Action Time (Chapter Five)

And now we deal directly with Escape and all the "missing" scenes.

Chapter Five

"I got it," Oliver said, nudging her out of the way and pulling her suitcase from the trunk with his.

"It's not like I can't..."

"Least I can do is some heavy lifting after your valiant efforts in finding this," he looked toward the inn with a smirk, "best kept little secret."

"Okay." She shut the trunk and leaned against it. "Go on. Get it out."

"What? I love it. Look," he nodded behind him."A dirt path. How quaint."

"Okay, rich boy," she chuckled as she followed him onto the path. "Maybe this isn't like the resorts you're used to. But I was in the market for something without any crowds."

"And you picked this?" He snorted. "Bad idea. The hoards will be descending as soon as they hear about the famous rhubarb jelly." He nodded to a lopsided sign on the wide porch.

"Well, I like rhubarb." She climbed the steps and turned to him. "And for a guy who's been bunking on a couch in his office, you're pretty picky about where you sleep."

He shrugged and hefted their bags up the steps of the wide porch. "It's an expensive couch."

"Well, we're not here for the food." She skipped past the sign and ahead of him to the door, pulling it open. "We're not even here to sleep... much," she finished in a lower voice.

"And what are we here for?" he said expectantly, stopping in the doorway with their bags.

She sighed. "Oliver..."

"Come on, say it," he said with a grin. "You said it in the car."

"That was more... private," she whispered. She glanced toward the desk where a rather pretty woman with long, red hair looked up with a smile as the wind blew in.

"And she's blushing?" He chuckled, still standing in the doorway. "How precious. She can't even..."

"Stop it!" she hissed.

"What? Are we pretending to be strangers all weekend? We are actually sharing a room, aren't we? Or are we sneaking along darkened hallways and..."

"Hours of interrupted sex," she hissed, leaning in. "That's what I said. Now would you get in here so that can happen?"

"Good point," he said on a leer as he sidled by her, closer than he needed to, pressing her into the door just a little. "Oh, excuse me, Miss. So clumsy..." She let out a laugh and pushed him in. She pitched up against him as he stopped, turning back to her with a smirk. "Told you there'd be antlers."

"That's just one," she said, squinting at a buck's head over a lit fireplace.

"That we see now. Sure the place is covered with them."

"Could you stop?" she hissed, slapping at his arm as they moved to the front desk.

The pretty red head leaned over the head pushed a book forward. "Welcome to the MacDougal Inn. We're actually a little bit crowded right now and have only a few..."

"I called ahead," Chloe cut in with a smile. "Mr. and Mrs. Green."

"Mr. and Mrs., huh?" Oliver drawled as he set down their bags.

She nudged him and turned back to the girl, pulling the ledger to her. "I made reservations at least a week ago, Miss..."

"Just call me Maggie. And don't worry." She smiled "I've kept rooms aside for those with reservations."

"Good to know," Chloe said, signing in. Maybe this could be a regular thing. Sure, it was out of the way, but not too far from town.

"Oh... so are we honeymooning?" Oliver whispered in her ear. "We do get to share a room?"

She dug an elbow into his ribs. Did he want to ruin their perfectly good hide-away?

"What? I think that's a good cover," he hissed, "considering how loud you get when..."

She nudged him away and finished signing their very fake names with a flourish.

"I have your room all ready, Mrs. Green," Maggie slid the ledger back to herself, "except you didn't say what size bed you'd prefer." She glanced at Oliver as well.

"Make it a Queen," Chloe said before he could say something snarky.

"Okay," Maggie turned and grabbed a key off the few not-empty hooks. "Welcome to the MacDougal Inn."

Chloe snatched at the keys before Oliver did. "I got it," she said, grinning up at him, echoing his words from before.

He pulled her in and smirked at their innkeeper. "Thank you. The new missus and I are just dying to try the famous rhubarb jelly. It's pretty much the whole reason we came."

"Oliver..."

"Really?" The girl smiled earnestly.

"Definitely. We're jelly and jam enthusiasts, right... Pookie?" Chloe groaned as he pulled her in closer. "In fact, that's how we met. Our eyes met in the jelly-tasting tent at the Shelbyville County Fair and..."

