Restless Nights (Chapter 21)

I'm trying something new with comments and reviews. Some of you may have heard me grouse about how I'm never sure if people see that I reply to their comments. So I'm going to respond to the previous chapter's comments on this chapter, same with the next, the next... and so on for all my current fics! 

For general comments or comments on older, completed fics, I'll be replying on my fic homework posts. :)

That way, I feel we can all have a nice rapport! So replies after the chapter!

Well, I promised smut and I definitely intend to deliver in a big way. But our duo still has a few things to talk out first. I just want as little as possible unspoken between them before the first time. 

But the smut shall take up the rest of this chapter and, I hope, make up for making you guys wait more than a month for it! (So sorry. It’s wedding season! I have NO time!)

Once again, some of this was done in HWGH and is being repurposed here. PREVIOUS CHAPTER

And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?

Chapter 21

He gripped her arms. “When are you ever mine?” He pulled her in, meeting her lips.

She kissed him back just as hard, gripping his shoulders, his neck, his hair… anything she could touch. She vaguely thought about stopping this. They weren’t finished, were they? She still hadn’t told him about Sebastian Kane and… She let out a gasp as his lips moved to her neck, selfishly wondering if he didn’t need to know. Maybe they’d said enough tonight. She pulled away and met his eyes, pushed against him. 

He moved backward to the couch, falling on it as it protested with a crack, pulling her with him before he suddenly stilled under her. “I… I don’t… I can’t…”

She stopped him with her mouth. She knew what he was going to say and she didn’t want to hear it. 

He held her away. “Chloe, we need to st…”

She shook her head hard. “We’re not stopping.”

“Chloe, I don’t know if I can do this,” he breathed, “If I can control…”

“But you can,” she broke in, leaning in, pressing kisses along his jaw. “What about Christmas, Clark? Did you hurt me, then?”

“No,” he groaned, but he still held her away again. “That I can do for you, but you have to stop touching me so I…”

“I don’t want to stop touching you.” She squirmed out of his grasp and leaned over him, pulling at his shirt. “Last time, you didn’t let me…”

“Yeah.” He let out a pained laugh. “There was a reason for that. Chloe…” 

“You keep talking about wooing me and dating,” she broke in lightly, sliding her hands under his shirt. “Isn’t this part of it?”

“Yeah. But I’m thinking just the you parts are…” He stopped on a hiss as her hands moved lower, jumping slightly. “Chloe, we can do other stuff. Just not the… end parts… for me, not… I don’t know how the ending goes with…”

She gripped him through his jeans. “Don’t you think we should find out?”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “Not if I hurt you. Chloe, please stop.”

She did, frowning as she moved off him. “You’re serious.” She shook her head, dazed. “Let me get this straight… You keep going on about how we’re dating. Do you seriously think we’re never going to…”

“I’m not saying never. I’m just saying…” He sighed and stood, readjusting his shirt. “Chloe, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“And how do you know you will?”

“I don’t know I won’t.”

“But if we never…” She broke off. “This is crazy. If anyone should be afraid it’s me. I'm the one who’s actually hurt you. You’ve never…”

“That’s ridiculous. You scratched me a little. Besides, we got through the… you parts of things just fine.”

“Then who’s to say the you parts…” She stopped, annoyed at the silliness of not calling things what they were. Maybe Clark was too provincial for it, but she certainly wasn’t. “Clark, I seriously don’t see us going any further if you won’t let me make you come.”

He just stared at her, swallowing hard. 

“We can at least try.”

He was still silent.

“What is this really about?” she prodded. “Is this about the pregnancy or Davis or…”

He glanced up. “Of course not,” he said quickly… too quickly.

“Maybe it’s both,” she said, latching on to that, gesturing to her stomach. “It’s obvious the last time I did this was with Davis. If you still resent me for…”

“I don’t resent you. I get it. You had feelings for him then. Maybe even loved him a…”

“Loved him?” she cut in. “When did I ever say…”

“I’m not saying you love him now, but…”

“I didn't love him then!”

