to it against his stomach. Had they been wearing clothes, and not just has mind-blowing sex, this might’ve been just the same as any other night…
With a yawn, she buried her face against his warm chest. “Oliver?”
“Mm?” he mumbled.
“I love you, too.”
And she did. Beyond reason or doubt.
For the first time in too long, everything seemed to be just right.
…
“Where the hell could she be at three in the morning?” Lois wondered, impatiently pacing the room. “Her long-lost cousin appears after one seriously crazy disappearing act and she’s not even here to greet me!?”
Clark rolled his eyes, glaring at the ceiling. “I’m sure she’ll throw you a welcome home party when she knows you’re back,” he sighed.
She rolled her eyes. “Not the point, Smallville. It’s three in the morning. I know Chlo’s got a busy schedule, but even she has to sleep!”
Rubbing at his temples, Clark shrugged. “Maybe she’s with the League.”
Suddenly, Lois came to a stop in the room and turned toward him, her brow furrowed. “Wait… Shouldn’t you know where she is?” Her brow quirked. “You and Chloe have been palling it up since high school; she knows where you are before you’re even there and vice versa…” Her eyes narrowed, arms lifting to cross over her chest.
Lips pursed, Clark looked away. “Chloe’s been busy and so have I. She’s not equipped with Lo-Jack,” he muttered.
Angry, she stepped forward. “What did you do?”
His head lifted abruptly. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t bullshit me, Smallville. You show up in the future without her in toe, she’s not there when I return, let alone hours later when she should be back from whatever superhero business she’s involved with now…” She shook her head suspiciously. “You screwed up somehow…” She sighed, throwing her hands up. “Great! I leave her in your so-called capable hands, thinking if anything happens she’ll at least have you around, and you can’t even handle that!”
“Excuse me if I’ve been a little busy trying to rescue you!”
“Rescue me?” she shouted, eyes flashing. “Listen up, Kent! I’m no damsel in distress! I could’ve Houdini’d myself back given enough time!”
“You were gone a year!” he exclaimed.
“Yeah, well, just because I was in the future doesn’t make day-to-day life a merry-go-round! I had work to do! There was a lot going on and it’s not like I just showed up and knew what the hell happened!”
Clark sighed, searching for the patience he’d meant to gain in his training and was now being severely tested. “Look, I’m sure Chloe is fine and she’ll be here any minute now.”
“You better hope so,” she warned, shaking her head. “If one hair is out of place on her pretty little head, I’m taking it out on you!”
Frowning, Clark nodded to appease her before returning to his brooding.
“And quit moping, already. It’s annoying.”
He rolled his eyes to himself and wished, not for the first time, that he had the ability to shut off his hearing.
[Next: Part IV.]