"And the rest is history," Chloe cut in, pushing him toward the stairs. "Thanks so much."

"What?" he chuckled as he hefted their bags up the landing. "You picked the names. I was only having some fun."

"Keep having your fun," she hissed behind him, "and you can have hours of uninterrupted cold showers." She nudged him up the stairs. "Maybe this isn't five-star. But whatever you think about this place, I'm not losing it."

He stopped on the stairs. "You want to come back here?"

"Well, if we want to keep doing this, it's got to be somewhere out of the way and here is..."

"Is where you'd rather go than tell anyone about us," he said, stiffening and hefting their bags higher, moving faster up the stairs.

"Ollie..."

"No. I get it. Let's take long drives into the backwoods and lie all the time. So much easier." Oliver stopped. "Eight," he said loudly.

She drew up behind him. "What?"

"Isn't that our room?"

"Yes." Chloe sighed and moved around him to the door he'd indicated, unclenching the keys in her fist. "I know you've stayed in way worse places on missions," she said, pushing into the room, "so what's the real reason for the whining?"

"What? I haven't whined once." He followed her in, dropping the bags. "In fact, this place is really growing on me. Hey!" He moved to a door. "Matching plaid robes! Isn't it cute?" He opened a door. "And I guess we'll need them because this doesn't look like a bathroom."

She stared into the closet. That part was less than ideal. "Well... lots of B&Bs have shared bathrooms." She perked up. "Besides, the lady just said they were crowded tonight. So this place is probably better than it looks at first."

"Exactly. Crowded." He shut the closet door with a flourish. "So much for your secret hideaway. Now if you'd let me choose..."

"We would have ended up on the cover of a tabloid. And that is the real reason we're here, not because of the others knowing."

"Except for how you don't want the others to know," he sighed, lifting the bags onto the bed and opening his.

"You can't seriously think everyone knowing is a good thing. Bart alone would be..."

"Funny you should mention your little boyfriend." He pulled out a speedo. "Won't be needing this, I guess."

That was a shame, she thought, watching the tight little thing sail into a corner. "My little..." She turned back to Oliver. "You mean Bart?"

"I mean, you always let him flirt with you. And you didn't exactly say no, did you?"

"No to what?"

"To Clark's little charitable contribution. And what, by the way, was Lois' contribution? If that was some veiled reference to me, then..."

"Oh, my God!" She got it now. All the snappy little remarks, the rich boy act. "Oliver, that wasn't you at all. It was..."

"Because if you think of me as something you picked up because someone cast it off, then we're both better than..."

"God, no! Will you listen?" She stepped between him and his suitcase. "She tried to set me up. This intern at the Planet... Jeff or Johnny or something. Said he was just my type." She sighed. "Probably meaning he was something like Jimmy or..."

"Or Bart."

"Bart?"

"I mean, he's more your type," he said peevishly.

She moved around him. "What? How is he my type?"

"Sure he is. Boyish, likes B-movies, don't need a stepladder to kiss him."

She laughed. She had to. He was kind of cute when he was pouting. "I don't need a stepladder to kiss you."

He drew up and crossed his arms. "Yeah. Try it, then."

She rolled her eyes and lifted onto her toes. "Well, I am..." She looped her arms around his neck and pulled, but he stayed rigid. "If you'd just bend..."

"See?" He smirked. "Can't."

She groaned and placed her hands against his chest, rubbing lightly and waiting till he looked down with a spark of interest... then she pushed.

Their bags slid off as they landed on the bed with a bounce. She let out a low laugh as she met his lips. "Gotcha!"

"Cheated," he muttered against her.

She sighed and lifted her head. "You don't really think I'm lusting after Bart."

"No. I mean, probably not him. He's not your only type. I mean, you've gone for tall before. Clark used to set that pulse racing. Maybe he still..."

"Oh, my God!" She sat up, bracing her hands on his stomach, trying not to rub just a little. "Are we going to spend this entire time talking about other men?"

"And you don't do that? Last week, you're going on about me and leggy, loungerie models..."

"Well, that was then." Her hands toyed with the edge of his jacket. "I didn't know yet."

