Before Sunset (Part Eight)

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His mouth moved over hers, catching her lips and stealing her breath before he stopped, leaning his forehead against hers. Chloe breathed in the air that felt almost warm between them. "This is happening," she whispered in wonder.

He lifted his head. "No." He stared at her lips. "Yes." He shook his head. "I... I don't know. It's just... You're always kissing me."

It startled a laugh out of her. "Always?"

He shrugged above her. "You' re always the one doing it. I never got to."

She pursed her lips. He had a point. "Still... Always? I've only kissed you three times."

"No." He lifted his head. "Five. That first day we met, in the medical center, in the Talon, that time with the guy in the woods, and in my loft."

She furrowed her brow. "I never kissed you in the Talon. I don't think I ever kissed you in the woods, either."

"Yes, you..." He blinked at her. "Never mind. I'll explain later."

"But..."

He swooped down again, lips gliding over hers, fitting themselves, as if trying to find the perfect spot. 

She'd been kissed before. She'd even kissed Clark before, though, by her count, only three times. And it was all her. Just a meeting of lips that went by so quickly, she could only experience it later, thinking that his were soft, but firm, and madly wondering what it would have been like if he actually kissed her back. She knew now. She tried to figure out if this truly was the best kiss she ever received or was she just making it so because it was Clark. She might tend to do that. It would be very embarrassing to have spent five years of her life pining over a guy who delivered a mediocre kiss.

But he didn't. God help her, he didn't. His lips were chapped, he tasted of beef jerky, which she still detested, and it was still so cold around them. This was not the ideal circumstance.

And it was perfect. 

She was well and truly lost now, so she opened her lips. His wrapped around her bottom lip. Her hips rose up under him without any command from her and something between a moan and a gasp fell from his lips before his tongue skimmed inside. Just a fleeting touch before he nipped her lips again. She wanted to sweep her tongue inside his mouth and feel the texture of his. She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him so close there could be no cold space between them. She did neither. She let him lead, wanting to fully feel that he was doing this - and to her. As for her arms, they were still pinned to the ground beside her.

She tugged lightly. "Clark," she said into his mouth.

He lifted his head. His eyes were heavy-lidded and still on her lips.

She tugged her wrists downward again and he met her eyes. His widened slightly. "Oh. Sorry." He removed his hands from her wrists, but slowly, fingers gliding over the soft underside of her arms. His eyes dropped to her lips again. "Can't stop kissing you," he whispered as he met her lips again.

She'd tell him she didn't want him to, but it was probably made clear by the way she lifted her hands to his head, digging her fingers into the slightly shaggy hair, holding him there so he knew not to stop. Never stop.

His chest was brushing hers, his body moving almost imperceptibly over hers. Or was she moving? All she knew for sure was that it was getting warmer. His kisses were getting wetter. Their movements against each other were getting faster and it wouldn't take much to... She lifted under him and she felt him there, sliding against her. One shift downward and he'd be inside. She was in the middle of angling her hips at him before she realized she was actually doing it. He was sliding in her and it was happening. It was actually happening...

He lifted his head, his eyes wide and nearly frightened. They both stilled, breaths mingling between them in puffs of steam. He looked down, then slid his eyes up, finally meeting hers with something akin to awe.

She held her eyes steady on his, swallowing hard. She knew the feeling. She didn't know if this moment had seemed inevitable or impossible to her. But here it was. She braced her hands on his shoulders and lifted against him.

He squeezed his eyes shut. "No."

She froze, feeling the tip of him inside her. "No?" She wasn't sure whether to push him away in anger or cry as if she'd lost her best friend. Because she had now. This wasn't something she could just brush aside. She'd crossed a line now. She closed her own eyes, waiting for him to pull away. She winced as he did, sliding downwards and out of her. She wasn't sure if she could do it now, smile and say they were better off as...

Her eyes snapped open as she felt his lips on her neck. "I can't let you do this for me. Not again. I need to..." His lips brushed behind her ear. "God, your skin is so soft."

Her eyes rolled back in her head as he licked there. Her hips rose again.

"Stop. Stop it," he grunted so harshly she held still, suspended just above the ground. His hand pressed her down. "Just wait," he breathed. "I need a minute. I can't..." Clark lifted his head as he shook against her. "Jesus, Chloe, I want... I want to help you."

She squinted up at him, and not just because the firelight was dimming. "Help me?"

"You know... Like this morning when you... I mean, how you... you know. You know?" 

She nearly laughed. "Clark, it's okay."

"It's not okay. I mean, you did and I didn't or... Well, I did and you didn't, so..."

