Before Sunset (Part Eighteen)

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Her lips brushed his earlobe and he did drop her, but quickly caught her, his feet stumbling in an awkward dance forward as he tried to keep his grip on her while staying upright. He lost the battle, pitching forward, luckily, onto the bed -- or almost. They were half-on it, but that didn't stop her from sucking at the skin just below his ear and he vaguely thought of stopping her because... he couldn't remember why. He didn't even want to now.

Clark tried to get them all the way on the bed, but she was doing naughty things involving her mouth and his ear and he gave up on it and pulled her backward, falling against a lump that must be Ernest's head. One of his lower teeth kind of poked into his hip, but he figured he could take it. She was straddling him and her hips were very squirmy, so it was a fair trade-off. 

He couldn't remember why he'd almost maybe sort of not wanted do this. Her teeth scraped his neck and her hips got even squirmier and he wondered what kind of an idiot would not want to do this. This and more...

It wasn't fair, her getting to do all the stuff. He had lots of stuff he needed to do. First thing was to get her boob, or even both of them, hanging out again. He slid his hands up her back and rolled them over. Her lips detached from his ear as her head fell back. "Wait a minute."

"What's wrong?" she gasped. 

His mind raced as much as it could in this situation, trying to figure out what was wrong. He'd remembered a second ago, but now she was staring up at him, eyes half-closed, lips half-open and he pretty much had no choice but to kiss her. And it must have been a good idea because she moaned into his mouth and one leg slid up his thigh and she surged upwards, her breasts brushing his...

He suddenly remembered and wondered if he could get her sheet untied while still kissing her. It would be tough. It would be easier if he looked down, but then he'd have to stop kissing her and he really didn't want to do that. That night in the cave, he'd discovered a new Chloe Sullivan. One that sighed and moaned and wriggled against him in the best ways. And he'd discovered that kissing New Chloe wasn't something you stopped doing if you had a choice. Tomorrow, Old Chloe might be back, might push him away again. It was what she did and, when she did, he wanted to know he'd made this count. He might as well jump in now that the damage was done...

Damage.

He did stop, then, remembering something else -- why he wanted to stop this in the first place.

He lifted his head, thinking of the word and what it meant. Sluggish as he was, he knew it meant something was ruined, broken, trashed. It was a terrible thought to have in the middle of kissing a pretty girl on a bearskin rug. When he thought it, he meant that that it was too late to turn back now, that he wanted her, that he was through fighting it because she might push him away again. But when she said it...

"Clark?" His eyes met hers as she lifted her hand to his face. "Don't stop..."

"You really think we're damaged now?"

She blinked up at him. "What?"

"You said that everything changed and the damage was done and I... I don't see how it's damage."

"I didn't mean damage. I just meant that things were different now. Like... I don't know. I don't have to pretend I don't wanna kiss your face off anymore."

He chuckled. "That's a funny thing to say." He laughed harder. "Kiss my face off..."

"Damn it, Clark." She pushed at his shoulder and he fell backwards, off Ernest and onto the floor.

There was something cold and wet underneath him and the smell of prunes and he realized they must have spilled their drinks when she attacked him. And kissed my face off. He giggled a little as she sat up.

"How are we supposed to make out if you keep laughing?"

"I dunno." He chuckled again. 

"I'm serious." She threw a leg over and pretty much sat right on him.

"Whoa." This was serious.

"I wanna make out with you and like... do other stuff. Maybe even all the stuff and I can't decide when you aren't being serious. This is really, really serious, Clark." She fell forward slightly and braced herself on his chest.

He nodded. It totally was. "I'm sorry. I guess I can't concen... um... think straight. I've been trying to get your sheet off forever now and I can't even do that."

"Oh. Okay, then." She suddenly gripped the sheet and lifted. It sailed behind her and his eyes followed it before he realized his eyes were stupid to look at a sheet when there was a naked girl sitting on him. "There. Now can you be serious?"