"Didn't know what?"

"That I was... attractive to you. Attractive at all."

He leaned up on his elbows. "Chloe... Have you seen you?"

She sighed and rolled off him, landing on her back. "Yes, I have. For years. So have plenty of guys that never..." She took a deep breath. "I mean, even Jimmy, I saw... I saw the way he'd look at... other girls," she finished, thinking of Kara and even, sometimes, Lois. She knew he loved her. Hell, she loved him. But sex... it was never quite there between them, not for him or for her. She wondered if he, as she often had, wanted something more. Then again, they were committed to each other, deeply in love. Jimmy... that wasn't about sex. Sex was sex. Love was love. But Oliver... "This isn't something I've ever had, ever felt. I've never felt like I was sexy. But you..." She leaned up on her elbow. "You make me feel that way. Really, you're the first to do it."

He leaned up as well. "Then what the hell is wrong with every other man who's ever looked at you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Short legs, short hair, short..." She glanced down at her chest. "Generally, I just come up short."

"You're not short. You're... tiny." He grinned and leaned over her. "Deliciously small and pocket-sized."

She snorted as he straddled her, tearing off his jacket. "Pocket-sized?"

"Mmmm." He flattened himself over her then grabbed her, rolling so he was below her. "Makes a man feel like an all-powerful giant," he murmured, sliding her jacket off and tossing it away. He grasped her waist. "Tiny, little package," he breathed as his hands moved over her hips and around to her bottom. "But big where it counts."

She gripped his wrists and pried them away. "Can you call it something besides big?"

"It's a compliment." He sat up, extricating his hands and placing them right back on her derriere. "In the immortal words of Sir Mix-a-lot..."

"Oh, no." She met his lips quickly, then pulled back. "No nineties rap. Not tonight."

He stilled. "If this is about the L.L. Cool J. 'Doin it' remix, I have no regrets. That was a hot playlist and you were having a damned good time..."

"Until Clark showed up and we had to pretend your shirt was off because I was tending your wound..."

"The one you gave me with a letter opener," he put in.

"I had to make it look convincing."

"But we could stop that if..." He took a deep breath, then suddenly smiled. "You know, we don't have to worry about that now. Nobody's going to look for us here."

She grinned and grasped the bottom of her top, lifting it over her head and letting it land where it will. "You warming up to this place?"

"The view helps," he said, sliding his hands up her stomach and over her bra.

His fingers danced over the lace and just under as he tugged, signalling her down to him. His lips brushed hers, brushed then clung, teasing little shivers from her before even the first lick of his tongue. Her mind drifted to the first time they kissed.

His lips clung at first, finding their mark, before they slid just a little. They were dry with only the barest hint of moisture as they opened, but only to close again... to cling. Her eyes slid shut as his bottom lip nipped at hers for just a second before His hands moved from the lapels to her neck, one thumb sliding up to press on her jaw. Her head turned slightly to the side as if under his command. His lips nudged more then caressed and her own parted, also under his thrall. And then he really kissed her.

It was always that way, yet strangely new every time. She knew the rhythm of his kiss by now, but it never failed to send shivers down her... entire body, really. It was always an introduction, then a sweet invasion, then...

He pulled back, panting. "God, I want you."

Then a confirmation of these things she was only beginning to know. She was wanted. She was desired. She was enough for someone and, from the way his eyes darkened as she moved off him, shimmying out of her jeans, more than enough.

And she found herself... grateful. Found herself stilling him when he started to get up to divest himself of his own clothes. Found herself pulling his shirt over his head and pushing him back down so she could work at his jeans. Found herself sexy as he stared at her, eyes half-mast as she drew them down his legs. And she wanted more of that lazy gaze. Wanted to give it all back tonight.

He leaned up, trying to pull at her panties, then her waist when she slapped him away. She gripped his wrists and pressed them down on the bed, leaning over him. "Let me," she said softly, moving one hand from his to trace the waistband of his jockey shorts.

"Chloe..."

"We haven't. Oliver, not once. Every time, you..."

"Well, there's a reason." He sat up. "You do that, it's game over... I mean until I have some recovery time and how much fun is that for you, with just me getting all the..."

