Before Sunset (Part Twenty-One)

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"Tell me we don't have to, Chloe. Tell me this isn't about that."

"It's not. Please..."

"Then tell me what it's about. Tell me why." His eyes were harder now and she knew he needed an answer here or he wouldn't just stop, he'd be gone. Not physically. Their situation wouldn't allow for it. But in every other way. 

You made me coffee, she almost blurted, so desperate to be touched again. But she knew that wasn't the right answer. It wasn't even the truth. This wasn't about coffee. It was about Clark. Just like having sex in a freezing cave was about Clark. Even having sex with poor, eager Jimmy that summer in Metropolis was about Clark, or so not about Clark that she just had to do it. Now? It wasn't that Clark made her coffee. It was that Clark made her coffee. They were the same words, yet the meaning changed. It was because this was Clark. 

"Because it's you. It's always been you. That's why." As the words left her mouth, she nearly cringed. She meant to think of some other way to say that. Something that didn't sound so... true. 

His eyes stayed on hers as he swallowed hard and nodded. "Good. That's good. Okay," he said roughly and her mind started racing over the implication of what she'd said. Was this too much for him? Should she be telling him this mere minutes after he threw around a word like boyfriend? Because he could be scared off... the... he...

Her thoughts stuttered as his fingers began moving against her again. She had to think, had to figure out how to explain what she'd said, clarify it so he didn't get the wrong idea, make it more... more...

"More," she heard herself whisper as his head fell to her neck and his fingers kept sliding over her. She couldn't get her thoughts back on track and maybe that was for the best because whatever she wanted to say, it wasn't true. For someone who's always going on about the truth, you pretty much never tell it. Maybe it was time to start telling the truth. 

"I want you," she whispered as she smoothed her hands over his shoulders. She had to say it. It was the truth.

"Want you," he grunted, fingers moving faster, head lifting to look at her. 

She braced her hands against his chest and pushed upward, her own needs forgotten as she realized she really did have Clark Kent naked in broad daylight and he wasn't going anywhere. She rolled him over and sat up, looking her fill. "Always wanted you," she breathed, trying for a little more of that truth as he hadn't run away yet. She circled a flat nipple with her fingertip before leaning down to taste his skin.

"I... I wish I always wanted you. Could've been... God! Chloe, we could've..."

She flicked her tongue over his nipple to stop the lie. He didn't need to finish that for her to know it wasn't true. They couldn't have been here before. It took a lot to get here. It took arctic cold and near-death and cabin fever and one drunken night to get them to the point where they finally explored each other in cold sunlight. But they were here now and he was gasping her name now and he was... pushing her off him now. 

"What..."

"I didn't get to do that." He sat up, gripping her waist, staring at her breasts. "I need to do that." She found herself in his lap before she could complain that she was hardly getting to do anything. Of course, the second he bent his head and his soft lips glided and his decidedly-not-soft stubble grated, all thoughts of complaining scattered away along with any control she had over her limbs.

Her arms went limp at her side and her head dropped backward. She nearly dropped with it before his hands slid up her back, holding her off the floor even as the pressure of his lips pressed her downward, sucking now. It felt delicious, but not exactly safe. She gripped the back of his head with both hands as a last ditch attempt to keep herself from hitting the floor.

She didn't have to worry about it long. He straightened, pulling her with him and lifting his head. Now she wanted to complain. She pulled at his hair unconsciously... or consciously. As enthusiastic as a severely caffeinated Clark was, he always seemed to move on to something else just when things were getting good. She wanted to point that out, but he was wincing like he was in pain. "Clark?" Her hands gentled on his head, sliding to his cheek. "You okay?"

"Just trying to... Ah! Stop it."

"Stop what?" She was only trying to get a good look in his eyes. She shifted in his lap and his hands slid to her hips, gripping them hard. She felt him then, hard under her. She must be squashing him to death. "I'm sorry. I..." She tried to move off, but he gripped her harder. 

"Stop moving. I can't think when you move. I need to think. I have a plan."