"Yes," he said... and seriously. "You are naked," he pointed out. 

She looked down. "Yeah."

He tried to keep the smile in. He was supposed to be serious and all, but it was impossible. "I never thought you'd be naked tonight."

She seemed to be thinking hard. "Neither did I. I didn't mean to be until I was. Is this weird?"

"No," he said quickly. "Not weird. I don't want you to stop being naked. I just... It's like a surprise." 

She smiled as well. "A nice one?"

He braced himself and sat up, ignoring the puddle his hand was in. "A very nice one."

She leaned in. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he whispered against her lips. 

"You shouldn't be surprised." She nipped his lips with her teeth. "You're the one that got me drunk."

"But I was only hoping you'd tell me your secrets." He let out a shaky breath as he felt her chest against his. "This is even better."

"What secrets?" she asked as she giggled and squirmed against him, which was awesome. 

"Just stuff." He ran a hand up her side. Boy, was she naked... and soft.

"Oh, really?" She gave a low laugh. "What kinda stuff?"

"Like about your fake article you say you wrote and all." He bent to brush his lips against her neck. "You're just soft everywhere."

"What?" He felt her hands against his chest. He was happy about it until he realized she was pushing him away... and hard.

His back hit the floor, knocking the wind out of him. "Ow," he wheezed.

"Say that again."

"I only said you were soft," he choked out. "Jeez!"

"No. The other thing."

He closed his eyes and sighed. Time to come clean. "Okay." He opened them and leaned up on his elbows. "You said you wrote this DCA article that time when I was sick, then I caught you saying you didn't, then you said you did again and then you changed the subject and you keep changing the subject and I want to know what you're hiding," There. He'd run out of breath by the end, but he got it out.

She nodded. "I see."

"Oh, Good. I really just wanted to know why you were so weird about it. And I figured you know my stuff now, so..."

"I see what you really want, Clark." She braced herself on his chest, then pushed up, which was kind of painful. "I get it." She stood and stared down at him. "How could I be so stupid? Here I thought you got me drunk because you actually wanted to have sex, but you're just pumping me for info."

He sat up. "That's not how..."

She held up a hand. "No. I'm used to it. I'm just here to feed you the facts. That's what I do, right? That's what I am to you."

"No!" He stood, not very steadily, but he got it done. "Jesus, Chloe. How can you think I don't want to have sex? I was almost doing it before you had to...."

"I'm onto you now, Clark." She strode to where her sheet lay on the floor and picked it up.

"No. Don't..."

It was too late. She jerked it over her head and down. Damn it! Just because they were fighting didn't mean she had to stop being naked. 

"The vodka didn't work, so you used sex to soften me up so I'll..."

"Hey. You jumped me. I..."

"Believe me, that is not a mistake I'll make again. You're safe."

"I don't wanna be safe," he growled. "I just want..., 

"What do you want?"

His eyes ran over her red face, then her heaving, covered chest, then back at her face again because she didn't seem to be in the mood for breast-staring. Screw it. He was done playing games. It was time to be honest. "I wanna know what you're hiding about when I was sick." He crossed his arms, figuring he should be completely honest. "Also, I wanna have sex."

"Oh, yeah?" She crossed her arms as well. "Pick one."

"What? That's not f...". 

"You can't have it all, Clark. If my secret is so important to you, then..." She lifted her chin. "Then fine. But you aren't getting any more out of me."

He stared her down. It was a trap. He was pretty sure she wasn't having sex with him now, no matter what he said. Old Chloe was back in full force. "I pick the secret," he said slowly.

"That's a stupid move." She laughed hoarsely. "You probably think the secret is something so mind-blowing when it's just stupid and predictable." She squared her shoulders and adjusted her sheet. "I didn't write an expose on the DCA."

He looked down. "Yeah. I kind of figured that."

"I wrote a letter to you."

He glanced up. "I never got a..."

"Of course you didn't. I can be pretty stupid over you, but you can't think I'm that stupid."

