Musings

Season 5: Redux - 1/? (R, possible NC-17)

2007-03-11T09:43:31Z

TITLE: Season 5: Redux
AUTHOR: Calliopeia
FANDOM: Smallville
PAIRING: Clark/Chloe (Chlark)
GENRE: Adult, Romance, Humor
DISCLAIMER: Credit to The WB (now The CW I suppose, if we're going to get technical). And sadly, neither the lovely Allison Mack nor the hazardously sexy Tom Welling belong to me, and neither do their characters. As much as I'd love that to be true.
SUMMARY: Season 5 -- rewritten with a Chlark focus.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Some things to keep in mind about the fic -- Season 4 was different in that there was never the witch storyline, so Lana and Jason never broke up, and therefore, continued to travel the world with each other and never returned to Smallville. That pretty much erases all the Clana stuff and changes a few scenes to Chlark ones (Spirit, Forever, etc.). With that in mind, Clark's been slowly developing feelings for Chloe since Bound, especially considering that Lana isn't around and has moved on herself. Other than that, everything else is pretty much the same. You won't see a lot of plot stuff being redone, because I don't think it needs to be. I was just sick of seeing TW's pretty being wasted on Clana scenes and felt I should rectify the offense. Enjoy!

CHAPTER I: Arrival

    "Clark...I think you're so amazing. You save people's lives and take zero credit for it. To me, you're more than just a hero. You're a super hero."

    "Chloe --"

    "I'm serious, Clark. If more humans were like you, the world would be a better place."

______________________________________

Considering what Clark could've expected from Chloe in the way of reactions to his secret, how she had indeed responded was above and beyond anything he could've hoped for on his own. The level of understanding from her and, dare he say it, amazement, did everything but make him bust at the seams with happiness. Finally, someone else knew, and it ended up being someone he cared very deeply for. You see, a certain pair of Lana-colored glasses had been lifted from his eyes for a while, and after everything he and Chloe had shared over the past year, Clark was mostly looking for an excuse to let her in on the whole truth. When he'd said there were so many occasions on which he had wanted to tell her his secret, he hadn't said that for his health or her benefit. Chloe Sullivan wasn't just anyone -- she was his best friend, his support system. She'd been there for him when all the things he'd once relied on were nowhere to be found. And now, thanks to a bit of honesty and taking the plunge, they could be closer than ever. Something he'd been wishing could happen for quite some time.

Still affected by her complimentary words, he grinned to himself and waited before speaking again, making eye contact to emphasize his sincerity. "I meant what I said before, Chloe. You're a great friend...you're my best friend...and I don't know what I'd do or where I'd be without you. I mean, I'd say you're pretty amazing yourself. Just remember that."

Chloe beamed in spite of herself then rolled her eyes to cover faint glisten of tears, her hands fiddling with her hospital nightgown. "Oh gosh...don't go all Oprah on me now."

He smirked at her predictably cynical response and leaned forward, brushing her hair behind her ear and lightly kissing her forehead then leaning back to sit in his chair, his thumb lingering to caress her cheek. "Too late." Unbeknownst to him, she'd closed her eyes and savored his display of affection, trying her best to make sure that her face betrayed no emotions that lay beneath the surface. A somewhat unsuccessful campaign, but she made her best effort.

    "Actually," he continued after a short silence, "I was hoping I could talk to you...about something."

She quirked an expectant eyebrow. "Well it doesn't look like I'm going anywhere, so...there's no time like the present." Initially, she knew she'd used the snarky tone to offset any anticipation she might've acquired from the serious expression on his handsome face. Not so much gravely serious, more like...emotionally serious. Kinda scary, but in a good way.

He wasn't exactly sure where he should start, but Chloe's voice inside his head called him a bozo and told him to just start at the beginning, and he grinned at length then opened his mouth. "I --"

    "What's that?"

Clark idly shifted his gaze from Chloe to the TV she was watching across the room just in time to catch fire shooting from the sky. They both exchanged a curious look before he got up and moved to turn up the volume, listening to a solemn news reporter documenting the event as having occurred in Smallville, which made their curious looks turn to heavily concerned ones. Without words, Chloe knew what Clark had to do.

    "Smallville needs you more than I do, Clark. Go." He hesitated out of obvious concern, which she appreciated, but now wasn't the time. "Go."

Prepared to superspeed away at her insistent tone, he again hesitated and turned back to her. "Chloe...we still need to talk...and I'm coming back for you."

    "But Clark, what about --" She started to remind him of the warning Jor-El had given that he return to the Fortress before sunset. Clark may have been superhuman, but he could only be so many places at once. And as far as she could tell, no consequences of Jor-El's had ever been a light reprimand or a simple revoking of shallow privileges.

    "I'll make it," he assured her, then followed through on hightailing his way back to Kansas in the blink of an eye.

A look of bewilderment lit up Chloe's face, and she stared wide-eyed at the spot where Clark used to be. "Whoa."

______________________________________

By nature, Chloe Sullivan was an impatient person. If things weren't happening at the speed of light, then they weren't really happening at all. Life in the fast lane, some might call it (though the saying is notoriously ambiguous now that the fast lane isn't really fast anymore). Combine that with the fact that she'd recently let her alien best friend in on the fact that she knew he was, in truth, an alien, and that he'd also made a deal with the spirit of his deceased alien father, who had a record of running on low tolerance, and you had a hazardously nervous Chloe, sitting on the hospital bed and switching off between looking out the window almost every second and making a meal of her fingernails. The sun was about to set and Clark wasn't there. She might've been nearly freezing to death at the time, but she'd heard Jor-El loud and clear. He said the consequences would be dire, and if Jor-El thought they would be dire, that meant the rest of us would probably wish for death before even thinking twice. This was not looking good.

Almost on cue, Clark entered the room at normal speed, and Chloe physically jumped out of her bed in anticipation. "Clark, oh my God, where have you been, the sun's about to set! We have to get you out of here! Well...we have to get me out of here so that by getting me out of here you would be getting out of wherever you leave me once we're out of here and then you'd be able to get where you're going after that but we have to leave NOW."

She went on a frantic search of the room for her clothes, making sure to hold the back of her gown from possibly falling open, but Clark stopped her, holding her by her shoulders and turning her to face him. "Chloe, calm down. Let's just get you home and worry about that other stuff later."

Her expression was somewhat comical since she was basically freaking out right then. "That other stuff? Calm down?! Clark, are you even hearing yourself right now?! This is a big deal! Jor-El is not an easy-going kind of dad who might scold you or ground you if you disobey him and he will not stop until you and everyone in your life are either hurt or m --"

The word would've been 'miserable' but it was effectively cut off by Clark taking hold of Chloe's face and kissing her into silence. She froze immediately, her only movements being to place her hands around his waist and hold on tight so as not to pass out. The kiss wasn't particularly long but she had no qualms with his methods and let herself be good and kissed until he pulled back, showing that she wasn't the only one a bit flushed from the endeavor.

"Good...so that works," he said with a lilt of amusement in his voice after taking a moment to catch his breath. She had a mind to formulate some sort of quippy response but when she opened her mouth, nothing substantial came out. Curious.

At any rate, he scooped her up in his arms and looked at her intently. "We'll be fine." And they were gone in a blur.

______________________________________

    "You warm enough?"

Chloe glanced in the direction of Clark's voice, which came from the kitchen as he prepared them each a nice round of hot chocolate. "I think the only way I could be warmer is if I had something hot to drink." He glared playfully from behind the counter but continued preparations nonetheless.

She'd already raided his wardrobe of some nice heavy sweats and one of his famous flannel shirts, not to mention how she was wrapped in a blanket and sitting in front of the fireplace to boot. The point was, amidst all her warming possibilities, she enjoyed bossing Clark around the most.

Entering the living room, he handed Chloe her mug before carefully sitting down beside her on the floor with his own and getting comfortable. "You know some people, wherever they might be, would appreciate my services."

    "Oh yeah, I bet," she responded through a sip and a smirk. "Now would this be before or after they found out that you, in fact, could've heated up the hot chocolate with your eyes?" Touché, Mam'selle Sullivan.

By his own admittance, he would've done just that, but it didn't stop him from grinning sourly then taking a hearty gulp from his coffee mug. "Ow!" Whoops. Did I forget to mention that the consequence of Clark's disobedience was being completely relinquished of his abilities and turned into a normal human being? Needless to say, the hot chocolate was a bit too hot for him now in his new state of existing, and he nursed his briefly scalded tongue in anguish.

Chloe fixed him with a concerned glance out of the corner of her eye yet continued to gingerly sip from her own mug and stare into the firelight. "Gee...being invulnerable to extreme temperatures would really come in handy right about now."

His reaction was almost audible, the glaring was so loud, but he said nothing and decided to take more care with how fast he drank.

    "Come on, Clark...can we please talk about this?"

After a short pause, he finally looked at her and pretended like he didn't know what she meant. "I'm sorry...which this are you referring to exactly?"

    "Well we can start with the 'oh my God, you just gave up your superpowers for me' this, and then hopefully move onto the 'now's a good time to explain why the hell you kissed me' this."

Heh. He had kissed her, hadn't he? He'd kissed her good. Oh...sorry. He'd uh...try not to smirk. "That's easy. 'It was worth it,' and 'I did it to shut you up.'" She shot him a warning stare, however mildly intrigued she might've been with his not-so-subtle flirtation, and he quickly changed his behavior. "Chloe...for the longest time, all I've ever wanted was to fit in...to be normal. Now I have the chance. I don't have to hear anything about destinies and earth-shattering choices ever again...I can live my life."

    "Clark, how can you say that? Your life was about so much more. You had the power to save the people you care about...people in need. Most of us live our entire lives without ever having that privilege."

    "And what about the things I want, Chloe? Yeah, I got to save people who aren't even allowed to know about it. I had to lie to all those people...especially the people I care about. I had to hide who I really am. At the end of the day, what does that make me?"

She shrugged a shoulder, yet her expression showed she empathized with his feelings completely. "A hero."

He stared into his mug before setting it down at his side. "Well I'm done with all that now..."

    "Clark --"

    "I'll kiss you again if I have to."

It was then that Chloe felt she might've been a bit too warm for her own good, but she did her best to hide it well. "That's not as threatening as you'd like to believe."

He stared for a moment before another smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You don't think so, huh?" She shook her head, the message emanating from her eyes doing more than words could. "I don't suppose I might be able to persuade you --"

    "Why don't we put the whole superpowers discussion on the shelf for a moment and you tell me what all this is about."

Clark had the nerve to feign ignorance. "I feel the need for another this definition coming on."

Her eyebrow raised on its own. "Clark, you're vulnerable now. I don't want to have to take advantage of that and seriously harm you, but..."

    "Alright, alright," he interrupted, his teasing grace period having clearly run its course. "What do you want to know?"

She shifted her position a bit so her body was angled to face him, and she earnestly considered what she had to ask him. "I'm getting the feeling you have some kind of thing for me...do you have a thing for me?"

He grinned. "Yes, I do."

Miraculously, she held off on the marching-band-level victory dance and continued. "What kind of a thing?"

    "You want the long or short version?"

    "At this point, I'd take either."

His shoulders hunched briefly in a relenting shrug, then he strategized how best to approach the situation and pressed forward. "Short version -- I have feelings for you that go beyond friendship." He watched as that slowly sunk in before he spoke again. "Long version -- it's taken me a while to figure all that out. And I don't expect you to just accept it and welcome me with open arms given how many times I've made you wait for me. But if you thought you might still feel the same way, even just a little bit, it would at least give me something to look forward to while I pass the time."

Well...as far as explanations went, that one pretty much took the cake.

Chloe didn't know whether to just attack him right there or adhere to that gnawing feeling in her gut that told her she needed some time to think all this through. It might've been what she'd always wanted. In fact, it was what she'd always wanted. But taking into account that what she wanted even more than an admission of his feelings was to make sure what he felt for her was real, time had to be allowed so she could test that. And she figured it would be nice being the pursued one for a change.

Setting aside her mug and standing up, she pulled him up in front of her and decided to go for a happy medium with the attack-adhere method, rising onto her toes and kissing him soundly on the mouth while her fingers threaded through his hair and his arms slid around her waist. It was more passionate than their last kiss, as their hands traded places with each other and both their tongues met languidly, seeming to communicate all that hadn't been said between them over the years. Clark also took this as a sign that she was willing to give him a chance, which just made everything that much more meaningful. So meaningful that the two of them nearly forgot what it was like to breathe and mutually pulled apart for the sake of acquiring oxygen.

She took her time savoring the kiss and remaining in Clark's personal space, but she decided to speak first. "I'm a little quicker on the uptake than you are, so you won't have to wait that long...but hopefully that'll last you for a while."

His fingers dancing along her lower back, he gathered enough brain cells to grin and pull her closer to him. "I think it might."

Just for the Didda...

2007-01-15T00:34:17Z

CHAPTER IV: Release The Cat

In the moments that passed after Clark went from being hopelessly aroused to landing himself in a big steaming pile of manure, there was little he could think of to say or do. He knew he couldn't just lie. Not anymore. The evidence was irrefutable, and Chloe was no fool. Plus, the fact that he could risk doing more damage by hurting her and insulting her intelligence meant that he really didn't have a choice in the matter.

He did find comfort in one thing though...she didn't look scared. Or freaked out. Or upset. Or angry. She looked more...curious. Pensive. Almost partially excited to hear his explanation for the missing piece of counter positioned next to her.

Alright Kent. Bite the bullet.

    "Chloe..."

Um...nibble on the bullet? Her expression retained its curiosity, eyes slightly widened, the hint of a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth as her eyebrow raised once again. And she waited...and waited...and waited some more.

He tried again with the sentence he never finished. "Chloe I..." Swing and a miss.

All slight weirdness aside, Chloe figured he might've needed a little bit of encouragement, and she pressed her mouth to his, tentatively at first then more passionate so there was no ambiguity regarding her feelings. As she pulled back and admired the breathless look on his face, it was pretty apparent the message had been received.

    "Talk to me."

It took another moment of mouthing nonsense for him to get the idea, but finally, words came. "Chloe I...I-I'm not..."

    "Normal?"

    "Uh...yeah."

She gave way to the grin that had been waiting in the wings, her face lighting up. "No shit, Clark. I figured that out a long time ago."

His interest was piqued. "...So you know?"

    "Well...no. Not any of the details, anyway. But I've always had my suspicions about you."

That was probably fair, considering he sometimes couldn't be more suspicious if he was Al Capone turning himself in to the police. Shifting his weight a bit, he remained somewhat skeptical. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

Chloe shrugged a shoulder. "I knew you'd tell me when you were ready. It wasn't up to me to hound you about a secret I really had no way of knowing was meant for me. Everybody does things their own way...and I didn't want to pressure you. Besides...you're not as clever as you think. And you only get so many bandaid fixes before the wound gets too big to cover up."