"You do?" she asked, genuinely surprised. He hadn't exactly seemed focused.

"I've been planning it since you fell asleep last night. It was supposed to be after we talked and depended mostly on you really liking my speech and your coffee."

"I haven't exactly had my coffee. Not that I really care about coffee just now," she added hastily. "As far as a speech... I can pass on that, too."

"Yes. But if you did and you really liked it, you were supposed to be all impressed and let me... do things."

"Things?" He mentioned one of those things earlier, but they still didn't have chocolate.

"I want to... I want to lay you on that bearskin rug and,,,"

"I have no problem with that," she said quickly. She just wanted him to do something and stick to it.

"You aren't letting me finish."

Join the club, she wanted to say, but didn't. "Okay. Please finish." Somebody should.

"I want to lay you on that rug and,,," He took a deep breath, looked her deep in the eyes. "I want to f*ck you," he said lowly, then winced. "I'm sorry. That sounded really dirty and cool in my head, but it just came out rude. I think I had this whole scene planned out and I was supposed to be all sexy and you were supposed to be all Take me, Clark." He shook his head. "Maybe I should just get you the coffee and we can start over and I swear I'll be more polite this..."

She covered his lips with hers before he could go on. She didn't let up until he stopped mumbling beneath her lips and kissed her back, As adorable as Clark was, hopped up on caffeine, trying be politely sexy, she really needed to get this morning back on track. She pulled away and stood. "Why don't we skip all that for now and just move on to you laying me on that bearskin rug and f*cking me."

Clark gaped up at her from the bed. "You said f*cking."

"Well... I've said f*cking before."

"But not when it's about sex. That's really...um... hot," he finally finished, standing. "So why do I sound like a dork when I..."

"Clark!" She gripped the back of his neck and pulled him down. It was either that or climb him. "Just f*ck me," she whispered against his lips.

"See, there you go again. That's just so... Oh. Okay. Yeah." He suddenly kissed her back harder, walking her backward, hands moving to her a*s, kneading and gripping and lifting. Her feet left the floor and she held onto him for dear life as she started tipping again. She could tell he was trying to actually lay her on the rug, but she was in danger of a concussion on the stove. She pulled her lips away and glanced behind her. "Clark..."

"Mmm, Chloe," he said into her neck.

"No, Clark... my head, Don't..." She braced herself for impact with the stove when his eyes widened and he gripped her hard. Her world spun crazily and he landed on the rug just before she landed right on him.

He exhaled loudly beneath her. "That was close."

She nodded dumbly, too distracted by the feel of him beneath her. He was almost inside her. She stared at him, then down to where they were almost joined. 

His eyes followed. "Hey, Chloe? Do you think..."

"Yes," she gasped, closing her eyes as his hips shifted and the tip of him nudged her clit. She was still sensitive from his earlier doings and if she could just move a little...

She stilled as he gripped her waist. She opened her eyes and mouth to finally let him have it, but closed both as he spoke. "Lift your hips," he damned near growled.

He meant business now. Finally. She planted her knees on either side of him and did so, kneeling up. His hands gentled on her waist, thumbs sliding over her belly as she reached down, positioning him to...

"Chloe, wait."

"I'm done waiting, Clark." She lowered herself down on him before he could unveil any more plans. She gasped, squeezing her eyes shut at the invasion.

"Chloe? You okay?"

She tried to form words, but all her focus was down below, where she was being split in two. Her body pitched forward.

He caught her by the shoulders. "Does it hurt?" She felt one hand on her forehead. He was laying it flat like he was taking her temperature. "I tried to tell you. I was supposed to get you all ready like last time. I mean, it didn't hurt last time, did it? Unless it did and you didn't tell me. Did it hurt? Does it hurt? Chloe, please..."

"I'm fine, Clark," she finally got out. "I just need a minute." She opened her eyes. "It doesn't hurt --- at least not hurt hurt. It's just... full," she said on an exhale. Boy, was it? It hadn't felt nearly this full that night in the caves and she certainly hadn't felt this full her first time. This felt almost like a first time. She was half-worried some major organs were being rearranged in there.