"I think I'll survive," she cut in, cupping him through his shorts as he hissed.

"I just..." His eyes rolled back as her fingers moved against him. "I want it to be good for you. Good enough for someone like you," he finished on a breath as he dropped to the bed.

"Someone like me?" She stilled, still gripping him through the fabric.

He shuddered and lifted a hand to her face as she leaned over him. "So clean. So nice. Want to make it... about you." His hand fell away as she dipped her hand into his shorts, then pulled them down.

He was definitely generous with foreplay. If real life and the sitcom lamentations of most women were correct, most men weren't. So didn't he deserve something for good behavior? "Maybe this is nice for me. Maybe I want to make it good for you."

"You kidding?" He gasped as she gripped him fully. "Always good for me."

"I want to make it better than good," she whispered, just before lowering her head, her lips taking just the tip of him in. She thought of all the dirty videos she'd watched that week when he was away, just on the verge of them becoming... this, whatever it was. She tried to remember what she tried to frantically take in and, really, it all flew out of her head when he moaned. He moaned as she took more of him in, sucking lightly, so she breathed in through her nose and did it again, going lower until she felt him at the back of her throat and pulled back quickly, not wanting to choke.

But then, as she closed her lips on him as she moved up, he moaned her name, a hand brushing, then gripping her shoulder. She wanted more of that. Hell, she'd try her damnedest not to choke if he just moaned her name one more time. And he did, a strangled sort of sound as her tongue fluttered just on the tip of his c*ck. She felt his hand in her hair then, not pushing, but just gathering, fingers sliding through the strands in a gentle sort of massage as if to say that's all he could give her right now. And it was silly. He didn't need to give her anything. With every time they'd been together, he'd given more than he took. She wanted to give to him now. And she was close. As the rest of his body was shaking, so close...

She sucked harder, moved her hand to the base of his c*ck, circled it with her right as her left cradled his balls, sliding in circles as her cheeks hollowed and she drew upwards on him and... his body bowed upwards and she swallowed convulsively.

She hadn't meant to. Really, she hadn't thought of the end of this, just on giving him pleasure. But, in the end, she swallowed. It was salty and sour and she'd never call it tasty, but she took a split second to reflect that his own experiences with oral sex were surely not a culinary delight, either. But she swallowed for him, wanting to make him feel good, give back what he'd given her. The sound of her name, breathed out as his body arched upward, made her entire body tingle. It was nearly orgasmic... though only nearly.

She remembered his caveat about recovery time and tried to calm herself down as she rested her head on his chest, his heart still racing under his skin. "Good for you?" she asked with a laugh.

"You know damned well it was."

"Hmmm." She ran her hand over his stomach, reflecting that they were still sideways on the bed, their feet hanging off it. She supposed they would move... at some point. She wasn't in a big hurry. She encountered a mottled line at his side and traced the raised flesh. "What's this?" She'd felt it before, but never asked.

"A scar," he sighed, turning into her as she ran her finger up and down it.

"I know that. But from what?" She'd patched up enough of him to know that he never got scars this long and noticeable.

"My appendix."

She raised her head.

He smiled lazily. "Not exciting enough for you?"

She nodded. "Pretty boring, as scars go, but you have others," she sighed, sliding her fingers over his chest and arms and the many other scars. She chuckled. "At least most of your scars are exciting. I kind of like them. Shows you've lived."

"And what about yours?" He pushed her off him and loomed over her. "I like this one," he said, sliding a hand under her, a finger circling the middle of her left cheek.

"You would, considering the location. Anyway, that's not a scar. It's a birthmark and I hate it."

"What?" He gripped her shoulders and pushed and she fell on her stomach. "How could you hate that?" he said fondly, pulling her panties down. "It looks like a strawberry."

"Come on!" She tried to pull them up as he blocked her. "It looks like a smudge and nothing els..."

"I like it," he said, muffled as he rubbed his lips against it.

"Jesus, Ollie," she said, dislodging him and rolling over. "I was talking about your scars, not my silly birthmarks. Anyway, getting back to yours," she said, running her hands up his chest, "you are damn sexy and battle-worn." She ran her hand over one below his left nipple. "This?"