He nodded in concession, lowering his gaze. "Don't I know it..."

The silence set in for a few more moments, and since that was the direct opposite effect Chloe was looking for, she tried that supportive thing again, placing her hands around his waist and nudging his face up to meet hers. "Alright...you're not normal...so...what are you?" He still appeared to be unsure, so she continued. "I want to know everything, Clark...and I mean that."

She looked so endearingly sincere...there was no way he could withhold anything now. Well, might as well try that bullet-biting thing again. "Okay...well...I wasn't exactly...born here."

    "Well...you are adopted--"

    "No. That's not what I meant. I wasn't born here."

    "Like..here in this country?"

    "More like here on this planet."

Both her eyebrows raised. "Oh...um...wow..."

His agreeing nod wasn't far behind. "Yeah..."

    "So you're--"

    "Yeah."

    "Wow."

She restled with her reaction, which he apparently noticed. "What?"

    "I just...thought your...whatever you can do came from the meteor rocks."

The guilt was evident on his face as he pressed forward. "Actually...I'm kind of the reason the meteors are even here."

    "Kind of?"

    "Actually not kind of...I am. They uh...they came with my...spaceship."

If her expression was curious before, Clark wasn't quite sure what he would call it now. "Your spaceship?"

He couldn't help but grin a little at her level of fascination. "Yeah. I was inside when it crashed in the middle of a field, right near where my parents were driving...and that's where they found me."

All she could do for the next few moments was stare at him, smiling in wonderment. "Can I see it?"

    "Well...the only problem with that is I don't have it anymore. I destroyed it. Long story that I'll tell you later...but we used to keep it in the storm cellar...which might not have been that good of an idea since that's where Pete found it in the first place--"

"Pete got to see your spaceship?!"

Clark fixed her with a playful warning stare then continued. "Anyway...not like it matters...but the spaceship is no more."

She'd gotten over the mock betrayal and proceeded, running her hands down the length of his arms and over various contours of his body in admiration. "...You look so..."

    "Human," he added, doing a little sentence-filling of his own.

    "Yeah...I mean I kind of had a feeling that high school boys weren't supposed to look like...this..." She trailed off for a moment, obviously caught up in all the wonders with which to satisfy her visual appetite, but him clearing his throat shook her out of her impure-thought-ridden reverie, and she smirked, "...but I always thought that was part of the whole 'Farm Boy' thing."

He let her continue with her manual confirmation of his humanity, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. "...I'm not really so different am I?"

The insecurity in his voice made her look up at him, her gaze softening, and she traced her fingers along his chiseled jaw and through his hair. "No...not at all. There's just...there's so much more to you, Clark. You've been saving the world, one person at a time...and protecting the people you love for God knows how long. I mean...now I get it. Now I understand...the absences, the disappearances, the cover-ups. What you do...I know it's not easy...but you're amazing for doing it."

Clark grinned warmly at her meaningful words, and he looked down at how his fingers linked with hers. "Thanks...that means a lot."

She smiled in return. "Good. So..." He glanced up at her through his eyelashes, wondering what she was expecting to come next. "Well you're obviously very strong...taking into account the large gaping hole where the counter used to be...so what else can you do?"

He raised an eyebrow in thought, intrigued with her desire to know more about him. "Um...well I'm fast."

From the curiously devious expression on her face, it was apparent Chloe wanted some kind of proof. "How fast?"

With a smirk and a blast of air, Clark instantly disappeared then reappeared with a daisy from his mother's garden, handing it to her with a definitive sense of pride. "That fast."

Needless to say, her expression went from devious to amazed. "Wow...well that explains how you make the instantaneous getaways." She brushed the newly acquired flower dreamily against her nose. "Okay, what else?"

    "I have this...thing...with heat vision."

    "Thing...like a warming thing?"

    "More like an...incineration thing."

Her smirk came back from its short absence. "Oh my."

    "At first it was hard to control, but then I found out what triggered it--"

    "Which is...what?"

He lost eye contact with her, shamed with the prospect of revealing what had ultimately motivated his ability. "I don't wanna say." She gave him a withering look and he caved. "Chlo, it's embarrassing."

    "You might as well just tell me now. I'll find out eventually."

Sighing to indicate his reluctance, he did as he was asked. "...It started when I was thinking about sex."

Following a short pause to absorb his admittance, the bubbly laugh that erupted contagiously from her throat was evidence enough of her amusement. "Clark...you're seriously trying to tell me that after all the stuff we've done, you're still embarrassed to talk about sex." All she got in response was a flitted glance, and she shook her head, still smiling. "You're such a virgin."

Clark wasn't quick enough to stifle his scoffing. "And you're not?" A couple secretive looks of avoidance from her and he got his answer. "You're not?"

Ergh. Not how she wanted this to come up. Even if he didn't exactly seem all that perturbed about the whole thing. "It was a while ago, I met someone during that internship that I had, wasn't very impressive...good enough?"

Surprisingly, he had to admit it was. He even found cause to smirk a little. "Yeah. That just means at least one of us will know what they're doing."

Gasp! Clark Kent, naughty boy. It was all Chloe could do to not launch on him right then and there, and she matched his smirk. "Something tells me you won't have a hard time figuring it out."

Façade - 1/? (R-NC-17)

2006-11-15T15:26:08Z

TITLE: Façade
AUTHOR: Calliopeia
FANDOM: Gilmore Girls
PAIRING: Lorelai/Tristan
GENRE: Adult, AU, Humor
DISCLAIMER: Credit to Amy-Sherman Palladino for her creation of these two characters. I intend no infringement -- only vicarious jollies from the hottness that pours forth. I only wish GG was the kind of show that allowed this type of thing to happen in canon.
SUMMARY: AU Fic; Lorelai and Tristan meet under totally different circumstances and with totally different results.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So I started this fic...eons ago, it seems. Basically on a whim. I had a vision for a hot O/Y pairing that involved Lorelai and someone else, and frankly, neither Dean nor Jess were tickling my fancy, so I went with the obvious alternative. Praise be to the Gilmore Girls DVD sets, otherwise I might never have refound my muse for this storyline.

Couple things: Lorelai has never met Chris, never had Rory, never left her parents' pristine and sheltered existence, and has since married one of Richard's business associates (Jason, not Digger); Tristan is also on a different path. Hopefully, any confusion will be dealt with as the story progresses. In the mean time, please do R&R -- feedback is a precious commodity, and I live for it. Among other things.

CHAPTER I: The Glorious Unknown

Did people ever think to practice dancing in front of a mirror before they actually came out in public? Wallflowering in some anonymous corner of a club, Lorelai Gilmore pondered the concept of why it was legal for these misguided socialite-wannabes to move like they were moving. It was like watching a dog jump around on its hind legs – somewhat entertaining but irrevocably wrong.

She needed a drink.

Oh look, a bar. Bars had drinks. And apparently really hot bartenders too.

She connected eyes with the unknown blond who appeared to be busy with quite a few alcoholics at the moment, and she made her way over to the counter, enjoying the smirks she’d receive every time he’d look back at her. It seemed he knew how to dress as well, wearing a simple black, long sleeve shirt with the sleeves scrunched up and what she assumed were matching dark slacks. Nothing fancy, but still reeking of sex just a bit.

Once she was close enough to see what he was doing, she had to admit that she was really impressed – he was something of a fucking magician with his hands, spinning bottles and glasses and filling things then sending the happy little sauceboxes on their way. It was like watching manual Cirque du Soleil, only he didn’t have on any spandex or body paint with special glittery patterns and accents.

    “Bartender, get me the most priceless, artificial-colorless, proofless, replenishing and healthy beverage you have in that little store area of yours and I will be one satisfied customer.”

All the hottie’s attention focused on her, he reached into some sublevel crevice and pulled out a water bottle, doing that fancy little twirling thing she’d become so fond of before placing the bottle on the counter for her viewing pleasure.

    “Really? That’s it? No cranberry juice or anything like that?”

    “Too much sugar.”

    “Not if you get the right kind, who taught you to shop?”

The smirk widened. “Cranberry juice isn’t that good anyway – too bitter. It’s better when you mix it with stuff.”

    “What happened to the ludicrous amounts of sugar?”

    “I just said it was too much…it’s still there.”

She eyed him skeptically. “I think you just fabricated it in your mind so you wouldn’t have to give me any…as if you could even serve it to me to begin with…”

He feigned offense. “Meaning?”

    “I have no doubt you lied on your application.”

    “Lied about –”

    “Your age.”

    “How old do you think I am?”

    “You’re asking me to be honest?”

    “Ouch.

    “No no, I mean most people appreciate being told they look younger than they are, young is in, it’s hip, it drives the world in which we live.”

    “I’m pretty sure that’s strictly a female thing.”

She hitched her eyebrow with intrigue. “Well how old are you?”

    “Over 21.”

    “Look at that, he bartends as well as he lies.”

Oh…so his smile was even hotter than his smirk. She made a careful mental note of it.

    “You sure make a lot of assumptions for having met me like forty seconds ago.”

    “It’s better to get them over with in the beginning anyway – people have less time to refute and make excuses,” she reasoned.

    “So it’s like a defense mechanism…”

    “I prefer the term ‘strategic deductive skill’ – it sounds a lot more glamorous.”

He’d kept up his routine of smirk-twirl-and-serve while they were talking, which might’ve been even more impressive than the smirk-twirl-and-serve itself. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

    “You do that and I might even let you make me a Cosmopolitan,” she bargained.

    “Well I might just have to join you,” he invited himself, preparing their drinks, then turning to the guy serving next to him and adding, “Matt, cover for me, will you,” before coming out from behind the bar and joining her on a stool.

Lorelai took the glass, wide-eyed. “Ooooo, I’m telling your boss on you, taking unauthorized breaks to fraternize with the natives…and to think I was going to tip you so generously…”

He sipped and managed a throaty laugh. “Actually, you just told my boss on me.”

She pointed at him, then around the club, then back at him again. All she got in return was a nod.

    “No…”

    “Is this the part where you tell me I don’t look old enough to own and run my own bar successfully?”

    “Well you’re a quick thinker, I’ll give you that much.”

    “Credit’s gotta start somewhere – so I take it you’ve been here before then…”

    “A few times…but I usually have the ball and chain with me, so I don’t notice much.”

She almost felt bad for deriving some sort of perverse pleasure from seeing his face cringe at the mention of her spouse.

    “I was about to ask you why you were here alone.”

    “Ugh, I’m so glad you didn’t – it’s one of the worst picking-up techniques in the history of picking-up techniques – right up there with ‘Is that a mirror in your pocket? ‘Cause I can see myself in your pants.'”

    “Wow, people have actually used that stuff on you?”

    “More times then I like to count, unfortunately.”

“Sad. So what’s the damage,” he asked, hinting at the jewelry on her ring finger.

She held out her hand for him to take, and he held it delicately, sizing up the girth.

    “Good God…are you sure this isn’t the ball-and-chain you were talking about? I’m surprised you can lift your arm by yourself.”

    “It’s the Pilates – and I have a great personal trainer.”

He looked up at her through his eyelashes, grinning, and returned her hand. “There a reason he’s not here?”

    “My trainer?”

    “Your husband.”

    “Oh him…he’s on a business trip with my father. They’re great chums, those two – golf together at least 85,000 times a week,” she recounted drolly.

    “85? Wow…so he’s one of those…”

She finished off the last of her drink. “Boring, privileged white males with reproachable taste in hobbies? Why yes, as a matter of fact, he is, how did you know?”

    “Well that’s not what I was going to say…and I’m a privileged white male.”

    “Yes, but you run a popular club that plays decent music – now there’s a hobby I’d support. And anyone who can twirl and pour from a bottle of merlot with one hand while shaking a martini with the other is light years from boring.”

There went that smirk again. He must’ve had really strong face muscles to keep it up for so long and not be out of breath.

    “I didn’t realize you noticed…”

    “The transcendent perceptive skills come with age, Young Skywalker.”

He chuckled in amusement. “Star Wars fan?”

    “Not really. I just appreciate some of the character names and references…but the script is downright incriminating. I know it was the ‘70s, but let’s be real, George…”

    “You’re a handful.”

    “That’s what my cellmates tell me.”

They fell into a comfortable silence – she stared while he stared and sipped and stared some more and sipped some more until there was nothing more to sip, then there was just more staring.

She smirked preemptively. “You gonna tell me how beautiful you think my eyes look in this lighting?”

He mirrored her smirk and managed to look hotter doing it. “How smarmy do you think I am?”

    “How big’s your trust fund?”

He could tell by the way her eyes flitted over his frame and stopped to linger in certain areas that she wasn’t talking about his banking situation, but he didn’t let on. “Which one?”

    “You have more than one?”

    “Are we going to keep talking using questions?”

    “So you can handle more than one trust fund but not more than one round of question talking, hm…you’re easier to read than I thought.”

She just didn’t quit, did she?

    “What’s your name?”

    “Uh-uh, no more questions for you, mister, your question reserve is empty, just like my glass here, *cough*refill*cough*…”

Taking her glass, he made his way back behind the bar and laughed lightly to himself. “Is that your ‘strategic’ way of saying you won’t tell me?”

    “Nothing gets past you, Colombo.”

    “That’s alright…there is something oddly glorious about the unknown, don’t you agree?”

    “Okay, when I said one round of question talking, I meant lightning round, so we can definitely be done now.”

Behold, the magnificent smirk-twirl-and-serve, back after its long and painful hiatus.

    “Whatever you say…”

He handed her the refill and returned to his spot, this time leaning against the counter with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

She eyed him carefully, all her attention on how he was licking his lips at that moment. “He concedes…how old did you say you were again?”

    “I didn’t…I merely eluded to the fact that I was over 21 – very similar tactic to how you refuse to tell me your name.”

    "Don't sound so embittered, I might think it would actually matter if I did or not."

    "And it doesn't…"

    "What?"

    "Matter."

    "You going to tell me yours?"

Ah…by the grin on his face, she could tell she'd stopped him in his tracks.

    "I wasn't planning on it, no."

    "Well then…now that we've dealt with the conversation part, I say we get right to the kissing."

He didn't expect to be caught off guard by that statement, but judging by how he was choking on his current sip, it seemed he was. "Kissing…"

    "Mhm, yeah, you know where two people take their lips and then p –"

    "Who said anything about kissing?"

    "I did -- a few seconds ago, and then you just said it, so that means we both said something about kissing."

    "You're married."

She brought out the eyebrow face again. "You don't want to kiss me?"

    "Well I don't think that's the point."

    "Oh but it is -- in fact, it's the pointiest point that ever pointed. If you really didn’t want to then you wouldn't be making such a big deal about how it's not the point, which is in fact my point so -- your point doesn’t count anymore."

