Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chloe felt strange, knocking on the door of an apartment that was still kind of hers, but she did.
"Yeah, I'm coming," an annoyed voice called out a moment before Lois opened the door. "Chloe." She heaved a huge sigh and leaned against the doorjamb. "To what do I owe the honor?"
Chloe rolled her eyes. "Oh, stop it. I've only been at Clark's for, like, two days."
"Yeah, well I still don't get it," Lois said, moving away and letting her in. "I was totally taking care of you. I even made you soup."
"Yeah. I still have the burns."
"And then you suddenly need fresh, country air." Lois pursed her lips. "I mean, I can take a hint."
"It's not you, Lois," Chloe insisted, rubbing her shoulder. "I just told Martha I'd look after Clark. Make sure he doesn't overdo it."
"Mmm-hmm. Likely. And I guess you can find other things for him to... do," she finished suggestively.
Chloe groaned. "It's not like that. Believe me." I wish, she added to herself. "I kind of need your help."
"With what?"
Chloe took a deep breath. "You'll see. Hold out your hand."
Lois did so, looking wary. Chloe figured she should, considering... She pulled a small swiss army knife from her bag and separated the tiny blade. "Wait, Chloe... What?"
Chloe held Lois' hand still. "Do you trust me?"
"Well, yeah, but..."
"Just trust me, Lois."
Lois nodded shakily and Chloe lowered the knife to her palm. She slashed it across once and leaned over it as Lois cursed. "Son of a..."
Chloe didn't listen. She thought of this week. The stress and agitation and worry and she felt them. She let her tears drop, hardly surprised anymore by the light that surrounded Lois' hand. Lois gasped as the cut seemed to disappear. Just then, Chloe let her hand go, cradling her own. There was no cut to see. But she could feel it. She clenched her fists against the pain, reminding herself that it wasn't really happening. She could control it.
She found Lois' arms around her and squeezed her hand. "All better." She stepped back, grabbing Lois' hand again. It was unmarked as hers was.
"I can't believe it," Lois said in wonder.
"Neither can I, but I can do it."
"Yeah, well..." Lois drew back and slapped Chloe on the arm.
"Ow!"
"You totally freaked me out, there."
"I'm sorry. But you were the only one I could go to with this." Chloe locked eyes with her. "Lois, I need you."
"Need me for what?"
"You don't have to, but... I want to hone this. I want to learn to control what happens to me after. That way, I can help people. But without all that pesky death and..." She laughed nervously.
Lois stood with her mouth agape. "So, you want me to be like some voodoo doll, so you can..."
"I know it sounds nuts, but you know that what I can do could really help someone. If I can get hold of it and..."
"Cut me up a few more times?" Lois asked, furrowing her brow.
"I know. It's crazy. Forget I asked." She started for the door.
"I didn't say I wouldn't do it," Lois said behind her. Chloe turned back. "Just wanted to be clear." She sighed and held out her arm. "But you better be really sad."
*********************************
It had been grueling. She'd, in a way, been cut all over today. Lois, too. It was hard to do and felt nearly sadistic. But there had been progress. After two hours, she could feel only a twinge. It was worse for Lois. She was the one actually experiencing it.
Chloe now owed her cousin company to that awful, loud dance club she wanted to go to. That and a ride there and back, every drink Lois wanted, and dinner before. But Lois seemed almost satisfied at the end. "Think what you can do, Chloe. You could cure cancer. You might even cure baldness."
She had a vision of herself crying on Lex Luthor's head and hair sprouting all over it. She shook it off. She really was tired and not just physically. She'd relived every painful event in her life today in an effort to squeeze out a few tears. The face of her mother still hovered in her mind.
She shuddered and went around the side of the house. She didn't want to go inside just yet. The sun was still out and she needed something to cheer her. Clark was probably off chasing Bizarro fruitlessly, not even thinking that Chloe could help. She had the answer. But he wouldn't listen.
She shuffled toward the barn. She figured they were both stressed out. It would be really nice to... relax. She knew exactly how she wanted to relax with Clark. But he wouldn't do it. Not even as Kal. She made her way up the steps and stared at the cabinet she knew held the box. She wished he'd put it on for both their sakes. These days would be so much easier to take if she knew there were the nights to look forward to.
Maybe he didn't want to let go. Maybe he didn't know how badly she wanted to. She opened the cabinet and stared down at the box. Maybe he should know. She brought the box to the house, only letting it go when she reached Clark's room. She placed it carefully on his bed.
There. Now he knows. She'd leave it up to him.
****************************************
When he came home, there was pizza- half sausage and mushroom for her, half pepperoni for him. He wanted to say thank you, but he was too tired. He ate it wordlessly, sitting torn and dirty across from her in the kitchen.
Bizarro was like an overgrown child without parents. He was dirty, now. He hadn't changed his clothes. Clark didn't know where he slept and what he ate. But he still taunted and teased and flied out of reach. It made Clark so angry, it was hard to feel sorry for him. But he did.
There was a piece of him out there that didn't understand life. He probably stole food and slept in abandoned houses like Kal had at first. He wasn't smart enough to steal money to pay for things. It was almost like having a recalcitrant little brother who wouldn't buckle down and fly right.
Chloe was staring at him across the counter, a look of concern etched on her face. "I'm fine," he grunted.