Clark swallowed hard. "Yeah. It feels like it might be full. I mean, I feel like I'm filling or..." Clark's hand stopped taking her temperature and slid down to her cheek. "Are you sure you're okay?"

She tried for a smile. "I'm smiling, aren't I?"

"That's not a real one." His fingers moved to her lips. "The corners of your mouth are turned down. That's the one you give me when you say you're fine and you're not."

She laughed slightly. "Now you know when my smiles are fake?"

"A few days alone with you are getting me better acquainted with your fake smiles."

"I have real smiles."

"You do. They're just hardly ever directed at me." His index finger slid over her bottom lip. "I'm gonna fix that."

She wanted to trust him and everything he was implying so badly, but even thinking about would lead to her going over every reason not to trust. She bit him instead. Not hard, just enough to catch the pad of his finger in her teeth. She waited for him to pull his hand away, but he didn't. He left it there, thumb rubbing tiny circles on her chin, staring at her like he had no idea who she was. She released his finger, "Are you okay, Clark?"

"Sun's coming in," he rasped.

She could feel it directly on her back. "Is it in your eyes?"

"No, It's all around you." His eyes were nearly glassy as his hand left her face to slide down her neck, past her collarbone, so softly over her breast that he hardly seemed to be touching her at all. She shuddered and he groaned, pushing upwards. "Sorry."

"Don't be," she breathed. Somewhere between the way he was staring at her and the way he was touching her, it didn't hurt much anymore. Hardly hurt at all, really. She rocked her hips forward experimentally.

He shook beneath her, moaned her name. She liked the sound of it and moved again. "God, Chloe, that's... that's really..."

"I know." She wasn't sure what she was agreeing with, but it was something else. She could feel every inch of him, every tiny movement he made, she felt its aftershocks inside her, and crazily enough, it was only going to get better. She closed her eyes and braced her hands on his chest and rose up, moving slowly back down to the whisper of her name again. 

Tiny shocks raced through her at the feeling, so she did it again... and again... and again.

His hands weren't so gentle now, squeezing her breasts, gripping her hips, sliding just a bit as her skin became slick with the heat from the sun and the stove and her movements. Every touch seemed to spark an answering jolt inside her. She chased that feeling as she rocked over him, felt him sliding more easily inside her, moved faster...

"Ahhh!" She suddenly stilled and opened her eyes. She glanced down to see one of his hands sliding through her damp curls. She met his eyes as he flicked his thumb upward. "Cla... Uhhh!"

"That good?"

She wanted to ask him if he was crazy. Of course it was good. She could hardly breathe.

"Don't stop," he grunted. "Please don't stop."

She nodded shakily as he kept flicking her clit, squeezing her breasts. She moved again, a slow kneel up, then a shaky slide down as he kept working at her. His fingers lost rhythm on her clit as he pushed up, damned near lifting her knees off the floor. But he picked it up again, sliding nearly sloppily against her as she moved up and down, back and forth. She was losing rhythm, too. But somewhere in this mess, they were finding bliss. 

She knew he was, if his calls to God, Jesus, and her were any indication. And she definitely was. That sweet pulling sensation was gathering inside her. She knew it from countless times alone and one perfect time with Clark. Except now it was deeper, more intense. She felt everything, every movement she made and even the tiniest tremor from him. It was too much. Her hands slid slickly off his chest and she threw her head back in a desperate attempt to keep from falling forward.

"Beautiful... Jesus, Chloe... "

Her eyes opened on the ceiling as he pressed his thumb against her hard and his hips pushed up. This time her knees really did leave the floor before slamming back down as she cried out his name, shaking as her body turned to liquid and she collapsed over him, panting into his neck. She felt him shaking, too, as he pushed up one last time before growing still except for the tiny tremors she could still feel inside her.

Her eyes shut as languor stole over her body.

"That wasn't at all how I planned it," he said under her, the vibration of his voice rumbling through her chest.

She could only grunt.

"I mean, it turned out great for me, but I can do better."