    "If I just smile and nod, would you be offended?"

    "I know what this is…"

    "This."

    "Indeed, I know what it is."

    "It."

    "This."

    "Oh right this -- so you know what it is."

    "Mhm, didn't I say that?"

    "Of course you did."

    "I know I did…anyway, like I was saying, I know what this is."

    "You do."

    "Yes -- you, good sir," she accused, emphasizing the 'you' with a poke from her index finger, "have been discovered, unmasked. I saw through your inner plot and secret intentions, and I cracked the code -- you were planning to kiss me all along, but I beat you to it, I called you out. Now you're trying to utilize the easiest method you can to wit-and-banter your way around it, I thought I was the only one who did that…"

He stood there, unsure of what to do or say next. No one had ever seen through him that effectively before, and especially not that quickly. Truth be told, it was probably even more of a turn-on than the fact that she could actually keep up with his high-speed cleverness, if not completely out-do him, and never miss a beat.

Well, when in doubt, always smirk. "You don't belong here, do you?"

    "Hm -- depends what you mean."

    "Here…with all these people…you're nothing like them."

    "I assume that's a good thing."

    "Well you actually have a personality and a brain so…it follows that you couldn't be cut from the same mold."

    "Ah yes, the mold -- the creator did break it when he brought me into existence. I'm guessing he got it repaired since people continue to be born."

    "Probably…so…"

    "So…"

He stared, she stared back. He smirked, she smirked back. Suddenly the phrase 'you've met your match' didn't seem to accurately convey what had happened to him.

    “Still waiting for that kissing thing huh…”

    “He’s a sharp one, said the two-edged sword.”

    “Well you’re just a barrel of laughs…”

    “You should see me when I’ve had more to drink.”

Chuckling, he inched closer. “You know, this would be easier if you actually stopped talking.”

    “What, so you can serve twenty people twenty different drinks and carry on with me at the same time, but you can’t talk and kiss…the word ‘conundrum’ seems to come to mind for some reas–”

Thankfully, she didn’t have a chance to finish her rant, as his mouth had claimed hers, his left hand placed lightly on her cheek. It was more of an experimental joining of lips than a kiss, since he’d pulled back a few centimeters and waited for her to initiate something – anything. Her eyes closed, she felt herself leaning in until she was kissing him again, adding a slight amount of pressure. Both of them moaned softly as they’d both decided for their tongues to mingle together at the same time, and Lorelai decided at that moment that kissing him had been worth all the tiring banter that had preceded it.

It was, of course, with a regretful frame of mind that either of them stopped the kissing, but sadly, human beings require oxygen to live, so they both separated with gradual reluctance, making no move out of each other's personal space.

Drawing her lower lip between her teeth thoughtfully, she couldn't help the grin tugging at the corner of her mouth, and she waited for the air to work its way through her system before she chanced any sort of dialogue. "Wow..."

The smirk. It needs no introduction. "Yeah..."

Her grin broke into a full-fledged smile as her fingers worked nimbly at the hem of his shirt. "That was nice."

    "It was nice."

    "I mean really nice."

    "It was really nice."

    "I mean really really nice."

His smirk took on an amused tone for the umpteenth time that evening. "It was really really nice."

    "So you agree?"

    "Didn't I say I did?"

    "Just a little...barside humor."

    "Ah so that's what it looks like. Mental note for next time."

    "I thought I made it painfully obvious with my repeated usage of the word 'nice'..."

    "Well, for all I know, you could have some sort of unhealthy attachment to that word that I might or might not want to get in the middle of."

    "Okay, maybe you can help me out with the adjectives here, my mind's still kind of trapped in the recovering stage."

    "Right. So you thought it was nice."

She smiled again. "Yes I did."

He looked down and noticed her somewhat fidgety activity involving his shirt hem and returned her smile fondly, his fingertips occasionally brushing against hers in a languid caress. "Any other thoughts you want to add to that?"

    "See the mind, it's still trapped...in the...thing--"

    "Thoughts without adjectives in them, naturally."

    "Um, I think I might need another...sample just to make...sure...w..."

She trailed off when their mouths finally met again, a slow mingling of lips, tongue and something else unnameable. It wasn't until she realized that they called it a sample for a reason, and she ended the kiss with just as much reluctance as before. "Yep...yep you still do that...really well."

Him and his smirk got reacquainted. "The feeling's mutual."

Lorelai paused briefly, assessing the weight of the request she was about to make. The look in his eyes pretty much made her decision for her. "...Think your boss might give you a break any time soon?"

    "He might. He's kind of a task master, but I think under all that bristling exterior he's just a big old softie."

    "I'm pretty good at begging...oh and bribery, if it comes to that. Sordid past best left forgotten, that type of thing."

His smirk widened, and he led them away from the bar. "Both very intriguing options, remind me to capitalize later on."

    "Well that would be bad tact, but...it's possible something could be arranged." As they walked through the crowd then up some very exclusive looking stairs, their locale began to change and Lorelai became quite curious. "Where're we going?"

    "Boss's break room. He's off tonight so I think we might be able to score some privacy."

    "Okay see...the thing with us pretending the boss isn't you might only have a gnat's lifespan, so why don't we consider saving up on some material for right now and then come back to it once we miss it enough that we figure out something meaningless to ultimately warrant its return?"

He tossed another smirk over his shoulder and brought them the rest of the way up the stairs then through a door marked 'PRIVATE' before shutting it behind them. "You started it."

    "While that may be true, I'm only talking temporary retirement here. Twenty, thirty minutes. Tops."

    "Consider the bantering topic shelved. We moving on?"

It was now her turn to smirk again, and she nodded shortly. "Yes, we are moving on."

    "Good." He placed his hands around her waist and closed the minimal gap between them, reinitiating the kiss while she took the liberty of resting her arms on his shoulders, her fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck. Once they started moving, she idly caught notice of an object positioned on the other side of the room and took a brief intermission from the kissing so she could use her mouth to talk.

    "What's that?"

He looked over to see what she was referring to then looked back at her. "It's a bed."

    "A bed."

    "Yes."

    "In your office."

    "Well...it's actually a lounge area/break room, but..."

    "And you need a bed for..."

    "Sleeping."

    "You sleep here?"

    "Sometimes. Long work days, late nights...it happens."

    "Don't you have an apartment or a place to live?"

    "I do."

    "And you didn't plan to use it as maybe somewhere to sleep when you made the purchase...so what does it do, self-clean and throw cocktail parties?"

    "Why are we talking right now?"

    "Mm good question. We could be sleeping, I never thought of that. Great idea, though."

Figuring the best way to get her to shut up would be to kiss her again, he did just that. Thankfully it worked. "Have I told you you're a handful?"

Lorelai smirked, rather pleased with herself, and she went to work on the button of his slacks while moving them back toward the bed of much discussion. "Not in the last five minutes."

    "You're a handful."

She gasped in an intentionally girly manner. "I bet you say that to all the girls. Then you bring them back to your office with whimsical sleep promises since your place of residence is just not good enough for that type of thing and you wouldn't want to lead them astray into a sleepless existence on the first date...so considerate."

    "I do what I can," he said, though his tone lacked an air of humility.

As Lorelai shoved him into a seated position on the edge of the bed, he made a mental note that it was best to just let her continue on in her rants and go along for the ride rather than make sense of her quirky yet albeit intriguing thought patterns.

    "I sure hope so. I'll be sure and give you a rating later on -- that way you can assess whether the office sleeping bed might be better suited for more homely uses. Like Scrabble and Monopoly...maybe some card games. A little Backgammon..."

He groaned involuntarily when she straddled his lap. "Is this something we could possibly discuss later?"

Lorelai made a thinking face before conceding. "I think a postponing can be arranged." Not much talking in the form of coherent conversation occured after that.

Nothing Like You And I - 3/? (R-NC-17)

2006-10-09T23:31:26Z

TITLE: Nothing Like You And I
AUTHOR: Calliopeia
FANDOM: Smallville
PAIRING: Clark/Chloe (Chlark)
GENRE: Adult, Romance, Humor
DISCLAIMER: Credit to The WB (now The CW I suppose, if we're going to get technical). And sadly, neither the lovely Allison Mack nor the hazardously sexy Tom Welling belong to me, and neither do their characters. As much as I'd love that to be true.
SUMMARY: New relationships are so much fun...and also really complicated. Contiuation of "A River In Egypt".

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Latest addition to the fic. Hope you like it.

CHAPTER III: The Beauty of Conflict

Well, from the looks of things, Clark had paved himself a nice long road to redemption, riddled creatively with broken glass and hot coals and other pain-inflicting objects. Nothing he did from that moment on would be right. He was in the doghouse.

How could he have just forgotten to tell his parents? As excited as he’d been about…well, okay, granted he wasn’t going to tell his parents that, but at least he’d have said something about how he’d gone from being friends with Chloe to dating her. But no, he couldn’t even do that much. He was a failure. A complete and utter failure. And as bad as he felt at that moment, he didn’t envy himself being in the position of Chloe’s slice of cherry pie – the poor thing was taking such harsh jabs and pokes from her fork. Great, now he’d gone and ruined the pie slice’s life too. He should just take a quick run around the world and jot down everyone’s name so he could be sure to find some way to disrupt their existences and fill his quota.

    “Are you enjoying your pie, Chloe?”

Chloe took a break from shooting eye daggers in Clark’s general direction to smile pleasantly at Martha. “It’s delicious, Mrs. Kent – I’d love to take some home with me, if you don’t mind.”

    “Oh no, not at all. I’m sure Clark won’t mind setting some aside for you before we leave.”

Clark’s interest was peaked. “You guys are going out?”

    “Oh yeah, Clark, we meant to tell you,” Jonathan jumped in, taking his plate to the sink, “your mother and I are celebrating the anniversary of the first day we met. The spot’s about an hour or two from here, and there’s this great bed and breakfast nearby, so we thought we’d stay overnight, just for kicks. We’ll be back, at the latest, by tomorrow afternoon.”

Chloe gasped a little too enthusiastically. “Aw…that is so cute. I just love happy, romantic couples, don’t you Clark?”

He forsook the opportunity to see her subtle glare of disdain and pressed on. “Yeah…well that sounds great guys. Um…I guess I’ll hold down the fort ‘til you get back?”

Martha beamed and immediately began clearing the table and preparing to leave. “We’d really appreciate it, sweetie. We won’t be gone long, I already called someone about covering my shifts at the Talon, our produce delivery got moved to Wednesday so there’s no need to worry about that tomorrow, and there’s waffles in the freezer for breakfast if you want – all you have to do is pop them in the toaster oven, no need to turn on any other appliances and burn the house down…oh Clark, we got a couple movies from the video store earlier. You’re welcome to invite Chloe to stay and watch – just so you won’t be lonely.”

Clark met Chloe’s fixed stare uneasily and gulped. “Uh…”

    “I’d love to stay, Mrs. Kent – besides, Clark and I have a bit more studying to catch up on. We won’t be too late though.”

Jonathan held Martha’s coat open for her before grabbing his own. “Believe me, Chloe – I know all about late night study sessions. Good thing Clark’ll have you around to make sure he doesn’t fall asleep on the job.”

There it was again…the stare. That carnivorous, intimidating, blood-curdling stare of hers. Dammit, he was almost a head and a half taller than her, not to mention immeasurably stronger and faster – what the hell did he have to be afraid of?

    “Good thing,” she chimed, the stare unwavering. He almost chided himself for thinking about how hot she looked when she was trying to pretend she wasn’t seething with anger.

Quick, find a distraction. “Hey Mom, you can leave the dishes and stuff – I’ll get it later.”

She smiled gratefully. “That’s great, honey, thank you. And be sure to use the microwave popcorn this time – I don’t trust you one iota around my stove.”

Clark made a face as he showed them out the door. “I’ll be sure to remember that, Mom. Have a great time, you two.” And with a few more muddled last-minute orders and goodbyes, they were gone.

No sooner had the door been shut than he turned to find Chloe bustling around the kitchen, doing all his chores. The chores he’d clearly said he’d do and knew she’d heard him say he’d do. “Chlo, you don’t need to do that.”

    “Don’t worry about it, Clar – besides, what are friends for?”

He leaned wearily on the counter, scrubbing his fingers through his hair. “Alright, how long are you going to keep this up?”

    “Keep what up,” she inquired, turning to face him, arms crossed and eyebrow hitched.

    “This being mad at me thing…I get it, okay, I’m an idiot, I screwed up, I should’ve told them and I didn’t…so…what, are you planning on killing me with ‘friend’ references?”

Something in her face changed, and he assumed he wasn’t going to like it. “Back up, Lord of the Barn – when did this become about me? I never neglected to mention to my dad that I was dating you and you’d be around more often. In fact, I was actually excited enough about it that I couldn’t wait to tell him since he’d been wanting to hear something about it for, oh I don’t know, five or six years maybe!”

    “Well what exactly did you tell him, Chloe? ‘Oh hey Dad, how are you, by the way, remember Clark? Yeah, well I gave him a blowjob today and now he’s my boyfriend. Isn’t that just peachy keen?’…I bet it went over real smooth.”

    “Don’t be such a bastard, Clark, okay? You know that’s not what I said and you know that’s not what you would’ve said either.”

    “To be perfectly honest, I don’t know what I would’ve said! Believe it or not, I don’t have a way with words all the time, like you do, and maybe I find it a little harder to express myself because of that, I don’t know. But I do know that them not knowing about us has nothing to do with how I feel about you.”

Shit. She knew he’d deliver one of those lines at some point, she just didn’t expect it to work. She even felt her eyes welling up. Why couldn’t he just stay on his side of the counter? Why did he have to walk over to her with those concerned eyes of his and those hands of his shoved in his pockets, accentuating those arms of his that happened to be attached to that torso of his, which connected beautifully to that lower half of his…holy hell, was she ever far gone.

    “I’m sorry that you think that I was trying to hide you from my parents. But believe it or not, there are some things that I just don’t tell them right away, if at all…not a lot, but some. And maybe I didn’t want something that’s just starting and as special as this is to be everyone’s business by the time we got to school tomorrow…I mean, you can understand that, can’t you?”

Toying with the hem of his T-shirt, she grinned and blinked away a few tears. “Yeah…I’m sorry. I kind of overreacted and jumped to conclusions a bit. I just…I got so caught up in our change in status, I didn’t really stop to think about what you were feeling…and I should have. I mean, you may be as big as a house, but you have feelings too, right?”

He rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Right. Besides…maybe it’s better that they don’t know.”

She became intrigued with the mischievous air his expression had taken on. “How do you figure?”

    “Well,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around her waist, “if you seem to recall, they just left us in the house…all by ourselves…all night. I could be wrong, but that sounds like a good thing.”