“Chloe, come on. You didn’t just go away with him. You stopped me from sending him to the Phantom Zone. You…” 

"Do you seriously think that was all about Davis?”

“It had to be, a little bit. I know you said I couldn’t live with myself if I…” 

“You wouldn’t have and you know it. The innocent lives...”

“I think I could have managed it, Chloe,” he sneered, eyes narrowed. “By then, Davis was the cornfield killer. He wasn't an innocent…”

"I'm not talking about Davis,” she said wearily. “Didn't you find Kara there? And there was another girl. You told me about her, how she saved you.”

"Raya,” Clark said sadly, dropping back to the couch. 

“That place got a lot of traffic and not all of it what's monsters and criminals,” Chloe said, hammering it in. “Do you think they deserved to be stuck in some harsh dimension with a beast that couldn't be killed? It would grind every other life there under its heel. Besides, you said when I woke that you didn’t want to send the Beast to the future and foist this problem off on the future. But the zone… that would have been worse.” She moved to the table and sat tiredly, this night wearing her down now. “Not only would we have been foisting this problem on another world, but it could have fallen back on us again. We’ve tangled with the Phantom Zone more than once. What if the beast just tore through it, getting stronger and stronger with everything the Zone residents toss at it? We now have an even stronger beast and a Phantom Zone full of dead people! And, if it gets out again, a doomed planet with nothing we can do to stop…”

“Why didn't you say this then?” he burst out. He moved to take the seat across from her. “Chloe, if you’d said this then, I might have understood.”

“But would you have let me go?”

He stared at the table. “No.”

“Well, there you go.” She took a deep breath. “Davis was right there. I couldn't say this in front of him. Leaving with him, convincing him I could love him was the only thing I knew to do. It's not black and white, Clark. There was no perfect solution. Not even now, with that beast shot into space. It's not a perfect solution. I think we're always going to be wondering if the Beast drops back down, stronger than ever. But then… All I knew was that I could calm it and..."

"But not forever."

"No. But as long as I possibly could,” she said softly. "It was the path that contained the least... death. If I stop him from changing, stop him from getting hurt and getting stronger, then... It was stupid, Clark, and it was wrong, but it was all I knew to do at the time. I was scrambling for a solution and the closest I could come was that... he loved me. Or he thought he did." She wondered if he still thought he did. He might know she didn't now, though she still cared, but she hated the idea of Davis, locked away and pining for her. She pushed the thought away, saying softly, sadly, "I don't know. Davis had never been loved. I’m not sure he really knew what love was.” 

"And what about you?" Clark met her eyes.

“I cared about him.” She held his stare. “But I wasn't in love with him, not for a second, because I could never... I could never get over you. I meant it when I said it was all for you. All that year, every stupid thing, every terrible…” Her voice broke as her eyes filled suddenly. She had to tell him now or she never would. 

He stood and came around the table. “Chloe…”

“No, Clark. Let me finish. Don’t start…”

He pulled her up, anyway, folding his arms around her. “It’s okay. I hated that year, too. But it’s over. We can get past it. We can get past anything toge…”

“No, Clark. Not anything.” She leaned into him despite herself, her eyes spilling over, suddenly wondering if she’d found something to break them, if this was the last time he’d ever hold her like this, make her feel so safe. “What if I told you I did something so horrible that it made me wonder if I was even a good person?” she said into his shirt.

“That’s crazy talk,” he said into her hair. "You were always the best person I knew. I told you that once."

"That was before," she sobbed.

"Before what?"

"I have secrets, too, Clark. Ones you don't even know and..." She broke off, shaking her head against his chest.

"Then tell me them. We don't have any lies tonight."

"I can't," she breathed, pulling away, sniffling.

He didn't let her. He kept one arm at her back and tipped her chin up. "Chloe, you can tell me anything.”

She looked everywhere but at him. "Even if this changes how you see me? Forever?" 

He huffed out a laugh. "It can’t be that bad. It's not like you killed someone."

She met his eyes, taking a deep breath. Now or never. "Yes, it is. It's exactly like that.”

He stared at her silently for a long time. 