Was he insane? 

"Just give me a minute."

Give me an hour... or six. Of course, she couldn't say it. Talking was kind of beyond her. She was technically dead right now.

"I wanted to get you off first like last time, then try for another. But don't worry. I swear, next time I'll..."

She groaned and planted her hands on the floor, figuring he wasn't about to stop talking anytime soon.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting up," she rasped, lifting a head that felt like a lead weight. 

"Oh, no, you don't." He took hold of her arms, his eyes narrowed.

"Clark, you're still... you know... in me."

"Oh." He glanced down. "Yeah, I am." He smiled, then dropped it as he met her eyes. "I just hope you're not gonna jump up and start tossing clothes at me, babbling about how many miles we have to cover or..."

"No, I won't." She could see why he'd think that, but no. No more hiding and avoiding. "I promise."

He stared warily at her. "Okay." Her strength failed her as she tried to lift up and he gathered her to him, rolling to the side and pulling out of her with a groan. "Just had to make sure," he said lowly, pulling her in. 

She felt this slight urge to pull away, but fought it. It was cold and he was running his hand up and down her back and this felt right. So why was she still so scared? She placed her hands against his chest. "Clark, I... I never meant to make you feel like I was brushing you off."

"Yeah. Well... it still felt that way." His hands stilled and he grew silent. 

She did, too, wondering what to say now. He had to know, after last night and this morning, how she felt, why she'd pushed him away, even if he was fed up with it. Was she supposed to say it all again? How impossible it was to let go of him, how there had never been anyone else that came close to making her feel the way he did, how it had always, always been him? Because she was afraid that, if she gave it voice again, it might really sink in for him and then where would they be? Thankfully, he spoke.

"Are you comfortable here? Or do you want to move to the bed?"

"Um... neither, really." She cleared her throat. "Our clothes have to be dry enough."

"So?" He started stroking her back again.

"So we should put them on."

"Why? We're not going anywhere, not today. It's Sunday."

"Sunday?" She squinted at him. "It's got to be Tuesday, at least."

"Well, it feels like a Sunday."

"Sunday or not... and it's not, we can't just stay here all day."

"Sure we can. People should relax on Sunday."

His hand was tracing circles on her back now and she found herself giving into that tranquil feeling. "Maybe they should," she said on a sigh. They hadn't actually relaxed since they got here, so focused on washing up, keeping warm, just surviving. It was warm now. The sun was nearly beating on them through the window and his hand was stroking its way down to the dip of her waist. She burrowed into his chest, feeling warm and safe and suddenly very relaxed. Her eyes blurred at the edges before they slid shut. She hazily reflected that she'd never fallen asleep uncovered, not even a sheet on her before. She wasn't sure if it was plain, old fatigue or the fact that he really did, and always had, made her feel safe. But she really was relaxed now, enough to sleep, even.

Until his fingers started tapping against her hip --- repeatedly.

She lifted her head opened her eyes on him, sort of scowling. "What's the matter?"

"I can't relax," he said, his tone nearly whiny.

She sighed and sat up, hugging her knees. "You just need to come down from the coffee high."

He raised up on his elbows. "You really think it's like a high?"

"Of course. It's not a global addiction for nothing."

He shrugged and sat up as well. "It still tastes like crap."

"You get past that. I remember my first cup." She closed her eyes. "I was studying for a test and I thought I'd just try it..."

"Oh, no." She opened her eyes as he stood. "Don't start that again. You're not going to get me off the subject any more with your... sexy coffee talk."

Again with the subject. Of course, as much as he jumped around, she couldn't pretend she had no idea what he wanted to talk about. "It might be easier not to talk about coffee if I had some," she said evenly.

He stared down at her. "Fair enough," he finally said, moving behind her to the stove. "I've been keeping it warm on the si... Ow!"

She turned and looked up. He was shaking his hand and staring balefully at a can. "You okay?"

"Just too hot." He picked up the blanket, balled at the end of the bearskin.