Chloe felt her knees weaken at the smoky look in his eyes and grinned warmly. “You, Mr. Kent, are a lot more devilish than I’ve ever given you credit for.”

He shrugged. “What can I say…I’m full of surprises.”

    “I bet,” she said, before pulling him into a heated kiss.

Shockingly enough, he didn’t put up much of a fight, backing her into the counter before briefly breaking the kiss so he could pick her up and set her on top of the counter.

She smiled, out of breath. “That seemed a little easier than it should’ve been.”

Clark rolled his eyes and grinned. “Meaning what, that you’re heavy? Yeah right, that’ll be the day.”

    “Well maybe not to you…I think I already called you Lord of the Barn once this evening.”

    “Me doing farm work has nothing to do with you being too heavy to lift easily.”

    “Oh really?”

    “Yes really. You’re perfect the way you are, and that’s all there is to it. Nothing more to discuss.”

Chloe beamed shyly and lowered her head while he tucked her hair behind her ear and stared at her approvingly. She managed to catch eyes with him and huffed a giggle. “Stop it, you’re making me blush…God, I’m such a girl…”

Clark chuckled. “Well I’d hope so…otherwise you’d have a lot of explaining to do, what with those magnanimous assets you’ve been toting around all this time.”

She returned the laugh and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Magnanimous. That’s a big word, y’know.”

When all he did was make a self-assured face that said ‘I do try’, she gave him a quick kiss and leaned back on her hands before continuing, “So…my assets are magnanimous, are they?”

Clark retained eye contact and pulled her hips closer to his, tugging at her bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue and drawing it into a torrid kiss. “Yes, they are.”

Her forehead nuzzled near his chin, Chloe felt herself shudder involuntarily, or so she thought, as his fingers from his left hand trailed up her side and under her chest, holding one side of it while his thumb circling around a particularly sensitive area and was justly rewarded as she moaned and arched more into his touch. Clark felt empowered with this new sense of in-control-ness – he liked knowing he could touch Chloe and she would enjoy it. Made him feel manly. He then rallied his other hand to join in the efforts, and this time she let her head fall back lightly, exposing that tasty little neck of hers for him to kiss and nibble on…which he did. She, meanwhile, got to experience what it’s like to be groped by Clark Kent…rest assured, it’s a beautiful and powerful thing.

Clark was having so much fun with her ‘magnanimous assets’ as it were that he almost failed to notice Chloe was wearing a skirt. She had been wearing a skirt since the moment she’d gotten to his house – in fact, he even recalled himself admiring how beautiful she looked in the diagonally-striped, off-white piece of clothing that cut just below her knee – but somehow, it had taken an event like, say, making out with her on his kitchen counter, to realize such a golden opportunity.

She was wearing a skirt. Skirts, in a Boy Land, only meant one thing – easy access. He’d never considered himself one to make such a daring play, but given the events that had transpired over the past few days, it didn’t seem like such a scary idea. Far from, actually… somewhere along the lines of a ‘you idiot, why didn’t you think of this sooner? No wonder you never noticed how hot Chloe was before now’ type of revelation. Clark just told the voices in his head that he had his smart moments and to leave him alone for the time being.

Borrowing one of his hands for the task, he made his way down Chloe’s stomach, over her hip, around her backside, and across her thigh, hooking his finger behind her knee so he could drag her closer and somehow finding the hand traveling under her skirt toward her hip again. He was pleasantly surprised to discover a severe lack in material to cover her rear end – all that resided was thin elastic strap, which he followed with his fingertips until he connected with a patch of smooth and silky satin, seeming to be the largest part of the undergarment. Curious, Clark kissed around to the left side of her neck to assess exactly what he was working with – one smirk and a quick glance with the trusty old X-ray vision confirmed that Chloe knew the meaning of color coordination.

Lavender.

Went with her lavender top and the lavender patterned stripes on her off-white skirt. He’d already found out her bra was the same color.

Yes. He decided he liked matching lingerie, especially on her, and continued with his conquest.

Chloe thread her fingers through Clark’s hair, not entirely sure which of his hands she should lean towards. Realistically, there were only two of them, but there seemed to be numerous pleasurable options at her disposal. She waited with heightened patience as he ran his fingertips back and forth across her stomach, by her inner thigh, letting him experiment and explore. The tension kept building, and it became quite apparent that she needed a little more than that. She felt his middle finger dip quite lower than before – he was so close. She instinctively rolled her hips forward to help him out.

Almost on cue, both of them sighed with relief, and she rested her forehead on his chest, her hands poised, one on his other hand, the other on his shoulder and the sides of his arm. Clark nestled his face into her soft blonde hair, silently thanking the makers of L’Oreal hair products, then pressed his digit further once – her nails dug into the short sleeve of his shirt. He used a more deep and firm technique the second time, and she moaned softly. The third time was obviously a charm as a tremor coursed through her abdomen, the whimper caught in the back of her throat shuddering in appreciation.

He was really starting to get the hang of this. After a few more strokes, he felt the material under his fingertips dampen, and his curiosity burned for more. Skillfully, he managed to push it aside without ripping the whole deal to shreds, which he felt like he could do at this point, and he came in contact with Chloe’s soft skin.

Wow. This was hot. He’d heard that some girls fancied the shaven approach, for both themselves and their male counterparts, but this…this was hot. Dangerously stimulating even. It almost seemed to make things more feminine…more delicate. And he could definitely stand to stop letting his thoughts distract him now.

Nudging her face up to meet his, he waited for her to open her eyes and look at him. The sight alone of her sated mossy-green stare connecting with his blue combined with her highly addictive lips slightly parted was almost enough for him to want to embarrass himself and ruin everything. But somehow, he managed to find some kind of self-control and pressed on.

    “Show me what to do,” he heard his voice request.

She tried not to appear shocked at his boldness and instead came to the conclusion that it was the hugest turn-on to date, seeing him take charge like this. Obediently and however tentatively, her hand trailed down his well-muscled arm and met with his own, settled patiently at the apex of her thighs. She spread her legs a little wider before taking his fingers and guiding them past the barrier of her skin. With her assistance, his middle digit circled around her opening, and she bit down on her bottom lip.   The feeling was electric. Almost dangerously so, as if she might catch on fire, and she let the warmth spread through her as his finger continued its minstrations.

    "Does that feel okay?" His voice was somewhat husky and breathless, like he almost couldn't believe what was happening either. He hadn't really needed to ask, of course, what with the pleasurable moans escaping past her lips, but he wanted to make sure all the same.

The most recent gasp he rendered from her spiked into a more high-pitched register, and her eyes fell shut as a lazy smile crept across her mouth. "Oh God yes. More than okay."

Well alright then. More than okay was good -- more than okay was more than good.

Once he became more familiar with the cadence she preferred, Chloe released his hand and concentrated on letting her own feelings take over. Her head fell back, the rhythm of her breathing increased, pleasure screamed and pulsed through her veins. Meanwhile, Clark added another finger, which she seemed to appreciate (she almost made a purring sound), adding and releasing pressure to coincide with the slow grinding motion of her hips. She leaned back on her hands again, the distance between her thighs widening as Clark moved the material of her skirt out of the way so he could visually concentrate on what he was doing.

This was really too sweet a deal. He had his girlfriend on a counter top, spreading her legs for him and letting him touch her in the most intimate way. Excitement didn't accurately convey the emotion. He was elated. He prayed to God he wasn't wearing that goofy grin of his at the mere sight of what he was doing to her and chanced pressing his fingertip against her opening. Almost instantaneously, her hips twitched and rocked toward his hand.

    "Mmmm Clark I like that..."

Apparently so. She gnawed on her bottom lip while he glanced up from his task to make eye contact and quirked an eyebrow. "Really?"

    "Uh huh."

    "Oh."

And there it was. He knew the grin would show up. It was his lifelong destiny to make himself look like the biggest dork ever.

    "Stick your fingers inside me, Clark." Good God. Well don't be shy or anything, Chloe, tell him what you really want. He processed her request -- check that, demand -- and gulped accordingly.

    "But what about..." He hinted cutely about his surface activity that he had assumed she liked, based on her reactions.

    "Just use your thumb."

    "Oh. Right."

Thinking of everything, as always.

Gently and somewhat tentatively, he sent in his middle digit first, initiating a ripple that seemd to course through her from head to toe, then added his index and watched his fingers disappear. She hissed and shuddered against him, and he recoiled slightly, thinking he might've been a little too eager.

    "Did I hurt you?"

Her eyes met his and sent a fiery message that he'd seen before and frankly intimidated the hell out of him, only this time it wasn't angry. It was more...primal.

    "No Clark, for Christ's sake..." Chloe's tone slid down from threatlessly annoyed and she rocked her hips forward, urging him on. "Don't stop."

The hesitance he might've felt for even a split second had vanished and was nowhere to be seen. Clark may have been habitually dense when it came to some things, but he wasn't a total idiot, and as far as pleasuring his girlfriend was concerned, he didn't need to be told twice. It wasn't really a 'twist my arm' situation. If she wanted something, he'd give it to her, especially when it was something he discovered completely fascinated him.

His fingers worked on their own from that moment, torn between watching them and Chloe's highly addictive reactions. If he went deep enough, she actually said his name (or something like it anyway); if he twisted his hand or found another angle, she gasped and mumbled some incoherent expletives; and if he used a combination of the two while adding his thumb, like she suggested, she almost whimpered, tremors racking her petite frame. When her inner muscles began to convulse around him, he figured this was it -- what he'd been building up to, what he'd been working for, and he was going to watch. More intently than he'd ever watched anything before. Hopefully, his heat vision wouldn't choose to act up and he'd refrain from setting Chloe on fire.

    "Oh...God..."

Accompanied by a series of shuddering moans he was thankful weren't in danger of being heard by anyone else, she came right in front of him -- body trembling violently, eyes squeezed shut, hand poised against his so he wouldn't move. It was honestly the most breathtaking sight he'd ever witnessed. If video cameras weren't so voyeuristic and smarmy, he'd have liked to capture the event on film. He was almost giddy -- at what he'd seen, at what he'd done.

Eventually, the excitement died down and he retrieved his fingers from their post, stealthily finding an idle dish rag to wipe them off with while Chloe fought to come down from the rafters and catch her breath, her clothing getting all necessary yet temporary adjustments.

    "Wow."

    "Yeah," she managed, running her hand through her hair while a slow smile tugged at her lips.

    "That was amazing."

    "I completely agree."

He grinned, admiring and intrigued. "You are so totally sexy right now."

A lilted giggle bubbled out of her, though it ended up sounding sexy, just like the rest of her, and she finally gained some semblance of control over her intake of oxygen while she sat up and wrapped her arms around Clark's waist. "I'm sexy...you should talk. God, where did you learn to do that?"

    "I had a good teacher...and I pick things up pretty fast," he answered, kissing her lightly before the grin transforming into a smirk.

    "I'll say." She sighed and let the cobwebs clear. "Man Clark, you wore me out."

    "Well I'm glad," he said, his megawatt smile widening. "I really liked that, actually, we might have to do that more often."

    "Oh might we?"

    "Mm."

She matched his smile and pulled him into another kiss -- a much more passionate one -- letting her fingers thread through the hair that framed his ears and curled at the nape of his neck. It wasn't long before one of her hands trailed down the front of his hopelessly muscled torso and trespassed the invisible barrier of his jeans' waistband, snaking candidly around the bulge she figured had made an appearance along with her own arousal. His reaction was instant as he moaned gutterally into her mouth, gripping the counter for sanity as she stroked him senseless.

    "Yeah I can tell you liked it alright," Chloe mumbled against his parted lips, tugging on one of them with her teeth.

Whether he could've anticipated what happened next or not, Clark was sure nothing would've prepared him. But it happened. She squeezed him pleasantly -- perhaps too pleasantly -- and his hand that clung desperately to the counter's edge tightened and broke off a large enough chunk of it to warrant concern. She took a break from her activity upon hearing the loud noise of granite and creaking plywood and looked to her right.

Holy shit.

Clark didn't know what else to do except stand wide-eyed, staring at the damage he'd incurred then looking up to meet the utter shock and surprise he found etched all over Chloe's beautiful face.

Well how the hell was he going to explain this?

    "Got a little excited, huh..."

He barely caught her raised eyebrow and went back to staring at the crater he'd made. "Yeah."

Silence set in, slightly awkward, and he let it stretch before he spoke again.

    "Chlo. We need to talk."

    "Yeah."

Nothing Like You And I - 2/? (R-NC-17)

2006-10-09T19:09:31Z

CHAPTER II: Like, BFF!

Sitting on his bed surrounded by textbooks and loose-leaf paper, Clark heard a knock at his bedroom door.

    “Come in,” he called, not looking up from the task at hand.

Chloe peeked her head inside and beamed at the sight of him being so diligent. “Wow, you really weren’t kidding about that studying thing, were you?”

Clark’s vision shot up at the sound of her voice, and his face broke out into that patented million-dollar smile. “Hey.”

    “Hey there – the front door was open so…”

    “Oh that’s fine,” he waved off, shifting things around on the bed so he could actually get up and walk over to her. “You…want something to drink?”

She made a pseudo-pensive face. “Hmm…not so much. I would like a kiss though…”

    “Chlo…” he whined, even though he continued to walk closer, “I’ve got so much work to do.”

    “And giving me a kiss will just – screw all that up.”

He wrapped one hand around her waist, cradling her face with the other. “Yes…NO,” he immediately corrected when he saw her eyebrow lift, “…no, it’ll just…delay it a little.”

    “Or a lot,” she teased, passing by his mouth and standing on her toes to take his earlobe lightly between her teeth.

Groaning, he rested his forehead on her shoulder. “I should just give up, shouldn’t I?”

    “Mhm,” she nodded, threading her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and starting the kissing process.

It didn’t take much for him to succumb to Chloe’s feminine wiles, helping her out of her jean jacket and tossing it somewhere in his room to be forgotten then letting her do the same with his white T. He wondered why she pulled back from the kiss only to find she was staring him down like…a really starving person looking at a table full of…food…lots of food.

He gulped and grinned shyly. “What?”

Chloe tore her eyes away from his torso and looked at him, chuckling. “You’re honestly going to tell me you’ve never noticed how your body just doesn’t stop?”

    “Doesn’t stop what,” he questioned with a lilt of laughter in his voice, totally oblivious.

Enamored, she stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, running her tongue along and inside his mouth before finishing with a kiss. “They don’t make anymore like you, do they?”

Clark managed to smirk knowingly and answered, “I don’t think so,” while he walked them back to the edge of his bed, where he then sat and she straddled his lap, more than happy to continue with the heated make-out session. And it did continue…for a long, long time. Well, in the make-out sense, of course.