It was just as well. She couldn’t think of any way to go on.

"You know, things have happened in your life," he said carefully. "You've had to defend yourself against a lot of..."

"This wasn't self-defense. Maybe... very indirectly, but...” She pushed away from him, paced away. “This wasn’t some thug coming at me with murder in his eyes. It wasn't someone bent on killing me or anyone else." She stopped and turned back to him, hugging her arms. "He was in a hospital bed, for crying out loud. It wasn't even remotely self-defense. His name was Sebastian Kane... or Wilson Turner, really. You'd think I could get it straight, considering I ended his existence."

"Sebastian Kane. I remember him." Clark shook his head. "He attacked Lois and... I stopped him. But I hardly met him. I didn't even think about him later. I didn't even know he died."

"Guess he had to," she said, her voice trembling. "He was a memory thief, Clark. He was in Black Creek the same time I was, apparently. He could read people with nothing more than a touch. He said something about what he saw when he touched you, and I... touched him right back. I killed him."

Clark sank to the couch. "I can’t imagine you… How could you have killed him?" he said, almost to himself. "You'd never..."

"I killed him with a touch," she clarified miserably.

He shook his head. "That makes no sense. Maybe you only think you're responsible or..."

"He was a memory thief and I was infected with enough data to overload him, Clark. And the human mind is simply a highly sophisticated computer," she said, her voice suddenly a low drone. "Download too much information, and it crashes. And all the data's lost." She shuddered. "I said that. It's still stuck in there, so clear now, replaying in my head. At the time, it was all so hazy, as if it wasn't even happening, but it was. I could hear my voice, but with no... emotion. Later on, as I walked away from that room, realizing what just happened, I thought... I mean, how could I be so cold? He was human, wasn't he? He was just a confused metahuman who'd been tortured at Black Creek like so many others. And hadn't I been helping people like him for months? Why would I kill the very kind of person I was trying to save? So I locked it away. I buried it. It wasn't hard to do, my mind was bursting as it was, with Brainiac, with more than I could handle even without..."

"It was Brainiac," Clark cut in sharply. "It had to be."

"No," she said brokenly. "See, I've been over this. Brainiac was just the weapon. It had to be me. Ollie said it best. Protecting you is my natural instinct. Not Brainiac's."

"Oliver knew about this?"

"He saw the footage of me walking away as he died," Chloe said on a whisper. "He wanted to be sure I kept quiet about him and Lex, so he said, if I told, he'd tell you what I..."

"What?" Clark stood abruptly. "He blackmailed you? That son of a..."

"Jesus, why did I say that?" She moved to Clark. "Clark, let it go. He was in a dark place."

"And that means he can blackmail you and get away with it?" He clenched his fists. 

"Things are different now. It doesn't even matter now if it was blackmail or…"

"It's blackmail,” Clark broke in harshly. “It mattered then and it matters now. Because you let him. You could have told me yourself."

"And have you hate me?”

“I wouldn't have hated you. I would have helped you. Because I would have known that you running around killing people is not you at all!"

"Maybe it is when it comes to you!" she yelled, then quieted. "Or it was then. Maybe you were right to try to take my memories if I was such a dangerous..."

"Don't say that. You aren't dangerous. You were possessed,” he said softly, moving to her. 

She shook her head and backed away. "It had to be me. Why would Brainiac want to protect your secret?"

"Why would he want to do half the things he did? He wanted Davis to fall in love with you. But why would he want that when whatever feelings he had for you calmed him? Why would he take your memories? Why would he want to inhabit you when he could have taken someone more powerful?" He pinned her with his gaze. "You're not the only one who's thought these things over. Can't you at least admit it's possible that airing my secret to the general public was something Brainiac didn't want? Because I don't think he'd want people too aware what was going on under their noses. And you know what, Chloe? We'll never know what he wanted to do because, in the end, he didn't win." He moved closer.

"Don't," she said brokenly, backing away until she felt the dining table behind her. "Don't make it about Brainiac. I…”

“But it was. You have nothing to be sorry for," he breathed, taking her shoulders in his hands, pulling her in.