"Just wondering." She toyed with her pizza, pulling at the cheese. "Went back to work today."
"I know. How was it?"
She shrugged. "Jimmy's back."
"Really?" He tried to dredge up some enthusiasm. "That's great. For you, I mean."
"Not really." She met his eyes. "We broke up."
He sighed. "Chloe, it's because you're staying here, I can talk to him and..."
"It's not because of you, Clark. It's because of me. I just don't feel about him the way I should. Staying together would only hurt him in the end."
"Chloe, are you sure?"
She nodded sadly. "Yeah." She got up, scraping the pizza off her plate before putting it in the sink. She turned and stared at him hard.
"What?"
"Nothing." She smiled slightly. "I'm going to bed." She started away. "Maybe I'll see you," she threw over her shoulder.
He shook his head and finished his pizza. He wasn't sure what that meant.
Of course, when he headed to bed, he got her meaning clearly. The gray box was on his bed. And he knew who put it there. He felt a surge of anger and... Lust, a voice finished for him as he approached the bed. The box was open just a crack. Come on, Buddy. You know you need it. Much easier to concentrate when you're clear, right?
"Letting you at her won't clear things up," he whispered. Even so, he was opening the box.
Sure it will. You can't think with all that... tension.
It had been getting harder all week. He knew she was down the hall. He knew how easy it could be. Sometimes, he wished he could bury himself inside her, necklace or no. What would she say if it was truly him, all of him? He wondered if she'd still let him in. He wondered if he'd let himself remember the things he couldn't quite grasp. "No. I respect her. I can't use..."
She wants you to. She put it here. If that doesn't scream 'take me' then I don't know what does.
He felt himself hardening as his will weakened. "It'll confuse things. She'll hate me."
She'll hate you a lot more if you don't. Come on. Just an hour. I'll be good. I'll take it off. Don't I always take it off?
"But Chloe..."
She wants us, Clark. She's probably waiting there, wet and soft and ready.
Aren't you tired?
****************************************
She almost thought it was a dream. She'd waited an hour. She figured he'd got her "message," but wouldn't be answering it. So she slept. But not for long.
Soon, she felt a hand running down the length of her torso, then pushing her tank up past her breasts. She didn't open her eyes for fear she'd ruin it. It had been so long now. She was afraid one false move would have him tearing the necklace off and heading away from her. His hand slipped inside her pajama bottoms, finding her, digging his fingers through her curls.
"You're ready for me."
It wasn't a question, but she answered anyway. "Always." She opened her eyes. His glowed steadily. He wouldn't be leaving her tonight.
She turned on her side, taking his face with both hands. She kissed him softly, slipping her tongue into his mouth. He tasted like toothpaste. His hand was still working on her, making her softer and more liquid. She moaned into his mouth.
Her hand slipped down to his buttocks. He was naked except for the necklace that rested against her other hand. She thought of ripping it away. He couldn't deny them anymore if he saw the reality- that he was naked and that he'd come to her.
But she wouldn't. She couldn't risk this ending. They both needed it.
His hand slipped away from her and pulled at the elastic at her waist. "Yes," she whispered. He rose to his knees and pulled them down, kissing along her stomach until her pants were slipping off her feet and his tongue was slipping inside her. Sometimes Kal was so gentle that she knew he was not alone. Clark was here and, though he denied it to himself and to her, he was always here.
His tongue circled and dipped. His lips sucked and rubbed softly over her. It wasn't long before she felt as if she was wandering, floating outside her mind and into the spot where his mouth worked her and there was only feeling. But he pulled back and she retreated. He came over her and dipped his head to her neck, sucking at the spot where her pulse thrummed heavily.
The time for gentleness was over. He detached his mouth only to fully remove her shirt, pulling it over her head in jerky movements. His lips found that spot again and she moaned, knowing he'd mark her, hoping Clark would see it, wondering how he'd explain it to himself. But she pushed these thoughts away again, all the better to feel him as he slipped inside, bringing her knees up past his hips.
She didn't speak, just watched the hot puffs of breath from her mouth move his hair. He only let out short grunts, muffled against her neck as his lips still sucked, his tongue still laved, at her neck. It was just a silent room and a hot night and what comfort warm bodies and slick flesh could give as they banged and banged against each other.
She gripped the headboard as his pace sped up, near brutal and so deep that she closed her mouth tight. She didn't want to break the silence. Her senses were heightened by it and she wanted to feel every pass along the bottom of her clit, every dull slap of his balls against her ass, to smell the mingling of his sweat and her arousal.
His mouth left her neck with a loud pop as he sped up even more, gripping her hips and rising to his knees. Her hips left the bed as he rose further, still holding her up. She gripped the headboard tighter and pushed back, letting out a sharp squeak at the change in sensation. The tip rasped against her g-spot, rendering her no longer able to control what noises left her mouth.
His eyes were closed tight and she could hear him now, half-baked phrases pouring from him like a litany.
"F*ck... Just please... Jesus... Give me... want this... more."
He drove into her again and again. She now whimpered under the onslaught. He only had to look at her, his eyes flashing as they opened to her, and her whimpers turned to gasping cries. Her entire body tightened as she milked him, grasping him inside her tightly. Her hands fell away from the headboard as her body went limp. He still supported her hips as she lay boneless beneath him, jerking with his thrusts until he stiffened, calling out her name.
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