"It's not like you owe me." She slid her hand to the nape of his neck where his hair was soft and wispy. "That's not what this is about. We need to move. We need to get warm."

"I can make you warm." He slid his hand down her stomach.

"If you think you have to prove something, that's just..."

His fingers reached her curls, then below. His head dropped to her chest. "You feel so warm already," he panted, his breath glancing over her breasts. "It's too much. You feel so wet, I... Is that for me? Oh, holy... " He shuddered, his fingers fluttering over her clit. 

"Clark..." She jolted against him.

He lifted his head again. "Is that good?"

Her only answer was a strangled moan as he did it again

"Chloe, tell me what to do. I can't... I hardly even know how to... I mean, I have no idea if..."

She convulsed as his fingers slid over her again. "That. Do that. It's good," she panted, almost wishing it wasn't. It was one thing when this was just getting it out of the way. She was an expert at that. The first day they met, she kissed him. She got it out of the way so they could go on as friends. Tonight, they'd get this out of the way. Get it over with so they could survive a night so close and so damned... naked. Then they could get through other nights pressed together without this looming over them. If it was just over...

Tiny shocks raced through her body as he rubbed over her.

This was supposed to get it over with for the both of them. 

This wasn't supposed to be so good.

**********************************

"Is that good?" he asked again. He wanted to be sure. He wanted to make it up to her. She said he didn't owe her, but he did. She might not understand, but that had been his first assisted orgasm. No matter what she'd said today, tonight had changed things. She'd pressed up against him, she'd touched him, she'd tried to kiss him... except for how he finally got her first. Tonight, he'd give it back. Things had changed. This wasn't just Chloe, go-to girl and best friend. This was naked Chloe, who moaned into his mouth and gripped his arms as he stroked her... pussy.

Even thinking the word was strange and made him slightly giggly.

But he was doing it. He was stroking her... pussy.

He buried his laugh in her neck, which was soft and feeling warmer now. Everything was feeling warmer now, especially her... pussy.

It wasn't even funny anymore. Because it was warm. Warmer than warm. And wet. And strange, but a good strange.

He lifted his head and studied her face, growing slightly damp in the flickering firelight. He didn't want her body to be strange to him. He wanted to know it. He wanted to know everything that made her...

She threw her head back and gasped as he flicked two fingers upward.

"Chloe," he whispered. "Is that it? Keep doing that?"

She opened her eyes, though only barely. "Yes... Keep... Clark..."

He did, flicking upwards, again, feeling something nearly... hard under the slippery skin of her. He moved his fingers over it, wanting to explore it, wishing he could see it closer, wanting...

"Oh, God! Clark!"

His eyes widened on her. He felt like he'd won the lottery somehow, the way she choked out his name. He flicked again and her body arched under him. He stilled. "Did you..." He stopped his question, knowing she hadn't. 

She opened her eyes. "It doesn't matter, Clark. Just..."

"It matters," he breathed. He knew orgasms, having had quite a few on his own, and the tension in her body told him she wasn't there yet. He'd get her there. He'd do it the same way he got himself there. By going faster...

He flicked upward once, then again, trying to hit that hard nub, circling as he missed, moving back around hitting it again, moving his fingers up and down and over and up and down again. He knew what to do now, what to touch. And it was just from this. Years of watching the odd porn didn't make it clear. The woman involved seemed to scream bloody murder no matter what the guy did. But he got it now. Just at the top, just under the skin, something nearly hard, work it faster...

Her eyes closed again and her hips shot upward.

"That's it. I got it." His arm started to hurt and he held it steady. Because he couldn't stop now. He was getting her there. He was doing this. He could hardly believe it, but he, Clark Kent, was about to make a girl come. Not just any girl. Chloe...

Chloe, who marked his essays with red pencil when he asked for help. Chloe, who made him watch documentaries on a Saturday because he wasn't outraged enough at what was going on in the world. Chloe, who always seemed to push him to do more, be more... Was it crazy that he felt a strange sense of accomplishment now? Something about having her speechless, but for the odd obscenity, made him feel he was finally getting something right for her.

"Chloe," he breathed, swirling his fingers around her. Her breaths were coming faster. He was going to make Chloe Sullivan come. It was as if he'd reached some goal he never knew he'd had.

He dropped his head to her chest and stared nearly entranced as his fingers kept swirling. She had beautiful breasts, plump and pale and pink and... strong. 

His head dropped off, hitting the packed-in clothes as her back arched from the ground.

She dropped back down, sheened with sweat and panting.

He grinned, unable to stop himself. "I did that," he sighed against her arm. He pulled himself up, though his right arm seemed to protest. "I did it, Chloe," he said, pulling himself over her.