"No. I do." She stiffened, but fell against him. "I did terrible things for you."

"So did I," he said, pressing his lips to her forehead.

"It was all for you," she breathed against his neck, something in her shifting at the relief of it all. He knew and he didn’t think any less of her. He didn’t even think it was her. Maybe if he believed it, she could. Regardless, she could feel that shift in him as well. What first felt like comfort was now something altogether different.

"You needed me," he whispered, letting those lips move to her temple, down her cheek. "I needed you. Need you now."

"Always need you." Her head moved under his, her lips brushed his. "Even when I knew it was wrong. Why couldn't I stop?"

"It's not wrong," he whispered. "Just when we're apart... everything's wrong. Can’t do that anymore," he finished, muffled against her lips. He cradled the back of her head, pulling her up against him. Her mouth opened under his and he moved them backwards.

They missed the couch, moving clumsily through the living room, unwilling to part their lips even as they stumbled into the front hall. About the time she tripped against the bottom step, Clark tore his lips away, catching her and lifting her up.

They just stared at each other, there at the base of the steps. There was a question there (Should they? Was it safe? What if…), but she was sure neither wanted to say it out loud and break this moment. They’d talked enough tonight. This was happening.

He started up the stairs, still holding her body and her gaze, until she leaned against his neck, pressing light kisses there. He sped up suddenly and she found them in his room. He let her slide down his body as she pressed one long, open-mouthed kiss where his neck and shoulder met. 

He groaned and pulled away, working at her top, but she stilled his hands, moving her own under his T-shirt, determined. There was no way she was letting Clark get her shirt off before she got to run her hands all over his chest. By the time she slid that damned blue T-shirt upwards, she knew hands wouldn’t be enough. She leaned in, sliding her lips lightly over one nipple, then pushing the shirt higher, pressing soft kisses over his collarbone until he stepped backward, making quick work of the shirt and tossing it away before he bore down on her.

She let him this time, not caring even a little when he ripped her neckline and even broke one of her bra straps. As long as she could just run her hands over his back, his bare shoulders, his arms, muscles working underneath the skin… 

“Chloe?”

“Just rip it off,” she whispered, not wanting to give up the feel of him under her fingers long enough to take it off. Besides, she’d ruined one of his. It was only fair. 

His eyes met hers, almost orange before he closed them tight and ripped. Her top and bra fell away and she didn’t have the energy to self-deprecate as she was bared to him, still so enthralled with all that bare skin of his.

Their hands dueled just a little on the way down, grappling with each other’s waistbands. His won, of course, as hers were always elastic these days and he toppled her gently to the bed, peeling down her pants, panties with them, her shoes dropping to the floor in the tangle. There was no sound but their breaths as he leaned over her, running a hand over her belly, almost as if checking in before sliding that hand downward. 

She closed her eyes, willing to wait to touch more of him if there was a repeat of last time. She selfishly opened her legs wider, waiting for the motion of his fingers. She gasped, her head lifting and her eyes snapping open as she felt something a whole lot wetter. She could only see the top of his head past that damned belly and she barely wanted to see. This wasn’t something Jimmy had done. This wasn’t something she’d thought Clark would… just do. She didn’t always have time to be embarrassed before her insides were clenching and her hips were writhing beneath him as his tongue moved in tight circles. 

She choked out his name and one of his hands slid up her side, groping rather blindly for her breast. She breathed out a laugh when he gripped it, then stopped that immediately when his tongue sped up, groaning his name as her head fell back to the bed and her hands, restlessly gripping and flailing about her, shoved the pillows to the floor.

She wasn’t sure what made this different from Christmas night or the countless times she’d touched herself over the years, but the climb upward was somehow more intense, more focused as she could barely register any part of her body that wasn’t under Clark’s hands or mouth, could hardly hear another sound but her own ragged breath and Clark breathing hard through his nose. 

Then it was a bit like a roller coaster, her being driven upwards with no control, losing all sense of gravity as she was carried over the top, then sort of plunged into sensation she could feel from the tips of her toes and fingers and radiating inward, settling where Clark was still working at her.