"Island injury." He lifted a hand to her hairline, tracing a slight line. "What's that?"

She sighed. "Telekinetic guy, chainsaw, no big deal." She slid a hand under his collarbone, tracing the line of twisted tissue beneath it. "That looks interesting."

"Not as interesting as this," he said, frowning as he turned her head. His fingers circled a round scar she knew well on her shoulder.

"That's from Clark."

Oliver stiffened. "When the hell..."

"I made him do it," she cut in. "He had to burn a hole in me to take out a chip Lex was using to track me. We were actually sure it was going to blow me up or..."

"Oh, that's definitely boring," Oliver cut in, lowering his lips to the damaged tissue, "as scars go."

She snorted and pulled him up. "Fine. We're both severely messed up. What's your point?"

"Maybe that's the point." He licked his lips, then smiled. "That we're both severely messed up."

Chloe drew back. "That's a dreary summation. Messed up," she said on a chuckle. "I was only talking about scars."

"So was I." Oliver's eyes narrowed. "Chloe, sometimes I think... You and me... I mean, that there might be..." He shut his mouth.

"What?"

"Nothing." He shrugged. "Anyway, I just mean you're sexily battle-worn yourself."

"God, I want you," she breathed, staring down the length of him and then... the length of him, which was growing. She leaned back on the bed, stretching luxuriously. "Ollie, I want you so much."

He leaned over her. "You want me?"

"I want you to f*ck me," she whispered, leaning up to him.

He drew back. She wondered why. "Is that what you want?"

She arched into him. "Mmmmm. More than anything."

He leaned into her and his eyes seemed to stay just a little longer than usual before he fell against her and... just stayed. Granted, she'd only been with Ollie weeks, but in those weeks she'd learned that she only had to say f*ck and he'd do just that and quickly. A dirty word from her mouth was usually all it took. But today, he seemed... hesitant.

She writhed under him. "Ollie, come inside..."

"Wait." He braced his hand hands on either side of her. "Just a minute. I need to... to... I just need..."

She nearly slapped herself. "Condoms," she sighed, half-giggling. She'd nearly forgot herself, what with how good he felt and... Her eyes narrowed on his, sort of wide themselves.

"Yes. Condoms. That's what... I mean... That's going to make everything more..."

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

They both froze at that. Chloe felt strangely disappointed. Selfish as it was, she hadn't had many nights away from DANGER and that scream, for lack of a better word screamed DANGER. Ollie felt... Well, she wasn't sure what he felt, but what he did was hand her one of the matching plaid robes he'd mocked and shoo her to the door.

Whatever danger she felt, he must have felt it, too. As he ushered her down the stairs, whispering harshly about the laptop she'd left in the car and whether it would do them any good here. She was ruminating on that as well until most of the guests came in from the porch, nattering about wolves being the strange noise and she wondered if that could be so or if she just preferred that noise to be some far-off woodland creature, easy to ignore, when something not so far-off or ignorable in the least confronted her.

Or her and Ollie. In matching robes. Without a stitch underneath.

It was Clark and Lois.


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CHAPTER SIX

Nitpicks: I actually have a few continuity issues with this episode. I hate that the innkeeper girl says their room is ready without having known what kind of bed to put in it. I know "Make it a queen," was supposed to be soooo hilarious, but realistically, having her say that right after saying the room is ready kind of belies the idea that the room is actually ready. Yes. I am nitpicking. But really! They could have said "I have some rooms available, but you didn't say what kind of bed you'd prefer." Sorry, but rewatching for fic continuity only brings out the flaws in canon "continuity."

Other minor WTFs addressed: I do not get the line about "Lois already made a kind donation in your name." I don't get it and, if her letting Oliver go is the kind donation referred to, ewwwwww. I had to address that.

Also, you'll see I had a line from the next ep referenced here because the line seemed sort of out of place, coming out of Chloe without much build-up (a lot of this relationship as TPTB did it in a nutshell). I thought it made more sense for it to be a callback to something Oliver said.

I also added scar discussion so it would give some more meaning to their talk to come. I'm just exploring every nook and cranny.