She accidentally shifted her hips to get more comfortable, but decided based on his loud reaction to have a few more “accidents” and play it off as innocently as possible. Even with all the kissing that had commenced, he’d barely gotten her shirt off, too distracted with his hands roaming under it. Then there was a knock at the door. The two of them exchanged panicked glances then scrambled for their absent clothing.

He was a bit faster, tugging on his T-shirt and cracking open the door, just wide enough so his upper body could be seen. “Mom…”

Mrs. Kent smiled, and he returned the gesture tightly, clearing his throat. “You’re home already?”

    “Already? Clark, it’s almost 6:00.”

    “Oh.” Wow…time really flies when you’re making out.

    “I just wanted to tell you that dinner’ll be ready in about 15 minutes…we’re having leftovers tonight.”

Clark nodded in a stiff-necked manner, looking warily over his shoulder to assess the status of Chloe’s dress while Martha patted the pile of folded laundry in her hands and asked, “Is Chloe here?”

    “What?” How could she know that?!

On cue, Chloe popped up behind Clark, fully-clothed and fresh-faced. “Mrs. Kent – Clark and I were just, um…studying.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his brain still fogged over, so she gave him a little friendly nudge. “Yeah, we’ve got a lot of stuff to do for…school, so we were…studying.”

Chloe’s plastered smile faltered for an instant at how lame and forced he sounded, but Martha obviously had other things on her mind and didn’t notice. “Well, you’re welcome to stay for dinner, Chloe – I can call your dad for you and let him know.”

    “Thanks, Mrs. Kent, that would be great.”

With that, Martha headed to the linen closet then downstairs to the kitchen to finish up the meal preparation.

Clark looked back at Chloe’s amused expression just long enough for her to pull him back into the room by his shirt and kiss away what little bit of resolve he had left. Thankfully, his foot did the honors of closing the door behind them.

    “Martha, once again – you’ve outdone yourself,” Jonathan broke into the comfortable silence as the Kents and Chloe sat around the dinner table.

She beamed at her husband. “Well I’m glad you’re enjoying it dear…so…Clark, how was your day?”

Clark looked up wide-eyed at the sound of his voice, just in time to catch Chloe’s concealed smirk and grin in return. “Uh…it was good. Y’know. School, homework –”

    “Making out on newspaper room desks,” a small, almost unheard voice chimed in.

Martha cleared her throat and glanced in the direction of the voice, completely oblivious. “I’m sorry, what was that Chloe?”

Chloe’s enjoyment of her brilliantly laid comment was short-lived, and she was quickly gaping for an appropriate response. Now it was Clark’s turn to feel enjoyment at her expense. “Uuuummm…lots of students…sitting in desks.”

    “Oh,” she replied, grinning pleasantly and taking another bite, for which Chloe was thankful so her face could crumble in embarrassment without being seen.

Quick, change the subject. “So Clark, I hear the football team’s been giving you a break lately.”

Clark caught eyes with the desperate blonde and took the hint that the conversation needed saving. “Oh…yeah. Feels good not to be such an outsider for once. I think they’ve learned to deal with the fact that I’m not goin’ anywhere. And the points I make mean just as much as the ones they make. Plus, I’ve gotten better at learning to control my abi – ”

Jonathan and Martha both sent visual silencers Clark’s way the instant the word began to form in his mouth. Oops. Forgot it wasn’t just them tonight. Uh…thinking on one’s feet….

    “My…uh…absent-minded…ness…”

Chloe gave him a piteous expression. “Good luck trying to control that one, Buster. You, the award-winning king of strategically occurring tardiness.”

His playful glare was met with her challenging eyebrow, half-feigning innocence, none-too-lessened by the accompanying chuckles from his parents.

    “Chloe’s right,” Martha interjected, shooting her son a knowing eye message, “Clark does seem to have a problem with being all the places he wants to be at the same time. But, maybe the more he hangs out with you, Chloe, the better his chances are at finding what his priorities are and sticking to them.”

The grin on Chloe’s face turned subtly smug, and she poked at her food in triumph. “Well, y’know…I’m a busy woman, but I’ll see what I can do to fit him in…make a few calls, maybe move some things around on my schedule.”

If you were sitting at the table, looking at the top, you’d think Clark was smiling at her jest. But, if you were positioned under the table, you’d know that he was smiling because her hand had found its way to his inner thigh and was rubbing it in quite a suggestive manner.

Jonathan chuckled. “That’s good of you, Chloe. But in all seriousness, it’s been great, you being around Clark, growing up…he’s really lucky to have such an honest, genuine friend like you in his life.”

And, with a pained cringing of Clark’s face, all suggestive rubbing had stopped.

He hadn’t told them.

She’d waited most of her childhood and teenage/not-quite-an-adult-yet life for him to wake up and grab a clue from the smart peoples’ pile, realize she was more than just the quippy blonde chum who was always around for a good laugh and a mean game of Undercover Brother. He’d finally done just that, and he hadn’t even bothered to tell the two people she was sure to whom he told everything. He had a whole day and a half to take care of that crap, and he couldn’t even do that right. Now she was going to be pissed.

Trying not to appear so crestfallen, Chloe casually used her unoccupied hand to run her fingers through her hair and appear completely normal. “Friend…yeah. Yeah, we’re great friends. Smashing, in fact. Off the charts. Right…buddy?”

Clark winced even further at her bitter dig, knowing he deserved it. “Yeah. Off the charts.”

The room was now divided – one part was all smiles and blissfully unaware, one part was seeing red, and one part was up to his eyebrows in some deep ass shit.

This was going to be a long night.

A River In Egypt - 1/1 (NC-17)

2006-10-09T18:23:00Z

TITLE: A River In Egypt
AUTHOR: Calliopeia
FANDOM: Smallville
PAIRING: Clark/Chloe (Chlark)
GENRE: Adult, Romance, Humor
DISCLAIMER: Credit to The WB (now The CW I suppose, if we're going to get technical). And sadly, neither the lovely Allison Mack nor the hazardously sexy Tom Welling belong to me, and neither do their characters. As much as I'd love that to be true.
SUMMARY: Denial is a sad, sorry emotion, and Chloe's sick of putting up with it.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wrote and published this fic on FF.net some time ago. But since this is my writing journal, I figured I'd post it here, since this is my writing journal. It stemmed from my frustrations over having no Chlark romance, or smut, as the case may be, for me to view on the show. And also because I secretly find the subject matter fascinating. So yes...enjoy! Leave feedback if it's not too much trouble.

A River In Egypt

They were just friends.

I mean, how many times had they established that fact? The redux was on the verge of mind numbing.

But, be that as it may, there was still no rational explanation for why Clark Kent had been recently lusting after his best friend, Chloe Sullivan, in a more-than-unfriendly way. He’d just told her barely a couple weeks ago that he needed more time to develop the kinds of feelings that she wanted and needed him to reciprocate. And yet, ever since then, he’d caught himself having impure thoughts about her at random points in the day, or letting his vision wander involuntarily to her rack when he was supposed to be listening to her, or following her ass with his eyes when she’d leave the room. Of course, one couldn’t leave out the elevator incident when he wouldn’t have minded if they’d really been Lex and Eve together for just a few moments. The only “friends” who displayed that kind of behavior were lying like dogs to themselves. He couldn’t be a friend with someone he envisioned naked…almost all the time.

Something had to be done.

_________________

    “Chloe, you’re such a moron,” Chloe mumbled to herself as she walked down the now-empty halls of Smallville High, headed for The Torch and all her writing responsibilities.

She couldn’t believe she’d let Clark wiggle his way out of feeling something for her YET again. Really, the boy was a walking contradiction; he says he can’t date her, then seconds later he puts his hand on her shoulder and kisses her on the cheek. Then they’re still friends, but they suddenly exchange long, wonton stares at each other in public elevators. Mixed signals much? She should’ve just demanded that he be honest with himself and stop running from her.

Well, it wasn’t like she’d really had much of a choice -- she couldn’t make him create feelings for her that didn‘t exist...could she?

This made Chloe’s expression cringe in curiosity. When she really thought about it, all the times that she’d been subject to some meteor-rock-induced fiasco, she’d always been as brazen as a whore with Clark; shock of all shocks, each and every time, it had taken Clark more than a normal amount of time to stop whatever was going on…so from that, there had to be some indication that, on an unknown level, he actually enjoyed it. That was good news. That meant she wasn’t working with nothing. It could mean that, while Chloe’s feelings for him were somewhat obvious, some scientific fluke had fabricated all the ways she chose to show those feelings. Maybe part of his fear of commitment as far as she was concerned was that he doubted how serious she really was about what she claimed to feel for him. If she ever made a move on Clark as herself…

The curious expression she’d worn previous flattened devilishly, and she headed to the newspaper HQ with newfound confidence, the corner of her mouth hitched up in a grin.

Wow. What flawless reasoning. She should consider a career in law.

Chloe was glad she looked moderately sexy today, and also that she’d actually worn a mini-skirt -- judging by how stoic Clark tended to be, she was going to need all the help she could get.

Rounding the corner to the Torch entrance, Chloe was delighted to see Clark sitting at her computer, typing the assignment she had no doubt given him earlier that day, and wearing the cutest face she’d possibly ever seen him wear. His cornflower-blue T-shirt and dark denim jeans didn’t go unnoticed by her either, since it was well known that she loved when Clark wore those items on a regular basis.

When he finally noticed her presence after hearing the door close, she had to take back her previous assessment of his previous expression, since the one he was currently fashioning trumped them all -- he looked like she’d just caught him masturbating. She even sent a subtle glance under the table to make sure she hadn’t, it was that authentic. She swallowed the laughter that bubbled in her throat and gave a neutral grin.

    “Hey Clark.”

    “Chloe! Hey…how‘s it going?”

Chloe grimaced at his cheerfully forced greeting…and was that a gulp? “Well now that I know you truly are novice to the concept of decuples,” she couldn’t help but tease, and was justly rewarded with a mild blush. He was almost too shy for his own good sometimes.

    “Sorry. I’m a bit…on edge,” he confessed, staring at the screen.

    “Coverage of the Girl’s Field Hockey team bake sale too much for you? I can definitely search for something far less taxing.”

The tension broken, his countenance soured dramatically. “Ha ha, very funny…guess I need more sleep or something.”

    “You’re a growing teenage boy, Clark…tell me something I don’t know. Besides, I’m pretty sure I have things covered here for the afternoon…you can head home and take a nap or whatever.”

    “No -- no that’s okay. I don’t mind, I just…need to re-find my focus,” he declined, almost too enthusiastically.

She smirked. “Well, while you’re finding, let me know if you come across my Sports file -- I’m still recovering from Hurricane Lois and don’t know where anything is, plus the mindless Neander-jock population of Smallville High will no doubt be immobilized without their weekly stats.”

Clark couldn't help eye her with a favorable grin -- he just admired how the wordiest sentences came tumbling out of her mouth so effortlessly. She really was made for the world of journalism…just like her V-cut top was made to show her magnificent cleavage…

Okay, whoa. Eyes on the screen, Dirk Diggler.

Chloe, catching his wandering vision, smirked again and continued busying herself with anonymous paperwork and organization, a plot formulating in her crafty mind.

    "They're breasts, Clark."

Having just taken a sip from his water bottle, he did his best to not spew the contents of his mouth all over the keyboard and remained satisfied to just cough his lungs up through his throat. "I'm sorry, what?"

    "Believe it or not, every female does have them."

His eyes widened moderately then darted to the nearest inanimate object. "I know that."

    "Good…and you're allowed to look -- no one's saying you can't look, just…be more discreet about it if you don’t want me to know you're looking," she clued him in, leaning in conspiratorially and patting his shoulder before shuffling off to do more straightening.

Clark chuckled to himself and scratched the back of his head. Well he was about as smooth as a crocodile's back. "Is there a 'Learn How To Sneak A Glance At Your Friend's Rack' elective that I didn't see in the curriculum by any chance?"

A highly amused giggle erupted from Chloe's frame, hunched on the floor by one of the file cabinets. "I'm feeling a big vat of doubt on that one, Kent…but I'm always available for private instruction, if you're really interested."

Clark glanced warily at Chloe's wily expression and quickly decided that hadn't been a good idea. She broke character and shook her head at him, managing a piteous smile.

    "Wow…yeah, I was kidding Clark. What's got you wired so tight?"

If you only knew, Chloe, one of Clark’s head voices answered non-verbally.

On instinct, she came up next to him and felt his forehead. “Well, you are warm, but then again I don’t think I recall a day in your life when you weren’t…which in and of itself is strange enough.”

And you’re not helping, one of the other voices chimed in. Now Clark understood what it felt like to want to take a power drill to your left temple.

Fingering his dark feathered locks, she added, “You haven’t cut your hair like you said you would.”

    “I didn’t realize it was a contract-binding agreement,” he snarked, adding a hitch from the corner of his mouth, surprised he’d found wit in his current sex-obsessed state.

She stuck her tongue out playfully. “Doesn’t matter…I like it better longer anyway…especially around here in the back,” she cooed, raking her nails lightly along the back of his neck and threading them through the slight curls that resided there.

Chloe couldn’t have been sure, but it had sounded like he’d let out some sort of softened moan – no she was sure, that was what it indeed had been. Wrapping her fingers around to begin playing with his earlobe, he felt the familiar stirrings of arousal and abruptly sat up, clearing his throat and making a big show of regaining his composure.

    “I should probably get back to work,” he croaked hoarsely.

She laughed out loud at the sight of him so hot and bothered over something so minor. “This is just too easy, Clark…I’ve never seen someone so -- what did you have, oysters for lunch?”

Clark grinned and cocked and eyebrow at her. “From our cafeteria? Not a chance.”

She rolled her eyes and pulled up a chair, sitting closely next to him. “Alright Farm Boy – talk to me. I know something’s going on with you that you’re not telling me.”

Blast. He’d been exposed. There would be no turning back after this. He had to learn to shroud his emotions better.

Poised to explain himself, he faced her then realized the lack of proximity between them wasn’t going to help his cause one iota, so he gave a frustrated sigh and rose from his seat. “Look, Chloe…I want to be honest with you…”

    “Well that sounds like a novel idea, Watson.”

Clark’s expression flattened at her sarcasm.

She immediately tried to de-grin her face and held up a surrendering hand. “Sorry…continue.”

Giving her a ‘so glad I have your permission now’ face, he pressed on. “Okay…so I think it’s fair to say I’ve been feeling a little…less than friendly towards you lately.”

Chloe’s head mildly shot back in surprise. “When did this happen?”

    “I don’t know! It’s just…one day, you seemed really…sexy,” he confessed, instantly reddening at his word choice – no matter how much he thought about it, saying it still seemed foreign to him. God, he was such a virgin.

    “And what was I before,” she retorted, never missing a beat.