She squirmed away from his touch as the feeling returned to the rest of her body, the stimulation almost too much by now. This being only her second orgasm provided by another person, she felt almost uncomfortable telling him what to do, but she croaked his name a few times and he seemed to realize she needed him to stop.

She opened her eyes to find him hovering over her and let out a slight laugh at the worried look on his face. 

“You okay? I’m sorry if I…”

“You have nothing to be sorry about. I just… I’m a little too sensitive in the lady parts after an orgasm, you know?”

He frowned, settling at her side. “No. I didn’t. I guess I never looked up that part.”

She rose up on her elbows. “Looked up?”

He looked away slightly. “I kind of did some research this week. Just some… some things to do that weren’t… well, the whole… thing.”

She laughed again. Considering what he’d just done to her, the fact that he still couldn’t do anything but allude to sex was kind of adorable. 

“What?”

She choked out another laugh at his confused face, then just plain choked. 

Clark hovered over her again. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she croaked, “just a little dry.” She’d avoided tea or even water these last few hours as she didn’t want their fight interrupted by her constant trips to the bathroom.

Clark disappeared immediately, of course, and was back in seconds with a glass of water, some of it sloshing on the bed as he sped to a stop in front of her. He held it out.

She sat up and took it wordlessly, gulping down half before setting it on the nightstand and sitting back against the headboard. "So how about..." 

“Where are all the… Hold on.” Clark sped around the room before appearing over her, dropping an armful of pillows on the bed before pulling her forward. “That can’t be comfortable. Let me…”

“Clark, I’m fine. Stop fussing.” But she did lean back against the pillows before sliding a hand around his neck, pulling him to her for a rather lazy kiss, still so bonelessly relaxed from her orgasm. She could taste herself on his lips, which was strange, but not enough to make her stop kissing him.

But Clark seemed to want to stop, trying to talk even as he kissed her back. “You know… we should… probably… get some… sleep… The sun’s…”

“Oh, no.” She looped her other arm around his neck, holding him to her. “You’re not getting away this time.”

“Chloe…”

“Besides, this is your house. So you have nowhere to go.” She leaned up, sliding her lips over his earlobe before taking it between her teeth. “I asked about this, you know. We can do this.”

He sucked in a breath before trying to talk again… the idiot. “I don’t think…”

“Good. Stop thinking,” she whispered, leaving his ear for his neck as that seemed to shut him up before. It worked again.

He fell over her, lips at her neck, her jaw, her mouth as he gripped her hips, unconsciously pressing into her. She could feel him, hard beneath those damned jeans he was still wearing. It was really unfair, too. She moaned as his lips pulled at her breast, trying to focus enough to finally get him out of those damned pants!

He pulled away then, but before she could protest, the pants were gone and he was hovering over her, his eyes so unsure. 

She lifted a hand to his face. “You said you weren’t afraid of me. Well… likewise.”

He let out a shaky breath and settled between her legs, his eyes squeezed shut.

She reached down between them, taking him in hand and making a mental note to take a damned good look in the morning, but not now. It was about him, right now. He was still afraid. She had to prove to him that she wasn’t. They'd fought through everything tonight and here they were. Why stop for something as silly as fear? 

Of course, on that first push inward, she wondered if she should be afraid. She was still slick from before and he slid in with very little resistance, but it still felt like he was stretching her to the limit. She bit her lip, holding in a pained hiss at his first, almost involuntary push.

He caught it, of course, his eyes opening. “Chloe?”

“It doesn’t exactly hurt,” she said quickly. “It’s just… a lot.” She pushed her hips upward. “Move, Clark.”

He squeezed his eyes shut again and stayed still, arms straight on either side of her. “Not if you…”

“I want you to move,” she whispered, sliding a hand down his back, then lower, making another mental note to take a long look at that ass. She squeezed, feeling his muscles tense as he jerked inside her. She felt an answering jolt at that and squeezed harder.