She giggled as he picked up the can with it and raced, buck-naked, to the counter, then stopped as it hit her that she was also naked, and in broad daylight, too. She scrambled for the quilt, shoved off to the side and threw it over herself. It seemed to be hitting Clark as well. He hastily put the can down and pulled the blanket around himself. He then stared from the hot can to the blanket, looking so unnerved, she had to giggle again as he gingerly took a corner of it and tried to pick up the can between his thumb and forefinger. 

She stood and secured the quilt around her. "Do you need some help or..."

"No. I got this." He took an empty can and poured the coffee in. "After a million tries, I finally got this just right. Three parts coffee," he picked up the red and white can she remembered briefly seeing last night, "And the rest in evaporated milk." He poured a fat dollop of the thick stuff in, then stirred it with the fork. She'd never used evaporated milk. She was a little scared of the yellowed color and backed away just a little when he came at her. Her knees hit the back of the bed and she sat hard. "Here you go," he said, smiling now.

She tucked the sheet more securely over her breasts and reached for it. She trusted him. And it was coffee, after all. 

She started to bring it to her lips when he sat down as well, nearly making her spill it. "Sorry."

"It's fine." She brought it to her lips again, then froze as she realized he was staring at her, and closely. She turned her head slightly. "This can't be that interesting."

"Oh... I didn't mean to..." He moved away slightly. "It's just that this is kind of like cooking for a food critic, you know?"

She scoffed. "Clark, I just drink a lot of it. Doesn't make me some coffee expert or..."

"Okay, okay, you're no expert. Now try it."

She tried for a sip again, then stopped. "Are you going to stare at me the whole time?"

"Maybe." She could hear the smile in his voice.

She smiled as well, rolling her eyes as she tipped the can closer. "Okay, then." She closed her eyes and let it in. It was hot, just this side of scalding, but that was how she liked it. She couldn't decide if it was the worst cup of coffee she'd ever had or the best. Some grounds slipped past her lips, and it tasted just a bit burnt, and so sweet her teeth ached. But it was coffee. And just for her. "It's good," she said, licking her lips. 

"Really?" Clark moved on the bed, nearly making her spill again. "You're not just saying that?"

"I am definitely impressed. You created coffee where there was none." 

"Be honest."

"Okay." She took another sip. "Definitely little sweeter than I take it. Must be the evaporated milk."

"See, I was worried it wasn't enough. I wanted it to taste less... less..."

"Less like coffee?"

He shrugged. "Yeah. Maybe."

She chuckled. "If I could pour some more coffee into this cream, it would be perfect."

"Well, there was more coffee. Hold on." He rushed to the counter, grabbed the hot can with a corner of the blanket again, and moved back to her. "Say when."

"Wait." She took a big gulp and held out her can. "Give me all of it."

He looked hesitant, but dumped the rest of the can in. She spied more grounds, but decided she'd just drink them up. She had to catch up to him, energy-wise, after all.

She swirled it around, then took another sip. "That's better," she said on a sigh.

"If you say so," he said doubtfully, sitting on the bed again.

She turned, leaning against the headboard, tucking her feet under her. "You really don't like coffee?"

"I don't know. I can drink it without retching, but it's not my favorite. It's not hot cocoa or..."

"Prune juice," she cut in. "After that, I'll never trust your taste again." She took another sip. It was growing on her. "Even the worst cup of coffee is better than the best glass of prune juice."

"Whatever you say." He leaned against the footboard and stretched his legs out. "Coffee's not all bad. It was kind of cool, getting so much stuff done. Almost like I had my powers again."

"Do you miss them?"

"I don't know. I've been too distracted to really miss them. I mean, there's us getting through this, then there's us... uh... well... That's pretty distracting." His calf was touching her thigh.

She ducked her head as her face heated up. "Yeah."

He suddenly stood up. "So... You had your coffee now? Got that out of your system?"

She stared into her can. "Um... Just a few more..."

"Never mind. I'll start." She could see him pacing out of the corner of her eye. "Here's the thing... You're my girlfriend now. Got it?"

To her credit, she only choked a little.


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PART TWENTY-TWO