    “You know what I mean, okay? It was pretty bad before the whole ‘fake-jumping-me-in-the-elevator’ thing, but then it just got worse. First you had hips, then you had breasts, now you have the…” he waved his hand around, trying to find the appropriate description, “…smirking …then it decides to come at me all at once –”

Her smirk widened. “You make me sound like an epidemic of some kind – or else a really bad cold…”

    “Well you might as well be…I can’t think straight when I’m sick, and I certainly can’t think straight when I’m around you,” he argued in a very heated manner, not remembering to use some amount of discretion with his words, even though he never really got sick.

Geez, Kent, just go ahead and tell her how many times a day you masturbate…well, now that he really thought about it, lately there wouldn’t have been much to tell…

Presently, Chloe rose from her perch and headed over to where Clark stood, taking hold of his biceps and guiding him back over to the desk so he had no choice but to half-sit, half-lean against the available space between the edge and the keyboard.

    “I know exactly what your problem is, Clark.”

A wave of relief washed over his countenance. “You do?”

She nodded, adding, “You’re hornier than a dog in heat.”

    “Chloe!”

His appalled reaction made her laugh again. “What, is the ‘H’ word too taboo for Clark Kent? Besides, there’s nothing to be ashamed of, everyone has issues with pent-up sexual frustration – you’re not the first, as hard as that is to believe.”

He almost felt like he wanted a mirror to see how red he’d gotten, but he figured that would make him even more embarrassed.

    “You haven’t masturbated lately, have you?”

To say he was caught off guard by her inquiry would’ve been putting things much too lightly. “I – w – I can’t talk about that with you!”

    “Oh my God it’s so obvious, Clark, you need to have an orgasm.”

    “How can you even tell that?”

Her face lit up with inspiration. “I know! I can give you a blow job,” she said excitedly, shooting off to lock all open-able doors.

Then she stopped suddenly in her tracks and whirled around to face him, embarrassed. “I just said that out loud didn’t I? Oh my GOD, I can’t believe I just said that…forget I said that, okay, just forget it.”

Clark stared at her nervous bumbling with wide and significantly surprised eyes, almost not believing what he’d just heard. “Okay…”

    “No, really Clark – no awkward and uncomfortable silences. Consider it stricken from the record. See, here’s the record,” she illustrated, holding up a random piece of paper, “…so stricken.”

    “Got it,” he agreed, gulping to make sure he still had saliva somewhere in his mouth.

When she’d gone back to the organization thing, almost physically banging her head against the wall for being so presumptuous, all these thoughts raced through her head, so she began to vocalize a few. “I mean, you were just going on about my breasts and my hips coming at you all at once, so this should be a dream come true for you, but that’s so not the point… right? Definitely not the point.”

He nodded blankly. “Right. I mean, that was –”

    “Exactly. I totally agree.”

    “Me too.”

    “Great.”

Silence slowly crept back into the conversation, but Chloe couldn’t make herself shut up. “Like, why would two people who have obvious feelings for each other but have never really made them mutually obvious until now even do something like that? I mean, it’s crazy…so crazy.”

    “Oh I know,” he stated unconvincingly, hooking his thumbs in his pockets and shifting his position out of habit.

Chloe gave a sardonic laugh. “Man, don’t I feel like a world-class loser.”

    “Oh don’t say that – Chloe – it was just a momentary lapse in judgment…thing.”

    “Right…that’s probably what it was…definitely what it was.”

    “Definitely.”

Awkward silence. Awkward silence. Awkward silence.

Clark cleared his throat, Chloe’s inability to stop talking out of her head apparently quite contagious. “I mean, I probably wouldn’t mind…so much, if you were serious, but it’s so good that you weren’t, ‘cause then we’d be on the same page and everything…even though I wouldn’t mind.”

Chloe’s face cringed, not sure if that sounded logical. No, it definitely didn’t. “Right…wait…you really wouldn’t mind?”

Great. Nice going, Kent. Why don’t you just take your pants off and wave things around to really get the point across. “W-well – I mean – I dunno, you brought it up, and now I’m curious.”

Clark’s revelation made Chloe feel somewhat emboldened and up for the task, all of a sudden. “Yeah, me too…”

Less awkward silence. Less awkward silence. Less awkward silence.

    “Well…do you want to…or…want me to, I guess is the right way to put things…” she asked finally.

He tried not to jump out of his skin. “Yes!” Her eyes widened and she grinned at his enthusiasm, which of course made him blush. “I mean…sure. If you wanted…y’know…”

    “Really? You’re okay with this?”

    “Are you?”

She thought about it for a second…well, she was the one who had indeed brought it up, however rashly. So it only made sense that she was okay with it on some level. But clarifications needed to be made. “Do you want it to be a one time thing or…”

After having stared at Chloe’s rack for however many seconds, Clark realized it was his turn to talk. “I-w-do you want it to?”

    “Clark, this answering questions with questions thing is grating on my nerves.”

    “Right…sorry. Okay. So then – we should probably be dating now, or something.”

She giggled, amused with how awkward he sounded. “Is that your distorted, Clark-ly way of asking me out, Mr. Kent?”

He gave a shy grin in return. “Yeah.”

    “Well then I accept,” she said, more than pleased to oblige.

The two of them stood, staring at each other and nodding occasionally with clueless smiles on their faces. Chloe was sort of getting irritated with his lack of action, but it wasn’t like she thought it was out of character. And besides, he was too cute for words, so that pretty much excused a lot of stupidity.

Fed up with the nothingness, she made her move. “So do you want to do this now? ‘Cause if you do, I’m gonna have to close the door.”

She’s talking to you again, genius. He shifted his vision around skeptically then found his bearings. “Okay.”

Smirking, she secured the premises then showed up in front of him, standing in the space between his legs.

Wow…so this was really going to happen. With one last swallow, Clark bit the bullet. “Can I kiss you first?”

Chloe’s smile warmed in endearment, and she handled his face. “Yes Clark, you can kiss me.”

Somewhat precariously, he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers as sort of a test to see what was what– okay, so this wasn’t going to be so terrible after all. Standing a little taller so he could place his hands comfortably on her lower back, he felt her tongue sweep across his bottom lip at a languid pace, and he quickly granted her entrance, just as eager to taste what he’d been daydreaming about for weeks. Besides that brief out-of-body schpiel in the Smallville Medical Center filing room, this was the first time he was getting to experience what it was like to kiss Chloe meteor-free…he’d decided that he liked this a lot better.

They continued their little game of tonsil hockey for a bit longer until Chloe impulsively moved Clark’s left hand up, pressing it firmly on her breast, and without warning she felt a slight hardness pressed against her stomach. She couldn’t help but grin wickedly at the realization that she’d created it.

    “I was hoping that would happen eventually,” she teased, biting at that bottom lip of his that she couldn’t seem to resist and taking the jean-encased bulge in her hand for an experimental squeeze.

He froze, not having a chance to stop the rather loud groan that crept out from the back of his throat, and when she did it again, he said tightly, “Chloe…I don’t think –”

She took his shoulders and pushed him down until he was sitting on the edge again as some sort of silencing response to his blabbering.

Being the ever-difficult soul that he was, he protested again, “But I w – o-kay,” he finally relented after she’d pushed him down a second time and assumed a sitting position in the office chair between his legs, pumping the lever underneath until it had reached its highest setting. Clark was a big boy, after all.

Curiously, she scooted forward a bit and lifted up his shirt so she could feel those abs her fingers had been thinking about since…forever. She didn’t realize how wide her grin got as his muscles twitched and contracted under her searching caress – God bless you, Jonathan Kent, for working this boy’s body into sheer perfection. Clark didn’t seem to mind her bit of exploration one bit. When her hands came back in contact with the distension that was now just under her chin, he jerked, feeling all of his blood begin to work its way south. Now he wanted nothing more than to get these damned jeans off. Too tight.

She seemed to read his mind, undoing his button and fly with minimal caution then tapping his rear so he would lean up and let her move the constricting material further away from the work area. He felt very naked all of a sudden, though still being mostly clothed…something about being nearly bare-assed on a cold wooden slab inspired those kinds of emotions. But it’s not like it would leave a mark or anything, so he pushed all such thoughts into the far recesses of his mind and concentrated on the fact that Chloe was now softly stroking him through his boxers.

Since there were currently no denim obstacles present, Chloe had her first opportunity to get a rough idea of what she was really dealing with when it came to Clark Kent…from the looks of the cotton tent that definitely had all her attention, she was in for quite a large rough idea. Gathering her courage and emboldening her face in determination, she took the plunge and pulled down the Hanes so they could now join his jeans in the Forgotten Articles of Clothing Club.

Okay. So Clark was a very big boy.

    “Wow,” she meant to say only in her head but figured it didn’t really matter, her expression brightening.

She tried to liken her emotions to when she’d received her brand new Sony Vaio laptop from her dad for her birthday, but somehow this was a much better present than anything she’d gotten recently. How something could be so hard and yet so velvety smooth at the same time astounded and intrigued her. If this were going to be the only penis she ever saw in her entire life, she’d make sure to leave in her memoirs that she had no complaints whatsoever.

Clark, meanwhile, was having a hard time choosing what to focus on – her wonderfully smaller hand making a constant up-and-down motion on the shaft of his appendage, or the look on her face while doing it.

    “Clark…this is amazing,” she gasped like he’d just given her news about her getting an internship at the Daily Planet.

He smiled tightly. “Th-thanks, OH God…” he moaned when one of her hands reached and unknowingly fondled his testicles. Was it supposed to feel this good when she hadn’t even started to really do anything yet?

Not knowing what button she’d pushed but glad she’d done it, she continued her experimentation, grinning. “Hey Mikey, I think he likes it.”

    “You have no idea,” he retorted shakily, to which she smiled even more.

His obvious enjoyment encouraged her to take things to the next level. Now what had she learned from all those sex books and random porn viewings? ‘Wetter is better’…alrighty then. Slowly, she ran her tongue from the base of his cock to the tip, giving a mini inward-rejoice for the shudder she extracted, then repeated her same action, this time bringing her hand up along with it.

Clark almost felt his eyes crossing, and his stomach tightened involuntarily – this obviously wasn’t going to last that long.

On the third tongue swipe, Chloe decided to go in for the kill, and she took what she could of him at that moment in her mouth, drawing back and adding the slightest amount of suction. Clark’s choked-off moan was enough to make her want to do it again, going deeper and placing one of her hands in an “L”-shaped position around him to act as leverage while her other hand drew lazy circular patterns around his hips and the top of his rear, which he seemed to like.

The size of him definitely limited their options a bit. But he wasn’t jaw-breaking by any means, and Chloe had been known to be able to fit her entire fist in her mouth at one point in her life, so she was feeling pretty confident, especially taking into account all those lovely appreciative sounds Clark was making. Whatever she was doing to make those happen, she’d keep doing it and then some. The ‘and then some’ came in the form of her releasing him from her mouth with a modest pop and turning her oral attentions to his sac, taking in one side delicately while stroking the top of his shaft – it seemed Jenna Jameson would be getting a shout-out in her memoirs for that technique, because almost instantly Clark’s entire upper body hollowed out, and he actually said her name, however forced or choppy it may have sounded at the time. As if the prospect of being able to do a test drive with her best friend’s glorious genitalia wasn’t enough, she had him being her own personal cheerleader, in his own distorted, teenage-boy-getting-his-first-dose-of-head way.

Thankfully, after she’d paid a bit of attention to the other testicle, she decided to go back to the licking, stroking and sucking, because all he saw from her doing ‘the other thing’ for too long was him embarrassing himself very quickly. And really, it wasn’t so much the things Chloe was doing (even though it totally was) – it was how she looked when doing them. He thought his head might explode if he ever tried to mentally duplicate the vision of her mossy-green eyes staring up at him while his cock rested comfortably in her mouth like it was almost supposed to be there. No reason could be formulated for why someone could look so hot doing something like that.

Over the course of his subconscious ruminating, she’d managed to get a little braver and increase her pace, leaving less down time between tactics and adding more pressure than he thought he could ever handle. She became immediately grateful that the sounds she so enjoyed were coming faster now and with more intensity, and the manner in which his handsome face would twitch and contort made her more than proud of her accomplishments thus far, especially that little tongue swirl she’d found out that he liked.

Then Chloe struck a nerve.

All he could manage was an, “Oh my Go – uuuuhhh,” before his whole body halted and then shuddered in time with the waves of his orgasm.

She, being the ever-quick thinker, figured that she could either ruin her shirt and his pants and have a lot of explaining to do, or she could just suck it up (literally) and take her medicine like a big girl – she chose the latter, holding and swallowing what she could of the exchange, but carefully so as not to choke herself to death. Well…it was definitely warm…and something about it didn’t seem quite in keeping with the descriptions she’d heard before. It was almost – tasty.   A little soupy and a lot like saliva, but still…wasn’t half-bad. What was even more rewarding was how Clark looked afterward – slightly sweaty, brow furrowed, eyes closed, and very out of breath – he was a heavenly sight.

Sensing that he was done with his part of the ordeal, she wiped her mouth daintily, looking very pleased with herself. “So…”

He finally found the strength to open his eyes, matching her smirk with his own and letting out a light chuckle, which was quickly followed by a low hiss when she’d continued to stroke him. “God Chloe…”

    “I sure hope your family’s religious, because you seem to be using the Big Guy’s name an awful lot,” she joked.

    “Well I can’t he – elp it when y – ou keep do – oing that,” he choked out, his response hiccupped by the reflexive stomach convulsions she was causing.

    “Do you want me to stop?”

Clark tensed again but managed to smile. “That’s a bit of a loaded question, Chlo.”

    “I just figured you had a bit more in you yet,” she reasoned, licking and sucking on the tip of him again just to get a rise out of him, which it would seem she did when she felt a few choice drops of the hot liquid pour into her mouth and heard Clark grunt out some muddled expletive.

Swallowing, she grinned. “There we go…”

    “Are you trying to kill me?”

From her current expression, position between his legs, and his shuddering frame, it would appear she was.

    “Oh, you’re doing fine – for a first timer, Clark? You could be deader, trust me. I’ve heard stories of some guys passing out.”

    “Suddenly that doesn’t sound so bad,” he almost sighed, still waiting to catch his breath.

Oh…no one was this cruel. Giggling, she released him and stood to kiss him on the mouth softly, then with a bit more passion as her tongue mingled with his and he got a faint idea of what he tasted like. It actually didn’t taste like much of anything, except Chloe’s mouth, which he’d already tasted and approved of, so there were no worries. Wow…his first oral sex experience and pseudo-snow-blowing all in the same day. And he had a girlfriend to boot. What delightful fun.

Pulling away from the kiss with a light smack, Chloe asked, “Feel better?”

Clark laved at her bottom lip and kissed a trail from her cheek to behind her ear, dragging the lobe between his teeth before answering, “You could say that.”