He started to move then, slowly, his eyes still tightly shut, his arms still tense and straight on either side of her, keeping the weight of him off her stomach. She was glad of that as she felt movement inside, as if someone was very annoyed at all the activity tonight, and she didn’t want him distracted by that. She ignored it studiously, herself, and tried to concentrate on the feel of him. With his arms still ramrod straight on either side of her, the low angle had him sliding against something inside her that was a damned good distraction from the mild burn of what was still a pretty tight fit.

She vaguely wondered if he was near that fabled G-spot, which she had been convinced she didn’t have up till now, when a rather rough thrust had her letting out an involuntary moan.

His eyes opened at that, flashing orange before closing again quickly. “Chloe…”

“It’s good,” she said, answering the question he was struggling to get out. “Keep… Unh!” She wasn’t much for talking, either, so she stopped trying. Though she did let any and all other noises out freely. Every time she moaned, he moved faster, letting out low groans of his own.

It was all so mind-numbingly, surprisingly good. She’d never come this way and she still wasn’t sure she had it in her to come again, but damned if she wasn’t close. She pushed her hips rather weakly up from under him, unable to move much with the weight of her stomach, but she was close. She wasn’t sure if it was that she was with Clark – finally, Clark – or if the pregnancy hormones were helping it along. She’d looked up a few things, too, after all. Her eyes shot open as she glanced at his tense arms, then stilled, pushing at them.

“Clark, the baby…”

He pulled out rather suddenly, his eyes still shut tight. “I’m sorry. We can stop,” he panted. “Give me a minute and I’ll be…”

“No, don’t stop. Just let me…” She let out a rather annoyed huff and sat up, trying to remember any of the damned positions from any of those pregnant sex articles. She lit on one, then stared at him, breathing hard with his eyes still shut. “Are you gonna keep your eyes closed this whole time?”

“Maybe,” he grunted, sitting back on his heels. “Gimme a second.” He took two deep breaths, then hesitantly opened one eye before the other. “Listen, I’m fine. We don’t have to finish this if…”

“Don’t you dare, Clark Kent,” she cut in. “I was just thinking a different position might…” She trailed off, finally looking down as the cool winter sun started to light up the room. She held in a nervous giggle. No wonder it hurt a little. She was surprised it didn’t hurt more. Of course, it wasn’t hurting a minute ago, which reminded her… “I want you to take me from behind,” she said in a rush.

Clark’s eyes widened. “Uh… Are you sure that’s...”

She rolled her eyes and pushed at him, then turned over, rising up on her hands and knees before glancing back at him over her shoulder. “Like this. They say it's better.”

Clark just stared at her, still wide-eyed. She started to wonder if this position made her look like the cow she felt herself to be when his eyes flashed again before shutting tight. It was gratifying, knowing she could have that effect on him, yet just a little annoying. Would she ever be able to see his eyes as he moved inside her?

That didn’t matter now as she wouldn’t be able to see him at all in this position unless she wanted to keep her neck wrenched to the side. She faced the headboard, waiting, then wondered if he was going to back off when he gripped her hips.

“Yes,” she gasped as she felt him at her entrance, sliding in a little more easily now. “Like this. Clark, mo…” Her words cut off as he started moving, hands tensing and releasing on her hips as his own moved slowly. 

She could move a little easier this way and she used that freedom, pushing back against him, wordlessly urging him to move faster.

He took the hint, shoving in just a little before he sped up, hands now moving up her back, then under her, gripping her breasts as she felt his breath stirring her hair. She knew he must be bent over her by now and wished she could meet his lips, see his face, but she didn’t care as much when one of his hands slid down, working at her clit in light circles.

That second orgasm went from possible to inevitable as his hips and hands moved together to drive her to insensibility. A hoarse moan tore from her and he sped up, breathing her name into her neck as her moan broke into a gasp of his name. 

Her arms gave in and he followed her down, still rubbing at her clit, though with less room now, moving even faster inside her now. She sobbed into her arms as her orgasm hit her in a rush, not sure why she was crying. It was all just too much!

She felt warmth inside her, then heard him groan her name before collapsing over her. She sniffled a little, just laying beneath him.