"Mmm-hmmmm." She stared up at him, almost drunkenly and he dipped his head down, brushing her lips again, really hoping she was paying attention because he, Clark Kent, had made a girl come. And not just any girl. Chloe Sullivan. Who had the prettiest breasts he'd ever seen, in magazines or otherwise, and the warmest wettest...

"Pussy," he breathed, not even giggling at the word now. Because he was slipping against her again and it was not funny at all now. It was life or death now. He was hard, and painfully so, and she was beneath him. "Chloe..."

"Clark..." Her eyes opened wide. Her legs did too. He felt rather than saw that as she rose up beneath him.

He pushed forward, hardly aware of having done it. It was as if he was possessed. He knew what went where, but he never quite got it until now. He slid in, feeling gripped and sheathed and warm and wet and....

"I get it now." He did. He understood why this act had spawned an industry of films he was only now legally allowed to see. He got why countless teen movies were centered around a group of guys trying to get to this one thing. He got every dirty joke Pete had ever told him and why Lex seemed to have such trouble keeping it in his pants. This was what was waiting. This... 

Her hips met his and she winced, closing her eyes. "God, Clark..."

And it was her. Not just what was happening, It was that it was her... "Chloe... Are you okay?" And he hoped she was. Because he was more than okay, He felt his heartbeat all over his body, but that was nothing if she wasn't okay. "Please... Are you okay?"

"Okay," she breathed, licking her lips. "Did this before, but... you're so... Jesus, you're so..." 

He didn't even stop to ask what he was, because he felt suddenly angry. "You did this before?"

She held his gaze, then ran her hand from his shoulder to his hips, squeezing him there. "Not with you. It's us, Clark."

He closed his eyes, found himself repeating her words. "It's us." He started moving, instinct taking over. "It's us," he repeated. "God, Chloe. We're..." He pulled back, then pushed forward again, shaking. "We're really... Jesus! Hasn't this hit you? We're..."

"Don't let it hit me," she whispered, gripping his neck. "Keep moving."

He hardly had to be told. He stroked, feeling the pull of her as he moved out, then into her warmth again. She was warm. He was warm. Together, there was heat. It was easy to forget where they were, what they faced. Underneath a ratty blanket, in the shelter of a cave with a dying fire, they burned together.

His knees grew tired and he dropped down, still thrusting, not knowing if he even had the strength to keep... burning with her.

Her neck arched and her mouth opened wide on a gasp.

He had the inkling he was doing something right and he found the stamina to keep going, shoving upwards as her gasps turned to whimpers that sounded like his name. He wanted to hear it again, so he kept moving. A hard thrust inward, then her tight warmth nearly pushing him out, then again... and again. It was madness. The movies didn't do it justice. It was bliss. It was...

"No, no, no..."

He came back to himself to find her eyes squeezed shut, her head shaking against the makeshift pillow that was her jacket. "No?" He stopped. Because he could. He could if he had to. "Chloe. I can stop if..."

"No." Her eyes opened and he saw a tear slide down one side, disappearing down her cheek and into the pile of clothes they called a bed this night. "Don't stop." 

He ran a thumb under her eye. "Chloe..."

"It's just too much," she choked out, panting. "Too good." Her eyes held his and she gripped his neck, pulling him down. "It's too good, Clark," she said into his mouth. He found himself moving again without even telling himself to. "Wasn't supposed to be so... good... Uhhh! Clark!"

He wanted to stop. He wanted to ask her why it wasn't supposed to be good. To him, it seemed fairly simple. He'd never thought of it till now, but it seemed inevitable that this would be good. She'd called him a superhero. She'd always been the smartest girl he knew. How could this be anything but good? With all she was to him, with all she said he was to her... Somehow, they must have known this would be good.

Better than good.

As she gripped him inside her, it was so much more than good. He tried to think of a better word for it. Then again, she'd always had the way with the words. He had nothing in him but her name, nearly yelled into the darkness as he spilled inside her, then whimpered into her neck as he collapsed over her.

Some time later, he shivered, feeling moisture on his skin and on hers. He pulled out of her as she turned with a sleepy murmur of his name. He sat up with a bleary smile and turned to the dying fire. He carefully pulled the blanket over her as he crawled to the mouth of the cave. He pushed the last of their wood into the embers, blowing on them before turning back to her. Her arm groped behind her and he crept back, sliding under the covers behind her. 

He gripped her waist and she burrowed back into him.

He slid his mouth over the back of her neck, tightening his arm around her as she sighed.

Things had changed tonight. And not just for now.

Maybe forever.


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PART NINE