Copy - 2/? (R - NC-17)

2006-04-09T22:44:10Z

TITLE: Copy
AUTHOR: Calliopeia
FANDOM: Narnia RPF
PAIRING: Will/Anna
GENRE: Adult, Romance, Humor
DISCLAIMER: Same as before. Not mine. Credit to Ms. Hemby for the fic title.
SUMMARY: Anna’s a little tired of waiting…

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yay! I updated and it didn't take me a month! *does dance* I'm stoked, folks, I don't know about you. So anyway, here it is. Next chapter. Enjoy, leave feedback, all that jazz. Shout-out to Enya for being awesome and getting me through this chapter.

CHAPTER II: Tension And A Movie

The second time was at her apartment.

It was some time after the bar incident, give or take a few months. They’d never spoken of it again; it was seemingly discarded into the ‘pregnant pauses pending’ section of their relationship, along with a few other things. He and Skandar had taken a nice long trip around the world; she had done a short indie film to retain her street cred. They’d talked on the phone on numerous occasions, touching base with each other whenever they had a free moment. A lull in their schedules had provided an opportunity for a short visit. Will told her he would be in town and that he’d come see her; when he’d mentioned he’d rather be lynched than stay at home and be faced with the family onslaught, Anna said it was stupid for him to even think of a hotel as an option. Clever girl that she was, she’d managed to rein him in for the whole weekend.

She’d fallen asleep on the couch, both waiting for his arrival and thrilled to exhaustion with the prospect of a Godfather saga marathon. Where the hell was he? It wasn’t like him to be so late, especially when she’d spoken with him almost ten hours ago, and no phone call since then. What a male. Can’t do anything all the way.

She was stirred from her subconscious berating by a knock at the door. It took her a couple moments to realize the knock was real and not some obscure noise from her dreams. Rubbing her eyes and yawning, she ran her hands through her long brown hair and made her way to the front entrance, undoing the locks and opening it.

“Will…”

There he was, gorgeous as ever. Come to think of it, he’d probably gotten taller. His hair, normally straighter and styled, was sun-kissed and more unruly, kind of curly at the ends, like he’d been running his fingers through it a lot. She preferred it that way. And damn him and his ability to tan so nicely. She could strangle him. Oh well, a hug would just have to do. Standing on her toes, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he dropped his bags so he could wrap his arms around her waist, their bodies seeming to meld together of their own accord.

When she sighed heavily and rested her head on his shoulder, Will snorted. “Sleeping, were we?”

Anna pulled back an inch or two to kiss him on the corner of his mouth, not missing his complementary response, and closed the door behind him, raising an eyebrow. “If you must know, I got bored waiting for someone,” she hinted, and he grinned, “…so I was forced to entertain myself through cinema.”

He followed her into the living room. “Must’ve been so exciting, you couldn’t keep your eyes open.”

She smiled at him over her shoulder, “Something like that. The kettle’s on if you’d like to fix yourself a cup –”

“Oh no. No tea for me. Absolutely not.”

Anna faked a gasp while straightening up the couch. “Who are you and what have you done with William Moseley?”

Will smirked, “I had enough tea during the lay-over to last me a lifetime. Believe me.”

Anna chuckled at that. “Ah, and the plot thickens – so that is why you’re so late.”

“Your powers of perception are truly astounding.”

“So are my powers to receive phone calls…”

He became instantly repentant, “My cell phone died. Really, it did,” he added at her incredulous expression, “and you know how I am about carrying change.”

She pretended to be unforgiving and remained silent, folding blankets and fluffing pillows. Will couldn’t take it.

“Come on Ann…you know I would’ve called you if I could.”

Well if he was going to go and whip out the pet names…

“Oh alright. Just don’t make me call out the reserve next time. I may not have Godfather marathons to fall asleep to in the future.”

He grinned, happy with himself, and pulled her into an embrace from behind, nuzzling into her neck in that special way of his. “And that…would be a terrible, terrible thing.”

She chided herself for giggling. But honestly who, in her position, could blame her?

Her hands resting on top of his, she took notice of what was on his well-muscled arms – she’d have to ask him later when he found time to work out, or at the very least, what his secret was – which led to what he wore on his torso and then the rest of his body. Making a 180 while still maintaining their closeness, she saw that he was indeed wearing a suit. Black jacket and pants; a shirt that looked black as well, but when it caught the light, in fact had a tinge of deep purple to it. No tie – just undone buttons where one would be. That probably made it all the more attractive.

“You’re making me feel a little under-dressed,” she said, referring to her navy long-sleeve shirt and flannel pajama pants.

He had to process what she said for a split second, the words ‘un’ and ‘dressed’ appearing too close together in the same sentence, and he found his smirk. “Oh, this old thing…I made a cameo at an after-party for a movie premiere back in the states – something about a halo. I didn’t really have any time to change.”

She ran her hands down the lapels of his jacket, hooking her fingers in his belt-less belt loops. “Well you certainly can’t lounge around watching television in that.” Letting go of him, she plopped down on the couch and picked up the remote. “Don’t worry, I’ll wait.”

Will chuckled to himself, shaking his head and picking up his garment bag. “That’s good of you…really.”

“Loo’s on your right.”

He shot a look at her over his shoulder. “It isn’t like I’ve never been to your flat before, Ann…”

She took her eyes off the TV long enough to give him a withering glance. “No it isn’t…and yet every time you use the bathroom down here, you always end up going into the hall closet. I’m just protecting your interests, William.”

Anna held in a laugh when she heard him change course and correspondingly shut the correct door behind him.

Minutes later, he reemerged in a black T-shirt and dark gray sweatpants, hanging his garment bag, funnily enough, in the hall closet, and heading over to the couch. He sat down next to her, sighing and making a big show of getting comfortable. Once he’d settled, she handed him the remote and snuggled up next to him, his arm draping around her.

She was practically purring, and he had to laugh a bit. “So this was your plan all along was it,” he said, finding a decent action flick to keep him interested.

Her eyes drifting closed as he played with her hair, she grinned. “Among other things, yes.”

The somewhat cryptic statement that hung in the air was not lost on him, nor was the way her leg curled up and settled between both of his as the opening credits flashed on the screen.

Some hours later, their situation on the couch hadn’t gotten any friendlier. Will was now lying lengthwise with his back propped up against the inside corner of the couch; Anna had perched on top of him in a very cat-like manner, her limbs entangled with his and her head resting on his chest. She left her leg where it had been previous and would on occasion rub it against him suggestively in a disguised attempt to shift position or get comfortable. A couple of times could be considered an accident – but by now, a couple of times were more than a few times ago.

On top of being groped under no uncertain terms, he now had to deal with her hand wandering under the front of his shirt, tracing patterns in his abdominal muscles and driving him positively insane. She felt his heart beating faster under her ear, his breathing patterns becoming erratic. It almost gave her some kind of sick satisfaction to know she had this effect on him. However, she hadn’t meant for it to show on her face when she finally lifted her head from his chest and looked up at him.

Oh this was rich. She was smiling. No, check that – she was smirking. He was hanging in the balance between heaven and hell and she was smirking. He’d probably have tried to be furious had she not been climbing on top of him, her legs on either side, making their proximity to each other that much more intimate. Just an inviting roll of her hips to test her boundaries…he made some noise similar to when his voice cracked, but it sounded tighter. More tension behind it. Yes. This was exactly what she wanted. She was on top, she was in control, she w –

Well wait a second…why was he looking at her like that? Why was he looking at her like he was going to do something bold and daring and she was probably going to like it? Blast it all, that was her routine. But then again…wasn’t this what she wanted? She wanted him to make some changes; she wanted him to make a move. For all intents and purposes, this was a good thing.

Expectant, she let him run his fingers through her hair then back to drift across her face, while his other hand drew aimless patterns on the small of her back. Then it happened – one of his fingers lifted her chin and guided her face toward his, and he kissed her. Slow, curious, almost experimental at first. When he kissed her again, it was harder, and yet softer at the same time, like if he didn’t kiss her now, he couldn’t ever again. He angled his head to deepen the kiss, and she all but sighed with relief when his tongue connected with hers…so this is what it felt like…to be addicted to someone.

Anna didn’t know how he managed to do it, but she found herself lying down under him as he settled into the space provided between her legs. She didn’t even remember the kiss ending at any point in time. That was rather impressive. Considering how far things had progressed in a matter of minutes, they were certainly wearing the most unsexy clothing imaginable. Will didn’t seem to agree, since he found a way to make reaching under her long sleeve flannel shirt to cop a feel the sexiest thing a person had ever done to her. She arched her back, desiring more closeness if it was at all possible and praying nothing would interrupt what was currently happening.

A lot of prayers go unanswered. Or if not, you don’t get the answer you want. This was definitely one of those times.

An obnoxious rendition of Handel’s Menuet in G Minor came roaring into the partial silence, once ruled by soft moans and gasping for air, and Will ended the kiss, however reluctantly. They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, their bodies buzzing with a low dull ache, before either of them said anything.

He swallowed hard. “It’s probably my mum.”

Well if that wasn’t a mood killer, it would be hard to say what was.

They faced a dilemma of sorts: choice one involved them ignoring whoever it was that was calling in the first place and not giving it another thought; choice two involved choice one, only whoever was calling would keep calling until they got an answer. And if it was indeed Will’s mother, choice two was basically the only choice that really existed. Wanting to laugh, though nothing was funny, Anna threaded her fingers through his hair and pressed their foreheads together. He let out a long arduous sigh and closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry…”

She nodded and allowed him to get up, pulling her with him until they were both standing and straightening out each other’s disheveled clothes. For some reason, she found it hard to look at him directly, the pain of things being cut short yet again too enormous, and he picked up on it, caressing the side of her face.

“Ann…”

She waved him off, “I know…it’s alright. Really,” she added at the dubious air his face had taken on, “…I’m a little tired anyways, I think I’ll go to bed. Go talk to your mum. She’s probably been waiting for hours.”

He knew that smile – it was the smile she pulled when she wanted to pretend everything okay, like if she was smiling, nothing could get her down or make her angry or anything like that. It was fake, and it sucked that he’d brought it out of her. It sucked, the whole situation just sucked.

Rising on her toes, she kissed him briefly then headed upstairs to her room, leaving his eyes to follow her until she left. He picked up the troublesome electronic device that he had a hard time figuring out why he’d bothered to charge at all. Maybe if he hadn’t, they…

Sod it.

Pressing ‘Talk’, he put on a brave face. “Hey Mum.”

Copy - 1/? (R - NC-17)

2006-04-09T08:48:39Z

TITLE: Copy
AUTHOR: Calliopeia
FANDOM: Narnia RPF
PAIRING: Will/Anna
GENRE: Adult, Romance, Humor
DISCLAIMER: Credit to Disney and Walden Media for any mentionings of Narnia and all subsidies there in, and to Will and Anna for…being themselves. None of these things I’m about to recount in story form have happened (to my knowledge). Purely fictional. And don’t be put off by the “Humor” part – I think all fics that make people laugh are humorous, but this meaning of humor is more along the lines of sarcasm and wit rather than spoof and Satire. Just for the record. Oh, and thank you to Natalie Hemby’s song for the inspiration and title for this fic.
SUMMARY: Anna’s a little tired of waiting…

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, I'm relatively new to the world of Narnia RPF. But once I saw the sizzling chemistry between William and Anna, I couldn't resist. And when the muse calls, either you respond or reap the consequences. Not sure how long this fic will be, but we'll just see how things go. Hope you enjoy, and be sure to leave feedback. :)

CHAPTER I: Life Is A Dance

The first time was in a bar.

Sounds misleading, but it’ll make sense in a minute or so.

Will and Anna had been instant friends when they first met, and in the subsequent two years since wrapping Narnia, that friendship had only grown. But while Will was content to remain stuck in that gear and never really move forward, Anna was a bit weary of more of the same. Don’t misunderstand, being friends with William was a great privilege, and she was better for having met him. They had great fun together and enjoyed each other’s company more than anything. Everything was so easy when it was only the two of them. It was just the whole wanting-to-rip-off-his-clothes-whenever-she-saw-him part that made things both confusing and frustrating. The worst of it, though, was that she knew how he felt about her; for all his talents, Will was anything but subtle and mysterious. Whatever his mouth said, his eyes didn’t lie; she knew he wanted her, and it wouldn’t be long before Anna wouldn’t tolerate his safe answers and avoidance. Besides, now they had no excuses – they were both single, they were both adults. No more hiding behind numbers, or professionalism, or even speculation. Life was too short to be encumbered by nonsense like that.

So, that being said – Anna had decided to take matters into her own hands and change how things were between her and Will. Since hinting and hoping had gotten her nowhere – Will may not have been subtle, but he was most definitely as stubborn as they come – she had no choice but to flirt with and tease him mercilessly until he became so insane with lust that his only alternative would be to face what had been right in front of him all along. It would’ve seemed cruel if the idea of it wasn’t so exhilarating.

The first time was in a bar.

Anna and Will were meeting the Narnia clan sans Georgie for a mini-reunion at a posh club on the London circuit. She’d asked him to pick her up so they could go together, deriving no small amount of pleasure from his instant reaction to her outfit. The fitting black halter cocktail dress with the plunging cow-like neckline and angled hem would’ve done the trick for any woman if they were looking for a slight glance or two; but this being Anna in the dress, Will would think her positively fuckable. She’d seen how he looked at her when she was in formal wear. If that wasn’t enough, his body language said it all – it was like he didn’t want to touch her, either fearful of somehow breaking her or completely losing all semblance of self-control. Maybe both. When he’d come to pick her up that night, no words were necessary; his eyes had widened, he’d gulped, and his voice had cracked in the cutest way when he’d greeted her. She’d barely contained her laughter at his predictability. Perhaps this would be easier than she thought.

The night carried on as was per usual in their routine – friendly glances, laughing at each other’s jokes. Seeing the cast was always fun, and having Skandar there was an added bonus, now that he was almost eighteen. In between the various rounds of modest social drinking, James had encouraged everyone to grab a partner and hit the dance floor; he took Tilda, Skandar took some anonymous blonde who’d been eyeing him all night, and to her utter surprise, Will asked Anna. She was tempted to believe her dress had done more than she could’ve ever hoped, but then she heard the music blaring over the loud speakers – a slow song. God, it had to be Michael Bublé, didn’t it? Coward.

No matter. She’d just force him to stay out there with her when things sped up a little.

Their dancing was all politeness and smiles – very British. They made idle conversation, laughed at their cast mates’ various antics. Y’know…covering all the friendly bases. As predicted, when the DJ finally switched to something more up-beat after four rounds of monotony, Will disentangled himself from their dance frame and pretended he needed something to drink. Right. Like all that swaying back and forth had really made him thirsty.

Steeling her nerves, she’d grabbed his hand and pulled him back. “Oh Will…come on, just one more dance.”