He moved off quickly, pulling at her shoulders. “Chloe…”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she said in a rush, turning over and falling back into the pillows. “I swear. I cry over everything these days.” She gave him a watery smile. “That was…” She tried to think of a word.

“It really was…” He couldn’t seem to find one either.

They both laughed, falling against each other, feeling like a couple of awkward teens – at least that’s how she felt. It seemed to bring her back to the first orgasm she’d ever had, almost accidentally, in the shower one night. She’d just been rinsing with the shower-head, thinking of Clark almost innocently, when she hit the right spot. After that, her thoughts were much less innocent and she’d kept them up and the stream against her until the water ran cold and she felt tingly, also guilty, all over. She hadn’t looked at Clark for a week after.

She glanced at him in the brightening room as he sat up, pulling the covers over them, unable to stop herself. “Did you ever think of me like this when you… self-serviced?” she finished, laughing a little.

He chuckled, settling in beside her. “I tried not to. I mean, I saw you every day, but it got harder and harder, especially after senior year when we spent even more time… I really tried not to.”

“That’s kind of a relief.” She smiled a little, turning to him. “I didn’t want to be the only one.”

He swallowed hard, eyes moving over her. “You thought of me?”

“Almost exclusively,” she admitted, feeling her face heat up and kind of wishing she hadn’t said it. Then he pulled her in, lips moving against hers, hands sliding all over, and she was glad she had. 

He stopped with a slight growl, collapsing beside her and staring at the ceiling. “We’re gonna have to sleep. I don’t even want to know what time it is.”

She glanced at the window. “With the sun up in winter, it has to be past seven.”

“Damn it!” He tossed the covers off and sat up. 

She snatched at them, shivering, the sweat on her skin now cooling. “What’s the matter?”

“Two hours late feeding the animals,” he grunted, bending over and looking for his clothes.

She sighed and leaned back, fine with the view… until her eyes zeroed in. She could see it, faint half-moon marks on either cheek. She sat up quickly. “I hurt you.”

“What?” he said absently, shaking out his jeans. 

“I scratched you again,” she said miserably. 

“Yeah?” He stilled. “I didn’t feel anything.” He shrugged, then stepped into his jeans.

She shook her head and pulled the quilt tighter around her. “Clark, this is…”

“No, it’s not,” he broke in. “Whatever you were going to say, it’s not.” He zipped up and moved to her. “Chloe, we got through this.” He crouched down, a hand toying with the bit of quilt over her knee. “I’ve spent so many years afraid of this and now, with you…” He shrugged and smiled. “I don’t know. Everything felt right and I’m not going to regret it because of a couple of scratches that didn’t even hurt. And you know what?” He leaned in and met her lips quickly before straightening with a grin. “I think it’s only going to get better. Now, I’ll be right back, so don’t move,” he said before disappearing in a rush of air that blew the quilt off her legs.

She did move, tossing off the quilt with a shiver, then looking around for her top before she remembered it was in pieces. She saw half of it under the tangle that was her pants, panties, and shoes. She had to get out of here and think about this. It should be great that Clark wasn’t afraid anymore, but she couldn’t say the same for herself. They were tiny scratches, but the fact that they existed seemed huge. She tried to untangle her shoes from the mess and managed to get one, except for how it shot out of her shaking hands and went under the bed.

She got on the floor with a grunt, trying to bend enough with her damned belly in the way to grope for it. She felt something, a bag, and pulled it out of the way still trying to feel for her shoe when she stopped at a rattling noise from the bag. She sat up, seeing the rather obvious cause of it at the mouth of the bag: a little blue rattle. 

She stared at the bag itself, white with blue dots and blue and white paper inside. She picked up the rattle, a silver shark on one side, then turned it over in her still-shaky hand to see “Go Sharks!” on the other side. She let out a whimper, then found herself digging past the paper, pulling out a little blue and silver jersey, then a blue and white onesie that looked like a baseball uniform, a tiny hat pinned to the front, then a plush ball and bat and tiny football rolling around the bottom. She felt tears rolling down her cheeks as she let them fall back in, wondering when he bought these. Was it after that day, on the way to St. Louise’s, when they found themselves arguing about whether this kid would be an athlete or a bookworm? More than that, what did this mean? 