"Chloe, I never said you were st..."

"But I was, Clark. I spent hours poring over this letter that told you that I was the girl for you and how I'd wait for you to see me, really see me. How stupid is that?"

He drew back. "I...I don't..."

"I know you don't. I think I knew then. But that didn't stop me." She squeezed her eyes shut. "I even sat by your sickbed and read it and you said..." Her head dropped.

"Chloe, I don't remember any of..."

"You said 'Lana.'" She lifted her head, then shrugged. "You called for Lana and I really wish I'd taken the message then. I would have saved myself two more years of humiliation, watching you fall over, not just Lana, but any girl who isn't me." She strode over to the stool where her clothes were drying. "See? This is why I get prickly, Clark. I told you after the caves. I can't fall for this again."

"I remember," he said through his teeth. "I also remember you told me that you wouldn't resent me, but you're doing a hell of a lot of that right now."

She whirled around with a sock in her hands. "That was only about us staying friends. But you had to ruin it and run around with no shirt on and kiss me and..."

"What?" Clark scoffed. "If anyone's making it hard to be friends, it's you. You wanted to do laundry and be all... naked. And you're the nakedest. I can see through your stupid sheet right now."

She dropped the sock and crossed her arms over herself. "Like that's a reason to kiss somebody."

"You started it."

"Well, I'm finishing it. I'm not going here with you. I know how it ends."

He clenched his fists. "No, you don't. And if you wanna to remember things people said, then you might wanna remember that I said neither of us knows what's going to happen and I told you things were different now and you shot me down. This is all you." 

She opened and closed her mouth several times. "That's ridiculous! I didn't shoot anybody down. You weren't even... I only... The... uh..."

He smirked and nodded. "Where are your precious words now?"

"No. That's not how it happened. You were trying to be all honorable about some nonexistent baby and I just saved you the..." She turned back to her clothes. "Damn it! Why won't these dry?"

"Doesn't even matter. I give up. Go on. Be all mad at me for something that was, like, years ago that I don't even remember. I don't even care. I'm going to bed." He bent to grab Ernest and move him away from the spills. He'd clean them up, but they were her mess. She's the one that jumped him and made them drop their drinks -- and only to turn around and...

"You don't get to do this." She grabbed his arm and he straightened.

"I can go to bed when I..."

"You don't get to be mad. This isn't just about the letter. This is about every other time you've..."

"I'm not fighting with you anymore. I meant what I said. We had sex and that changed everything."

"That's crazy. It was only sex. Just..."

"There's no such thing as only sex," he said stiffly. "Not to me. And it does change everything. At least I'm the one admitting it. You either pretend it didn't happen or jump me, then pretend that didn't happen. I actually want to think about what that means... for us. And you don't because you just..." He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe you're just used to being mad at me. You've obviously been secretly mad at me for years."

"It's not like that. It's..." She put a hand to her head. "Listen, we've been drinking. Maybe this isn't the best time to talk about..."

"I think I've sobered up... mostly. But yeah. I'm done talking about this. It doesn't even go anywhere." He bent to Ernest again.

"No. I'll take the rug. I had the bed last night, so..."

"No. I've got it. I'd rather..."

She grabbed an end of the bear. "Clark, it's only fair that we take turns. Just give me..."

He dropped his end, but bent, grabbing her around the waist. She gave a slight gasp as he straightened up with her over his shoulder. "I really am done arguing." He strode to the bed and bent again, letting her fall to it. She stared up at him and, for just a second, he wanted to forget everything about the last ten minutes and slide in next to her. Her lashes lowered, her eyes went all soft again and he was pretty damned sure she wanted that, too.

But he really was tired in every way.

"Good night, Chloe." He moved back to Ernest and straightened him out. He could feel her eyes on him as he did so. He stood and turned to her, putting a hand on the blanket around his waist. "You might want to turn around."

She stared for what seemed like an hour before she finally grabbed the quilt and turned on her side. "Good night, Clark."




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