She had to give herself props – even she would’ve been convinced with that pouting act. He seemed to be giving in, so she continued.

“Please? We almost never go out, and I love this song.”

Lie. She had no idea who even sang that song. But the rhythm was enough to warrant the kind of dancing she was interested in, and he knew it. Hell, both James and Tilda had significant others, and even they couldn’t resist a good bump-and-grind. Use it, Anna. Use it.

“God Will, even James and Tilda are still out here. No one else is sitting down…stop being so geriatric.”

He’d grinned at that and rewound his arms around her waist. She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at the safe distance between them, and she used her arms being around his neck as leverage, pressing her hips into his with hopefully no level of ambiguity as to her intentions. He’d bit back some sort of noise rising in the back of his throat, and she’d rejoiced at that.

“I don’t bite.”

Yes, it was cruel, but his reaction was well worth it.

What followed could only be described as vertical intercourse. It had started off as going with the crowd – two-stepping, shoulder-shrugging – doing the same white dance that everyone with a pulse should’ve been able to master. But then came the hip-rolling, and the ass-grabbing; Will had even picked up her leg and placed it around his waist, holding on to the back of her knee. It would’ve been a bold move for any guy, but for him, it was downright ballsy. If that wasn’t enough, Anna had turned around proceeded use her backside as a weapon, making sure he didn’t hesitate to use his hands to get to know her body in a much more intimate way. On occasion, she’d been rewarded with him placing slow open-mouthed kisses up and down the side of her neck. It was the sweetest seduction, and she could’ve taken out a hit on the DJ’s life for changing the music and breaking the mood.

At least she wasn’t the only one completely out of breath. Her back still facing him, she used her free hand and ran her fingers through his hair, now dampened with sweat, angling her face toward his to see if he would kiss her – he didn’t. He seemed like he might have if he hadn’t been gnawing on his bottom lip. Well, all things considered, it was asking a bit much. She grinned sardonically to herself and faced him, not yet out of his personal space.

Kissing him on the cheek, and relishing how he burrowed into the cradle of her neck when she did so, she used this opportunity to whisper in his ear, “I told you I don’t bite.”

She didn’t give him a chance to respond, pulling away from him and weaving through the crowd, a semi-satisfied smirk playing on her mouth. He stood there, blinking and gulping down as much air as he could stand.

He’d probably take that drink right about now.

New Version of You - 1/2 (PG-13 - R)

2006-03-14T02:57:40Z

Okay then...here's my first fic posting:

TITLE: New Version of You
AUTHOR: Calliopeia
FANDOM: Young Americans
PAIRING: Jake/Hamilton
GENRE: Romance, Humor
DISCLAIMER: Credit to the WB for all original characters and plotlines -- also for the usage of "Cinderbella" dialogue. And full props to J.J. Abram's song for the title of this fic.
SUMMARY: Hamilton finds out about Jake...in a different way

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So this idea kind of sprang into my head when I was rewatching my YA episodes and mourning the loss of what once was. As flawless as most Jahammer stuff is, I thought it would be fun to switch things around a bit and see what happens -- this is the product of that switching. Let me know what you think; maybe if there's a good response to the fic, I'll make it more than a two-parter. We'll see. Okay, read on. :)

New Version of You

By Calliopeia

_______________________

CHAPTER I: Truth Surfacing

Idiot.

Shaking her head at herself, Jacqueline Pratt stared at her reflection in the guy’s bathroom mirror: short hair, a white tux, and no make-up. To the untrained eye, she was Jake Pratt, and appeared like any other guy would at a cotillion. But it’s probably already been made painfully obvious that she is, in fact, not a guy at all.

Just perfect. Not only had she enrolled in an all boys academy, to get her mother’s attention – not only had she fallen in love with a student at that academy – but now, she probably had said boy totally convinced that he was gay. All things considered, the only thing she’d actually succeeded in was proving she could fool an acclaimed educational institution into thinking that she was a boy.

Idiot.

But Jake’s musings were cut short when the aforementioned object of her affections, Hamilton Fleming, busted through the bathroom door.

___________________________

No way. There was no way. He couldn’t be…

God, he couldn’t even say it. He just knew that he wasn’t. Not him, never him.

Really, so what if he’d been kissed by a guy and, in the end, it hadn’t bothered him as much as he thought it should; so what if he’d developed a bond and friendship with that same guy before realizing he was probably falling for him; so what if all he wanted to be do right then and there was find that guy he’d fallen for and pull a repeat of the kiss he’d “never wanted”. He wasn’t gay. He just wasn’t. Completely impossible.

Oh hell, who was he kidding?

Balls to the wall, Hamilton cut through the crowd of dancing bodies clad in white and headed to the bathroom -- he’d seen only Jake go in there, which meant he was probably alone. And whether he wanted to admit it or not, this was his chance. Like Lena had said, he should follow his heart…and she was right, it did sound really cliché.

___________________________

Jake’s eyes widened as Hamilton walked in and grabbed her by the shoulders, then left and began hopping around from stall to stall, seeming to be looking for something.

“What’re you doing?”

He came back around to her, “Throwing caution to the wind.”

Before she could say a word in protest, he was holding her face and kissing her like there was no tomorrow. She thought her knees might give out were it not for her holding onto his arms for dear life and sending a silent one to her Maker that none of this would stop anytime soon. It felt like an eternity before they mutually pulled away and looked at each other, both of them out of breath.

Hamilton blinked. “Oh my God…that was –”

Jake shook her head. “I know…I know, but this is not –”

“It is, we’re GAY…”

“No we’re not, Hamilton…I have to…look, I’ve got to tell you something alright, but you have to promise you won’t be pissed off at me, alright?”

He tightened his jaw, unsure of what could be said to explain away what had just happened, but he remained silent.

“I’m –”

Jake was abruptly cut off by a group of unruly male students barging into the restroom, whooping and hollering and no doubt buzzed from too much spiked punch. The noise died down when they spotted Jake and Hamilton, both still in very close proximity of each other and looking quite flushed.

“We interrupting something, fellas?”

Ducking her head, she shielded her eyes and turned a distinct shade of crimson. “Oh my God…”

Hamilton wanted to protest when she flew out of there like a bat out of hell, but he couldn’t imagine it doing anything positive for the situation he was currently in. He hesitated for a moment, shuffling his feet around, then eventually followed suit and left the premises. A smattering of laughter and snickering erupted in his wake, to which he just rolled his eyes and pressed on. And of course Jake was nowhere to be found. He could try back at the dorms…

Fuck it. Whatever he and Jake had to deal with could be handled tomorrow. Besides, he’d had enough fun and excitement for one night…if by fun and excitement you meant confusion and frustration.

Unbeknownst to him, he was followed out of the party by a pair of mossy green eyes, hovered in a corner and filled with tears.

The next morning, Hamilton stood in front of the door for Jake’s dorm, raising and lowering his hand as if to entail he was unsure of whether or not he should knock. It was kind of early, after all – but he hoped Jake had had as much trouble sleeping as he had and would be up anyway. Finally, he went through with it, tapping on the wood lightly but loud enough for Jake to hear.

No answer.

He glanced up and down the silent hallway for any possible stragglers then risked a louder knock.

Still no answer.

Well he couldn’t very well let what happened last night get lost in the day’s routine. He had to be bold; he had to be daring. He had to take action. So he took it.

Turning the doorknob, he was surprised to find it unlocked. For some reason, Jake always kept his door dead-bolted…maybe it was to keep things like what he was getting ready to do from happening. Whatever, he’d worry about that later.

Hamilton slipped silently inside the room and happened upon Jake, completely under the covers in a fetal position, with only “his” head showing. He couldn’t help but notice how touchable “his” soft slight curls looked without any product in them. Sometimes, he found he just got lost in thought, daydreaming about running his hands through…

Good God, what was wrong with him? Waxing poetic about morning hair? Get a grip, Fleming, you’ve got important business at hand.

But the longer he stared at Jake, the less he wanted to disturb “his” slumber. He couldn’t leave, though – he’d already walked in uninvited. He’d just face the firing squad when Jake woke up. That’s all…find a comfy chair and wait it out. Good idea.

Resolved, Hamilton perched in an arm chair across from Jake’s bed, crossed his legs at the ankles and sat back, waiting. Falling asleep himself, however, probably wasn’t on the agenda.

Jake’s eyes fluttered then she squinted, faced directly with too much sunlight. God, what an awful night’s sleep she’d had. It only ended up being two or three hours. But she figured now was as good a time to get up as any – there was rowing, and then class later on. She didn’t want to look as awful as she felt all day long.

Stirring reluctantly from her warm spot under the covers, she headed over to the window to greet the day, stretching out her tightened limbs and having a good yawn.

Hamilton, meanwhile, had woken himself up when his elbow slipped from the arm of the chair. Convenient, you’d assess, since the first thing he saw upon awaking was Jake, standing at a safe distance in front of the window, in only a bra and underwear. A very flattering bra and underwear…a very nice, flattering bra an –

Wait a second, a bra and underwear? He scrubbed his palms over his eyes and got up from his chair.

Well…guess that whole gay thing was out.

“Jake?”

She jerked around at the sound of his voice. “Hamilton?!”

“What’re you –”

“W…what’re you – doing in my room?!”

Hamilton became incensed. “What’re you doing with those?!”

Jake looked down at her attire. “Oh my God…”

She moved to grab a sweatshirt, not seeming to notice that part of her foot was still tangled in a corner of the bed sheets. Needless to say, she ended up tripping while trying to free herself and toppled to the floor with a loud thud, her covers falling on top of her. Hamilton winced at the impact, stretching his neck to see if she was okay.

Finding her way out of the comforter maze, she stayed crouched behind the side of her mattress and lowered her voice to a menacing whisper. “How the hell did you even get in here?”

His face cringed. “I broke in, your lock is busted now…how do you think I got in, I used the door.”

“And it was open?”

“Uh yeah, it was open. I used to be confused about why you’d even lock it in the first place, but…now that’s pretty clear.”

Jake looked down at her assets and groaned, crumbling into a heap under the covers. “This is not how this was supposed to happen…at all…”

“So I guess this is what you were gonna tell me…”

She had to poke her head out from her cave to give a disbelieving glare. “You think?”

Hamilton stared at her for a second before rolling his eyes and pacing back and forth across the floor. “I…w…th…y…”

Jake sighed and sat back half-Indian style, finally letting the covers fall around her. “Feel free to start that sentence any time…”

“Look, I just found out, like, one minute ago that you’re a girl, alright? Sorry if I don’t really know what to say about that.”

Her expression softened, and she looked down. “You’re right…you’re right, I’m sorry.”

He eventually got tired of pacing and reclaimed his chair perch. “God Jake…”

“I know,” she said while standing up and straightening out her bed, “…look…maybe you should just take some time and think about all this. Let it stew…get as angry as you want, write a song about it, whatever. We can talk later.”

Hamilton opened his eyes. “Sounds like a plan.”

Jake nodded. “Good.” When he didn’t move or make a beeline for the door, she added, “So the plan…it takes effect, like…now, right?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, so…”

He raised an eyebrow at her dismissive hand gestures. “I never said I was leaving.”

Her expression flattened. “So what, you’re just gonna sit there staring at me in my underwear?”

“No…I’m going to sit here staring at you in something else besides your underwear so I can actually think about all this stuff I’m supposed to think about.”
She grinned wryly to herself and grabbed a few items of clothing out of her dresser drawer then faced him again. “Turn around.”

Hamilton huffed impatiently but did as he was told, standing and facing the opposing wall with his eyes trained on the floor.

“Move over to the left.

“What,” he said, his countenance cringing.

“I can see you in the mirror.”

He took the opportunity to look up and make eye contact with her reflection; she made a ‘some time today’ face at him and shooed him along with another one of her commanding hand gestures. He then rolled his eyes and stepped out of view. In a matter of seconds, she cleared her throat, some kind of noncommittal signal to indicate she was done dressing. What he found when he went to face her again did nothing to inspire confidence in his ability to think.

“That’s it?”

Jake looked down at her black form-fitting spaghetti tank and matching low-slung mini-shorts then shrugged. “What were you expecting, exactly? Long johns and a turtleneck? It’s freaking 85 degrees in here, for Christ’s sake.”

Hamilton flushed and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Well I thought there would be more to it than…that.”

She exhaled, going back to finish her bed straightening. “Whatever, my room, my rules – you’ll get to make the call next time I barge into your dorm at 6:00 a.m.”

As she faced him with her arms crossed, he tilted his head and took the time to appreciate her new attire, an eventual smirk creeping up the corner of his mouth.

“Come ‘ere…” Jake was a bit skeptical but approached him slowly nonetheless. He hooked his finger in the hem of her shirt and pulled her closer when he felt she’d taken too long, adding in, “…and don’t take your sweet time either.”

They stared at each other, inches from the other’s face, having an extended eye conversation, then Hamilton’s vision noticeably switched to her mouth.

She shook her head, whether to tell him no or to steel her resolve isn’t really clear. “Don’t even –”

He pressed his forehead against hers and they brushed noses. “Too late…”

“You’re supposed to be thinking,” she reminded him, disguising her knees giving way as a shift in position.

“I am thinking…” He pushed her lips apart with a languid flick of his tongue, “…and you had me thinking I was gay. In my book, that means you owe me. Big time.”

She grinned as her eyes fell closed. “Yeah, I guess so…”

Hamilton took that as the green light and kissed her, one hand holding the side of her face, the other poised on her lower back. She fisted her hands in the front of his T-shirt, just to have something to hold onto in case her legs lived up to their unreliability. They were no doubt tested as he proceeded to give her the slowest, deepest, most passionate kiss she’d ever experienced, a tangle of lips, tongue and something gloriously unnamable that had both their pulses racing and their lungs gasping for air.

They both pulled away reluctantly, but Hamilton was the first to speak. “I didn’t think it was possible…but doing that, and knowing you’re a girl…made it so much better.”

Jake chuckled. “I know what you mean.”

“So…”

“So…”

“You’re a girl.”

She smiled. “I’m a girl.”

His patented smirk returned and he shook his head. “So what the hell are you doing here?”

Jake huffed a laugh, walking over and collapsing on her bed then ruffling up her hair. “God, where do I even start?”

Hamilton pulled up his favorite chair and sat across from her at the edge of her bed. “How about at the beginning…”

She looked over at him and grinned.

___________________________

That's all for Ch. 1 -- Ch. 2 and the "last" chapter to follow. Keep your eyes peeled. ;)

The Beginning...

2006-03-11T16:13:06Z

Welcome to my writing journal. I'll be using this journal to upload fic of all kinds, since I write about a lot of things, and this way, there won't be censoring of any kind. Feel free to leave reviews as comments -- I love to know what people think of my stuff. :)

Okay, that's basically all I wanted to say. Didn't want the page to be looking so empty either.