Did he see himself playing with these toys? Playing daddy? She let out a smile through her tears at the visual, Clark trying to put that little bat in the hand of an infant, tossing a ball lightly at it as the baby let out wet, little gurgles. She couldn’t see his face, but she felt him move inside her now and she cried harder. Because Clark wasn’t the daddy, was he? The daddy was locked up on the fourth floor back at headquarters and this was all too complicated and…

She tried to dry up when the door slammed downstairs, shoving the bag back under and scrambling back into the bed as she heard Clark bounding up the steps. She’d managed to wipe her eyes and pull the covers back over her before he appeared in the doorway. 

He pointed at her. “You moved, didn’t you?” He didn’t let her answer, babbling on as kicked off his boots. “You know what I just realized? It’s New Year’s Day, so this is kind of perfect timing,” he said lightly, yawning as he unzipped his jeans. He climbed in behind her pulling her back against him. “Perfect day to start something new.” He drew in a breath then nuzzled into her neck. 

She closed her eyes, seeing the scratch marks and wondering if they’d faded, seeing the blue bag under the bed and wondering how she let things get this far, seeing Davis staring mournfully at her belly and wondering where he fit into all of this. These last, hazy hours, she’d been so caught up in the feel of it all, she hadn’t thought about the future and whether there was one. She’d just wanted Clark. But could she have him for keeps? Should she even entertain the idea?

Either way she felt herself drifting off to the sound of his breath, growing deep and even against her, and the feel of his hand, resting almost possessively over her stomach.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

There! That was a nice, long smut break and I hope it should hold you for a wee bit, like no more than a week (I’m hoping), as I update two other fics that have also been sitting with no chapters for over a month. Then I shall be back to this one to finish completely. 

NOW FOR REPLIES TO REPLIES on 20:

@M:

"I always liked Davis on the show, and hated how they treated his character at the end of season 8."

Same. I hated the cheap "Davis was a psycho, anyway" twist. They could have had him kill Jimmy, regret it, then kill himself. I mean, it still would have been awful, but at least that would have been consistent with the guy that, a few hours earlier, was ready to let himself be killed along with the beast.

"I'm glad that Chloe and Clark are starting to tell the truth about the past."

They definitely have to, if they want to move on for real. So glad you enjoyed it. :)

@bkwurm1:
"It makes sense in a way but really not something they should have kept from Chloe so on her behalf Grrrr!"

They really have been treating her like a hothouse orchid in all this. Their intentions may be good, but that won't make Chloe eager to forgive all.

"I use the same basic explanation in my canon as well so it all kind of blurs together."

Yeah. I've got several established headcanons when it comes to SV. You have to, just to survive it. ;)

"They still have a hell of a lot to talk over."

Indeed. I've got my work cut out for me in chapter 21.

"And Clark, how long does it take you to tidy up? Ten seconds? Your mother would be ashamed of you."

LOL. I know. Thank goodness she's been visiting at headquarters.

"I hope Clark doesn't let Chloe take all of the blame for Sebastian. Oliver messed with her head on that one. Grrrr as well for that."

He definitely did and I wish the show had brought that up at some point in season 9. I don't think Clark is capable, at least at the end of season 8, hence in this fic, of seeing Chloe's basic goodness as some kind of gray area, unlike the showrunners (Big, fat GRRRRRRRR!). I think he will give her a lot more benefit of doubt.

@Anonymous

"I totally get why you would want to write other things sometimes I wonder why I'm still so attached to these characters so long after the show, but I love your work and hope you won't abandon Chlark all together."

Aw, thank you! I'm just working on self-publishing some regular romance novels way on the side right now, but I don't think I'll abandon fic or even Chlark after these charity fics. I will just dedicate slightly less time or maybe only write one fic at a time rather than the four I have going now. Hey, people might have to wait way less between updates. :)